Through the Looking Glass Chapter 4: Wake Me When September Ends, a csi fanfic

Chapter Four: Wake Me When September Ends

In all of it's beauty in the waking of the day, the house stairs stirred with a creak underneath her descending steps, as light flooded through the curtained windows of the house, then darkened as the sun went behind the clouds again.

Sara didn't mind it, knowing the odds were with them today, with the weather not erasing any evidence by raindrops that were currently being searched for by a few people that she had never associated with in her life.

Come to think of it, that didn't matter either. If the job was being done, then justice would be served to a llittle boy without a family-- that is if that little boy was still alive.

And as she walked past the wall as she went down the stairs, she observed many pictures of the family; some of them professional pictures, others were just taken in quick instances to capture that moment, then framed.

Her brown eyes lit up on the point of seeing the little girl in a pink tutu, standing in perfect form as she held onto the gold bar with her hand. Her tin body reflecting from the glass behind her.

Another frame captured a brown haired boy, which Sara knew to be the Fischer's son. He looked just like his father, with the same grayish blue eyes that gazed back. With a wide grin, dimples apparent to his happiness held, the young boy held a soccer ball tightly in his left arm.

The next frame were of the mother and the father, who were both dressed casually; the mother in a salmon colored dress shirt and white khakis, her head posed back in laughter. While the father wore a light blue shirt and black pants; his body bent forward, an evident smile upon his face as he stood next to his wife.

Sara had no idea what they were laughing about, but knew that their short happiness had now come to an end-- only leaving memories, and a mystery behind.
----

"No, I can't say they did..." Broke a voice through her thoughts; which was new, and not easing to her mind.

The voice came around loud and clear, coming from the room that she and Grissom had passed earlier. Any indication that the sister could give that she recognized this piece of jewelry, could say a whole lot to who owns it.

"And how long have you been living with your sister?" Came another voice, one familiar to her everyday profession.

Sara stepped quietly down the stairs, eyes still half focused on the pictures that were hanging to the side of her, as she finally took her gaze back on making her way to the bottom steps.

Her foot lingered on the last step before she knew it, and she stepped down on the wooden floor. As she was now just a couple steps shy of entering the room to join them.

Instead of going in, she put a hand on the wall and listened to the sister's answer. "Only a couple of months" The sister now responded to his question in a quiet but meek voice, while Sara also heard what was a deep sniffle, and a soft sweep of her feet across the floor.

Peering into the large room, Sara noticed the walls were painted a light green. While grand wood shelves lined all along the middle wall, between the two. The right wall sported two white paned windows, with a brown couch sitting underneath. A large screen TV sitting a few feet away, while a coffee table was established in between the couch and the TV.

On the left wall across the room sat a lighter colored desk; papers stacked on one side, with the next occupying a computer, that looked as though it was turned off.

---

She took in a deep breath as she followed along the stretch of cement, her eyes quickly scanning the graves as she passed. The rain, now falling faster upon her head, soaking her hair and body, Catherine realized she had forgotten her umbrella in her car.

Her eyes closed momentarily then reopened as she turned to look at her car in the distance. For a moment a thought rang through, and she bowed her head, as she located his grave, and simply sighed and headed back towards her car.

She dug the keys out of her pocket, pushed the unlock button, and quickly pulled up on the handle. Her fingers slipping from the fallen rain, then rose back to the handle, finding a deeper hold until the car door opened.

A few moments later, she found herself securely leaning against the tan leather seat, her forehead resting against the cool window, her breath creating a fog that crept along the glass. The red rose that Lindsay gave her, laid in her lap, the stem tightly in her grasp.

Fighting a fleeting moment that tried to convince her that she wasn't ready for this, she remembered her daughter. The innocent state of her nine-year-old body, shaken, after comprehending that her own father was never coming back. Her heart shattered, as she watched his dark oak casket being lowered into the ground.

And at that moment as she put her arm protectively around her daughter, and watched her quiet reaction; her eyes fighting tears, as her small hands wrapped around her waist, Catherine realized that her daughter was starting to understand what she knew, that human beings were capable of anything.

---

"Hey Warrick, Nick" Dr. Robbins greeted as he turned back around, with the usual protective gear he wore, as he held a scalpel in his hand, finger pressed against the top middle.

"Hey" both acknowledged back as they walked farther into the room. Their eyes followed to the table beside the one that he was working at, then to the next autopsy table that held Jack Malone. By now they both had pulled on their gloves and were waiting for anything that would help them further along in the case.

"What can you tell us about Jack?" Warrick inquired, as he motioned to the man, now pale skinned, as his clothed body had been replaced to bareness and had been covered by a thin blue sheet.

