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Chapter Title: Cry
That night, Nick took Sara out for dinner. Or rather, Sara had planned to take Nick out for dinner because it was his birthday. She felt very badly about how horrible his day had been. Thankfully, Grissom had grudgingly given Nick the next two days off; the last days she would be spending in Vegas before heading off to San Francisco.
"Are you ready yet honey?" Nick knocked on their bathroom door. Sara had been in there for the last hour, at least.
"Yeah, just about… I'll be right out." She called back, still fiddling with her makeup. Applying it had been most frustrating, her eyes kept welling up with tears, messing up her eyeliner. A sigh emerged, and she made a mental note to buy some waterproof eyeliner and mascara before going to San Francisco. Something told her she would be needing it.
"Okay, because our reservation was for 7:00. It's ten-to."
"Damnit. Alright, I'm coming out, then." Sara rolled her eyes and gave up on the eyeliner. She then grabbed a tissue, trying to dry the tears before they fell. Finally giving up on that too, she smoothed her black evening dress and moved to open the sliding bathroom door. It was a backless halter, a new number she'd purchased a few weeks ago. She hoped Nick would like it.
"Wow… you look great Sar! But… you're crying…" Nick's eyes lit up when he saw her in the dress; she looked beautiful. But the grin on his face faded and expression turned to worry when he saw how red and watery her dark eyes were. "Come here, honey." He enveloped her small form in his arms as he tried to comfort her.
"Sorry Nick… I just can't seem to stop crying. I feel so ridiculous. I'm sorry…" Sara buried her face in his neck and the tears came faster. So much for her eyeliner… but she hardly cared.
"No, don't apologize. You have every right to be upset. Maybe this isn't right; maybe we shouldn't be going out tonight. It's almost like celebrating death—"
"No, it's not celebrating death! I want to go, Nick… I want to spend time with you before I have to leave…" Sara argued back, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's just… I can't stop thinking about it. I really think I need to talk to Blaze… would it be okay with you if I called him before we left? I meant to earlier today… but I just couldn't bring myself to do it…"
Nick sighed and gave a sad smile. "If it would help, I think it's a good idea. I'll call the restaurant and tell them we'll be a little late." He dropped a kiss on her cheek before grabbing his cell from his pocket.
"Thanks, Nick." He'd brought the phone to his ear already, but Sara leaned in and captured his lips anyway. The kiss was giving and intense, and Nick closed his cell phone and threw it on the bed so he could wrap his arms around her again. "I love you." She whispered softly into his lips.
"I love you too… God Sar, I don't know what I'd do without you." He kissed her pink lips again and rested his forehead against hers. She rubbed her nose on his in an affectionate gesture, and he smiled, staring into her eyes. Sara looked back into his, and, not for the first time, wished she could just drown in the dark pools; forgetting anything and everything that wasn't Nick…
Then the phone rang. Nick watched as her eyes grew wide in surprise and she separated herself from him to answer the ringing phone that sat on their headboard.
"Hello, I'd like to speak to Sara Sidle? Does she live there?"
"Blaze?" Sara questioned breathlessly, immediately recognizing the deep voice of her former supervisor.
"…Sara?"
"Hey…" She managed feebly. She could feel those stupid tears in her eyes again, and her voice faltered. "How'd you find me?"
"Gil Grissom gave me your home phone number. I hope it's not a bad time—"
"No, no, not at all… not a bad time…"
"That's good... How… uh… how are you dealing?" The man seemed unable to think of much else to say, despite the fact he and Sara hadn't spoken in seven years. But somehow, it wasn't really that awkward for either of them. She noted how comforting the dactyloscopy expert's tone of voice had always been, and found that she appreciated it now more than ever.
"Um, not well, I guess. How are you?"
"Well, as you could imagine, things are pretty wild down here. We're all just getting by, I suppose." Sara could almost picture the admittedly handsome man's face as he sighed. "It will be good to see you again…"
"Well—"
"Sorry Sara, that didn't come out right. I mean, it will be good to see you, but not under these circumstances…"
"Blaze, this is all my fault…"
"No, no… it isn't, Sara. Don't start that, it's the last thing you need. I don't blame you for what happened, and I know Julia wouldn't either…"
Sara laughed scornfully.
"You're kidding, right? Julia knows it's my fault as well as I do. I'm so, so sorry…" Her voice started cracking halfway through, and she bit back a sob. "And Aspen and Neil too…"
"Shh, Sara, this is hard for everyone. You can't blame yourself, it won't do anything but poison you. If anything, this goes on my back. As soon as you're down here, we'll catch these terrorists… hopefully make things right. Okay?" His voice was calm, strong… soothing. Sara was beginning to realize just how much he missed it. She nodded vigorously and it was only when she realized she was on the phone and he couldn't see her that she spoke again.
"O-okay. Thanks, Blaze."
"Sure." She could feel his sad smile...
"Um, how is Neil holding up?"
"Neil? Well, I'll be honest with you, he's in rough shape. But he's alive, and the burn specialist doctors at Central say he's doing well, and there's a chance he'll heal up well enough to live normally and even return to work. He got lucky- he had left the scene he, Julia and Aspen were processing because he dropped a case of print powder on the way in. He was just coming back when the bomb exploded; a good 25 meters from the initiation point."
"Wow…" Sara suddenly felt sick. Her head felt like it was spinning.
"But let's not talk about it over the phone. I don't want to upset you before you even get here. Leave the messy stuff for another day." Blaze paused before changing the subject. "I missed you, you know… we should have kept in touch."
