Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS.
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I tried to answer them all, but if I missed any then I'm sorry. So anyway, I think you'll see now why I had to cut this chapter into two. WAY too long. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the case that's going on. All in good time.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Five hours, twelve stitches (six in the head and six on the shoulder), and one head scan later, the trio hobbled out of the hospital doors, taking deep breaths of the late afternoon air. The doctor had applied a sort of sling to Sara's left arm to keep her shoulder in place as everything healed. He'd prescribed ice packs for her bruised face, and someone was going to have to make sure she stayed awake for the next 24 hours due to the concussion she had sustained. Grissom and Joslyn had agreed on looking after her in shifts: Joslyn for the first twelve hours, and Grissom for the next. Seeing as how the four-hour time limit they had been given was not only up; but was over by about an additional 4 hours, Grissom figured he'd go back to the lab and smooth things over with Ecklie.
The two girls dropped him at the lab, and after stopping by Joslyn's place for some overnight things, they headed back to Sara's. Sara watched out the window as the blazing lights of Circus-Circus sped by, reflecting off of her face. She'd been up for 39 hours, and all the events of the day had taken a toll on her, body and mind. All the lights of The Strip began to blur into one as her eyes became unfocused, her eyelids heavy.
"HEY!" Joslyn's distinct voice slapped her in the face. "We've got 23.5 more hours to go, and you're already wimping out on me? Stay awake Sidle, that's an order!"
Sara laughed, "You can't order me around, I'm your boss. Remember; Grace?"
Joslyn's face fell, "Oh yeah." Her gravelly voice grew quieter as she gave a soft chuckle, "You know it's funny, but I find it so easy to forget that you're my supervisor."
Sara smiled to herself in the dark interior of the car. It made her happy that Joslyn felt comfortable around her. A lot of people found her too intense. She watched as Joslyn smoothly changed lanes, following the directions Sara had given her, and turned onto the street where Sara's building was located.
"So," began the younger woman, "What should we do to keep each other awake? Watch movies? TV? Play board games? I think you'll find me an excellent opponent at Jenga, if you're interested."
Sara laughed again, "I don't really have any movies…or bored games. And I don't watch TV."
"I'm not a huge fan of it either," Joslyn answered, waving a hand dismissively, "Whoever invented reality shows should be shot." She visibly shuddered as she pulled into the lot and parked in a visitor's parking stall. Swinging her backpack over her shoulder as they hopped out, Joslyn followed as Sara led the way to her apartment on the fourth floor.
Sara had left the sliding glass door open, and her white sheer curtains were dancing in the evening breeze as they entered. The soft purple walls of her apartment reflected the cool colors of the coming night, welcoming the two women in silence. Joslyn breathed in as she set her bag on the floor, a spicy vanilla smell met her nostrils. She liked it. It was feminine, comforting.
"You can throw your things anywhere, I'm just going to go change," said Sara, already unbuttoning the top of her pants. "The bathroom's down the hall if you need it!" she called over her shoulder. Joslyn grabbed her bag and headed for the bathroom. Setting her knapsack on the floor she kicked off her shoes and began to undress. The window was opened a crack, and the crisp evening wind blew across her bare skin as she changed, goose bumps rippling. Dressed in her favorite pair of jeans and a black tee shirt, she splashed her face with some water and threw her hair into a ponytail. With a final glance in the mirror she went to out to meet Sara, who standing in the kitchen pouring red wine into two long-stemmed glasses. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white tank top, her hair loose around her shoulders. How she'd managed to change on her own was anyone's guess. She smiled as Joslyn entered the room, handing her a glass. "So are you hungry, can I make you something to eat?"
Joslyn shook her head as she took a sip of wine, "Thanks but my stomach's still a little unhappy after the autopsy."
"Good," answered Sara, sighing, "'Cause I don't think I have any food." Joslyn snorted into her wineglass, nearly spilling. "Come on," laughed Sara, "Have a seat, let's get to know each other a little."
The two of them sat cross-legged on the couch, facing each other. Both of them preferred natural light to artificial, so they sat in the gently increasing darkness of the room, regarding each other in the soft twilight. "So," started Joslyn, turning her glass absent-mindedly in her hand, "What do you want to know, exactly?" Sara took a sip of her wine and set it down on the coffee table.
"Well, why don't we start with the basics? Where were you born, what's your family like, that kind of thing." Joslyn sighed and looked out the window, her almond eyes unseeing.
"I was born in Seattle. I lived a relatively normal life up until I was 11, then my teachers noticed that I was always bored in class, always misbehaving. They sent me to a shrink who told my Dad that I wasn't troubled; I was gifted. Ever since then I was put into special classes, special schools," her voice took on an uncharacteristic edge.
