"Holy..." she breathed out.
"Yeah," answered a scratchy and gravelly voice. "That's right. 'Holy...'"
"Who are you?"
"That's none of your concern," he answered. "All you need to know is, I'm pissed... and if I'm going to die because of what you found today, then so are you."
"What I found? I don't know what-"
"Don't lie to me!" shouted the gunman.
An arm came up around Sara's neck, and pulled it back against the headrest of the seat. She choked out a gurgle, and then held perfectly still.
"You know exactly what I mean, Ms. Sidle," continued the gunman, in a lower and calmer voice. "It's the money you found. It's very important to my boss that I get that money where it needs to go on time. Do you realize what you've done? My wife thinks I'm out! As soon as we had our children, I swore to my wife that I got out! Even if I don't die, my wife will leave me!"
"I'm sorry," Sara managed to squeeze out. "I didn't know you were even attached to the case."
"Of course you didn't." In the rear view mirror, his eyes rolled. "And stop looking up at that."
He reached out and bashed the mirror right off its holder with the butt of the gun. Sara's eyes widened, and she choked a little bit more as the shattered mirror rolled over onto her lap.
"I am SO not in the mood..." the gunman continued.
Sara exhaled as little as she could, to keep her airways as open as possible for however long this monologue might go on...
"Do you know what happened yesterday, Ms. Sidle? My daughter turned sixteen."
"Congratulations," Sara tried, somewhat unwillingly.
He wrenched his arm back a little bit, giving her neck a bit of a yank. "DON'T play those games with me. I won't be around to see it..."
"We can protect you," Sara tried again. "Come inside and tell us what's going on, we can protect you."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, I've heard that before. They used to say that all the time to my mother when she went to the hospital for the bruises dad put all over her. It never did jack shit for us. And if you couldn't protect her from one mean drunk, how could you be able to protect my entire family from someone as powerful as my boss?"
"We have the forewarning!" Sara exclaimed. "We can use whatever information you have!"
"I'll take my chances," he dismissed, pressing the gun a little closer to her temple. "Besides, the things I've done...? It's too late for that now."
The cock of the gun clicked. Sara's eyes widened and her mouth opened, and a sweat bead rolled right down her forehead onto her tongue.
BANG!
Then she opened her eyes back up. There was no more weapon against her head. But there was blood on her clothes. And the little clear things looked like pieces of glass...
"Sara?!"
That voice sounded familiar... And much less unsettling than the last one she'd heard. She sighed, and whipped out of the door like a lightning bolt, stumbling right back into the body of whoever had just saved her. Strong hands gripped the sides of her arms, and she spun around in spite of them to see that it was Nick who had just arrived.
"Nick..."
"Hey! Are you alright? Can you hear me okay?"
She nodded, and collapsed against his chest like a rag doll.
He wasted no time; one hand against her back, the other reaching for the radio on his hip. "Control, this is CSI Stokes in the Vegas PD and Crime Lab parking lot. We've had a shooting. Send backup."
"Backup on its way."
"Phew..." she exhaled. "How did you find me?"
"This ring rolled out of your pocket when you slammed your locker door open. It looked kind of important, so I grabbed it and came after you. Finn told me you were out here."
She looked down at the small object in his hand, and raised her eyebrows. He knew damn well it was important; it was her old wedding ring.
"Thanks," was all she could say. She took it and stuffed it back in her pocket. "For... everything, I mean..."
"Yeah... Yeah," he said. "Not a problem. Thought I lost you, there, for a second."
"Oh, no," she answered, disappearing into his rather large-feeling grip. "No, it wasn't my day."
She felt him chuckle a couple of times, and when he pulled back, and they stood up straight, there was a bright smile all over his face. His hands came up to touch the side of hers, as if he were checking to make sure everything was all where it should be.
"Dear God..." he said quite simply.
"Yeah... Dear God..."
And in spite of her long day, she was smiling, too. Just as the sirens were approaching, and several other police men were spreading out around them...
Then came Russell's voice. "What the hell happened out here?"
"I don't know," replied Nick. "I came out, and I found him with a gun to her head."
"Sara!" called Russell. "Sara?"
"I'm fine," she repeated for what felt like the millionth time since her shift had ended.
