Disclaimer: They're not mine
Rating: T or PG-13 for language and violence
Summary: It's 2am. The doorbell rings. A baby is crying. What are you going to do? W/S with GCR moments and a major case
And wow – I get back from Spain to find 16 reviews waiting for me. Eeeheehee. Thank you to JennCorinthos, icklebitodd (well they're wise words in themselves. And I didn't know that she had any siblings at all...), cherishedcrush (thank you! And I did!), Joyce3 (heh heh, I'm a plugging-pro. Keep looking out for Fluffy! That rabbit is my claim to Dutch fame! The V&D catalogue, kids!), Aleja21, charmed1818, Kelly, Cindy Ryan, topsy, Megara1, Review1234 (606 words...-jawdrop-), WSShippeR, sidle girl (you know, you and Greg were the only ones to ask that...), MissyJane, Stahchild (Ah, thanks! I hope to convert you to the righteous WS path...) and aboxforpandora. Y'all said so many nice things and I'd like to leave little brackety notes for everyone but the A/N would never end and that'd defeat the whole point of the story.
Plug for write underscore impulsive – the LiveJournal creative writing community. And on with the show. Oh and watch out for the -eek- swearing. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
- o -
Wake The Hope. Chapter Fourteen. Wherever
- o -
"The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image.
Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them."
THOMAS MERTON
- o -
Standing around the table, Warrick stares at the faces. Catherine, Gil, Greg, Nick and Ecklie all turned out to hear what's going on. It was simple, Warrick fumed, she'd gone.
"Well what do you mean 'gone'?" asks Gil. Warrick clenches his fist around his cell phone; the slowness of getting the message across was really starting to bug him.
"I mean she's not answering her phone and she's not at home – I checked," he snaps. Warrick remembers dashing up the stairs again after getting the answer machine five times on the way over. Her car wasn't in its space and, on opening her door with the spare key she'd lent him a while back, he found she'd packed up some of Nate's things, some of her own, and disappeared without so much as a note to say where she'd gone.
"And what about Nate?" Greg speaks up remembering with affection the smiling baby who liked to rip out little handfuls of his spiky hair. "Is Nate gone?"
"Yes – she's packed up some stuff, taken Nate and her car and gone." he looks around the room. They are frustratingly silent and still. "Well aren't you going to do something about it?"
"It was too much for her – the line up, revisiting memories." Catherine murmurs absently, biting on her lip. "It was too soon."
"Why aren't we looking for her?" Warrick demands angrily. "The attacker hasn't struck for a while and you want to know why?"
"We know why, Warrick," Grissom interrupts in warning tones but his attempt to diffuse the situation doesn't work.
"Yeah – because he should've killed Sara and he knows it. He knows we're looking for him," Warrick yells. "So he's lying low, right? But now he only has one target and that's Sara. He'll be wanting to finish what he started, won't he? Why the hell aren't we out there trying to find her?"
"'Rick, she could be anywhere," Nick says gently. "We can only wait for her to come back herself."
"Wait?" he repeats incredulously and incensed. "Wait? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Warrick." Gil interjects sharply. "Sara will be fine; she's perfectly capable of looking after herself."
"No she's not." he snaps. "She's had one helluva crap week and is doped up on Demerol – does that really sound like capable to you?"
"Demerol?" Ecklie leans forwards, interested. "That might have been what compromised the line up. She might not have been in the right frame of mind..."
"Damn straight she wasn't in the right frame of mind." Warrick spits bitterly.
"We can try it again when she's off it," Ecklie nods. "This whole disappearing thing may compromise all the evidence she's given us, too. If she's shown to be mentally unstable..."
"Shut up, Conrad," Catherine bites, hearing far too much glee in his voice for her liking. "This is no time for some third grade 'I told you so' taunt."
Ecklie holds up his hands. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"I can't believe you," Warrick shakes his head in disgust. "All of you. Is this all you care about? What the jury are going to think of her disappearance when it goes down on file?"
The uneasy silence that follows his question only fills him with more rage. He turns away.
"Well fine. Unlike the rest of you, I," he announces. "I actually care about her. And I'm going to find her."
"Wait – 'Rick." Nick tries a last attempt to talk some sense and reason into his friend but Warrick is already gone, storming down the corridors.
