Chapter 9

Grissom was content to watch Sara sleep. He sat perched in the chair adjacent to her couch, while the soft sounds from the title menu of a movie he did not recognize played over and over again. Too afraid of waking her, he hadn't moved since he sat down after locking the door.

She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, and Grissom was left wondering if that was because she thought Nick was still there. In truth, he was glad she was not awake; he needed the time to collect his thoughts.

There was a time he thought the mental picture etched in his mind—of Sara hunched over, throat cut, and blood pooling around her—would always burn brightly. But now, after walking into the crime scene, seeing Sara hanging and in pain, the image had been permanently replaced. All his fears and emotions felt during Debbie Marlin's case were renewed, and had transformed into something deeper. He needed to deal with those thoughts and feelings, but wasn't sure she needed that complication.

So he sat; content to watch her sleep.

---/---

Nick walked through the hallway, noting how subdued the lab had become. Various details had no doubt been running through the rumor mill, and he felt himself becoming defensive. He knew it was human to want to know what was going on, but when one of their own was a victim; the information became harder to control.

Walking into the layout room Nick found Greg organizing stacks of paperwork, "You've really been thrown into the deep end with this one, huh?" he asked, sitting across from the lab rat.

Looking up from his task, Greg's face contorted in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Nodding his head toward the files in his hands, "The paperwork on this one; if you can handle this case without poking your eyes out, Grissom should hire you as a level three." Not getting even a smile out of Greg, Nick knew the last twenty-four hours were wearing on him.

Looking back down at the files, Greg spoke quietly, "How's Sara?"

"She was sleeping when I left her with Grissom. She's tough, she'll get through this," Nick realized there were very few ways to make the situation sound positive, but he sensed Greg needed something to hang on to.

Finally looking back up at the older CSI, Greg walked over the end of the table and pulled a brown folder out and handed it to Nick.

"What's this?" he asked as he opened it; sitting immediately after reading Sara's name.

"Grissom left it in his office. I didn't want anyone to find it." He had planned to guard it himself if necessary. "Catherine has all the photos, but that file is for our eyes only."

As he began to read her statement, the Texan rubbed his eyes, and look up in to Greg's knowing eyes. What he was about to read was haunting the man in front of him.

---/---

Grissom couldn't take the repetitive noise coming from the DVD any longer, and finally stood to turn off the TV. Trying to move quietly, he watched Sara stir slightly, but she did not wake. At that moment however, his phone rang.

Sara's eyes shot open, and then just as suddenly, closed tightly.

Grissom flipped the cell opened angrily, and moved to the kitchen intent on getting rid of who ever it was quickly. "Grissom," he hissed.

Sara tried to find her bearings as she listened to Grissom's voice drift through her apartment. She was honestly surprised he had come, and didn't know how she felt about his presence. Trying to sit up, her abused arms shook, and her bruised midsection sent a ripple of pain through her abdomen.

"Sara, let me help," Grissom offered, almost running across the small room. Reaching her in several long strides, he leaned over, and braced her around her ribcage. Having seen all the UV pictures, he was aware of every bruise, even if she hadn't seen them yet.

Letting him do all the work, Sara closed her eyes, trying to control the pain. Knowing bruises and muscle injuries always felt worse the second and third day, she was tempted to call the doctor and get better painkillers.

"Just relax, can I get you anything?" He asked, propping pillows up around her. She looked so fragile, he wanted to hug her.

She shook her head, "Who was on the phone?"

'Business, she's sticking to business.' He deserved it, the way he had been treating her, but she didn't deserve denying herself some comfort. "It's not important." He answered simply, fighting the urge to take her hand. "Sara—"

"Why are you here?" Her harsh words carried no emotions.

Cocking his head, he tried to interpret the meaning if her question. Standing, he moved back to the safety of the chair. She wasn't looking at him, and he wondered if she was even expecting an answer from him. "Because I do care."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she finally met his eyes, "Grissom, you're answering a question from like thirty hours ago. At this rate, we'll have completed a conversation in three years."

Despite the situation, he couldn't stop the small smile from appearing, "Sara, do you want to talk?"

Silently she studied him. She understood his question, he didn't want to talk about her assault; he wanted to talk about them, "Now? Now you want to talk about this? I thought you didn't know what to do about this."

Swallowing hard, he realized how bad an idea wanting to talk was, but wasn't sure how to back pedal.

"Screw it, I'm on drugs, let's do this," she told him, and waited expectantly.

'She's not going to make this easy,' he realized. "I was trying to protect you."

