Disclaimer: not mine, blah de blah.
A/N: OKAY. So . Sorry, sorry, sorry this took me so long, I hope you're all still interested, and furthermore I hope you can all remember just what's going on in the case. I myself had to go back a few times. There's no illness that I can blame this one on, simply my own procrastination and a slight hint of writer's block. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait! It might start out slow but it picks up…the ending might be a bit controversial so let me know what you think. Love you all darlings! Thanks for waiting! -Solomynne
Beep…beep…beep.
The sound of a heart monitor echoed softly in the otherwise silent hospital room. Earlier that night, halfway to Desert Palms, Joslyn's heart had stopped. Sara and Grissom had looked on in helpless horror as the paramedic had strapped an oxygen mask to her face, and began working furiously on her chest. Sara's vision had begun to spin out of control as she was forced to watch her young friend's lifeless body flop sickly under the pressure of the paramedic's powerful pumping fists.
That had been nearly 13 hours ago. Sara now sat staring, chin in her hands, at Joslyn's sleeping form. The doctor had later explained to her and Grissom that the combination of lack of oxygen (due to the rust particles in her nose and lungs), and the blow to the neck she had received from her assailant (her attacker had managed to strike directly onto the nerve bundle at the base of the skull) had caused her body to go into complete shock.
They had flushed out the rust from her eyes and respiratory tract, and all that they could do now was wait for her to wake up. Which is exactly what Sara had been doing for the past 11-½ hours since they'd brought her into the hospital room to rest. Sara scrubbed her face with her hand, rubbing her eyes vigorously. She wanted desperately to talk to Jos, to see once and for all that she really was okay.
She sighed and for the umpteenth time that day simultaneously thanked and reprimanded God. She thanked God for bringing Joslyn into her life in the first place; for showing her that life doesn't need to be lived in solitary confinement, and she reprimanded God for almost taking her away. She was going stir-crazy just waiting like this. At last she grabbed her jacket and turned to leave and get yet another stale coffee from the cafeteria, when she heard the rustle of bed sheets behind her. She turned and saw Joslyn looking back at her from the position she'd taken on her side, still too tired to lift her head from the pillow. They each stared at each other for a moment, the heart monitor keeping time.
Without breaking eye contact, Sara slowly put her jacket back into the chair and walked to the bedside. Joslyn pulled back the covers and made room for Sara, who climbed in next to her, lying down on her side. The young woman pulled the covers back over Sara's shoulders and closed her eyes again, curling up close to Sara's warm body. Sara's eyes filled with tears as she felt her friend's small form cuddling up to her, and she put an arm around Joslyn's back, pulling her closer until their foreheads rested on each other. It was only then that Sara finally felt assured that Joslyn wasn't going anywhere, and for the first time in nearly two days she allowed herself to close her eyes and sleep.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Grissom, having long ago given up on the idea of trying to get Sara to leave Joslyn's side, had decided that while they were waiting he might as well be productive. He'd sent Greg back to the lab to get to work on processing that envelope, praying to God that it would be worth all the trouble they'd had in getting it. Greg hadn't been pleased at the idea of leaving Joslyn either, but after assurances from Grissom that Joslyn would be getting a full rendition of how Greg had heroically saved her life, he left with a scowl. Grissom would have gone himself, but he had other things to attend to. "Things," otherwise known as Marjorie Hudson. Marjorie was being treated for malnutrition and dehydration, but she had been left relatively unharmed otherwise.
Grissom pushed open the door to Marjorie's room. "Grissom," said Brass, looking up, "I was just coming to find you. It appears Marjorie would like to…amend her previous statements." Grissom regarded the frail woman lying in the hospital bed, clutching her son's hand in anxiety.
"Yes," he said, sitting down beside her, "I imagine she would. Go ahead then, Marjorie, what have you not been telling us?"
She avoided his gaze like a guilty child, and then, gathering her courage, she began to speak: "When you asked me about the last time I'd seen the Senator…I lied to you. The last time I saw him, he and Trinity were having a screaming match in the kitchen at St. Mary's."
"Do you know what about?" he asked, his blue eyes searching her face. She was still holding something back.
Marjorie shook her head, still refusing to look at him. "No I know better than to get involved. I shut the doors to the kitchen and got the Hell out of dodge. But…afterwards, I went to check on them when I thought it was safe, and I walked in on the Senator wiping something up with a rag. And no," she cut him off before he could ask the question, "I didn't see what it was. But after he left, I found the bloody envelope, and I figured things had gotten physical."
"Did you suspect that he had killed her?" asked Grissom, paying close attention to her eyes, her hands. What aren't you saying?