"Yeah, yeah, sure you are," Russell patronized, and then turned to the officers around. "Seal it off! We're going to get started processing toNIGHT." He looked kindly at her, where she was back to leaning against Nick with very carefully budgeted breaths. "I wanna know who went after my CSI."
It was a long time before Greg came to get her clothes.
"My lucky night," he flirted.
But it hadn't gone over so well with Sara. She had given him a look the likes of which Nick had never seen on any woman's face before. And Sara was one of the fiercest women he knew... He also knew it shouldn't make him chuckle, but it did. Greggo had never really known when to quit...
Of course, he'd had to turn in his shirt, too. With her having leaned on him, there was blood on what he had been wearing. It was actually cold out in the parking lot, even though it was Las Vegas, and he didn't notice that until he had given his shirt to Finn for processing.
"You know the drill," she reminded him. "You'll get it back when we're done with it."
He offered her a dutiful salute. "I don't mind," he teased, flexing the other arm. "The boys need their air."
She laughed, but was pulled away quickly by Russell to get started on the car. She tossed Greg Nick's shirt to take with while he was escorting Sara inside to change. Nick watched them go with a shake of his head. They both looked awfully tired... And Sara had just been on a case that had very clearly shaken her up. Testimony about almost being killed on her way home to get away from it was sure to be the cherry on top of the milkshake.
But, on the bright side, it didn't take Super Dave nearly as long as usual to arrive. "Nick! What happened?"
"Someone tried to shoot Sara."
As he said it, there was a rush of cold in his stomach and chest that had nothing to do with the night air. If he hadn't gone out after her like he almost didn't, he... THEY... would have been one Sara down...
"What?! Why?!" demanded David.
"I don't know, Super Dave. She's with Greg for collection. I'm here for questioning about my shoot."
A wide-eyed look came across David's face. "You shot the guy?"
"Yeah."
Truthfully, he almost hadn't attempted that, either. Not when the idea of hitting Sara instead of her attacker had gone through his mind... It was when the gunman had leaned back to pull on her neck that he had taken a shot through the back window. It made him shudder a little more. Shooting people was something else that had technically never been on that imaginary contract of his...
"Thank God you got there," he heard David say, from what sounded like a great distance.
He shook his head a little and looked up. "Yeah. Yeah..."
"Mr. Stokes?"
It was Ecklie. In the split second before he turned around, Nick hung his head, and mouthed "of course" to himself.
"Yes, sir?"
"I'll be handling your shooting inquiry on the department's end."
Then he stopped. Like he'd just realized the state of the inquiry's topic... His eyes ran up and down Nick's torso.
"Is this how you'll be representing yourself?"
"I thought about it, but Finn advised otherwise. I'll get a shirt after I'm cleared to go."
"Well, consider this your permission. Give me your gun, and we'll meet you in interrogation."
Nick undid his belt and handed the whole thing over, instead of messing with the intricate details of the straps holding his holster on it. "The department ammo's already back with the ballistics. Bet you just can't wait!"
"Oh, yeah," said Ecklie. "I'm just pumped to spend my night interrogating one of my CSIs instead of going home to bed."
"Miss the day shift?" quipped Nick before turning.
"Substantially!" called Ecklie after him.
In spite of his general dislike for the guy, Nick couldn't help grinning at the pavement. He offered a two-fingered wave over his shoulder, but did not look back as he kept walking for the lab's front door. It really WAS getting cold out...
Morgan was in the locker room, with Hodges handing her a spray bottle of something from the CSI's reserves. "Hey!" she called up from the floor she was kneeling on. "Exciting night?"
"I'd say so," added Hodges. "Is that look part of protocol now?"
"No," retorted Nick. "There was a shooting, and Sara got the blood all over me."
No matter how much of an ass... "Sara?" asked Hodges, snapping to. "Is she okay?"
Nick dug around in his locker with frustration. "Yeah, she is. Probably not real happy, but she's not hurt."
Morgan rose to her feet, dropping the other bottle she had been carrying back into the crate. "My God, what happened?" she demanded.
"Somebody was waiting for her in her car," he said in the act of putting on a new shirt. "I went out after her because she'd dropped her wed- well, something valuable to her." He cleared his throat. "I saw the guy with a gun up against her head, and I shot him."
"Holy shit," said Hodges.
