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Disclaimer: Not Mine! Stop Asking!
A/N: A huge thanks to Cropper, LosingInTranslation, Mingsmommy and Superlibn for all their hard work!
Chapter 13
December 16, 2007
After leaving Red Rock Canyon, Grissom drove home, physically and emotionally exhausted. He deleted all the missed calls from his phone. Sara had called five times while he was gone, but he couldn't bring himself to call her back. He had had some vague notion his emotional release in the desert would be cathartic, but it only left him more tired, with a sore throat and a hollow feeling in the middle of his chest. He missed her in that moment with every fiber of his being; yearned for her in a way he couldn't begin to put into words.
Taking off his clothes, he climbed between the sheets. Curling onto his side, he closed his eyes and tried to force the images of Sara from his mind, images that flashed against the inside of his eyelids like a private slideshow. Sleep was a long time coming and it was almost sundown before he was able to drift off. Even there, in the land of ether, he couldn't escape his need for her.
There is a door, dark brown and unassuming. The patterns in the grain mesmerize me. My back is warm from the sun beating down on me. A car door slamming and a horn honking reach my ears. Underneath that are the sounds of singing birds and laughing children. All of them fill me with the knowledge that I am alive. City odors assault me; car exhaust and hot asphalt, garbage and the neighbor's flowers, meat grilling from two buildings over. I want to look at my surroundings but I can't tear my gaze from the door. Instead, I stand there for the longest time with my hands jammed in my pockets. Slowly, almost resignedly, I raise my right hand and rap my knuckles against the door. The wood is hot.
Without a sound, the door swings open and all those other things fade away. The space beyond the portal is shadowed and cool and empty. Tentatively, I step inside and the door closes with a quiet click behind me. Without moving I am suddenly standing in a bedroom. Not just any bedroom though. This is Sara's room, Sara's bed, Sara's. Here the sun slants in through the open blinds. The air is heavy with the afternoon heat. I look around, taking in for what seems like the first time a space I know I've seen hundreds of times. The walls are the soft yellow of butter, but the sun turns them rich, golden butterscotch. The carpet is the generic beige that can only be found in apartments. There is a scent here that sends tickles along my spine and my fingers flex with a need I can't define. I don't know why I'm here but I make no move to leave.
I turn my head just a fraction and there, as if by magic, is Sara. I feel a slow smile spread across my face. She is sprawled across the dark sheet in a beautiful display of long, lean limbs. The thought crosses my mind that she sleeps just like she does everything else – full tilt. Her hair, hair that I have longed to touch for years, hides her face. It puzzles me that I can't remember touching it, but I know exactly how it feels against my skin. "Like silk and sin," floats through my mind and my body tenses in anticipation. I study her without guilt or recrimination. I give myself permission to look because there is no harm in that.
The sheet is bunched around her hips and the long, long line of her back is bared for me. The firm muscles covered by soft, pale skin are like a balm on my soul. She is sweet, feminine perfection. I know the texture of her skin, the taste of it, even though I've never had the pleasure of more than holding her hand. But my hands remember, my lips and tongue know, the way she feels. And I ache to touch her.
Slowly, gracefully, she rolls over and her eyes meet mine. She is tousled and drowsy and lovelier than I remembered. Then she smiles. I feel that smile from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It is a radiating warmth that consumes my soul. Beautiful. That is my only thought. She is so very beautiful. Without a moment's hesitation, she opens her arms to me.
I am naked and she is touching me, kissing me, loving me. I can't think anymore. I can only feel. Her soft skin against mine. Her heat warming me. I am lost in her and she in me. Her nails dig into my shoulders as I press my body into hers. A long moan of satisfaction slips from her lips and I echo the sound. There is something so amazing about the way she fits around me, the way her body moves and shifts to allow me in. It feels so good that I give myself over to it completely. I am merely a million nerve endings and she is stroking each one. She shudders underneath me, arching and tightening, pulsing.
"Gil," her voice is low and throbbing with emotion, "I love you."
That is all it takes. I come…hard. My body jerks and I bury myself in her as far as possible. My cock throbs as I pump into her over and over. My own ragged cry fills my ears..
"Sara!"
Grissom was jerked awake by the sound of his own voice. The dream clung to him, holding him in its warm embrace. He lay there for a moment, trying to hold on to the feeling of making love to Sara. Instead, his mind slowly registered the cold, sticky mess covering the front of his underwear. With a muttered curse he threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Once in the bathroom, he turned on the shower. Dropping his soiled underwear into the clothes hamper, he climbed beneath the spray and sighed as the hot water pounded down on his tired body.
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Once I realized that an alternate plan was necessary it was easy to work things out. A few days of thinking through the problem and I had a solution. It was so simple I can't believe I didn't think of it before. But isn't that the way things usually are? Oh well, let's see what Doctor Grissom makes of this little glitch in his theory.
It is just after six in the evening when I leave my house. Even here in the suburbs the streets are still busy. People are buzzing about shopping for Christmas gifts. Restaurants and stores are crowded. Nerves are stretched thin. With every passing day people seem to lose a little more of their holiday spirit. They have no idea that somewhere, not too far away, people are suffering.
I drive five miles to the non-descript office building just two blocks from the hospital. I park and then make my way toward the doorof the office. The lock snicks and I push my way inside. I catch sight of the red light flashing on the alarm panel and stop to punch in the code. Even though it is early evening, the sun has long since set and the inside of the building is dark. But I don't need the light. I am accustomed to the shadows. I follow the familiar route to my office and sit behind my desk, turning on the computer.
