Author's Note: This chapter and the following chapter were written and re-written about five times because I was so dissatisfied with it (mainly with the dialogue, also I wasn't so sure how dramatic/tragic I wanted to be here). Eventually, I came up with this. It's satisfactory enough to post. I think it's incredible how things can go from being incredibly light-hearted to incredibly tragic all in a matter of seconds. Consider this chapter an exploration of this theory... Nah, I'm not that smart, you can just consider it me being very, very cruel to all of you. But don't stop reading, there's a conveniently obvious twist ending (I love those!!!) Thanks for reviewing, folks, y'all are pretty much the best friends I have... Yes, I'm kidding, I'm not that pathetic. But you're still awesome anyways. You're the best anonymous friends ever! ;o)
Warrick and Sara arrived at the Willows' residence at the same time, both barely bothering to park their cars properly as they jumped out and headed toward the door. Before entering the house, both of them were completely coherent and competent agents of law enforcement. They could deal with almost any crisis, if there was even a crisis at all. All either of them had to go on was the eerie sensation that they were meant to be there, at that house, at this time, for some cosmically critical moment.
But the minute they entered the house, all feelings of concern and fear abandoned them and everything they were became nothing as they were smacked in the face with something cold and fierce and swallowed it whole. It stretched out inside them like a hand feeling out a new glove. Neither of them had ever given themselves up so completely to anything in their lives, not to a person or a thing in the world. No drug or disease could ever take away the will, and yet theirs was stripped from them as though it were the clothes off their back. They were naked and they were dead, something else entirely alive inside of them, driving them, willing them, filling them with a completely new and different purpose, alien emotions gushing from their strained and heavy hearts like compressed ketchup packages.
They stared at each other a moment, each wondering what the other was doing in this house
One was meant to be there, the other had never been there before.
"What are you doing here?" Warrick asked as he looked at Sara. "Where's Annabelle?"
Sara's mouth opened and closed. "Daniel," she whispered. "Daniel, please, you have to understand, Annabelle is unwell, she thinks—"
There was a scream from upstairs and their conversation was cut short and all four entities, the two CSIs and the wills inside of them, found themselves racing for the upstairs landing and the source of the scream.
Warrick kicked open the door in time to see the knife come down on little Lindsey and he screamed loudly at her to stop. "Annabelle!"
But it was too late. The babe had been marred by the unkind will of her mother and she cried out in agony, clutching at her chest, her hands painted maroon with her own blood.
At that moment, the mother turned, fear evident in her eyes as she looked at the two intruders. "Daniel…" she whispered. "Lizbeth!"
"No…" Sara whispered as she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, her eyes not leaving Lindsey for a moment. "Annabelle, what have you done?"
"That's our child, isn't it?" Warrick asked her. "You murdered our child. How could you do that! How could you kill our baby?"
"I didn't know what to do," Catherine whispered. "But we can burry her in the garden, where the wild flowers grow. She'll be happy there."
Sara was gritting her teeth as tears streaked down her cheeks. "Your child… oh Annabelle, Daniel… how could you do this to me?"
"To you?" Warrick snapped at Sara. "You're about as loving as a prune, Lizzy-Beth. You never let me touch you!"
"We aren't yet married!" Sara replied, sounding aghast. "I thought you loved me!"
Catherine strode towards the two of them, the knife dripping blood onto the floor, her own daughter forgotten as she gasped in pain. "Lizbeth… I tried to tell you. I didn't want to. I didn't. He came into my room…"
"Stop it," Sara sobbed through gritted teeth.
"He told me you wanted it this way, that you wanted him to be with me…"
"Lies!" Warrick screamed. "You seduced me, you conniving witch!"
Sara turned to Warrick in horror. "Don't call my sister a liar."
Warrick looked from Sara to Catherine before he drew his gun and aimed it straight at Catherine. "How could you… how could you kill our child?"
"Put the gun down, Daniel." Sara's voice was low and soft.
"Wait…" Lindsey gasped, crawling out of the closet as she coughed up blood. "You have to stop this. You have to forgive each other."
