Chapter 11

Souls Twisting Knives

She stared through the gloom towards the door, eyes wide and wild, forced open by fear. Her heart seemed to be pulsing far too hard in her chest considering she was standing stock still in the middle of an empty room. It seemed to be working together with her lungs that were currently forcing air into them with such force that her ribs were burning, seeming to weaken them for her heart's desperate attempt to escape from the chest in which she kept it imprisoned.

She could hear the blood thundering through her ear drums, in direct contrast to her delicate fingertips that danced their way across the wall behind her as she silently felt her way up it. She began to ease herself from the edge of the room towards the chest of drawers in the corner.

As she heard her front door close with a gentle click, she wrenched open the top right hand drawer and rifled through it, sending great clouds of paper everywhere, knowing that the time for delicacy, quiet and control was long gone.

She wrapped hot, brittle fingers around the cold, harsh metal of the gun, it free from its resting place and holding it ready by her side as she walked into the open living room, knowing that her unexpected guest would be forced into it having nowhere else to go.

She slid noiselessly around the corner, pressing herself into the wall and clinging to the shadows of the black room allowing the darkness to cloak her while she stood, every muscle in her body locked in place, feeling as though they had turned to bone.

Her eyes found the outline of her visitor as they stood, silhouetted against the glass that allowed the pale white glow of the moon to reveal them to her, even as she stood hidden.

She stepped out carefully from her hiding space, raising the gun to shoulder height, leaving the protection of the shadowy anonymity and moving into the centre of the room to confront the uncertain figure who was fumbling with the switch on a lamp, sitting low on a coffee table.

The figure paused, the sound of her breathing and the shivers that shot up their spine in response to her charged, anxious presence infecting their nerves and causing them to freeze for a moment before turning towards her.

"Sara?"

She recognised the voice and the involuntary shivers it sent running throughout her body, electrifying every nerve, even before its owner turned the light on, bathing the room in a faint golden flow and startling themselves as it revealed the fact that they were being greeted by the cold black barrel of a gun.

She felt the energy drain from every inch of her body as the muscles of bone broke down to water and she felt her legs give way beneath her, as the shaking gun fell limp in her hand. The floor would have come up to meet her painfully fast had he not wrapped his hands around her waist and slowed its assent, lowering her gently onto it as she began to shake violently from an abrupt adrenaline withdrawal.

He gazed at her, concern reflected in his eyes as he attempted to draw her more closely to her. The words of her last meeting with him floated through her mind in a sinister hiss as though his lips were pressed close to her, whispering poison into her ear.

"Are you alright?" he asked, softly,

She could barely hear him, never mind process what he was saying. His arms tightened around her, holding her as he had always done when she had been like this, knowing it was better to simply offer her silent comfort, rather than try and fill her head with empty words.

Something that would have previously offered her indescribable comfort, now turned her blood to ice and sent shivers running like rivers through her nerves, causing her to tremble violently as she considered the implications of it.

"Oh, and, to give you fair warning, 'dear Gilbert' will have to go...One way or the other."

She was sure that 'one way or the other' he would make him go. He could be watching them right now. Waiting for him to expose her, to leave her vulnerable. He wanted her all to himself. He knew perfectly well that Grissom was her rock, and God help the world if it pissed her off. Without him. She crumbled. He wanted him gone, and she was sure he would use whatever means were at his disposable to make it happen.

He was an obsessive stalker. More than that, an obsessive killer. He had already proven the lengths he would go to and how far he was willing to push things in order to hurt her, to destroy her.

She pushed herself away from him abruptly as her thoughts took control of her body and forced her away from him, putting more distance between them in that one action than it had whenever he had boarded a plane at the airport.

Unable to look at him to see the broken, confused and lost human being she would surely have left sprawled on the cold floor behind her, she turned away from him, staring instead at the numb, unfeeling wall, holding her heart in her throat in order to stop the tears escaping from it.

She dragged taut fingers through her hair before placing them on the cabinet, denting the thick, dark wood as the gun slammed into it. The action seemed to dislodge the lump that had become trapped in her throat, freeing it and the tears that began to fall silently from shattered eyes.

She released the gun as her hand went to her eyes, furiously wiping away the tears, laying on her skin like little beads of liquid glass, remnants of the broken soul that she concealed within, the only way the outside world would ever know the damage that had been done.

"Sara?" he whispered softly, his tender fingers dancing across her shoulder blades and making her skin ripple with emotion.

"Get out." She whispered softly, his silence spoke louder than any shocked outburst.

"Sara..." he murmured again, refusing to leave her side.

"No." He breathed, "Go, leave now..."

"Where would you like me to go?" he asked in hushed tones.

"Go home Gil." She told him, shakily, still without looking round.

"I am home." He murmured,

"No." She said, turning on him finally, eyes blazing, "You haven't been home since you arrived in Vegas."

"Home is wherever you-"He began softly, reaching out to her, trying to slip his hands into hers.

"Stop it." She snapped, pulling away from him and turning around again, partly so he would not see the tears she tried so desperately to hold in but that still fell. "Just go, Gil, please, just leave, just-"

He placed his arms at her elbows and turned her round to face him, brushing away a stray tear she had sworn he would not see.

And yet. He always would. Tears she should never have shed. Words she should never have said. Feelings she should not have felt. Looks that should not have held her gaze. Touches that she should not have let graced her skin. Kisses that should not have brushed her lips. Love that should never have escaped her heart.

