Chapter Ten:

A mad man holds a pottery shard to her neck, she never feels more alive and doomed in those minutes alone with Adam Trent. After giving Brass a statement each and ensuring their suspect is stable, they climb into the truck. Sara is quiet on the drive; he isn't sure whether to hold her hand or punch himself in the face. The silence begins to overwhelm them both.

'It wasn't your fault.' She says as she turns her body towards him, he can see the mark left on her skin.

'Sara…' it's a warning, he can't do this right now. Let alone the paperwork that needs to be filed because of the incident but the fact that for a moment Gilbert Grissom's world nearly ended and he has a lot of unpacking to do in his head. Both as a supervisor but as her friend. But this cannot be about him right now, he knows that. 'I'm dropping you off at home.' He turns quickly at her, knowing her better than any other person on the planet right now, he knows she is about to protest.

'Griss, I said I was fine. I wanna finish this case.' She looks forward, attempting to put the incident behind her and do her job.

'No, you are going home, get some rest. Adam isn't going anywhere right now. I will book in the evidence, then we will pick it back up tonight. Ok?' He leans over to cover her hand with his, its red and angry from when Adam clawed at her during their struggle. Sara doesn't respond but pulls her hand away and folds her legs up into her chest, resting her head on her knees and turns her head out of the window.

Like he promised he drops Sara off at her apartment and walks her to the door. She unlocks it slowly, dragging out this moment, she doesn't want to be alone, but she also doesn't want to admit that to him. She knows he needs to go back to the lab and finish his shift, she just wished he cared more about her than the stupid case. He squeezes her bicep and turns quickly, leaving her stood in her open doorway. Angry she slams the door, forgetting to lock it and marches over to the bathroom. Ripping her clothes off and dumping them in the empty hamper she turns to the shower and turns the water on high and hot. Waiting a few minutes for the water to get to maximum temperature, the water system is always a bit slower in these older buildings, she steps in the stream and stands under the water longer than she should. Her skin scalding, her hair hanging down her face, her pulse in her neck throbbing, her feet turning red from the sheer heat of the downpour. She grabs a loofa from the shelf and begins to scrub, inch by inch. Scrub away the smell, of him, the hospital, her trauma. After scraping her skin of any possible transfer from him to her and washing her hair, she sits on the floor of the shower. There is banging on her door, they didn't discuss him coming over so he assumes she has locked herself in, especially after a night like tonight. For a moment he considers breaking down the door but then the only rational part of his brain, obviously working overtime right now decides to kick in and pushes him to try the handle. To his relief it is unlocked, and he throws himself into the apartment, a cloud of steam is pouring from the bathroom. Just as he is about to yank the door open, Sara stands there with the door gripped in her hand, towel around her body, hair dripping. He takes her in. Noticing her red eyes and bright pink skin. He grabs her shoulders and pulls her in for a bone crushing hug not caring that he is soaking himself in his efforts.

'I was worried maybe you were… had done something when you didn't answer your phone. I came as fast as I could. God Sara I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have left you alone in that….. fucking office.' He pulls back and she is crying, he swore, he never curses.

'I can still smell him, the hospital. I needed to wash it away.' She shakes her head trying to stop her tears. He notices the mark on her neck as she turns her head, it looks worse than before, bright edges and red streaks form down her neck.

'Honey, you're bleeding.' He reaches out to touch her neck, he feels her pulse under his heavy fingers. 'Here, come on.' He guides her back into the bathroom and sits her down on the closed toilet. He opens her cabinet and reaches in looking for some ointment. Finding some Acclean cream, he moves her hair from her shoulder and grabbing his handkerchief from his pant pocket, he dabs the moisture away from her skin, pink tinges the cotton and he moves to a clean piece and dabs again. When the area is dry, he pushes some cream onto his finger and slowly and gently dabs the mark. She hisses and tries to move away from his touch. 'Sorry.' He dabs some more to let the cream sink in and turns to wash his hands in the sink. Folding the handkerchief, he places it back into his pocket. 'Why don't you go get dressed. I'll make us something to eat and we can….. we can… watch some tv?' He looks down at her sat silent on the toilet. She nods and stands slowly, her red eyes meeting his briefly before she turns and leaves him alone.