"You didn't like that? Being different I mean?" asked Sara, reaching for her wine.
"No, what kid does? All I wanted to do was play with my friends, but I lost them all because I was living such a different lifestyle than they were. We had nothing in common anymore. The majority of my childhood I just remember feeling so…" she paused searching for a word.
"Isolated," Sara finished.
"Exactly."
"Well what about your parents, couldn't they have enrolled you in some dance classes, got you interacting with other kids your age?"
"My parents," said Joslyn, with a humorless laugh. "My mom left when I was nine. She couldn't put up with my Dad's drinking, and she was never exactly the maternal type. I woke up one day and she was gone. My Dad and I never spoke about it, or anything else for that matter. We'd both known it was coming. She'd always been so unhappy. Anyway, to cut a boring story short, I was a total loner all throughout school. The other kids never spoke to me and for the most part, that was the way I wanted it. I got a full scholarship to Yale, without which I never would have been able to afford college, and I left Seattle the day after I graduated. I never looked back." She laughed again, this time it was a happy one. "Sorry to dump all that on you, that was weird. No one's ever really asked to hear about my life before. I think I made things sound worse than they were. But I'm so happy where I'm at right now."
"Not at all," Sara reassured her, "It wasn't 'dumping', it was talking. I did ask you to tell me, after all." Joslyn gave her a lopsided smile at that, one dimple puncturing her cheek.
"Well I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours," teased Jos, nudging Sara's knee with her own.
The room had grown dark; the only light was the pale moon filtering in through the open window, softening the bruises that mottled Sara's face. Joslyn's eyes were shining with the anticipation of learning more about her co-worker. She had her head lazily propped in her hand, her arm resting on the couch cushion. Her blonde hair had fallen loose from the ponytail, and it streamed between her fingers. Sara was sitting in the same position, her warm brown eyes relaxed, as was her body. The blue moonshine bounced off her dark curls. The two women looked like opposite mirror images as they sat facing each other, the same and not the same.
Should I? Sara thought, Should I tell her? She told me her secrets without blinking an eye. I wish I could be so open like that, so honest. I told him…why not tell her?
Sara opened her mouth to speak; ready to let Joslyn know it all. This was the first time in her life (other than with Grissom) that she'd ever been brave enough to tell anybody about her childhood. About the abuse, the fighting, the pain. About the night her mother killed her father. She'd been on the verge of telling other people, Catherine in particular, but she had always been too scared that people would start to view her differently. She took a breath to speak, but just as she did, a noise came from the hallway outside her apartment. Both women turned and stared at the door as an envelope came shooting underneath the gap between the door and the floor. It slid the few feet across the room, coming to rest beside the couch.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sara and Joslyn looked at each other in wonder. Sara bent down and scooped up the envelope, flipping it to see who it was addressed to. It had her name printed in harsh block letters across the front.
She stared at it quizzically before Joslyn spoke in a whisper, "Go on, open it."
Sara slid a thumbnail under the back and ripped it open, pulling out a small white piece of paper. In the same block print as was on the envelope was a letter stating,
Dear CSI Sidle,
It has come to my attention that you and your associate, CSI Grace,
are currently investigating the death of Trinity Wescott. I find it
incumbent upon me to warn you that it is best if said investigation
goes no further. For your own safety, and the safety of your coworkers
drop this case. If you do not, you may find yourselves on a much more
intimate basis with kitchen appliances than you ever desired to be. I believe
you've already been introduced to the frying pan, Ms Sidle, but the blender
is dying to meet you both.
Yours most sincerely,
X
Sara dropped the letter as though it were on fire, looking to Joslyn in shock. "What?" asked Joslyn, concerned, "What did it say? Who's it from?" Sara just shook her head silently, her mouth open. Joslyn reached past her to pick the piece of paper off the ground.
"No!" Sara said, grabbing her wrist. "No don't touch it. There might be prints on it."
"Prints?" asked Joslyn incredulously, "Sara, what are you talking about?"
"Here," said Sara, releasing her arm. She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves, throwing them to Joslyn who put them on and snatched the paper off the ground. Her eyes flew over the paper, lips silently mouthing the words. She looked to Sara, her face pale. A question was forming on her lips, but before she could ask it, there was a knock at the door. The two women looked at each other, both frozen in fear. Someone outside tried to work the handle, but the door was locked. Joslyn's eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. The knock on the door was more insistent this time. Sara stood in the kitchen, frozen like a deer in the headlights, as again the door handle turned slowly.