"By ignoring me, by giving a promotion to Nick because I wanted it, by—" She stopped herself, knowing her anger was coming from other sources. "I'm sorry Grissom; I don't think I can do this now."

"Sara, I know my timing sucks, but would you please let me explain what you heard me tell Lurie?" he asked with an air of desperation.

A nod of concession was all she gave him.

"The whole case was difficult. When I walked into the bathroom, I looked at the body, trying to memorize the scene, until I saw her face. Sara it was your face. I had to leave, to find you. I think I held my breath until I saw you turn and face me." Taking a breath he stopped to look at her. He never wanted to have this conversation. Now that he was aware that she had heard what he said to Lurie he had to make her understand. "I asked you to check out the perimeter because I needed you removed from the crime scene."

"You didn't think I could handle it?" She asked sounding exhausted, but also honestly invested in his words.

"At first? Yes. Not that you couldn't work the evidence, but knowing how personally invested you get with some cases, I didn't want you identifying with this victim. I wasn't sure I could handle it, I didn't want to put you in that position." Pausing again he needed to know she understood his motives.

Sara watched him struggle with his thoughts while she wrestled with her own emotions. She was angry that it took her assault to get him to open up, sorry that he had struggled with his problems on his own, and touched that he cared enough and knew enough about her to try to shield her from the mild trauma she would have felt seeing Debbie Marlin. "At first?" she asked him, knowing there was more to his explanation.

Nodding he continued, "Having you near me while I processed her would have been too much. As the hours wore on, and the more invested I got, I had a hard time discerning the difference between you and Debbie. There were moments when I really thought it was your murder I was trying to solve. That I had failed to protect you." His voice was steady, but raw with underlying emotions. "When I sat down, eye to eye with Vincent Lurie, I saw myself, and I was angry."

"At me?" Sara hadn't expected his confession, and was uncertain where he was going.

He shift, and his face softened, "No. No, at me." Searching for the words to explain, he paused. During the interview there had been so many thoughts rushing through his mind, thoughts he had quickly buried. "He killed Debbie because of his inadequacies. She trusted him, invited him in, but he couldn't follow through, so he killed her. I watched him sit there, and I wanted to, I had to get him to admit what he did, and then I realized…"

"The only way to break him was to admit to him what you had done." Sara finished for him.

"You offered yourself to me, trusted me, and I rejected you because of my deficiencies." He finally concluded, hating himself at that moment.

She wanted to comfort him, but her own emotions were blurring her thoughts, "You didn't kill me."

Looking straight into her eyes, he spoke with conviction, "I killed us. Our friendship… and something in your eyes. You don't smile anymore."

"Grissom…" she wanted to tell him. Her past was a suffocating weight on her chest, but it was a weight she had to carry on her own. She had thought a relationship with him would help her forget about her demons, bring her to a place where she felt accepted and needed, but his rejection merely solidified her concerns of the future. Her mother obviously chose the wrong men, and Sara feared what other characteristics she shared with her parents. "You didn't kill us; we just need time to deal with our demons," she offered, and hoped he didn't need her to elaborate. Resting her head on the back of the sofa, she realized she had one last question, "Why now? Are you feeling sorry for me?" His answer frightened her; the last thing she wanted was for him to open up out of sympathy. That would hurt more than his rejection.

"I couldn't protect you," he answered solemnly.

Sara felt as if her heart sunk into her stomach, "That's not your job." Her shields were already starting to rebuild themselves.

Grissom could feel her pulling away from him, and he had no idea what he had said wrong. He thought if he talked to her honestly, she would understand. "Sara, when I saw you last night… I have nightmares too, but they're of you, dying behind glass, and at my hand. I never thought that image would leave. But last night, when I saw you…" He was stumbling over his words, unable to explain to her what only made sense in his head. Sighing, he cursed his inept social skills, "I'm not here to coddle you, or tell you what you want to hear. I wanted to be honest with you… I regretted telling Lurie what I should have told you. I was afraid I lost you."

She didn't know what she was thinking having this conversation with Grissom in her current state, "I just need some time to process everything."

Standing, he backed away, "You're right, this was not the right time. I'm sorry. Do you want me to call Nick or Greg?"

Exhaling lightly, "No Grissom. I want you to stay. We can watch a movie, I'm sure there's some bad sci-fi movie with killer spiders or murderous ants or something."

He smiled and sat down next to her with the remote, "There's a movie in the machine, and the title song has been etched in my memory."

She smiled and relaxed finally, not remembering the last time she felt comfortable in his presence. "It's a chick flick, with no bugs," she warned.

TBC