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
Thanks once again to the reviewing public... I'm glad you liked the fluffiness of the previous chapter but, if I'm gonna be honest with you guys, it was also intended to soften a rather unwelcome blow in this chapter. Trust me on this – just...trust me.
But getting to the thank yous – thank you very much to charmed1818, Review1234 (I'm glad the fluff didn't kill you!), Aleja21 (heh heh! Lucky escape from baby puke?), JennCorinthos, Manic Penguin (thank you especially much for your very useful advice. I will bear this in mind for future reference and I hope you continue to enjoy the story), icklebitodd (I did have a good Christmas, thank you), Megara1, CatStokes, WSShippeR, Krys33 (Aw! I promise it won't happen again!), nick55 (hey, don't be so modest – I love all your WS stories.), Daisyangel (cool, I will most certainly check that out soonish), MissyJane (ha – you made me laugh with that shower scene comment...), SunnyNite and Cindy Ryan.
Please continue to review – you make my day! Anyway, brace yourself, friends, and just trust me. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx (PS. I fit a little GCR in here as therapy.)
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Wake The Hope. Chapter Twenty-One. Temperamental
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"If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change."
JOHN A. SIMONE SR.
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For the first time since either of them could remember, they actually didn't want to go to work that morning. Somehow, however, they dragged themselves out of the apartment, locking up and strapping Nate into his seat in the Tahoe.
The first face they see when back at the lab that morning is Grissom's. He looks tired for reasons that Sara doesn't know but smiles at the pair of them when they come in together.
"Thanks, Warrick," Grissom says he passes. "Appreciate it."
His voice is quiet, but Sara's ears are sharper and she turns curiously to Warrick.
"Thanks for what?" she asks instantly and Grissom stops. He was never one to lie but he doesn't even think when he answers.
"Sara – we matched the DNA from the hair on your wristwatch last night and paid a visit to the guy it matched, Tom Redley," he tells her, watching her face change from eagerness to surprise to anger. "He got a shot in the shoulder but he's stable. We'll be bringing him in for questioning as soon as the hospital allows us to."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Sara demands.
"You'd have wanted to tag along, Sar – it wouldn't have been right," Warrick tries to explain gently but she looks further incensed by his words.
"What?" she snaps. "You knew about this?"
"Sara, I told him," Grissom attempts to cover for Warrick. "It's my fault. I asked him to go round and keep an eye on you to make sure you didn't find out." He doesn't realise he's just made it even worse.
"What!" her voice rises with incredulity. Nate, in her arms, mildly protests at the blazing fight that's about to break out. Sara looks between Warrick and Grissom in outraged disbelief before turning and heading out. "Forget it. It's fine. I'm dropping Nate off at day-care." she mutters distractedly.
Grissom watches Sara's disappearing back for moment before looking at Warrick apologetically. Warrick stands despairingly in the hall and then chases after her.
"Sara – Sara, wait – please." he calls, catching up to her in the parking lot.
"Just doing your job, were you, Warrick?" Sara counters bitterly. "Just staying Grissom's favourite CSI? Well that's just great, you know – I thought you might've meant at least some of what you've done for me over the past few weeks."
"Of course I do. Why? Does it all mean nothing to you?" he asks her. "This isn't about work and you know that. Why did you call me, out of everyone, when you found Nate?"
"Because Nick would never forgive someone for waking him up at night unless they were dying," she replies smoothly and with a dry smile. "And even then he'd begrudge it. Listen, Warrick, I can be as detached as you can, so don't even start. Just admit it, will you?"
"No," Warrick protests. "No, because it's not like that at all."
"What is it not like, Warrick?" Sara bites furiously turning on him. "Like some babysitting gig? Because it sure as hell seems like that to me. I called you up and shared everything with you, thinking you came because you cared about me, but it turns out you were just acting on orders."
"No – that isn't right," Warrick objects. "Everything today and last night, I meant everything. You have to believe me, Sara – I would've come whether I'd been told to or not."