"Sara? Sara, are you home? You two had better not have fallen asleep, or you're in serious trouble Joslyn," came a familiar voice. "You're supposed to be keeping her awake."
"Grissom!" called Sara through the door.
"Who else? Let me in, this is getting ridiculous," his irritated voice came from the hall. Sara, visibly relaxing, walked to the door and let him inside. He saw the look on her face as he came in, and then turned to Joslyn, who looked just as upset as she sat on the couch. "What happened? What's with the dish gloves?" he asked, gesturing to Joslyn's rubber hand attire. She wordlessly tossed him her gloves and got him to pick the piece of paper up off the table. The scowl on his face deepened as he read.
"Who sent you this?" he asked.
"Do you really think they stopped to say 'hello'?" snapped Sara, "Whoever it was slid it under the door and took off."
Grissom, seriously concerned, looked to Sara, sighing. "I just came to tell you that the Senator will be arriving at the lab for a briefing in two hours, and Ecklie wants you both to be there. And now that I've seen this I definitely want you both where I can keep an eye on you until we can figure things out."
"Figure things out?' asked Sara.
Grissom braced himself, ready for what was coming. "I want to pull you both off the case."
Sara bristled, hands flying to her hips. "What? Why?"
"Why?" asked Grissom, his voice raising. "Sara look at yourself! You got your face smashed in with a frying pan! You nearly died today; I had to perform CPR on you. Do you have any idea what that was like? And now you're both getting death threats, and you ask me why I want you off this case?"
Her hands dropped to her side, she said nothing. She didn't know that he'd had to perform CPR. To be honest, she hadn't wanted to let herself think about any of it. That's what she was good at, compartmentalizing.
"Look," she began, her voice softening, "This job comes with risks, alright? I promise I'll be more careful. We can make sure that neither of us are left alone, we'll take every precaution possible. Just please, please, let us finish what we started."
Grissom scrubbed his face with his palm, and looked at her. "Let's just deal with this once we get to the lab. I want to get you both somewhere I know you're safe.
Glowering, Sara and Joslyn grabbed their things and followed Grissom out the door, leaving the curtains whispering in the darkness.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The drive had been short, and quiet. Sara was too exhausted, and in too much pain to argue anymore. She wasn't allowed to take the painkillers the doctor had prescribed her until her 24 hours was up, and it was becoming hard to focus on anything. As they entered the lab, Joslyn ran to take the letter they'd received (now in a Ziploc bag) to trace. Grissom, sensing Sara's wariness, led her by the small of her back to the staff room, where she sank gratefully onto the couch.
"You do understand why I want you off this case," he said gently. It wasn't a question.
She had closed her eyes and was resting her head in her hand, but he saw her give a small nod. " I don't want to see you hurt again. Either of you. And I can't think of any other way to protect you than to remove you--"
He was cut off as Warrick, Nick, Greg, and Catherine entered the room, followed soon after by Joslyn. After a lot of hugs, inspections of Sara's injuries, and "are you okay!s, everyone settled down into the various seats around the room. Everyone had apparently wrapped up their cases, and had been given the notice by Ecklie that it was "all hands on deck" for the Wescott case now. Grissom updated them on the death threat that Sara and Joslyn had just received, and the room took on a decidedly darker atmosphere.
"They're threatening to blend you guys up?" asked Greg incredulously.
"So it would seem," answered Joslyn quietly.
"And who are 'they', exactly?" added Warrick.
"God knows," said Sara, "The Senator's lackeys? Maybe he had something to do with it, and this is all part of a cover-up."
"We have no evidence to support that, Sara," Grissom interjected.
"Well are you sure you want to push forward with this investigation?" asked Catherine, "After all, it's not worth your lives."
Joslyn spoke in a frustrated tone, "We've already decided that we want to finish this case. Besides, if not us, than whoever takes over as the lead will be in danger. Any way you look at it, this case is a ticking time bomb."
"And I for one, am not going to be intimidated be any Men in Black," spoke Sara, "No matter how many kitchen appliances they threaten me with."
Everyone looked at the two women in reverence. It was obvious that they were adamant about remaining on the case, and you had to respect them for the bravery they were showing.
"Well," said Nick, sitting down beside Sara, "I just want you guys to know that you're not in it alone, okay? We're all working this together now, and whatever happens, we're a team first and foremost." Sara smiled and put her good arm around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. There was a knock at the door, and everyone looked up as the Sheriff entered, his tired face etched with stress.
"Sorry to break up the family meeting," he started, "But the Senator's just arrived. Ecklie wants all the main CSIs on the case to sit in on the briefing." Joslyn and Grissom stood, waiting as Nick helped Sara to her feet, and the three of them followed Sheriff Culpepper to meet the politician.