"…No. No, but when he cancelled the charity camping trip I assumed he'd hurt her pretty badly. It wasn't until I spoke with you and your associates that I'd realized how far things had gone. I kept the envelope to use as a bargaining chip in case things got out of hand with my son, and his job trailing Trinity. But once the Senator found out I had it, he had some heavy-breathing sickos put a bag over my head and interrogate me in a warehouse until I gave up where I'd hidden it. And…and I think you know the rest of the story from there."
The whole time she'd been speaking, she hadn't taken her eyes off of her hands, kneading and folding the covers nervously. Grissom put a hand on hers, not out of comfort, but so she would be forced to look at him. As soon as their eyes met, hers started to fill with tears.
"Marjorie…" he began, " I think we both know there's more to the story than what you're telling me. When we found Trinity, she was crammed into an oil drum in the old strip joint near your soup kitchen." Marjorie winced at the thought. "We found fibers at the bottom of the barrel. They were blue silk, and my lab tells me that they're from a woman's blouse. As you admit to being the last known person to have seen her alive, I think it's time you amended your amendment."
Marjorie pressed her lips together until they were white as the sheet that she tugged at with her fingers.
Charlie was staring at her. "Mom…"
"Alright," she whispered. "There's more." She looked at the ceiling this time, instead of her hands. "I didn't want to tell you, Charlie, because I didn't want you to think any less of me. Mr. Grissom, when I walked into the kitchen, I saw Trinity on the floor, and the Senator standing over her with a skillet. She was dead. There was nothing that could be done. He told me that I'd end up the same way if I told anyone." The tears that had been brimming now spilled over the edge of her eyes, falling freely down her face. "He made me…" she took a breath, "he made me help him to get rid of the body, and clean up. He told me to wait a few days and then to call and complain about the smell, that way we'd seem more innocent."
Grissom patted her hand, this time out of compassion. "Thank you for your eventual honesty Marjorie. Although you are technically guilty of helping to dispose of a body, and conspiracy after the fact, I think the DA will be able to work out something with you, because of your co-operation."
Marjorie nodded mutely. Grissom stood and pulled Brass to the doorway, speaking in hushed tones. "I want a uniform with her and Charlie at all times, the last thing we need is to have our only two witnesses 'disappeared'".
"Got it," Brass acknowledged with a nod.
"I'll be back in Joslyn's room if you need anything," Grissom finished, turning. He walked down the hall, the shiny linoleum squeaking under his shoes as the florescent lights hummed above him like a hive of bees. He turned the corner and pushed open Joslyn's door with an open hand, the sight that met his eyes causing him to stop. Sara lay asleep in the hospital bed, nose to nose with Joslyn, who was also in a deep sleep. Sara's arm was slung lazily over Joslyn's slender shoulder, her hand hanging loosely.
Sara stirred, sending his presence, and Grissom took a step forward to stop her from getting up. "Go back to sleep," he whispered, "You could use the rest."
"Where were you?" she asked, her voice gravelly with sleep.
"I went and had a very interesting discussion with Marjorie Hudson," he said, smoothing the hair on her forehead gently.
"Oh?" she murmured, closing her eyes at his touch. Grissom smiled. If she were a cat she would be purring by now.
"Yes. It would appear she wasn't being entirely honest with us."
"Well there's a shocker," she mumbled, melting as his fingers raked her scalp gently. "What did she say exactly?"
"That she's been protecting the Senator, most likely because she knew he'd kill her if she didn't. She also admitted to helping him dispose of the body." Grissom was distracted by his storytelling, and hadn't noticed that he'd stopped petting her until she opened her eyes and placed his hand back on her head. She closed her eyes again after he'd gotten her not-so-subtle hint and resumed. "So why the change of heart?" she asked.
"Probably because she's realized he'll most likely try to kill her after this. Plus I think she's pissed off at being held hostage for the past few days," he added.
"Understandably," she conceded. "She's an intelligent woman. She knows her best chance for survival is if he's behind bars."
"Precisely," agreed Grissom, brushing a thumb over the last of Sara's facial bruises. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "They're almost gone now," he mused.
"Mm," was her reply, "I got rid of the sling too." She smiled, "And you, who pride yourself on your attention to detail, didn't even notice."
He looked and realized that she was right; both of her arms were free. "When did that happen?" he asked, running his hand across the length of her arm.
"I got the doctor to cut it off when he was in here checking on Jos. It had become more of a hindrance than a help in more ways than one," she eyed him suggestively. He gave her a classic Grissom smirk.