"No!" Warrick cried out. "I can never forgive you for what you have done. She was our child. We were going to name her Felicity... Lissy... Lissy was our child!"
"You didn't want her!" Catherine yelled. "You found out she was to be born and you could care less about her, and about me. It was I who chose the name and when I told you, you just told me to do whatever I wanted with her. So I am. You just didn't want your fiancé to find out! You are a monster and that is why you are here."
"You wicked harlot!"
"No!" Sara shrieked, jumping to her feet.
The gun went off and every single window in the house shattered. Sara stared down at her stomach and gasped before falling in a heap on the floor.
The gun clattered to the floor and Warrick just stared. Catherine was in tears as she cradled Sara's head in her lap, stroking her hair as her breathing became shallow. "You monster…" she whispered. "She wasn't supposed to be here… she was never here before… that bullet was meant for me…"
"I know…" whispered Sara with a faraway smile. "But I had to end this circle…"
Catherine was crying uncontrollably as she glared at Warrick. "She was an angel here to save us and you slaughtered her…"
Warrick's breathing was slow and steady as his hands flew to his mouth. "Sweet Lord…" he muttered. "What have I done…" He began to turn the gun on himself.
"Stop…" The protest was barely above a whimper but it rang out in all of their ears. Lindsey's back was rising up and down with each shuttering breath as she looked at them with pleading eyes. "Your child never before had a voice and she never will again. Lizbeth was sent back for a reason this time. Even in death, you never learn. Put the gun down."
Warrick's lower lip trembled as he watched the three women, two bleeding, and one covered in everyone else's blood. "What do I do? I have never been here before…"
"Put down the gun." Lindsey's voice was filled with pain. "Forgive each other. Then we can all be at peace…"
Warrick and Catherine looked at each other and their eyes met. "Annabelle… I loved you from the moment I saw you. But you were so incredible, I never thought you would care for me… So I proposed to your sister, and when you confided in me that you loved me as deeply as I loved you…" Warrick approached them and kneeled down next to the two of them. "Oh, sweet Lizbeth…" he whispered. "I never meant to bring you so much heartache…"
"I have hated you both for too long," Sara breathed. "I have watched you suffer and I have torn myself apart with my own hate. That was my hell. To watch and watch until my hate dissolved into pity and until my pity dissolved into guilt." She flinched at the pain. In the background, they could hear sirens.
"Quickly!" Lindsey cried. "There's not much time."
Sara took Catherine's hand in her trembling grip, and took Warrick's as well, putting them together. "So you can be together in death as you never were in life."
Catherine and Warrick looked up and smiled at each other. And over Sara and with her consent, they kissed.
It was as though a fist that had clenched on their hearts relented as blood flushed to every single part of their very cold bodies.
Sara looked down and let out a breathless scream.
Lindsey's eyes rolled into her head as she passed out.
"Oh no…" Warrick whispered, stroking Sara's hair fervently. "Catherine, get her on the bed!"
But Catherine was staring at her daughter in horror. Her eyes darted between her friend in her arms and her daughter on the ground. "Warrick…"
"Catherine!" Warrick hissed, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. "They're both going to die if you don't focus. Move Sara to the bed, I'll take care of Lindsey—"
"Oh my God…"
Both Catherine and Warrick stopped. Catherine was looking over his shoulder at the door. Slowly, Warrick turned around as a knot caught in his throat.
Greg stood looking ashen in the doorway, his jaw dropped to his chest. Soon, he was joined by Grissom, who pushed past him into the room and immediately kneeled down next to Lindsey. "What happened here?" he demanded.
But before Catherine could reply, the paramedics swarmed in, pushing Warrick and Grissom back. They pulled Sara away from Catherine, who didn't want to let her go. She scrambled up against the wall, getting bloody handprints everywhere, looking frantically from her daughter to her friend. Everything was spinning. The paramedics were trying to stabilize Lindsey and Sara before moving them. Catherine looked up and saw Warrick talking to Grissom with sad eyes. Grissom's face was solemn as he watched the paramedics. There was a loud ringing in Catherine's ears and she couldn't figure out if it was the sirens, or the noise in the room, or something else entirely.