-
The drive out calms Warrick down after a while when he realises he doesn't even know where to begin. He sickens with the comprehension that Nick might've been right – maybe he should've just sat and waited. But he couldn't wait. He would drive himself crazy before she came back. There was no doubt about it, he wasn't going to hang around and watch the clock until she decided to return – if she did at all – but where could he start?
He is dazed and tired. He hasn't slept in a while and had been powering through on the sheer guilt and fury over what happened. It's slipping now; all he wants to do is to know that she's okay. Warrick wonders lamely if that's not too much to ask.
Traffic lights sigh from green to red as he approaches and he slows his car to a halt before the line that splits the tarmac. It is then that, gazing mindlessly through the windshield, he sees a familiar Tahoe being manoeuvred by suited valets outside a small Las Vegas hotel. As soon as the lights flip to green again, Warrick is pulling up outside the hotel and running inside to the reception desk.
"Can you please tell me which room Sara Sidle is staying in?" he asks the lady at the desk breathlessly. She looks at him, nods and searches through the computer.
"Sorry – no Sara Sidle." she tells him. Warrick glances outside; the valets are re-parking her car after moving it to let out another. It's her car alright, her plates.
He pauses. "Avery? Try Avery."
The lady turns back to the screen but comes up shaking her head. "Sorry sir..."
Warrick nods and turns to go. She obviously didn't want to be found. So what now? Back home to sit and panic? He stops and returns to the desk. One last guess – a stab in the dark.
"Sara Brown?" he suggests meekly. The receptionist barely suppresses a sigh and wonders how long this guy is going to stick around as she taps at keys with neat, polished nails. It bleeps an affirmative.
"Room 183, sir. First floor." she informs him with a smile. Warrick grins and dashes off to the stairs.
-
Something in her already knows who it's going to be before she opens the door (knows or hopes?) and Sara isn't surprised to see Warrick standing on the pristinely-vacuumed hotel carpet, one hand still raised about to knock for a second time.
"Well – you found me." she deadpans to him. Warrick shrugs and offers a weak smile that she doesn't return.
"Can't be too easy trying to hide from a bunch of Crime Scene Investigators," he replies. She moves away from the door, letting him in without actually saying it.
Sara perches on the end of her bed and watches Nate sleeping in his travel cot. "I wasn't hiding from you." she tells him after a long and quiet pause.
"Okay." Warrick chirps simply, not knowing what else to say when he tentatively joins her. "What are you doing here, Sar?"
Sara shrugs. "I figured that if the guy's still out there and knows we're looking for him, he might want to come back and finish up what he started." she answers dully. "No point in hanging around where he knows I live."
Warrick sinks his head in his hands. "We never thought of that. We could've put a uniform out by your building. Or two." The guilt takes another bite.
"It doesn't matter. I can take care of myself," she replies. "Remember?" Warrick nods. She's right. And Grissom was right, too. He winces, remembering how he completely blew up at everyone. What was wrong with him?
In the cot, Nate stirs and whimpers slightly. Sara leans forwards to rock him gently back to sleep but she moves too sharply and is unable to hide her flinch from Warrick who picks up on it instantly.
"You haven't taken your Demerol have you?" he asks immediately.
"No." Sara shakes her head. "I didn't want to be so knocked out that I wouldn't hear Nate if he started crying." Sara rolls her eyes. She could take care of herself; she just might need a little hand now and then, that's all.
"I'm taking you home." Warrick announces firmly. "I'll watch Nate or something – take the pain meds, Sara – you're in pain, that's what they're for."
"No – no," Sara looks more worried than stubborn this time as she grabs Warrick's arm. "No, 'Rick. I – I really don't feel like going home."
Warrick smiles warmly at her and pulls her standing. "I didn't mean your home."
Surprising both herself and Warrick, she gives in to him – letting him help her pack up and check out. Following his car back to his house, she doesn't know what it is about him but lately all he's had to do is just ask her to let him help her and she does. It had never been like that before – with anyone and certainly a few years back Warrick would've been the last person she'd willingly accept help from. Sara can't put her finger on it – there's just something...there's something about him. Something that made her give his surname at the hotel counter. Something that's making her follow him home tonight. Something that's actually making her want to let him look after her.
- o -