"So what now?" she asked, deftly changing the subject. "Where do we go from here, case-wise?"
"I think as soon as the envelope's been processed and our suspicions have been confirmed we'll have to schedule another "meeting" with the good Senator."
Sara sighed, taking his hand and sandwiching it between her own absentmindedly. "I am not looking forward to that interview."
"Well you don't have to sit in if you don't want to," he replied, watching her play with his fingers, bending them up and down like a child does to its mother. He took his other hand and pushed down the collar of her shirt with his thumb, inspecting the healing shoulder.
She narrowed her eyes at him, "You're joking, right?"
"Sorry," he answered wryly, "a momentary lapse in judgment,"
"Quite alright," she answered demurely, once more closing her eyes. "I just don't want to leave Jos here all alone."
"Oh you won't have to," came Joslyn's naturally gravelly voice, "I'll be right there with you."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Joslyn, so nice to see you're feeling better," Grissom said honestly. "And I think it would be a better idea for you to stay here a while longer."
"The Hell it is!" she exclaimed as she sat upright, her blonde hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders. "Sara and I nearly got ourselves killed bringing this case home, do you really think that I'm going to miss out on the moment when we finally catch this bastard?"
Grissom looked to Sara in exasperation, hoping she would mediate, but she was no help. She merely shrugged a shoulder and said, "Well you can hardly argue with that."
The truth was Sara was right; Joslyn had earned the right to be present at the final interrogation. They both had. Joslyn was staring at him intensely with fierce green eyes, daring him to say no. He almost laughed when he realized that the look on her face reminded him of Sara.
"Alright," he sighed, giving in. "But don't blame me if you end up right back here in the hospital."
Joslyn grinned and settled herself back on the pillows. " I assure you I feel fine. My eyes burn a little, my neck feels like it's been in a vice grip all night, and my lungs feel like they've shrunk to about half their normal size, but other than that I feel fine."
"Oh well if that's all then," said Sara sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"Excuse me, but remind me again who it is that's been working with a dislocated shoulder, twelve stitches and a banged-up face?" asked Joslyn with a glare.
Sara's eyes stopped mid-roll. "Alright, fair enough."
"Thank you," said Joslyn with a hint of triumph in her voice.
"Well," sighed Grissom, standing, "I'm glad to see that at the very least neither of you have injured your tongues. Now if you're both feeling well enough, we should try to get you discharged, Joslyn."
He left to find a doctor who could sign out Joslyn, leaving the two women tucked in bed. Sara shifted back onto her side, facing Joslyn who was lying in her back with her eyes closed. The sun was shining merrily in through the window, making a silhouette of Joslyn's profile as she lay back against the pillow. Sara watched her breathing in and out, noting that Joslyn was now sporting some facial bruises to match her own. "I feel like I'm at a slumber party or something," she mused.
Joslyn laughed, her eyes still closed. "Yeah, that, or we should be smoking cigarettes. And has anyone ever told you that you're really comfortable to cuddle with?" she asked in a mock-serious voice, opening an eye to look at Sara. "Grissom is a lucky man, let me tell you."
Sara swatted at her, laughing. After a while with her own thoughts she became serious. "Hey Jos?"
"Mm-hmm?" Joslyn acknowledged sleepily.
"I'm really glad you're okay," she finished simply. She'd wanted to say a lot more than that, but she couldn't bring herself to. She suddenly realized what it must feel like for Grissom when he would start trying to tell her about his feelings for her.
Joslyn blinked her eyes and looked up at Sara. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, fiddling with the IV on the back of her hand instead. After a time, she smiled softly to herself, smoothing the tape down on the needle, and said, "Me too."
It seemed that she too had a lot more to say, but like Sara had opted on simplicity. Sara had learned from her experiences with Grissom that when it came to people she was close with; as far as words were concerned, less is more. She was reminded of one of her favourite sayings: talk is cheap.
Grissom walked in with his nose buried in a manila casefile, Sara and Joslyn both looking up as he entered. "Are those the results from the envelope?" asked Sara eagerly as he took his seat beside the bed.
"Yes it is," said Grissom, glancing up at her over his slipping glasses. She leaned over and as had become custom, ran her long finger up his nose, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He held her eye contact for a beat before looking back down into the file.
"Well!" asked Joslyn impatiently. "What's it say?" Her lips broke into a smile at the anticipation of nailing the Senator to the wall.
Grissom looked up at the two eager faces staring back at him. The sunlight filtered through their hair. Their faces; each beautiful in their own way, and each now marred with bruises, watched him, hanging on his every word.