Dr. Robbins eyes sparked as he used the scalpel is his hand to point out his findings. "Close rang shot to the chest is what killed him" He acknowledged, as he grabbed a metal pan sitting to the side of them. "And left us with a bullet" He titled the pan downward, which sounded a metal rolling against metal chime as he handed the pan to Warrick. "What I found interesting though--" He continued. As he took a few stiff steps proceeding to the left, closer to Mr. Malone's lower stomach, then turned towards another table nearby. "Something that I thought you would like to see" He said as he grasped an evidence bag and faced them.

Nick arched a brow, his eyes reverting to the freshly stitched incision on Jack Malone's abdomen, besides the v shaped cut left from the collar bone done, after the body had been autopsied. Looking up Nick noted to himself to ask Dr. Robbins of an irregular findings, but ended up shoving the possible connecting questions into a compartment in his head somewhere nearby, as his eye caught two golden rings.

Wedding rings perhaps? Was his first question. His eyes fixed on the bag that Doc Robbins held up. In the corner of his eye he saw that Warrick was comprehending the contents of the bag also. And in a flash as they gave a connected gaze that's when they both knew—they didn't have to say anything.

-----

"Which means you know well of the items that sit in this house--" Sara caught Brass' gaze as she walked into the room. She could tell immediately that he understood her tone of question was a statement—and there was more to it, than what met the eye.

Different voice. New face. The young woman didn't know what to make of her—although Sara's gentle brow eyes sought to bring her grieving heart, comfort. She couldn't argue with that.

"Rachel this is Sara Sidle from the Las Vegas Crime Lab" His face then fell slightly as he took in a deep breath. He always hated introducing a victim into the picture, in the presence of their living breathing relative. "Sara, Rachel Shetfield. Bridgett's sister."

A quick nod, Rachel gave an almost inaudible "Hello" as she put one foot slightly in front of the other. Her green eyes considerately glanced in their direction—bearing questions, which were unanswered, and haunting.

The room fell silent, of which Sara took the moment as she watched Rachel's eyes fall to the floor. Rapid breathing, heavy motions of panic, gave way to a drawn-out rising and falling of Mrs. Shetfield's chest. Each Sara and Captain Brass made a swift change in position, as they gave a quick exchange of undivided concern to Rachel. But each knew they were not alone in making a brisk decision to follow that concern, if it was needed.

Rachel looked up at them, with slight discomfort, but there came that companied look. "I went to an early morning breakfast with an old friend and her husband. I came home around ten, saw Bridgett's black purse was still sitting on the stand by the door."

"Did she usually leave her purse there, by the door?" Brass inquired, then added the information that he had acquired before into his notebook.

She shook her head. "No, I thought maybe she had come home for awhile after taking the kid's to school" Rachel looked sadly at a framed picture of her niece that hung on wall. "She only leaves it there if she has parked the car in the driveway, and she's here for a little while."

Jim arched a brow at her remark, then settled with the pen still in hand ."Like when you want a little peace and quiet?"

-----

Her daughter's face held in her mind, as she grasped the rose tighter into hand, then grabbed her umbrella on the floor of the passenger's side. As she did, a gold necklace with two hearts on it made itself known to the eye.

The smaller heart held to the right side of the bigger one; that held as a foundation. Beautiful golden wings were attached to the larger heart, while two children, one framed in between the two hearts reached out her hand to the one sat happily on the larger heart.

Catherine sat up against the seat, and instantly recognized the presence of the gold necklace—the details of the necklace filled her mind, as she bundled up her coat tightly and opened her door once more. The wind stirring in the air, hit mildly against the side of her face, as she set her foot against the wet black asphalt of the parking lot.

Without warning, every detail of a very haunting December night filled her mind. And for the last four years and three months, in some way she had always felt she was trapped in that day, over and over again—three days before Christmas, injured quite badly, as was her family, who laid upside down in an overturned car.

Her body shuttered beneath her coat and gloves, as she closed the door to her black Denali. Her fingers ached within as her mind flashed back to the damaged car—shattered windshield, and inflated airbags in the front—as well as different scattered items, one in particular that caught her eye was a drawing that her two daughters had drawn somewhere along the way. The girl's fun filled ways to keep themselves busy during the trip to her mother's house, had give much laughter—but had been short lived, as the collision from moments ago subsided slightly to a now very quiet car.

Silence—was all she heard, when her heart ached to determine any noise, anything that might calm the wild beating that pulsated against her chest. But as he head cautiously turned towards the driver's seat where her husband Eddie unconscious body hung limply, despite his prolonged hold to the steering wheel, she had to choke down the fear that was starting to overwhelm her noticeably wounded body.

"Eddie" Her voice came out weak and scared, as she did not know where to balance the fear that lay inside of her as reached out her left arm—that was trembling by the impact, but was still being stretched out as far as it could. And when she had reached as far as her limb would allow, that's when she realized she was still confined by the safety of her seatbelt.

