Chapter Eight
It took Grissom only a few minutes to pull on a pair of pants and grab his car keys, but those few minutes drew out like an eternity. Running out to his truck, he looked up and down the street before climbing in, just in case Sara had pulled over down the block. His insides washed over with ice as he realized she wasn't there.
She had really left.
Climbing into the truck, he fired the engine and put the transmission into reverse before he realized he had no idea where he was going.
He sat for a moment, his foot on the brake, halfway down his driveway, and thought, analyzing the problem like it was a science project gone awry. There was only one place he could think of. Digging his cell phone out of his back pocket, he dialed and backed down the rest of the driveway.
"Hey," Grissom said into the phone. "I think Sara might be on her way over there." He swallowed hard. "Keep her there, would you, I'm on my way," he hung up the phone without waiting for a response.
--
Sara glanced at her watch and wondered why there wasn't more traffic. People should be going to work, dropping off kids at school, stopping for gas and coffee. All the bits and pieces that made up normal lives. She looked around at the streets that weren't as busy as she had expected somewhere in the back of her mind. Then it dawned on her. It was Sunday. Despite all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, it had only been twenty-four hours.
She pulled to a stop at a traffic light, and glanced at the car next to her. A family. Dad behind the wheel, mom in the front seat, two boys in the back. They should have been a commercial, Sara decided. One of the boys in the back seat said something, Sara could see his mouth move rapidly, then watched as the parents laughed, and looked at each other as if they shared a secret joy in sharing their son.
Suddenly, her mind shifted, and she morphed into the woman sitting in the passenger seat of the sedan, laughing at the words of her son in the back seat, proud of his intelligence, marveling at how fast he was growing up. And just as she looked over to the man she had chosen, sitting behind the wheel of the car in her fantasy, the real car next to Sara moved, forcing her out of herself and back to reality.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Instead of the desired effect, it only made the pounding in her head worse. She even thought she could hear Grissom calling her name.
--
Warrick hung up the phone and reached over with one hand, rubbing Catherine's foot, the only part of her he could reach. He was reluctant to relinquish the quiet they had. "Come on, we've got to get up. Company's coming."
--
Sara stood on the doorstep, and felt her hands shaking. She looked down at her palms, staring at them like they were foreign creatures, and forced them to hold still. She lifted her hand to knock, then quickly put it back down.
--
Working the graveyard shift for so many years, one tends to forget how the rest of the world works. Grissom had forgotten that even in Vegas, people go to church on Sundays, and wound up in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Maybe, he mused cynically, it was gamblers praying for that one big win.
As he cursed under his breath, it occurred to him that he was only a minute or two behind Sara, and her car must be stuck in this mess as well. Grissom quickly licked his lips, his eyes darting quickly back and forth and threw the car in to park. Opening the driver's side door, his feet hit the pavement for a brief instant before he slid onto the hood of the truck and stood up, bracing himself with his hand against the roof. The view was better, just not good enough.
"SARA!" He began to scream her name. "SARA! SARA!" His eyes scanned the horizon of stopped cars, watching for any signs of Sara running toward him, forgiving him.
Traffic in front of him began to move, thus causing the drivers behind him to abandon their gaping stares and begin cursing at him to get out of their way.
--
Nick jumped out of bed, throwing the cell phone down into the middle of the mattress, and hurried out of the bedroom. A moment later, he came rushing back, picked up the cell phone and placed it back on to the bedside table.
Rushing to the bathroom sink, he brushed his teeth and haphazardly ran a hand through his hair. Spitting the toothpaste into the sink, he ran the back of his hand across his mouth and rushed into the living room. He stopped suddenly, looking around, wondering where to start.
He'd just gathered up an armful of newspaper when the doorbell rang. His arms fell to his sides, and the sheets of newsprint fluttered to the floor. Nick strode purposefully to his front door. As one hand reached for the doorknob, the other ran through his hair again.
He opened the door, and his breath caught in his throat.
--
Catherine shoved the coffee decanter back into its slot and flipped the on switch.
Warrick sauntered into the kitchen tying the belt of his robe. He caught the expression on Catherine's face and stopped dead in his tracks. "What?" he asked her hesitantly.
"Sara's not here."
"I can see that," he replied, forcing the humor from his voice.
"So where is she?" Catherine asked through clenched teeth. "And what the hell did Grissom say to her that made her leave?"
"Well…" a thumping, impatient knock on the front door saved Warrick from having to answer. "I'll get it," he said, watching Catherine's back stiffen.
Grissom knocked a second time just as Warrick made it to the door, louder and more urgent. As Warrick's hand wrapped around the doorknob, he heard one of the kitchen cabinets slam shut, making him wince as he opened the door. "Hey Gris. What's going on?"
"She's not here is she?" Grissom stepped through the threshold and looked around the living room. "Her car isn't in the driveway, she's not here." He turned to face the younger man with an expression that Warrick couldn't quiet decipher.
Warrick's brow furrowed and he shut the door quietly. "No, Gris. She didn't come here. What the hell happened?"
"I screwed up," Grissom said quietly, his shoulders slumping.
Warrick was finally able to interpret the expression on Grissom's face. Fear. He'd never seen his boss afraid. "Com'on, sit down." He watched as Grissom shuffled slowly over to the couch sat. Grissom's head hung low. "I'll get some coffee, then we'll talk all this out."
--
Nick swallowed away the lump in his throat.
Sara stood in front of him, her hands pressed against her thighs, fingers spread wide. Her eyes were red and puffy; it was obvious she'd been crying, despite her feeble attempt at a smile. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and chase those tears away.
Sara lifted her chin the tiniest bit. "So…you still up for Hawaii?"
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a/n: Yes. Yes I am giggling evilly having left ya'll right there. Everyone, thank you so much for all the reviews!