They moved Sara first, onto a stretcher, which they led past Greg in the doorway. Catherine was surprised to see tears running down Greg's face as he reached out a hand to Sara, who grasped his with bloody fingers before it fell limp and dropped off the stretcher. Greg covered his mouth with his now bloody hand as he leaned against the wall. Nick appeared next to him as he pulled the younger CSI into a brotherly embrace.
Slowly, Grissom approached Catherine and kneeled down next to her. "Catherine? Can you hear me?" Eyes wide, Catherine turned to Grissom and nodded slowly. Grissom nodded. "Warrick said that he and Sara got here in time to see you stab Lindsey. He then said he shot Sara. But that's all he said."
Catherine continued to nod. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, that's right."
"But what happened?" Grissom asked. "I wasn't kidding when I said that's all he told me. I know nothing else. Like why did you stab Lindsey? Why did he shoot— shoot Sara?"
Catherine stopped nodding and slowly shook her head. "He was aiming for me…"
"What?!" Grissom was incredulous.
Catherine was still in a daze. "She said it never happened…"
"Who said that what never happened?" Grissom asked. "Catherine, you're not making sense."
Catherine swallowed. "Um… Sara. In the locker room, she said that it never happened… But it did happen, and we just didn't want to talk about it because we didn't understand… and then… Gil… And then it hurt my Lindsey…" Tears glistened in her eyes anew as she thought of her daughter, who she looked to as Lindsey was loaded on a stretcher too. "Oh God… Gil, will she be OK?"
Grissom looked at Lindsey, then at Catherine. "I can't say, Catherine, I'm not a doctor. But what happened in the locker room?"
Catherine looked up at Grissom, absolutely petrified. "I… I think we were… possessed, Grissom."
Grissom drew back from her. He was obviously not expecting that answer. "You were what?"
"I know how it sounds," Catherine replied. "But it's the only way to explain it. I had all these thoughts and memories that weren't mine. I had a name… we had names… that didn't belong to us. I was… Annabelle… Warrick, I called him Daniel and Sara…"
"Let me guess," Grissom said blankly. "Lizbeth."
"How did you…"
"They were the names Allan Walter was blabbering about before he shot himself," Grissom explained. "Sara could tell you that."
But Catherine was shaking her head. "No, Grissom, this isn't a joke or a trick… I would never hurt Lindsey. But suddenly, it was like… It was like it was the best thing for her. Like if she lived any longer, she would suffer against something horrible… I thought of her as a baby, not a teenage girl."
"So you're telling me," Grissom said slowly, "that you, Sara, and Warrick were… possessed?"
"I know how it sounds, but it's the only thing I can say," Catherine said. "Warrick will tell you. Sara will tell you. I bet even Lindsey would tell you, when she… oh God, Lindsey…" She started crying full force now and Grissom couldn't help but pull her into his warm embrace as he tried to calm down. She knew he needed answers—so did she. But she had nothing to offer him. She had nothing to offer anyone. If Lindsey died because of her…
As the paramedics took Lindsey out of the room, Nick and Greg stepped in. Warrick lingered in the shadows by the wall.
Greg's arms were folded and his eyes were frigid as he stared at Catherine and Grissom. Catherine pulled away from her friend and returned his hard gaze with her own desperate one. His mouth was smeared with blood, as was his right hand. Catherine somehow knew instinctively that he loved Sara very much.
But it was Nick who spoke first. "Grissom, what… what happened here?" His tone was of absolute disbelief. Surely, he must have thought that someone else had been here, someone else had stabbed Lindsey and shot Sara, and he wanted to know where that person went so he could hunt him down and kill him with his own bare hands.
But Grissom looked up at Nick with his famous calm demeanor. "I'm not exactly sure, Nick."
"Did you shoot her?" Greg said, his voice colder than Catherine had ever heard it before. "Did you shoot Sara?"
Catherine's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "I… I didn't…" But she faltered under his stare. She never knew Greg Sanders, happy-go-lucky goofball Greg Sanders could ever intimidate her like this.