Sara's face cracked into a watery smile. She sniffled. "I know, I know. Sorry."
Blaze chuckled lightly over the line and she wondered how he was so strong. He'd always been that way; optimistic and accepting, at peace with the world. She envied him for that. It was a moment before Sara noticed that there was a voice in the background on his end, and if she heard right, they were calling Blaze.
'Hey Evans! You need to see this!" Blaze sighed and probably put his hand over the receiver because his reply was muffled. Sara heard him call back: "Be right there."
"Hey Sara, listen, I have to be off- duty's calling me again. I'll see you Sunday, alright? I'll be at the international airport to pick you up."
"Alright Evans." She smiled, remembering the way she used to call him by his last name too. "Thanks. We'll get through it together."
"For sure. Take care of yourself."
And they both hung up. Sara just stood staring at the phone then out the window above their bed for a while, and finally Nick came up behind her. His arms snaked around her waist and he whispered in her ear. "Better?"
She nodded.
"Thanks."
The next morning, Sara started packing her bags to be shipped ahead of time to her new apartment in San Francisco. Blaze had arranged the one bedroom flat downtown for her when he'd called Grissom to request her transfer. Grissom had called her earlier and let her know where to have her stuff sent. Nick, who had been helping her pack, had left a little while ago for the lab. He was going to request his own transfer to San Francisco, and Sara hoped that he'd soon be packing up his belongings to come with her.
Sara finished taping up another box of clothes and added it to the mounting stack near the door. It was then that she realized she hadn't confirmed her flight yet. She sighed, wiping a bead of sweat off her brow and putting the tape down on the mattress on her way to the phone. Remembering the number for the airline company was in her pocket, she pulled it from the back of her pants and dialed. A recording answered.
"Hello, and thank you for using America West Airlines! If you are calling to confirm a flight, press 1—" Sara removed the wireless phone from her ear and pressed 1.
"Please enter the 18 digit confirmation number on the back of your ticket now, followed by the pound key."
Sara flipped the folded note from her pants open, hoping she'd copied the number somewhere in the scrawl that covered the sheet. Finding it, she entered it into the phone, then the pound key.
"Thank you for bleep! -ming your flight!" Sara frowned, wondering what the beep was. She looked at the display on the phone. Nick was calling. She pressed the flash button.
"Hey Nicky."
"Hey Sar." He sighed. "I've got some bad news."
"Not more…"
"I can't get a transfer to San Francisco. Gris wouldn't even let me put in for one, actually."
"What! That asshole! I'm going to call him right now—"
"Sar- the SFPD isn't allowing any transfers in or out until the airport bombing is solved. There's nothing either of us can do."
"But they're letting me transfer! They even requested me to come! Not that I had any choice or anything—"
"Yeah, but that's just it. They asked you to. But they're not letting anyone else in. I'll be home in a minute, I'm just parking."
" 'kay." Sara sniffled, just wishing she could get a handle on all these emotions. She had never cried so much in her life as she had in the past 24 hours. Something inside her told her it was because it had been a long time since she had to leave anything worth keeping behind.
Flashback
"Grissom." Nick stuffed his car keys into his coat pocket as he flagged the nightshift supervisor down in the hallway. To his surprise, he actually stopped and turned around.
"Nick, what are you doing here? You asked for two personal days, and I gave them to you." He put the case folder he'd been carrying under his arm as he spoke.
"Can I talk to you in your office?" Nick ignored Grissom's question, pressing on. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and shaking his head ever so slightly. "It's important."
Grissom too, sighed; he was clearly tired. It occurred to Nick that he'd probably been there for over 14 hours. But he agreed. "Meet me there in five."
"Thanks." Nick replied, and they each went their own way; Grissom presumably toward the DNA lab for a quick checkup on the team's evidence. Eventually he made it to the entomologist's office, where he took a seat in the chair Sara had sat in the day before. He was thinking about her, and even sitting in the same chair as she seemed to bring him closer to her. Part of him wished she was there with him.
"What do you need, Nick?" Grissom entered the office shortly, glancing at Nick quickly before setting down a stack of evidence folders on his desk. He took a seat behind it, and removed his glasses like he always did when he was frustrated. If this conversation was about what he thought it would be, it was going to be a difficult one.
"I'd like to apply for a transfer to San Francisco." Nick stated simply. "I have the paperwork done, all I need is your approval."
Grissom made no move to hide his sharp intake of air- he knew it. "Nick, about that—"
"Gris, please, just sign it…" Nick pleaded impatiently. The supervisor held up a hand to stop him.
"The SFPD isn't allowing any transfers in or out until this is solved, Nick. I'm sorry."
"What? But Sara—"
"Sara was requested. She is needed as a witness, as well as a CSI. Nick, listen… You know as well as I do that this is going to be hard for her. She doesn't need you there as a reminder of how she's affecting the team—"
"You just don't want me near her! You listen to me now Gil; she pined over you for years, and all you did was push her away. Now that she's happy, you want to take that away from her! Don't lie to me just so that she'll have to go through it alone!"
"Nick, I'm not lying to you. They really aren't allowing transfers."
"Fine. See you Monday, boss." Nick's blood boiled in his veins. He stood up and walked from the office without a second glance at the man who sat behind the desk, slamming the door behind him.
Grissom leant his forehead in his hand as the door shot closed. For the first time in recent memory, a solitary tear ran down his aging cheek. But it wasn't of self pity.
I'm sorry.
A/N:Please let me know what you think: love it or hate it, it's great to get feedback.
Until next time,
-Sahariah