He had nothing but respect for them. They had been bruised, beaten, broken, and they'd each come back for more. He was glad now that he would be the one to say the words that would end the nightmare they'd gotten themselves tangled up in.
"Grissom!" hissed Joslyn, grasping Sara's arm in angst, "What's it say?"
Grissom smiled gently, adjusting his glasses before saying, "The blood was a match to Trinity. They also found a partial print in the blood spatter, meaning whoever it belongs to was present at Trinity's time of death."
"And?" asked Sara, voice hushed in anticipation, "whose print is it?"
Grissom paused for effect, flipping the folder around so they could see the results for themselves. "Senator Sullivan Wescott."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The air in the interrogation room was hot, and heavy with frustration. Sara and Joslyn sat opposite a fuming Senator Wescott, the disappointment of a so-far very futile interrogation evident on their faces.
They had confronted the Senator with their findings, and the signed statements from Charlie and Marjorie, but so far he had remained completely tight-lipped except to deny, deny, deny.
The Senator faced them, palms flat on the table, a thin layer of sweat visible on his upper lip. The fact that he was perspiring could have been due to the fact that it was stifling hot in the room, but Joslyn chose to believe it was because he was cracking. The steely mask he's entered the room with was slipping, slowly being replaced with one of ashen concern. But it didn't look like he was ready to give in just yet.
They both knew that they were going to have to push him over the edge if they were going to get a confession out of him, and that meant getting dirty.
"Look," started Sara, leaning her forearms on the table, "we know you killed your daughter." She squinted at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but all he did was snort and look away. "You can deny it all you want," she pushed, "but we have you and you know it. We don't need a confession."
His eyes flew to her, "Then why the Hell have I been stuck in this sauna for the past 45 minutes!"
Sara and Joslyn just glared at him. The truth was that although they had irrefutable physical evidence against him, the kind of lawyers this guy could afford had an uncanny gift for being able to make even the most solid evidence seem like flimsy guesswork to a panel of jurors. So even though the envelope was still immeasurably valuable, a confession of guilt could be pivotal to the case. After all, not even the most expensive lawyer in the world can argue with a signed confession.
The Senator stared at them, waiting for a response. Joslyn glanced to the two-way mirror to her right, knowing that the rest of the team, and Gloria Settler, Trinity's girlfriend, stood behind it. They'd all come out for the final showdown.
She looked from the mirror to Sara, who immediately knew what she was thinking: if they didn't make some progress soon, Brass was going to come in and take over. Sara's head was starting to pound in the heat of the small room. Just what was with the lack of air conditioning? She was about to turn to the officer in the room and get him to check the thermostat when she noticed that Joslyn was still looking at her. Well, staring at her, actually, and in the strangest of ways. A very subtle Cheshire cat smile played across the younger woman's lips as it became obvious that she had come up with an idea.
A wonderfully, awfully, awful idea.
Joslyn leaned in close to Sara, her breath hot on Sara's ear as she spoke in the barest of whispers, "Whatever I do or say, just go along with it. Whatever happens, he has to believe we're for real if this is going to work."
Sara replied with a barely perceptible nod, and Joslyn turned her attention back to the Senator, who was looking from one to the other suspiciously. "Senator Wescott," she started softly, "why is it that you neglected to tell us that your daughter was gay?"
The Senator bristled, "Trinity was not gay, how dare you even suggest it!"
"So this…"Joslyn referred to the completely blank sheet of paper she held in front of her, "Gloria Settler is just creating a fictitious relationship between herself and your daughter?"
"Yes," he growled. "Gloria is a very disturbed young woman."
"I see," responded Joslyn patronizingly. "So tell me, just what exactly is your opinion on homosexuality? Because with an election coming up, I'm sure the citizens of Las Vegas would be interested to know where you stand."
At the mention of an election the senator became once again calm and composed, the politician in him kicking in. "Of course what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms is their business," he replied coolly, automatically.
"Oh really?" asked Jos in mock surprise. "Well that's good, then it won't bother you to know that Ms. Sidle and I are partners in more ways than one." Just as calmly and coolly as he, she slid her hand across the table and laid it to rest on top of Sara's. Sara, taking that as her cue, raised her knuckles so their fingers were interlaced.
XX
Behind the glass, seven very shocked pairs of eyes were glued to the scene unfolding before them. Catherine looked to Greg, "You were working with them, did you know about this?"
Greg ran a hand through his spiky hair, "News to me!"
Everyone turned to Grissom who was still staring through the glass, a finger pressed to his lips. "They're not really lovers. This is a plan – and may I say a very good one – designed to rock this guy's foundation and get under his skin."