"I did."
The voice was dark and heavy as it came from behind Greg and Nick, who both turned around as if just noticing Warrick was there. He stepped out of the dark, his blue eyes like an expanse of arctic desert. Barren and cold. "I shot Sara. I think…" He faltered too, the frozen wastelands in his eyes hiding from view behind his lids as he tried to bite back tears. But when he opened again, they were as dry as any desert ever was. "I think I was aiming for Catherine. The bullet was meant for her."
Within seconds he was against the wall with Greg's forearm pressed against his throat. "Why did you do it?" he hissed.
"Greg!" Grissom screamed. "Let him go!"
The tears were back again as they carved rivers in his cheeks. "You son of a bitch…" he muttered, barely intelligible. "Why did you shoot her?"
Warrick calmly put his hands on Greg's arm and lowered it with ease. Greg was sobbing too hard to stop him. "I… I can't explain, it Greg, I don't…" But it was obvious Greg wasn't listening anymore.
At that moment, Brass ran in, looking flustered as he took in the scene. Catherine was covered in blood, and Grissom's shirt was stained with it as well from where she had held him. Warrick had blood on his hands and shirt, and even Greg had some on him. If Brass hadn't known better, he would have said they all looked guilty. Nick was the only bloodless one in the room.
"Nick," he said. "Please go with Sara in the ambulance. She's—" he swallowed. "She's scared. She wants someone with her."
Nick nodded but Greg stepped forward, wiping his face with his sleeve. "I want to go."
Brass shook his head. "No, I want you here." He looked at Nick and nodded. "Go."
Nick jogged out the door and down the stairs. Greg snarled at Brass like an angry dog. "How dare you."
"How dare I?" Brass said. "Greg, you all have blood on you. This is a crime scene. I know you got here the same time I did, but I'm gonna need to hear what you saw while I was downstairs convincing the cops not to rush in and arrest Catherine and Warrick where they stand. Do you understand?"
Somewhere deep in Greg's mind, his professional training shone through and he nodded slowly. But it was obvious he was less than happy about it.
"Good," Brass said. He looked at everyone in turn. "Now would someone please tell me what the hell went down in here?"
Greg shot daggers at Warrick while Grissom turned concernedly to Catherine. Both Catherine and Warrick looked at each other.
"He called me Annabelle," Catherine muttered.
"I'm sorry?" Brass's brow furrowed in confusion.
"She called me Daniel," Warrick added, his voice a little louder than hers. "We both called Sara Lizbeth… and Lindsey… her name was… Lissy."
Greg blanched. "She took out her penknife and robbed the baby of its life." Everyone turned to him now, hoping he could make sense out of the chaos, even though he seemed to be spewing drivel too. He looked at all of them as if he just realized he'd spoken out loud. "No, it's a… a nursery rhyme."
"Morbid nursery rhyme," Brass commented.
"What nursery rhyme isn't morbid?" Grissom pointed out.
Greg shook his head to clear it. "It's based on the legend of Crazy Anna Elizabeth. You never heard it? The woman who murdered her own child to hide the shame of sex out of wedlock. She killed it and buried it on the edge of a forest but her lover caught her and murdered her for her crime..." He began to recite the rhyme, or what he remembered of it from his childhood.
"She kneeled down
below a thorn
And there she laid her babe newborn.
She took out her penknife
And robbed the baby of its life.
She dug a grave in the cold moonlight
And there she tried to bury her plight.
As she was going to the church
She saw a child on the porch.
Said she to the child, 'If you were mine,
I'd dress you in silks so fine.'
Said the child to the mother, 'When I was thine
You didn't prove to me so kind
Oh cursed mother, hell is deep
And into the fire you will leap'
Anna Liz, Anna Liz, what a cold cruel thing you did.
Anna Liz, Anna Liz, you're resting now but your soul never is."
When he finished, Catherine's eyes were wide as she stared at him, flabbergasted. Greg became very self conscious and began to fiddle with his clothes.