"Yeah. Greg's with her, now. I've gotta go back to interrogation and meet up with Ecklie. He's doing the prelim on the inquiry, I guess."
They must have been able to tell he was not happy about it. They both looked down and away from him, anyway...
He strode from the locker room in the lab through to the interrogation rooms without acknowledging anyone else, and found that one of the interrogation rooms was already closed with the blinds. That must've been where Sara and Greg were. He stopped, and was struck by a very sudden, and stupid idea: knock and ask how they were doing.
It mightn't have sounded so stupid under normal circumstances, perhaps, but when there had just been a shooting out in the parking lot – and he'd been the one to pull the trigger – getting in the way of normal procedure would probably not be a smart thing to do. Especially not with Ecklie presiding... He sat down in the chair he was standing by and waited, instead...
Down the hall, Brass was talking with Detective Crawford. It didn't look like a friendly conversation, and he supposed it was about the shooting that had just occurred. He sighed with great annoyance, and leaned back to rest his head on the wall. Eventually, Ecklie came by with a cell phone up to one ear.
"Nick, let's go in here," he whispered.
"Whose that?" Nick whispered back as he regained his feet.
"IA," Ecklie mouthed back.
And whoever they were, they seemed to be more interested in telling Ecklie their life story. Through the phone, Nick could hear words that told him the other end was not talking business. And after a few moments of it, his dearest ambition became to smack the phone away into a corner...
"That's great," Ecklie eventually said. "I hope it goes very well for her. Hey, is your supervisor there yet?"
"Oh!" Nick heard through the receiver. "Yes, here he is!"
While Ecklie described the situation over the phone, Nick's mind wandered back over the last hour or so's events. He supposed he'd better focus on the facts so he could report them to Ecklie, and then again to whoever IA sent. It was never a pretty thing whenever someone in any branch of law enforcement had to use their weapon. Even if it was under justifiable circumstances... like saving Sara's life... someone always frowned on it, and made the process of proving the given a long and tiring one...
But he couldn't seem to focus. She had looked more frightened than he could really remember seeing her before. It gave him a rolling feeling in his stomach that he didn't much like... seeing, again, in his mind her eyes go wide, and her mouth hanging open...
He blinked furiously, and brushed his fingertips over his eyelids as if to clear the image away. Instead, he thought of her after she had recovered from her incident out in the desert. After Natalie Davis had put her under that car... It had been what most people would probably call more traumatic, and she had gotten over it pretty quickly. A lot quicker than he had being dug up and pulled narrowly away from an exploding bomb... And she'd been so great to have around after that; it was like she'd made it her mission to see to him getting better after such a thing.
He smiled at his hands on the table, thinking about how often a day she had bugged him with coffee. A small gesture, to be sure, but it was all they really knew in the world of crime scene investigating: when in doubt, go for the coffee...
Then Ecklie's voice broke into his reverie. "Okay, great. Thanks." He snapped the phone shut, and almost threw it across the table. "They're backed up," he explained. "They'll send someone as soon as they can. But with your spotless record, and the occasional failure at the shooting range, they figure you're not a deranged murderer disguised as a CSI."
"What a relief," joked Nick. "I don't suppose it's enough that I can go home, now, though, is it?"
"Not quite." Ecklie rifled some papers, and turned one that had been upside down right side up. "I'm glad you were there, though. For all their troubles, I doubt Grissom would have taken Sara dying like that very well."
Nick averted his gaze. Bringing up Grissom to him at a time like that could be seen in one of two ways. "I'm glad I was there, too," was all he could say.
"So, why don't you tell me what happened?"
"I got in my car," Sara explained to Greg and Crawford. "It's been... kind of a long day, and I was definitely ready to go home. I stopped to rest for a moment, and after I turned my key, I felt a gun against my head."
She swallowed. Almost killed by two guns in one day...
"He said something about what I had found. The money I brought back with Brass earlier? It's in evidence. He said 'his boss'" – she quoted in the air – "was looking for it. He wouldn't tell me who his boss was, but he seemed very scared. He kept mentioning his wife. He said she thought he was 'out'. I don't know what that means, either. But he seemed very convinced that I did whatever I did on purpose. He said not to lie to him when I told him I didn't know what he was talking about at first."