"How can you be so sure they're not really together?" asked Warrick, glancing to his two co-workers through the glass.
Grissom's mind flashed to the image of Sara's face looking up at him lovingly from where she lay on the pillows. "I just know."
XX
The room, if possible, seemed to have gotten even hotter as the tension continued to rise. "As I said before," choked the Senator, a vein becoming visible throbbing in his forehead, "it's none of my business."
"Why is it then that you have such a hard time admitting the truth about your daughter?" Sara shot venomously across the table.
The Senator's collected manner shattered as his face turned a sickening shade of violet. "She was NOT a-"
"Give it up Sullivan!" Joslyn shouted. "Did you think we processed the outside of the envelope, but not the inside! It was a wedding invitation for your daughter and Gloria, and it drove you to kill her!"
The Senator's eyes were blazing as he managed a strangled, "No…"
"YES," Joslyn hissed through her teeth. "Your desire to win the election outweighed your love for your daughter, if you ever had any at all. You couldn't have her risking your precious votes now, could you?"
The Senator said nothing his jaw working but no sound coming out.
"That, and the fact that the thought of her with another woman sickened you to your very core," Joslyn continued, her voice dropping to an accusatory whisper. Sara glanced at her as she felt Joslyn's hot fingers grip her own even tighter. "You couldn't stand the thought of her loving another woman…" she looked to Sara.
"…touching another woman…" she ran a hand up the brunette's arm.
"…kissing another woman…" and with those words she put the final touch on her plan, giving the Senator that last blow he needed to push him off the edge. She cupped a hand under Sara's chin and pulled Sara's face close to her own, their lips meeting in a passionate – or at least seemingly so – and brilliant display of lust.
If Sara was taken by surprise she didn't show it, instead lifting a hand to run it through Joslyn's silky hair.
The Senator was beyond words at this point, gaping at the display before him with a mixed expression of disgust, horror, and fascination on his magenta-hued face.
Back behind the glass the eyes of the spectators flew from the seething Senator, to their co-workers, and back again. Greg had unwittingly pressed his nose against the glass, willing himself not to blink lest he miss something. He watched as he saw Sara's fingers running through Joslyn's hair, the other one coming to rest on her partner's hip.
"So…hot…" he choked, his breath fogging up the glass.
"Down boy," said Catherine, pulling him back by the shirt collar without taking her eyes off the two women as brown hair mixed with blonde. The Senator was visibly shaking with rage now, his right eye twitching maniacally. Finally, not being able to contain himself any longer, he stood up and lunged across the table, grabbing each woman by a shoulder and forcing them apart.
"That's enough!" he bellowed, "You people are disgusting!"
The officer stepped in and pulled the raving politician away from the women before he could do them any harm, holding him tight against the back of his chair. Joslyn and Sara glanced at each other, lips swollen from being caught up in the moment, and then looked back to the Senator, praying their little display would be enough to crack him.
"You're just as bad as she is!" the Senator spat, "the filthy little bitch had the audacity to invite me to her 'wedding,'" he scoffed. " I told her," he shook his head back and forth, now only a shadow of the steely eyed politician he'd been when they first met, "I told her what I'd do if she kept up with her indiscretions. And what does she do? She tries to get married!" he began to laugh like a lunatic, slapping the table so the two women jumped. When he'd finished his fit of giggles enough to speak, he continued, "Married!"
He repeated the word like it was the punch line of a hilarious joke. "Well I bet you can guess what I did after that!"
Sara spoke gravely, "You killed her."
The Senator began to laugh again, "Well I had to didn't I? She didn't give me much of a choice now did she?" He howled with laughter. "I cracked her one with that skillet that was on the table!" (More laughter) "And boy you can bet she didn't take well to that!" (Giggle) "No sir she didn't! But I told her that's what would happen you see, so it's not like I didn't give her fair warning."
He continued to laugh softly to himself until Joslyn leaned forward across the table, Brass and Grissom walking into the room to flank the two of them as she spoke in a hushed whisper, "Well then Senator, I feel it only right to give you your own "fair warning."
The Senator laughed in her face, " And what warning might that be, m'dear?"
Joslyn narrowed her eyes, her lips white with anger, "You're under arrest."
The Senator stopped mid-giggle. Any sign of humor was wiped from his face as the officer came up behind him and slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, pulling him to his feet. He looked back to the two women as he was being dragged away, a look of incredulity on his face, and swore he saw the brunette one mouth the word:
"Gotcha."
A/N so what'd you think? Hit that lovely purple button and tell me! I'm not afraid of criticism, I swear! Revieeeeeeeeeeeeew.