"Or, at least, I think that's how it goes," he said. "It's been awhile since I've heard the girls jumping rope, you know. It was kinda like the Bloody Mary story. Mothers warned their kids if they didn't behave, Anna Elizabeth would come and kill them in their sleep. My Mom twisted it into some sort of commentary on abortion, but… Why are you looking at me like that?"
"That's it…" Catherine muttered, shaking her head. "No, that's really it!" She looked at Warrick, who looked equally surprised. "Do you feel it? Do you feel it too?"
"Yes," Warrick nodded. "But the rhyme is wrong. Her name was Annabelle McCormick. Her sister was Elizabeth."
"Well there wasn't exactly room for a sister in the legend…" Greg muttered.
Warrick turned to Catherine. "Where you dug and found those bones…"
Catherine paled. "Oh no… there are more."
"More what?" Grissom asked.
"Bodies," Catherine replied. "Daniel killed his wife then killed himself. Lizbeth… she was Daniel's fiancé and she found them both. She buried them with care side by side in the forest before flinging herself from the roof. Grissom, we have to find those bodies—"
"Hold it!" Brass interrupted. "Catherine, Warrick— I know you are two logical and rational individuals so think about what you're saying a moment. You're taking an old legend and twisting it into a lunatic excuse for what's happened here. What court is going to by possession as a reasonable defense?"
Catherine felt as though she had been slapped in the face. He was right, of course, she knew that, but she didn't know what else to say.
Everyone was silent, and so Brass continued, his tone more subdued. "Catherine, I'm sorry, but if Lindsey dies, her blood is literally on your hands and no jury will be sympathetic to that." He looked at Warrick. "And Warrick… If Sara…"
"Don't," Greg interrupted. "Please, just don't… say it."
Brass nodded respectfully, but continued. "You know it will be hard to be sympathetic to your plight, too. By your own admission, you were aiming the gun at a CSI, and though it wasn't meant for Sara you hit her anyway."
Slowly, Warrick nodded. "I know," he whispered.
Brass's phone began to ring and he looked at it before holding up his hand to the assembled. "I'm sorry," he said to them, "but I have to take this." He turned away from them and put a hand on the door frame. "Brass."
They couldn't see his face, but a fleeting premonition of despair told Catherine everything that Brass was hearing. He didn't speak for a long time and after a while he nodded.
"OK. Thank you, I know you did the best you could." He hung up and turned to look at the rest of them. Millions of emotions were scrawled across his face in invisible ink that no one could read. Mostly, it just came off cold and impassive, but he was radiating so much more than that. When he spoke, his voice shook only slightly with the news he had to deliver. "That was Desert Palms. Lindsey died on her way to the hospital."
If Catherine had been standing, she might have fallen to the floor. As it was, she simply sat there, staring at Brass, hearing his words, but not sure exactly how she should react. A tidal wave of everything a mother could ever feel for a lost child drowned her in ice and darkness. She choked for air, her throat constricting to stop the tide filling her lungs. Her thoughts were a flood of fears and folly and they poured out of her eyes, trailing down her cheeks and mingling with the blood and sweat that had already gathered in pools on her skin.
She couldn't swim and she couldn't breathe and for a moment she considered letting the water fill her lungs and sinking to the bottom like a lead weight. But she didn't do it and she didn't know why. She was completely unaware of everything outside of that moment. Even Sara was far from her mind. All she could remember was Lindsey's bright eyes, her sweet smile, and her bloodstained chest as she took in her last breaths. She was only vaguely aware of hands on either side of her, grabbing her arms tenderly and bringing her to her feet as someone pulled them behind her back and she felt cold metal link them together.
So they wanted to bind her before they made her walk the plank. But they didn't know she was already drowning.
Someone was hugging her. She knew it was Grissom by the way his beard scratched against her neck. He whispered something in her ear but she didn't hear it. Brass's words echoed in her mind, and after that there was nothing else.
The soft brush of someone else brought a tingling sensation to her arm and she looked to her side to see Warrick standing next to her, his eyes on the floor as they bound him in chains. At least they would walk the plank together.
