Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm still paying off student loans, I'll be too poor to sue for a while anyway.
"Something isn't right Nick."
Nick looked over to his passenger and sighed. "I know Greg, it really isn't like her to just take up and leave, but then again, she did it when Grissom called her here after the Holly Gribbs fiasco. Maybe she really doesn't like saying goodbye. I'm sure she'll call us in a day or so at the very least. Anyway, I'm sure Brian will know where she is, we'll just call him later. In the meantime, we have a crime scene to process; the evidence isn't going to spontaneously jump into our collection bags you know."
"Yeah, we might as well get on with it I suppose, but I'm calling Brian later to find out if he knows anything."
On the other side of town Catherine and Warrick also contemplated the whereabouts of Ms. Sidle. While Catherine blindly assumed that Sara had finally lost it and disappeared into the darkness, Warrick thought otherwise. He felt there was just something not quite right about Grissom's story, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.
"If she wanted us to know where she was going she would have told us, and who's to say she won't get in touch with us as soon as she's settled in?"
"I don't know. I still say something isn't right Cath. Remember how freaked out he got when she started dating? Don't you think it's a bit odd that he took the news of her leaving that calmly? Granted, he did have a while longer to think about it than we have, but think back through the last few weeks…Were there any signs that she was wanting out of here?"
"No, now that you mention it. Actually, I think I might have heard her and Greg talking about going to see some movie that was opening up this weekend. I doubt she would make plans with him if she was thinking about running off…"
"True. Even overly-obsessed-with-a-case Sara wouldn't do something like that. If nothing else, she's good to her friends. Something about this just isn't sitting right with me." Warrick frowned at his reflection in the car window before grabbing his kit and heading into the store.
Down in the basement Sara quit crying. She tried to calmly gather her wits about her, taking inventory of her situation. First of all, she had a pretty good idea where she was, she had gotten a decent glance around the room before Grissom left her there. She searched her pockets for something that might be relatively useful. Putting her hand in her jeans pocket, she was pleasantly surprised to find that she hadn't put the lighter away after lighting the candle in her kitchen. At least she had that much going for her. She flicked the lighter, giving up a generous amount of flame and illuminating enough that she could tell the lighter was still halfway full at least. The lighter would probably prove to be much more useful than the seventy five cents she also found in the pocket, so she tried to think of a proper hiding place for it. Pulling a Christopher Walken from Pulp Fiction wasn't a very enticing option in the least. She could leave it in her pocket and hope for the best, but luck wasn't really with her at the moment, so she stashed it beneath the fitted cover of the air mattress.
As soon as she finished straightening out the cover of the air mattress, she heard the door to the basement opening.
"Honey, I'm home," Grissom called down to her from the top of the stairs. "And I brought you something to eat. No meat, are you glad I remembered? I picked up a fruit salad, and have a nice hot thermos of Blue Hawaiian. I ordered some off the internet when I realized you would be staying with me for a while. I know how much you like it…"
At this point Grissom flipped the switch on the wall, temporarily blinding Sara while she adjusted her eyes to the light.
"What am I doing down here Griss? What's going on?" She was incredibly proud of herself and her ability to keep from freaking out. She knew Grissom well enough to know that screaming at him wasn't going to help her much, she was going to try and do this as calmly as possible.
It seemed to Sara that he didn't hear her speaking, as he continued rattling on about sugar packets and Styrofoam coffee cups. So, she decided to repeat her question, only this time a little bit louder.
"Griss, what's going on, why am I down here?"
"Oh honey, don't you remember? We talked about this already. You're down here to keep you safe. And the reason we're keeping you safe just upsets you, so I'm not going to talk about it anymore. Here, have some fruit." He unlocked the kennel and walked in, holding out the bowl of fruit and a cellophane wrapped package containing a spork, a wet nap, and a napkin.
"Griss, have you totally lost your mind? No one is trying to kill me or anything, at least not that I'm aware of, and if they were, would you really need to chain me in your basement? Give me a little credit here; I'm pretty sure I could keep myself just as safe without locking me in a kennel. And what's up with the spork? Those things are useless, I can't even stab a piece of pineapple with one of those things…"
"Don't make any sudden moves honey, I would hate for something to happen and cause you to get yourself hurt." He says as he enters the kennel and places the food down on the floor next to the air mattress, then turns and leaves the kennel, locking it behind him.
"If you show me you can be good, I'll undo the chain around your neck," he said as he looked back at her. "I have to go upstairs and grab some files, I'll be right back."
She watched silently as he left. Turning it over in her mind, she decides to do exactly as he says in the hopes that he will remove the collar. It would be one step closer to freedom, and one less obstacle to overcome in her plan to escape.
"I picked you up some scented lotion, I hope you like lilac, and a cashmere blanket for if you get cold. Now eat your fruit, I don't need you starving while you're down here."
Sara picked up the container holding the fruit and poked at the contents with the utensil, choking down one or two bites of melon. She didn't have much appetite, but she desperately wanted the collar removed. After all the other things she had survived, she certainly wasn't going to let a crazed entomologist destroy her.
She watched as Grissom settled himself onto the sofa, kicking off his shoes and propping his feet up on one end and resting his head on the other. He opened his battered briefcase and started pulling out paperwork and files, humming quietly to himself as he did so.
"Can I have something to do, something to read, maybe at least watch the tv?"
Grissom looked up from his file and said "Now what did I say about being good?"