Crawford was taking notes religiously, but Greg was just kind of watching. Leaned back in his chair, nothing moving but for the slight change in his fairly concentrated eyes as they scanned over her. She blew up at her hair and stared back; he had to know she was okay so he could sleep that night.
Because if he didn't, she wouldn't either; he'd be calling her every few minutes to ask if she was really alright. She was sure that he understood how a "yes" or "no" answer should be more than suitable for such a situation, but it wouldn't stop him from calling all the time...
And then he asked her the question. "How did Nick get involved?"
"I had seen him in the locker room before I left. I guess my wedding ring flew out of my pocket. He picked it up, and was coming to give it to me. He saw what was going on, and... he shot."
And again, for another moment, Crawford's pen was the only noise in the room. Greg seemed satisfied enough with this that he bobbed his head once, and relaxed both his stare and his body position. They waited for Crawford to finish whatever he was writing, and occasionally glanced over at each other.
"Would you like to go to the hospital after all this?" inquired Greg.
"Not likely," said Sara. "I think I just want to go home." Or sort of...
Something of that hesitation must've shown. "No, you don't," accused Greg. "You need to be checked out. You've got a bruise on your neck."
"Bruises heal."
"But they heal better with a doctor's help."
Sara frowned. She had been hoping she could count on Greg to see that she wasn't up for the usual. His challenging tone was not appreciated.
She folded her arms across her chest. "Greg... I am fine."
And even as sick as she was of hearing that – especially from her own mouth – Greg put his hands up in surrender, and shrugged as he sat up straighter.
"It's your call."
"Thanks," she afforded him... and then to Crawford: "Do you need me for anything else?"
"Mmm," said Crawford, without looking up. "You can go. Both of you... We'll let you know as soon as we know anything."
But as they were both at the door, the detective spoke again: "Though it's probably best if you leave it to us. We're only telling you and Nick what we can as a courtesy, Sara. And you remember that, Greg."
"Believe me, I've had enough with this case," Sara responded in what she hoped was a reassuring tone.
But it obviously wasn't enough for Crawford, because his very next words were: "Yeah, you say that now..."
She ignored it, but was sure he knew that she'd heard it. Out in the hall, she immediately went to the wall and put her forehead on it. Her hands were shaking again.
She felt Greg touch the side of her arm. "Sara?"
"I really will be okay. I always am."
It sounded like an automated response, and Greg didn't buy it.
"Oh, come on. We're not cops. It's not like these kinda things happen to us much. Give yourself a break. You've been doing this for a long time, and these things aren't exactly common."
"Good thing, too," she said, turning to face him. "But you aren't making it easy."
"Sorry. I can't say I've ever wanted to be anywhere but the hospital when I've been strangled. You're a strange one, you are, Sidle."
She took a false bow. "It's my greatest asset."
"I don't know about that," said Greg. "You'd probably be better off if you took it easy for a while. Be glad you're not Nick; he has a whole inquiry ahead of him."
She looked over at the other interrogation room. Ecklie and Nick hadn't closed the blinds, and Nick did not look happy. Not that she had expected him to, but even so...
"Poor Nick," was all she said.
"Indeed. But don't worry; he handles things. In the meanwhile... why don't you go? Somewhere... Anywhere but home."
She looked at him with confusion. "Where else would I want to go?"
"Well, after Brass' description of your case today, I'd say a large hotel with a pool and a hot tub. I bet you get the day-off call from Russell tomorrow, too."
"Ah, you spoke too soon, there, Greg."
They both looked over and saw that Russell had come into the hall. His smile was, as usual, very bright, and very reassuring.
"How you feeling, Sara?"
"Better," she offered. "Glad to be alive."
"I should say so," said Russell. He came in for a brief hug. "You had Finn a little worried before you left. Everything else alright?"
Greg flashed her a knowing smile from over Russell's shoulder. Then he turned to follow Crawford, who had just come out of the interrogation room with all his notes assembled, and soon disappeared around the corner.
"Oh... I don't know," she finally said.
They began to walk slowly along the hall in the opposite direction of Greg and Crawford.
"So, business as usual, then, huh?" he remarked.
"Something like that. I've never really come to grips with near-death experiences."
"But this isn't your first one, right?"
"No." She sat down on one of the chairs near them.