Forgetting her hands were bound, Catherine pushed herself against him and her tears fell onto his shoulder. He must have broken away from the binds as his arms enveloped her and he held her to his chest, kissing the top of her head tenderly as she wept openly, barely aware of herself. Thoughts of Lindsey consumed her, but his thoughts of her consumed all of that. She could stay in his sweet embrace forever, surrendering the world to die with him.
That is, had she been allowed.
They still had to walk the plank together. Someone gently pulled her away from him and his arms were taken behind his back again. It was over. They were both bound.
"What's going on? Nick, I'm scared."
He squeezed her hand tight in his, trying not to cry for her sake. "You'll be OK," he whispered to her as the ambulance moved on. "They'll take good care of you, you'll see."
"I can't breathe…" The words came out in a sob. "It hurts too much."
"Don't speak," Nick hushed her. "You don't have to speak, just keep fighting, alright darling?"
Sara grit her teeth and nodded.
"Shit…" muttered a paramedic as they checked her vitals.
"No, man," Nick said. "No man, you can't say that, not now."
The paramedic ignored him and looked at Sara's stomach. "No… the bullet hit her stomach, the acids—"
"Fix it!" Nick snapped.
"We're trying," the paramedic snapped back. "Just hold on."
But Nick knew, as did the paramedic, that a punctured stomach was a fatal wound. He turned back to his friend and squeezed her hand tight.
"OK, darling," he said with a forced smile. "You just got to keep fighting for me, can you do that?"
But looking in her eyes, he could tell that Sara knew it too. She slowly shook her head as the tears thinned the blood on her face. "Nick… I can't…"
He stroked her hair tenderly and slowly shook his head. "It's not your time to die, Sara. It wasn't my time then, and it's not yours now."
If Sara could have laughed at that moment, she might have. "I don't think we get to decide when it's our time."
"I told you not to talk," Nick said. "So hush, would you?"
"Nick…" Sara said, breathless. "You have to tell Greg…"
"You can tell him yourself when you're better," Nick said.
"Shut up," Sara snapped. "You know that won't…" but she grimaced in pain before she finished her sentence. "I need to tell him… Please."
Nick swallowed his fear and nodded, a tear escaping his eye. "Alright," he whispered. "OK, what do you want me to tell him?"
"Tell him that… I really am sorry. For… everything."
"Aw, darling," Nick said with a laugh. "You know you have nothing to apologize for."
"Seven years…" Sara whispered. "And I have the worst timing ever. So tell him… tell him sorry I was so late. Sorry I waited so long… to tell him I loved him."
"Sara…" Nick whispered. "I don't think he'll blame you for that."
"I love you too, Nick…" Sara gasped. "And everyone… You're all… you're all my fa…" Her breaths became short and shallow as her eyes rolled up into her head.
"She's convulsing!" the paramedic cried to his colleague.
"Family…" Nick finished for her as he wiped his face with his sleeve. Sara's grip loosened against his and the paramedics went to work on her.
She was flatlining in the ambulance just as they pulled up to the hospital and the doors flew open.
"No!" the paramedic shouted at the doctors at the door. "We can't move her yet, she's not stable." He looked at Nick. "Please get out of the ambulance, sir."
Slowly, Nick stood and nodded, his heart plummeting into the pit of his stomach as he staggered out the door, watching Sara as the paramedic charged the defibrillators. He stumbled into a doctor, who pushed him aside and jumped into the ambulance and put a hand on the paramedic's arm. "Bullet wound to the stomach," he said. "There's nothing we can do now."
Slowly, the paramedic stared at Sara, defibrillators poised as he nodded. He slowly put them down and looked at his watch. "Time of death, 5:42PM."
Nick couldn't fight the tears any longer as he pulled out his phone and turned away from the horrifying scene displayed in front of his eyes. He couldn't even control them as it began to ring, though he tried harder than anything. He knew they'd be able to tell what happened before he even spoke.
"Grissom."
"It's about Sara…" Nick couldn't continue as his sobbing took over and said volumes more than words ever could.
Grissom hesitated on the other end, but Nick knew he was still there by the way he was breathing. "OK…" he whispered. "Thanks, Nick."