Joslyn leaned in to Sara as they made their way down the hall, whispering, "Why do I feel like we're being sent to the execution block?"
Sara met her eyes grimly, "Because we are."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sullivan Wescott was the kind of man that can only be described as foreboding. As Sara and Joslyn took their seats across the table from him, their feelings of uneasiness increased ten fold. His thick silvery hair rivaled that of Grissom's, but the Senator hadn't aged nearly as well as Grissom had. The lines etched in his face made him look hard, cold even. His piercing blue eyes were almost unnatural in their severity, and his eyebrows looked like they were permanently knit together. He had an aristocratic air about him, the demeanor of a man who was used to getting exactly what he wanted. He showed no signs of remorse as the two women seated themselves before him, only a detached and business like manner.
Ecklie was seated at the head of the table, and Grissom chose to stand behind the two girls, ever the observer. Ecklie took it upon himself to speak first, making the necessary introductions and offering his condolences to the Senator who acknowledged him with a nod. "I trust you have some information for me on what happened to my daughter," he spoke, his voice curt, but not rude.
Grissom responded, "Well Senator, the case is still in its preliminary stages. We are following a few leads--" the Senator raised a hand for quiet, and Grissom stopped, baffled.
"I didn't ask for excuses. I asked you who did this to my daughter," he replied blandly.
Sara interjected, "Sir, perhaps if we could have a little more information on your daughter we might get a better idea as to who might want to hurt her. Did she have any enemies? Was she in any clubs? An angry boyfriend maybe? Did she recently get into an argument with someone that you might know of?"
"No," he said simply. "Everyone loved Trinity. She wasn't fighting with anyone, she's not dating anyone."
Joslyn cleared her throat, "Well is it possible that she might have friends or a lover that you were unaware of? If we could just get a list of her--"
The Senator closed his eyes and Joslyn stopped short, looking to Sara in confusion. "I know all of her friends," he said, "And like I said, she wasn't fighting with any of them."
"But sir," Joslyn pressed gently, "are you sure it isn't possible that--"
"I'd know," came his reply. Joslyn sucked in her bottom lip in frustration, and also possibly in an attempt to stop herself from saying something she might regret.
"Am I to understand," the politician continued, "That you have absolutely no idea what happened to my daughter?"
Ecklie, distressed beyond compare, spoke, "Well we do have our investigators working around the clock. It's really only a matter of time before we--" the Senator stood, cutting off the third person in as many minutes.
"I see no point in my presence here. I trust I will be contacted when you know more," he spoke to Grissom this time. It appeared that he had skillfully noticed that Grissom, and not Ecklie, was really the one in charge.
"Of course," replied Grissom. The Senator stood to leave, but Grissom spoke again: "Senator Wescott?" Sullivan turned and looked to Grissom. "If you're so sure that no one wanted to hurt Trinity, why do you think it is that someone is working so hard to conceal the identity of her murderer?"
"What do you mean?" asked the Senator.
"Well surely you've heard from Marjorie Hudson by now that my associate Sara Sidle was attacked in trying to recover evidence pertaining to your daughter's case."
"No," said the Senator, his confident mask wavering for the first time. "No, I hadn't heard that. I'm sorry that happened to you Ms. Sidle, but I don't see what some random attack has to do with my daughter's case."
"It wasn't random sir," replied Grissom. "And if that isn't enough evidence to an obvious cover-up, I would be more than happy to escort you to our lab where a death threat against Ms. Sidle and Ms. Grace is currently being processed. A death threat that specifically mentions your daughter's name."
The Senator's eyes flashed with anger, "How dare you. My daughter was a good girl, and whatever you're implying, you should stop, because she didn't do anything to deserve this. And as for death threats and attacks, well I wouldn't know anything about that. Maybe you should be talking to one of my opponents about it, instead of accusing me of…being nothing better than a common mobster. I'll be in touch," and with that he and his entourage of Men In Black that were waiting outside the doors left the building.
"Well," sighed Sara, "That went well."
Ecklie stood, clearly not pleased with how things had turned out. "Well I hope you're happy Grissom. If he gets elected I think we can count on getting zero government funding this year. Start processing the evidence, now. The next time he comes here your people had damn well better have something to show for it." He stood, and left in a fashion very similar to that of Senator Wescott, minus the bodyguards.
"How poor are they that have not patience," said Grissom quietly.
Joslyn turned to Sara, eyebrows raised.
"That's Shakespearian for 'Ecklie's a hardass'," answered Sara glumly, chin in her good hand.
"I figured," replied Joslyn. She turned to Grissom, "To the garage?"
He nodded. "To the garage."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX