Title: To Hell with Love
Rating: Still (T)
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan
Author's Note: A big "HI" goes out to the person reading this. Thanks for all your reviews. This is going to be a long and (maybe) confusing chapter. It took me awhile to plan and write it out. Hope you'll like it.
Chapter 5
911 Operator (Woman's voice): 9-1-1. State your emergency.
Voice (Gasping): Please help…. need help.
911 Operator: I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up.
Voice: (Dragging footsteps are heard) something's wrong…we… (pause)
911 Operator: Ok, sir, stay with me--- Our system is not compatible with your cellular phone. Could you tell us where you're calling from?
Voice: (Clears throat) We're in an alley between…(Inaudible)
911 Operator: Sir, Can you see a street sign?
Voice: (Whispering)…near…the…crime lab
911 Operator: Las Vegas Crime Lab?
Voice: (Whispering) Someone's here… (A distant sound of a car engine is heard in the background)
911 Operator: Ok, stay calm --- Is the person able to provide assistance?
Voice: (Inaudible)
911 Operator: (Concerned) Sir, is the person at the scene able to help you?
Voice: (Whispering) I'm…not sure…
911 Operator: Ok …Stay with me --- Could you tell me your name?
(The distant sounds of footsteps is heard, followed by the sound of a phone being dragged across the floor)
Voice: (Distant, barely audible) Wait…no… (pause)…come back! (Some shuffling is heard)
911 Operator: Sir? --- Help is on the way--- stay on the phone for me, ok?
Voice: (Distant, barely audible) help…Sara…. (A collapsed is heard)
911 Operator: Sir? Stay with me…Sir?
Voice: (No answer)
- End of Phone Call -
Warrick buried his face in his hands. He had been listening to the small micro-cassette recorder for the umpteenth time. He felt useless. All his experience of being an audio/visual analyst were of no help and invaluable. Who was there that night? What kind of car was that person driving? Why did this happen? He took the tape out of the recorder and placed it into a translucent bag. He told himself that he would listen to it again tomorrow, the day after and the day after that until he gets to the bottom of it. He had to find out who was responsible. He gathered all the evidence and put them in a box. The box was barely half-full, and yet it was almost half-empty. He walked across the room and placed it on the table.
------
"Warrick? It's Grissom. Something has happen. I need you here this very minute."
"Grissom? What's wrong? What happened?" Warrick looked at his watch. It was about close to midnight.
"There has been an incident." Grissom said quickly. "Emergency dispatch has found a body near one of the buildings. About 10 minutes from the crime lab." He held an unsteady pause. "They think it might be Nick. Could you go to Desert Palms hospital to see if it's him?"
"What?! Is he alright?"
"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. I was told to send someone to the hospital to verify if it's the right person. I'm sending you. If it is Nick, I'll need you to get a statement from him about what happened. Can you do that?"
"Erm--- sure. I'll be there."
"Oh…And Warrick?"
"Yeah?"
"Take Greg with you…"
"Ok…Call you later."
------
He stared at the box on the table, lifting his hand to touch its pointy edges and its smooth surfaces. He glided his hand onto the side of the box, feeling the impressions of words and numbers that were written on it. The date felt and looked unreal. He can't believe that a year and a half had already passed since that 911 call was made…
...and tomorrow will be another day.
Greg was sitting in the break room, flipping through various pieces of paper, trying to appear busy as the long day dragged on. His once jovial spirit has been diminished into a tiny spark, occasionally appearing to encourage those around him. He tries, he really does… but even he knows that the only way for the others to be truly happy is to solve the case.
But… what case? There was nothing. No more evidence, No suspect, No motive, a dead end.
Greg sighed and stood up from his chair. He walked towards the table to get a cup of coffee. The break room didn't have the best coffee in the world but it does calm him down, with its bitter taste and warm petrol-textured feeling. Greg turned and leaned against the cabinet. On the wall across of him, there were several law-enforcement posters held up with double-sided tape, happy pictures of the CSIs pinned up against a board and yellow newspaper clippings from long ago. Right in the middle of all the mess, Greg pinned the tail of his Origami Crane next to a picture of a person he once knew.
"Here's to you, Sara Sidle." He raised his cup of coffee to give an imaginary toast to a long-lost friend.
------
He was waiting at the diner. She had promised to come; she had agreed to have supper with him that night. He had already drunk his 20th cup of water and had been to the bathroom 3 times. He tried calling her, but he kept getting her voice mail on every try. He had already left her several messages. Many thoughts were forming in his mind.
Did she forget? Was she hanging out with someone else? Did something happen to her?
"No Greg, don't be so dramatic… maybe she just forgot." He told himself softly as he left a tip on the table and headed home.
------
"Sorry I didn't wait for you." Greg said as he stared into his cup. The dark black liquid was whirling around near the mouth of it. He felt broken that night, stood up by a person he never had the guts to ask out. Initially, he blamed Sara for his hurt, then himself for opening up his heart to someone, only to have her ignore and trample over it. But then, he found out that it wasn't her fault. Something did happen to her and he wasn't there to protect her. Greg tried to stop the tears from flowing out of his eyes. Memories of that day came without warning.
Greg: You should process the scene now; me later.
Sara: I came here for you, Greg.
"I'm sorry I didn't come for you…" He turned his head to looked away from her picture, wondering whether the others feel the same way he does.
Catherine stood by the door of Gil's office. He was looking at the dried specimen of a Blue Morpho. The butterfly had metallic blue wings, with black outlines around each of them. The light seems to reflect each and every cell that the butterfly possessed. It was beautiful. Catherine cleared her throat.
"How are you doing?"
Gil looked up, his glasses at the tip of his nose. Just two days ago, Ecklie told the team to throw out the case and hand it to the LVPD, since they have a unit that specialises in Missing Persons. The team wasn't too happy about it. During the meeting, things almost turned violent when Ecklie opened his mouth to say that they should not even expect to find anyone alive. There was nothing they could do. Grissom had to hold everyone back, even though he, himself, wanted to give Ecklie a piece of his mind. He didn't want anyone to get suspended over this. He needed everyone… or at least, those that were still around.
"Aristotle once said… anyone can become angry. That is easy. But to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose and in the right way—that is not easy."
Catherine smiled. She understood what Grissom was saying. Ecklie's not the one they should be mad at. It was that son-of-a-bitch who took their friend away. In her heart, she wished that they could find their friend alive. But in all her years as a CSI, she knew that there was a very high chance that they were looking for a dead body. Despite that, she was clinging on to that hope. That small, little, unrealistic hope…
------
Catherine and Grissom were the first ones at the scene. One of the emergency personnel called Grissom after Nick's phone was found several meters away from his body. According to the call history, Grissom was the second last person Nick called. The last number dialled was the 911 call. Grissom remembered Nick calling him to give him an update on his case. The police officers at the scene were unable to determine whether it was Nick that they found as they could not find a wallet or an ID on him. They did tell Grissom that they were sending him to Desert Palm hospital to get checked out.
Grissom and Catherine did a search of the area for any evidence. They managed to find Nick's wallet hidden among some garbage and debris. There was a small amount of blood at the scene. Catherine took a swab and confirmed that it was human blood. She bagged some to send it to the DNA lab for identification. Other than that, there was nothing. When everything was cleared up the next day, Grissom left for his sabbatical, leaving Catherine in charge. The team did not even know there was another person with Nick that night… they assumed that he was the only one in the alley.
Until they got the DNA results…
------
As Catherine turned to leave, she asked, "Is there a chance…" She thought for a moment, "Do we give up?"
Grissom shrugged, turning his focus on the blue butterfly.
------
He was walking with her. The weather was cold; the wind blew between the buildings, intentionally aiming at them. They were walking, talking, and minding their own business.
(Why did that person have to do this?)
Nick had his hands in his pockets, while Sara had her hands around his left arm. After noticing how cold she was, Nick had offered his arm to Sara to warm her freezing hands. Sara declined at first, but after a gust of wind threaten to turn her fingers blue, she did it, feeling the warmth of Nick's arm and torso.
"That sounds like a failure in the killer's part… Any suspects?"
"None. The case was closed within the week. We didn't have any leads to go on…"
Sara suddenly stumbled forward, but she didn't fall. Nick managed to catch her.
"Whoa--- hey, are you alright?" Nick asked with a concerned look in his eyes.
Sara looked disoriented, "It felt as if … something hit me," Sara replied, using her left hand to feel the left side of her back. Her right hand was still hanging on to Nick's arm.
"Let me see---," Nick went behind Sara to see what was wrong. He looked at the area of her back where her hand was feeling around for the thing that was responsible for her discomfort.