With a few clicks, I have located the online dictation files. I'm sure when my partners and I decided to buy this software none of us thought it could be used for this purpose. I can feel the grin on my face at the ironies in life. I study the list of files and decide to sort by physician's name first. That helps me narrow things down nicely. With a quiet chuckle, I go to work.
After leaving the office I returned home and dropped into a peaceful sleep. It is still dark when I drag myself out of bed and prepare to face the day. I can feel the fear thrumming through my veins. But I hold tight to the promises of God. I am armed with a name, a room number and my conviction when I walk through the ER doors at St. Rose Sienna. There are three St. Rose campuses within a twenty mile radius. I am not on staff at this facility but Jackson Wright is. And he is my partner. And he has a patient on the fourth floor; a patient who, just yesterday, underwent a partial hysterectomy for cervical cancer.
I try to look casual as I maneuver through the halls. My scrubs are generic, my surgical cap too. I have 'inadvertently' left my name tag turned around backward. With a stethoscope slung around my neck, I am all but invisible. I find a stairwell and make my way to the fourth floor. As I climb, I feel a peace settling over me. I have my explanations ready if I am caught. But nothing can go wrong now. Nothing.
The hallway is empty as I cross the thirty feet to room 407. The door opens silently and I enter with a whisper of rubber soles on the tile floor. The woman is sleeping and I take a moment to study her. She looks so peaceful but I know that somewhere deep inside her lurks an insidious invader. Swiftly, I move to her bedside and find the IV port. Administering the drug, I wait until her eyes pop open in surprise. Her mouth opens but her lungs will not work.
Leaning close, I brush a lock of hair off her forehead and whisper in her ear. "Don't be afraid, Jessica. This is God's Will."
I leave just as quietly as I came.
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December 20, 2007
Four days without sleep had Grissom struggling to hold on to his composure. The usually soothing sounds of the lab had his nerves on edge and he was snarling at everyone who came within ten feet of him. His mood was black when he strode into the break room, assignment slips clutched tightly in his hand. "Listen up. We've got a full plate tonight." All conversation ceased as his voice cut through the air like a knife. Without glancing up he began to read off the papers.
"Catherine, you have a 426. Sofia and the vic are at Desert Palm." As if sensing the wince that crossed her face he said, "Sorry, but I need a woman on this one." He walked over and handed her the slip. "Greg, you can help her out. Meet Vartann at the scene. Catherine has the address."
He didn't pause to make sure his instructions were followed. Instead, he held up another piece of paper. "Warrick, 430B at a residence. The uniforms are waiting on you." When the slip was plucked from his hand, he continued, "And Nick, there's a 401A. You should be okay. But if you need help, call Warrick and he can back you up when he's done."
"Sure boss." Nick took the slip from Grissom and headed for the door. Turning back, he gave the other man a worried look. 'Hey, Griss? You okay?"
Grissom's head swung around slowly and he nailed Nick with a glare. "Everything is fine Nick. Why wouldn't it be?" His hand slowly closed on the slip that contained the information for his own case.
Nick, realizing his question had gone unanswered, simply stood there for a moment. His eyes searched Grissom's face taking in the bags under his eyes and the deep grooves around his mouth. "You just don't look too good. If there's anything you need…"
"I need you to get to work." Grissom's voice was clipped, his eyes cold and hard.
Nick's temper flared, but he quickly tamped it down. Reluctantly, he turned and left the room. As soon as the other man was out of earshot, Grissom dropped his head and sighed while massaging the back of his neck. He knew that he was being unreasonable and he felt even worse about taking it out on people who cared about him. With another deep sigh he moved over to the coffee pot and poured a cup. He was headed back to his office to pick up his kit when his phone bleated.
Snatching it off his belt, he snapped out a greeting. "Grissom."
"Good evening to you, too, Gil." Al's voice sailed over the line.
His scowl deepened at the man's cheerful tone. "You have something for me?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. Judy and I were wondering what you were doing for Christmas."
Closing his eyes, Grissom stopped walking and simply stood there trying to formulate a response.
"Gil?" Al sounded concerned.
"I'm here." He forced back a sigh. "I'll be working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day."
"Well, we're having dinner around eight on Christmas Eve and wondered if you'd like to come over." The offer was hesitant but seemingly heartfelt.
Resuming his trek, Grissom felt a warmth in the center of his chest that momentarily surprised him. "I appreciate that. But I don't want to intrude." Swallowing past the lump that was quickly forming in his throat, he continued. "Please tell Judy I said thank you."
Al was quiet for a moment. "Don't say no just yet. Think about it." When his request was met with silence he continued. "Okay, then. I'm sure I'll be seeing you later."
"Thanks, Al." Grissom's voice was quiet as he signed off. He wondered, in an abstract way, just how many invitations he would receive over the next few days. For some reason, the thought didn't bother him nearly as much as he thought it would. As he grabbed his kit he made a mental note to apologize to Nick later.
Twelve long, frustrating hours later, Grissom once again entered his office. His simple assault turned into a manslaughter. His back and knees were aching. His eyes were gritty. And he wanted nothing more than a stiff drink and a hot shower. He had already restocked his kit and dropped off his evidence. He intended to pick up a file and head home. He wasn't prepared for what he found waiting.
The plain folder was sitting on his chair where he'd be sure to see it. Picking it up, he recognized Al's familiar scrawl on the note stuck to the front.
Gil-
Looks like we have another one.
Al
Sitting down, he opened the file and skimmed through the contents. The victim profile was the same. But the location was different. Grissom sat quietly, his brain going over and over the information. Finally, a slow smile split his face. "Jessica Williams. You might just be his first mistake." He shoved the file roughly into his briefcase and left the office.
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