And so did he. "Then, is it just the shock of the two in one day deal, then, or...?"
She flashed him a grin, weary but toothy. "You've talked to Brass."
"Well, actually, the little bird told me. Brass talked to Greg, Greg talked to Finn after you almost knocked her over... Finn was telling me about it outside. Something you wanna tell me about this case?"
"Oh, you know how it is... It's just that sometimes the victims' deaths can hit a little close to home."
She didn't have to look over to know that he would get that. He hadn't exactly been the same since almost losing his granddaughter.
"I was a young girl once," she continued, "...and I didn't have the picture perfect American life growing up, but I never had anything like that happen to me. Grissom taught us that we are the victim's last voice, but... sometimes it's a hard role to play."
"But absolutely essential," said Russell, without missing a beat. "And you do it so well. You've brought peace to that girl, Sara. Rather she's alive as we think of it here on Earth or not... she knows what you did for her. Her spirit knows... And that's something you should be proud of."
She did have to look over at him to see what kind of expression he'd be wearing after delivering THAT kind of reassurance. And what was a priceless expression it was... In the good way, rather than the sarcastic one...
She nodded, and they stood back up to continue walking.
"I suppose I'd better call a cab, if I want to get home before my next birthday," she said in lighter conversation. "My car will be evidence for a while, right?"
"And even longer once it's time to fix the windows. But... if I could make a suggestion? Listen to Greg: don't go back home tonight. You don't want to be there on your own after something like this. Bad dreams, noises weirding you out, it's just not pretty... You should find a safe place to go. Stay there for a night or two."
More out of desperation to move along with her night than anything else, she nodded. "Okay. I don't think I can stay awake long enough to sit through a cab ride home, anyway."
"That's the spirit. Here." He reached into his wallet and handed her a twenty dollar bill. "Get yourself something to eat, too. As counter-intuitive as it sounds, I don't advise an empty stomach at a time like this, either."
She accepted it with a gracious smile, and he set off. "Thanks!" she called after him.
"No problem!" He spun around and kept walking backwards. "And, uh... do take the day off tomorrow. Just don't tell Greg I mentioned it before you did."
She shook her head playfully, and waved after him with the shaky hand that held the twenty. She looked down at it after he was gone, and rubbed her thumb on one of its creases.
A safe place... A safe place... Maybe just one the smaller cafes down the road...
But as she decided to go for that, she turned right into Nick.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed.
She jumped back a little, and caught herself on the wall. "Geez... Don't do that to me!"
"Sorry," he apologized. "I was just... I wanted to make sure you're okay."
"If one more person asks me that, I-"
"-Alright, alright. Forgive me," he interrupted. "Really."
For some reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, he looked kind of sad. She squinted at his face in the low lighting of the lab, where the lights still hadn't come on. He looked away and scratched the back of his head.
"Something wrong?" she tried. "I mean... besides the obvious?"
"Oh, no," he said. "The obvious is enough, don't you think?"
She smiled at what she was sure was supposed to be his wit. "I do. But you look a little down."
He blinked a few times, and gripped his hips tightly with each hand. "I just get weary, you know? Like you..."
"Like all of us," she amended."I know..."
He paused for another second, and looked out the window for most of it. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke again. Like he was trying to find some words to say...
"Hey, you wanna go and eat something?" he finally asked. Or burst out, really... "I swear, I'll take you right back to your house afterwards. You've gotta be tired, but I'm just hungry. And you probably need to eat, too, so... whad'da ya say?"
As he finished, a feeling of relief brushed through her. "Oh, God, Nick, I'm so glad you asked. Let's go for it. One of the cafes down the road would be great. My treat. Or, well, Russell's... He just gave me a twenty."
"Please, Sara. They take dinner dates seriously where I live."
He offered her his arm, and she took it.
"If they ever found out I let the lady pay, I'd never hear the end of it."
"It'll be our secret, then," she whispered.
He jutted his lower lip out thoughtfully, and nodded. "Sounds like a good time to me."
She felt much better waking with Nick down to the small line of cafes. Her hands stopped shaking, and she didn't have to worry exactly about where she was headed; he was doing the leading. There was bound to be something light and easy to eat in one of those small restaurants. And, if the way he pulled her against him when she shivered from the cold was any indication, Nick would be good company for winding down with.