3.
By now all the evidence should be in the lab, at least the most important things. Sara was ready to drive back to the scene in case they needed more, but just like she thought, DB ordered them to stay in the lab. At night it was unlikely they found important evidence, as soon as there was enough daylight, two of them were supposed to get back to the scene.
She went through a lot of pieces, that belonged to the aircraft. Most of these things were in three rooms, from seats to suitcases over small pieces, she had no idea what all of them were. Some went into a box for unknown evidence. Over twenty-four hours later they knew fourteen people were killed. Ten of them were in the plane, four in the house. Six people were missing, ten more injured in hospital, five of them in a critical condition.
"I've got another bag with evidence, where would you like to have it?"
Sara stopped what she was doing. Her hair on her neck stand up. She knew this voice. It had to be a dream, caused by all the hours she worked yesterday and today, the lack of sleep and …it couldn't be real. This voice didn't belong to Vegas, it belonged to San Francisco, in her past, not in the present. To get the affirmation she was wrong and all was only a dream she turned and stopped breathing when realized, she wasn't wrong.
"Doug."
"Sara."
Her dream was real. Doug was in the room. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Just the way she remembered him. And he looked at surprise as she was.
"What are you doing here?"
"I work here. The plane case."
"You do?" Not a smart question. If he weren't he didn't have a pass with his name on his shirt. Shirt, that showed, he was in really good shape. Gosh, it had been such a long time. Thirteen years. No, fourteen years. When she was in San Francisco, they worked together and…had more than a work relationship. For a while, a really nice while. Doug was here. Wham.
"NTSB works the case too, the plane came from San Francisco, naturally I'm very interested in it. Plus our help was requested. It's a lot of evidence to work on, a lot of questions to answer." He smiled at her.
NTSB, he changed jobs, the last time they…saw each other, he worked for the San Francisco coroner. The place they met, when Sara was a CSI there. "Of course."
"You look very good."
"I slept only six hours and worked eighteen, I can't look good."
"I saw you after a thirty-eight hours shift and no sleep, you always look good. It comes naturally to you."
He flirted with her, like he always did. So charming. Back then he was able to make her feel like she was the only woman in the world he had eyes for. The only woman, he was ever interested in. She wondered if…there was no ring on his hand. Which had nothing to say, she didn't wear her ring all the time. In her job it wasn't possible.
Sara cleared her throat. "So, you're here to bring me more evidence."
"Yes, I keep you busy."
"You always did." She mumbled. Not only when it came to work. And louder. "Thanks, I try to get to it ASAP. Got any news from the scene?"
"Still working on every angle. What about you? Found something?"
"No, I'm organizing the evidence, get an overlook about what is what and belongs to where. DB works on the black box, he should get the first and best results."
"DB?" His voice was slightly amused.
"Yeah I know, strange name for a CSI. I mean my boss, Russell."
"Your husband?"
How did he know she was married? She never told him…oh, the ring. She wore her ring today. Of course he saw it. But why did she think her boss was her husband? "No, my husband left the lab four years ago. Why do you think Russell is my husband?"
"You left San Francisco for the boss of the CSI lab in Vegas. The way you talked about him, it was obvious, he was special to you and when somebody is special to Sara Sidle, it has nothing to do with work."
He remembered? He noticed? When she left they weren't a couple anymore, she talked only briefly with him about her reason, never said it was Grissom, did she? The thing was, Doug always had a certain way to read her mind, understand what she said without her saying it. It was scary back then, it was scary now.
"Grissom is special to everybody, the whole lab thought and thinks he's special."
"Where is he? What's he doing now?"
Good question, she'd like to have an exact answer to it herself. "South America."
"South America? Why is he there and you here?"
"Because I have to work on the evidence you brought me, which I intend to do now, otherwise we never get any answers."
"I just got my answer." He smiled. "I see you around, Sara."
"You will." She looked down on her evidence. This man was able to read her, to understand what she said and - more important - what she didn't say. Less than five minutes with her in a room and he knew more about her and her private life than she wanted him to know, while she had no clue about his life.
Doug Wilson in Las Vegas. She thought, she'd never see him again. He was the only man she had been really interested in San Francisco. The only man, who put up with her working too much, taking cases home, giving up on private time and vacation in order to solve another case, go to another conference or advanced training. No matter how hard she tried to blew it - without trying it, but doing it as she did, what she felt like - he never lost his patience. Other men got angry when you came home ten hours late, didn't cook dinner, didn't stock the fridge, he never said a word, only pulled her into his arms, ordered food and made her relax. He understood work was important to her. In a way, he was like Grissom was. Grissom and Doug were the only men in Sara's life, who accepted her work, who supported her without complaining. Now Doug was in Vegas and when Sara looked at all the evidence, they had to work on, he'd stay for a while. Something that made her feel a little bit nervous, even when she tried to fight this feeling back.