But it didn't take her long to feel the searing pain throughout her body as she carefully unlocked herself from the hold, and freed her tired body. Then dragged herself between the two seat, as she levered herself to stand up, and posed in a half lean so she could check her husband's pulse, that was slow, but to her relief, he was still there.

The only thing she feared now, as she walked every step with discomfort to the back of the car. Her ears keenly picking up voices from above, as she searched through the darkness, her hands finally reached her youngest daughter first.

Her hand ran blindly over her cheek, which was still somewhat warm to the touch. It even took a moment but her daughter's green blue eyes stirred from their slumber—and the loving touch of her mother, the little girl was receptive and pressed her cheek harder against her hand, which told Catherine that she was also holding on. "Me—" The little girl mumbled quietly, and pointed weakly to herself.

"Yes, baby. You." Catherine brushed back a piece of her two-year old daughter's hair. "You're going to be alright" She reassured her, as she carefully unhooked her with a struggle and pulled her out of her seat, being cautious of her neck and small body. "I need you to do something for me though" Her daughter's eyes lit up, as she lowered her to the hood of the car. She blinked, without a word. Catherine couldn't help letting a small smile fall upon her lips, despite the panic she was trying to hide. Even though Lindsey was nowhere in sight, her husband was still unconscious and hanging upside down, and she heard sirens somewhere in the distance, which gave her hope that somebody was coming, somebody was going to help them—and they were going to be okay

She turned back to her daughter, who was still looking at her with the same expression that she saw often, the look that asked 'What is it mommy?" Catherine gave what she knew was not a smile but something she could muster, without giving her worry away—as her heart jumped hearing people yelling in the distance. And it took all her focus just to face her daughter's innocent expression, and to continue. "I need you to lay here, but you can't move" The last part was suppose to seem serious, and it was—but instead her tone seemed to come out like they were just playing a game. Heavens—if only they were.

Because never had she prepared herself for something this extreme, and as a mother, with two young daughter's she couldn't shake the undermining feeling as she stood up, and made her way to the very back of their white Explorer. Something was not right, and between trying to hold on to the voices that were slowly getting nearer, and pushing her pain aside, she called her daughter's name. "Lindsey" She choked, her eyes searching for any movement, any direction of voice. "If you can hear me--" She stopped and listened, but only heard footsteps, she was sure were very close now.

Wait. Patience. Listen. "Katie stay with me baby" She heard the slight movement behind her, and the tension released slightly. "Why don't you sing you're favorite song for me" Listen. Please.

"Mommy" It took a moment before her words registered to Catherine's ears, but she had definitely heard her—and both let out a sob of joy, as well as Katie who had started singing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' the song they all sang together, every night.

"Lindsey" Her name came out in a soft whisper, in a way you could feel her small smile that lit up the darkness as she leaned heavily against the seat, and lowered herself carefully to the side of her daughter's feet. Her hand strived to keep her daughter from moving as she felt her small body contract. "Baby, I need you to stay still"

"Mommy" Lindsey's voice was worn, but eager. "No, I got out" Catherine arched a brow in confusion. The pain in her own body was starting to weigh down on her, as it made itself better known for the strenuous actions she had take for her family, this night. So maybe it was only her that was not understanding what her daughter was trying to tell her. "Unbuckled--" One word finished her daughter's explanation, and then everything clicked.

She was trying to tell her mother that she had gotten out on her own, by unbuckling herself. Catherine opened her mouth to say something but only got half way before another voice interrupted them, followed by a frantic knock at the window.

Catherine turned around as quickly as she could, her eyes focusing on the frosty glass before her, as she made out a figure with shaggy light brown hair, and green eyes. "Is everybody alright?" Came a muffled concern, from a complete stranger.

"Please, my husband is still in the driver's seat" Her hand shakily went to the side of her forehead as she shook off the pending dizziness. The concern grew in the man's face, as she stole a quick glance before he disappeared out of sight, and the reappeared after scratchily opening up the passenger side door.

As a roll of thunder rumbled through the darkened atmosphere, she shook her head from the thoughts that brought her back to the present—and Catherine found herself placing the small rose in a small capsule in the grave. Her thoughts lingering on this as she closed the lid back up, 'I lost him now, when I could have lost him then'

----

"Eight forty--five" Rachel finished, rubbing the side of her cheek tiredly with her hand, and exhaled.
"Carrie and Noah were just in town for a couple days" Her eyes welled up with tears, as she rubbed her fingers through her hair.

He nodded sympathetically. "The friends you were with—" An immediate nod confirmed. "What happened next?"

"I took my shoes off. I knew Bridgett would tell me to take them off anyway, and I closed the front door" She bit back a bitter laugh, as she turned and gazed at the brown boots that were sitting near the right side of the door.

"The boots over there?" Jim inquired, pointing with his pen over her left shoulder. Rachel gave a half twist of her body. Her eyes gently pressed towards the boots as she gave a simple nod.