Sara was beginning to feel faint. She couldn't focus and was starting to see blurred, doubled images around her. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, trying to clear her vision and mind. "Did you find anything?"
"What in the name of---" He pulled something out of her back, drawing a drop of blood along with it. "A tranquilliser dar---" Nick felt a sharp pain on his back. He immediately turned around to see where it came from. He let go of Sara's hand and walked towards the end of the alley. He looked up to the buildings, his left, his right and straight-ahead. There was no one.
"Nick…" Sara whispered as she collapsed to the ground, falling onto her side. She tried her best to fight it, but the sedative was too strong. Nick called out to her, trying to keep her awake, while fighting the effects of the drug. But after several failed attempts, he took out his phone…
"9-1-1. State your emergency."
Nick felt giddy. His world was spinning, giving him a terrible, throbbing headache "Please help…. need help."
"I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up."
Nick dragged his lead-laden feet as he walked towards Sara's unconscious form. "Something's wrong…we…" A sharp electric current within Nick's head interrupted his thoughts.
"Ok, sir, stay with me--- Our system is not compatible with your cellular phone. Could you tell us where you're calling from?"
His throat felt dry, as if all the moisture that he had within him was being sucked out into the surrounding air. Nick cleared his throat. "We're in an alley between…" He couldn't really remember where he was. He heard the operator say something, but he couldn't make it out. "…near…the…crime lab" Nick was beginning to lose his focus. He was seeing double.
The operator on the phone said something, but again, Nick couldn't hear what she was saying. He was about to ask her to repeat her question when he saw a black car pulling up at the mouth of the alleyway. "Someone's here…" He whispered as the car slowed to a halt.
"Ok, stay calm --- Is the person able to provide assistance?" The operator said. Nick was beginning to feel weak. He held his right hand to his heavy head; his feet felt like they were walking on quicksand. He fell to his knees. "Sir, is the person at the scene able to help you?" The operator rephrased her sentence, her voice radiating concern.
"I'm…not sure…" Nick managed to reach Sara's body after using up most of his energy. He tried to reach out to her, to hold her in his protective embrace, but his arms felt detached, having a mind of their own. When he tried to check her pulse, his hand touched her shoulder instead of her neck. When he tried to hug her, his arms uselessly grabbed the air.
"Ok …Stay with me --- Could you tell me your name?"
What was his name? Nick thought extremely hard. Someone was coming up behind him, covering him with his shadow. Nick turned his head slowly, dropping his phone in the process. A man casually kicked his phone away. He was wearing black from head to toe and had a hood over his head… Nick couldn't see his face. But then again, Nick couldn't see anything clearly, not even the hand in front of him. The stranger took Nick's wallet out of his pocket and threw it towards the wall, discarding Nick's identity among the dirty trash and people's rejecting belongings. He looked at Nick for a second, like an artist admiring his work, before walking towards Sara's body. He lifted her arm over his shoulder and placed his arm behind her back. Once his other arm was under her knees, he lifted her up effortlessly, and started walking away from where Nick was, towards his car.
"Wait…no…" Nick fell onto his stomach. "…come back!" Using his last ounce of energy in his arms, he pulled himself towards the direction of the unknown man, trying to get to Sara.
He heard mumbling from a distance. The phone! Nick thought desperately. He needed to get help. He pushed his body up, stretching his neck as close as he can to the phone. Before Nick's world went black, he shouted…
"Help…Sara…."
------
Nick woke up with a jolt, his body drenched with sweat. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. Not again, Nick thought. Since that night, he has been reliving each and every moment of that horrifying moment in his dreams. Everyone said that it wasn't his fault; there was nothing he could have done. But Nick thought otherwise… In fact, he blamed himself everyday. And no one else can convince him otherwise...
Nick looked around; he must doze off in the lab again. He got up to walk towards the men's room to wash his face. On the way there, he stole a glance at a poster on the wall. The old, fragile piece of paper had a picture of a familiar face, with words neatly typed below it.
MISSING
Name: Sara Sidle
Birth Date: 16 September 1971
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5 ft 7 in
Weight: 107lbs.
Last Seen: Las Vegas, NV
That poster was made a year and a half ago… Sara had not been heard from since.
TBC
Phew, that was tough for me. It's late and I'm running on caffeine (Can you tell?).
I was trying to provide an inside look at what the CSIs were doing at the time of the incident. Hopefully this chapter made sense. Do leave a review, they encourage me and inspires me to write more.
Love ya all! zzZZzz