Sara shoots him a withering look. "Well it's all very easy to say that now, isn't it, 'Rick?"
Warrick stares wordlessly as she shakes her head reproachfully at him.
"What do you want me to say?" he challenges, finding his voice. "Yes, Grissom asked me to keep an eye on you and, yes, I knew they had tracked down the suspect but that has nothing to do with anything that happened last night. That has nothing to do with how I feel."
"And how do you feel, Warrick?" she inquires bitterly, with chilling sarcasm.
He takes a breath and rubs the back of his neck with hands that have started to shake. He'll tell her, he thinks, he should tell her. "I think..." he croaks nervously. "I think I've fallen in love with you."
Sara looks dumbstruck for a moment before spluttering, "You think?" She couldn't think of anything else to say. Warrick laughs awkwardly at her response.
"I don't know – I've never felt anything like it before so I guess I don't really know," he begins. "But if that's what it is to find everything about you just so beautiful, then I guess so. And this morning – this morning, I suddenly realised that everything was just so clear and obvious. It was like the first day of my life and I knew then that, if something had happened, the only regret I'd have was that I never told you this. That I never told you how happy you make me just by being the first face I see when I wake up. Does that classify someone falling in love? Noticing things like what you mumble in your sleep, or how you have this amazingly cute frown when you're thinking, or how your hair has all these different colours in it when the sun shines on it?"
"Okay, 'Rick – you can stop now," she cuts him off sharply, annoyed at the blush she knows he's risen in her cheeks. He smiles and shrugs with his arms out at his sides, offering up to her anything she wants from him. Anything at all. He's let everything go now – he's letting every defence down.
"So what do you think?" he prompts her quietly. Sara looks at him and then looks at the concrete floor.
"I think..." she murmurs. "I think I should take Nate to the crèche."
Sara looks up at him with eyes that don't burn with anger anymore, but almost offer a deadened apology. She turns quietly and begins to walk away.
"Wait, Sara – no, please don't..." Warrick blurts urgently.
Sara keeps walking.
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Catherine watches Gil over the rim of her coffee mug as he yawns and stands to go.
"Did you get a chance to see him?" Catherine asks just before he leaves. They had all dodged the subject that day. "Tom Redley? Sara's attacker?"
Gil nods wordlessly for a moment and comments, "He doesn't even deserve to touch her, Catherine." He pauses, looking about to launch into a rant about the man but instead closes his mouth. "I shouldn't talk about it. I have to question the guy tomorrow and I need to be objective."
"Brass put that shot in his shoulder, I heard," Catherine adds, trying to lighten the mood. "Said it was all he could do not to put it in his head."
Grissom laughs, smiles at Catherine – someone who always could, without fail, cheer him up. "I know how that goes," he answers. Catherine wraps her arms around him plants a light kiss on his cheek.
"Go home – get some sleep," she tells him. "I'll come round when I finish up here – make you some dinner, okay?"
He smiles. "Thanks, Cath."
"No problem," she replies and watches him leave, passing a dejected Warrick in the corridor as he heads towards the break room.
Warrick pulls up a chair at the table and sinks his head into his arms against the tabletop. He doesn't say anything so Catherine grabs the chair opposite and leans across the table to him.
"Hey – 'Rick?" she begins gently, prodding his elbow. Warrick raises his head wearily. "Something up?"
He gives a bitter laugh. "Yeah." he says. "I think I was just shot down."
"Oh." comes her reply. She doesn't need to ask who by and, thinking of nothing else to say, rubs his arm sympathetically and furthers with: "You think?"
Warrick laughs heavily again, shaking his head and getting to his feet. "Don't you start, Cath," he says warningly, pointing a finger at her. "Don't even start."
"What?" Catherine asks but Warrick is already heading out of the break room to drown himself in a case, as alcoholics lose themselves in a bottle.
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