As he nodded, he inhaled a faint lemon scent, and turned to Sara. "Smell that? " He wrinkled his nose slightly.

Sara leaned forward and inhaled, before recognizing the smell that wafted through her senses. "Yeah, lemon oil?"

Jim arched a brow, clearly intrigued. Maybe a cover up of some sort? Both turned back towards Rachel who furrowed her brows, deep in consideration. A small complacent look, she stared at the wood floor, her mind deep in thought. He exhaled deeply—knowing this was going to be a long night. "Rachel when's the last time this floor was oiled?"

She opened her mouth immediately, in response. "Bridgett always had some lady oil the floors for her. So Bridgett could spend as much time with the kids as she could, when she wasn't working, and they weren't in school" Rachel briefly pulled back a stray hair behind her ear.

"Did this lady happen to come by today?" Jim inquired, turning the page of his notebook.

Rachel hesitated for a moment. "Somebody showed up just as I was about to leave. It could have been her. Bridgett was telling me yesterday about this lady she has come every few weeks and oil the floor, as well as do some simple tasks around the house."

"Like what kind of tasks?" He asked curiously, with his pen ready in motion.

"Dusting mostly, Bridgett didn't want to take the risk of being up in high places, but she knew it had to be done. I have allergies or I would be have accepted to do it, but instead I had to find an alternative of helping around here"

He nodded and pressed gently. "So this lady, does she have a name?"

"Yeah, all I know is she goes by Ria" Rachel sniffed, and rubbed the end of her nose, before putting her hand back to her side.

There was a slight pause between them, which Sara used to her advantage. "Okay, did Ria have access to everywhere in the house, or just specific areas?"

"Just on the main level-- occasionally she would dust the banister leading up the stairs, but Bridgett mostly stayed by her side, talking to her." Rachel folded her arms casually over one another. "As the kids got older, it got harder to get them to do certain things, and in the coming months with a new arrival on the way" She swallowed and her voice wavered, then leveled. "Bridgett wanted things to be perfect."

-----

Catherine stood up, and started walking back to the car before she turned around. "Take care of her Eddie" And with that she turned, her eyes gazing in the distance at a man in a yellow raincoat, kneeling in front of a grave, probably of a loved one.

Raindrops fell upon her umbrella, then down the sides as she turned and quickly walked back to her car, and opened the door before safely stepping in. Her coat was donned with clear drops of rain that quickly evaporated as soon as the heat had started to make its course throughout the car. Her fingers gently fell upon the lock button on the side door as she pushed it forward, her ears quickly echoing the locking motion as she embraced the heat hitting her body once more.

The umbrella still in her lap, she placed it roughly back on the floor of the passenger's seat, and her hands firmly grasped the steering wheel, as her eyes fell upon the silver watch that hugged tightly around her wrist.

Matching silver hands signaled almost a quarter to four, which left her about an hour to go before she was able to return back to work. Three days later of course--although she would have been back sooner but Gil stayed firm to his ground about her taking some leave.

Despite her usual charm, she had reasoned three days--instead of a week. And even when he hadn't settled for her deal at first glance, she knew he would be thinking about it fully, as she walked out the door of his office.

She leaned her back against the tan leather chair of the driver's seat, and exhaled deeply as she closed her eyes. Her mind wandered back in time when she had settled letting her father watch Lindsey that night she went to have 'a talk' with Gil.

She had tried to keep her focus straight despite the cloudiness that fogged her mind at the time.

Using choice words, she had ushered Lindsey into the richness of her father's house. Lindsey knew as soon as she entered that she was to be on her best behavior.

And although Catherine knew both her and her father were not in the best terms, she knew this was no time to argue with him, the figure who stood before them in the middle of the night, as compassion filled his heart, seeing his only daughter and granddaughter.

----

"A symbol of love used as a warning sign" Nick indicated as they stepped into the break room, and he stepped to the side as he opened the cabinet and grabbed a coffee cup.

"Whoever put those wedding rings in Jack Malone's stomach, apparently knew what they were doing" Warrick offered, placing his hands on the counter, his fingers tapping along the edge, in a rhythmic motion.

Nick nodded as he poured himself some coffee, about half full as they continued with the discussion. His brows arched as he turned around, his hand wrapped around the handle of the cup. "Jack works as a spotless business man, and evidently has a clean house as well"

Warrick nodded—but he had his own suspicions about the house—as he opened another cabinet door, and took out a small plate, then rummaged through the small white refrigerator, until he found what he was looking for. "The house must have already been clean enough that nothing looked out of the ordinary"

With a ding, Nick tapped the spoon on the side of his cup. "To them maybe" He took a sip, his features filled with warmth and delight. "What about the wife?"

Warrick's brow rose, as he poured the contents of beef stew into the bowl. "Practical" He added, placing the used Tupperware into the sink.