He moves to the kitchen, heart racing and plates up some cereal and fruit and two strong cups of coffee. He could have lost her today, before he ever got to tell her how much she means to him, before he could kiss her, hold her, taste her. He moves into the kitchen, grabbing the cereal and fruit, knowing neither of them could stomach anything heavier right now. He gathers his offerings on a tray and carefully carries them over to the coffee table. Moving over to the window to draw the curtains, he slips his shoes off and drops his jacket on the chair at her desk. He hears her shuffle into the room from her bedroom. Dressing gown wrapped tightly around her slim body. She looks dazed, confused and tears are threatening to spill.

'Honey? Come here, let's sit down and…'

'What were you thinking when you saw me in that room?' Grissom pauses for a moment and slowly walks over to her frozen in the doorway.

'Sara, I don't think…'

'Please…' He stops, halfway across the room.

'That I was too late. That he was going to….. Rape you or…. I just kept thinking that his hands would be the last ones to hold you, that you would die being held in such a violent way. That I was going to lose you…. forever. That I was too…. That I was too late.' He looks down, he can only hope she understands what he means, now he has started he can't seem to stop.

'Sara, I'm so sorr...' She interrupts.

'I just kept thinking… at least I got to see you one last time. That you were there, if I was to die. That even in my last moments, I was with you.'

She found comfort in him being there, but that isn't enough. He will never forgive himself for this, he will never let her out of his sight for the rest of his life, so nothing like this will happen again! He walks over to her.

'Come on, let's eat, watch some trashy tv…. No documentaries, I promise.' His attempt at cheering her up. He guides her over to the sofa, handing her a bowl of cereal. He sits down next to her, moving the cushions around her, pulling a throw onto her lap, making sure she is comfortable. Turning his attention to the tv, he settles on a rerun of Friends, he knows it's her guilty pleasure, even though she would never admit it to anyone. After they finish their cereal, he takes her bowl and places it on the floor under the table, passing her another smaller bowl full of washed and chopped fruit and they continue to eat in silence. After a few episodes, Sara stands abruptly and moves away from him and the small haven he made for them in that moment. He leans forward, ready to follow her, to do anything for her.

'What's up?'

'Nothing, I just need the bathroom.' She throws over her shoulder walking away. He falls back on the sofa with a thud, taking his glasses off and rubbing his face. He leans forward, his head in his hands, elbows digging painfully into his knees, eyes squeezed shut, pushing any tears back. He smells her presence before he sees her. Opening his eyes slowly, he sees her bare feet in front of him. Looking up from his hands, he drops them to his thighs. Sara is stood in front of him, tired and defeated. Without really processing anything, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. Resting his head on her stomach, her hands twist into his hair and down around his neck and shoulders. They stay like that for an eternity. Just holding onto one another for dear life.

'I nearly lost you today. Without ever telling you…' He stops, his bravery running out. Sara brings her hands round to the front of his head, cradling his face and brings him to look at her.

'Telling me what?'

'I'm scared Sara.'

'About what?'

'Losing you.'

'You have to have something in the first place in order to lose it.' She states bluntly, immediately regretting her choice of words.

'Sara.' She makes a noise in response, but he doesn't say anything back, just slowly pulls his arms from around her fragile body. Keeping his hands on her waist, he pushes her back so he can stand, he draws his hands up her arms, over her shoulders and into her hair, pulling her closer yet again. A single tear falls down her cheek.

'Tell me I'm not too late. Tell me Sara… Please.' She doesn't respond but throws herself into him kissing him fiercely, dazed for a nano second, he begins to kiss her back. Seven years of wanting this, needing this. He pours everything into this kiss. Her left-hand snakes up to his chest and grabs his shirt whilst the other wraps around the back of his head, holding him to her lips. They kiss for a few minutes, until they can feel their tears mix and fall freely, the salty taste pulling them apart.

'Sara.' Her name sounds like a song.

'Don't leave me.' She pleads.

'Sara….' He dips his head and captures her lips again then pulls back. They stand in silence for a while just holding each other, processing the moment. He breaks the silence pulling away, holding her at arm's length.

'How's your neck?'

'It stings.'

'I can go get some cream, maybe a bruise gel, it's going to look a bit like a hickey in a few days.'

'No. I want you to stay.' He nods and draws her back in, tucking her head under his chin.

'Can we sleep?' She asks timidly. He squeezes her once more before letting go. Leaning back, he brings his hands up to cup her face and nods. They leave the tv on, forgetting about the bowls on the floor, the discarded cold cups of coffee and walk together to the bedroom.