And he could draw them out. All of them. With ease. With that one tear, that one word, that one feeling, gaze, touch, kiss or breath of love, he could strip from her every wall, every defence, every emotion, leaving her bare, naked and vulnerable in front of him. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. No shadows to cling to. No demons to send in her place.

Just her.

Just him.

Just them.

His hands moved from her elbows to her waist, and from there they climbed up her body, slowly, fingers caressing every curve, savouring every line, every inch, until he reached her face cupping it gently between his hands and murmured,

"If that's truly what you want. Then that's what I'll do." He told her, his eyes burning with passion and love, every word true, "But I need to know that this is what you want. Look me in the eyes. Look me in the eyes and tell me that this is what you want."

"I...I want you to go...I want you to go, please..." she whispered, staring at him forcing herself to meet his eyes.

She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want him to return to Peru, to leave her alone and vulnerable, to abandon her to Basderic, to go again, and potentially never come back. But she needed him to go.

However much she loved him. However much she needed him. However loathe she was to do what Basderic wanted, to open herself up to him. She needed him to be safe. She needed to know that he could never get to him, that he could never be used against her, that he could never be hurt to hurt her. Because she couldn't do that. She needed to know. She needed to be sure. And the only way to do that was to push him away. To push him as far away as she could bear. To be alone once again. Because she would not be responsible for anyone else getting hurt because of her.

When she had been younger, when her father had attacked her, she had learned not to scream, not to cry, not to tell anyone. To keep it all to herself. To deal with it alone. Because if she did not. If she had cried out. Then he would find a new way to hurt her. He would go after her mother. He would break her in front of her and watch as they both shared in the other's torment. And that was worse. The pain of watching someone she loved destroyed and knowing that it had been her fault had been more painful than anything else he had done to her.

She had taken the harsh words. The cuts. The bruises. The beatings. The broken bones. The vicious assaults. The scars. Because the alternative she knew was worse.

Experience, cruel, cold, and more controlling than any poisonous human being she had ever had in her life, told her that she had to do this. She knew that she could never forgive herself if Basderic so much as breathed on him. She would deal with this on her own. Because she could not deal with it with him...

In that moment, as his hands fell loosely by his sides and his eyes dropped to the floor, unable to look at the truth and the desperation for him to leave shining in hers. He did not know which was worse. Seeing those emotions. Or knowing that she did not trust him enough to tell him why.

His hands slipped from her skin, seeming to draw all of her strength with it. As he nodded slowly and turned away from her she wanted nothing more than to dissolve to the floor and sob until he returned and held her in his arms until she was able to stop. She wanted to fall apart at the cracks that were beginning to show, to make him understand what a wreck she had become without him. She wanted him to see that she needed him. She wanted him to know how much he meant to her, that she could not do this without him. That the mere action of him taking his hands from her and turning away was enough to turn her strength to ash.

She could not.

She forced herself to stay on her feet, every muscle in her body drawn and tight, as though made of cold marble, forcing her to remain upright, to remain pretending that she was strong, that she could do this.

She forced herself to watch as he gathered himself together, really intending to leave and all the while she stayed in the same spot.

His hand was on the door handle and he was about to push the door open and leave when he stopped, something holding him back, holding him in place.

She would have spoken, would have told him to go, to get it over with to just leave her alone, but her tears were caught in her throat and she was afraid her mouth would agree with her heart not her head if she dared opened it and would beg him to stay.

He turned slowly, placing his things on the floor and leaving his hands as empty as his heart as he began to slowly cross the distance between them, his light, careful footsteps not making a sound as they flowed over the polished wooden floor.

She wanted to tell him to stop, to just leave.

She did not.

She stood frozen on the spot, eyes locked on his, lost in their depths.

He was very close now, too close, all she could see was the intense sea blue of his eyes and all he could see was the single tear that still clung to her eyelash, glistening like a diamond caught in a spider's web.

He gently brushed his lips over hers and he breathed as he pulled away,

"I love you..."

A shiver ran through every inch of her and refused to leave, clawing at her nerves and burning her muscles, as though her body was trying to hold on to the last feeling he had given her, even as he himself left.

She could not. She could not say it. She could not say anything. She just had to stand and watch as he left her once again. She could do nothing. Nothing, because she needed him. And she would not have him if she forced him to stay here.

The door clicked shut.

That was it. That was all she needed. She sank to her knees; hand over her mouth as it opened in shock and as the tears began to fall silently and all the more horrifically for that fact.

Now she could break down. Now she could fall apart. Now the cracks could become pieces and her strength could burn to ash and blow away like dust caught in the breeze now that he was gone. Now that she was alone. That there was no-one there to see her cry. No-one to wipe away her tears. No-one to be burned by them.

She was hollow. She was empty. She was done.

She found herself screaming. Screaming in pain and in frustration. Her hands closed around a delicate crystal vase on the shelf behind her and it was thrown against the wall, even as she fell against it, the bits of broken glass lodging in her skin and picking it apart, finding the seams that had been loosening for weeks and finally pulling them free, unravelling her.

The blood that gently wept from her skin matched the glassy tears that fell from her eyes, the rubies and diamonds mixing on the floor as though the contents of her soul no longer wished to be trapped within her tainted corpse and would use her pain and her torment as an excuse for their escape.

"How can he do this to me?" she whispered, hands tearing through her hair and pulling at it, the sharp protests giving her something to cling to, something she knew was real, something as her lips parted again and the words passed again as a scream of agony, infused with all of her anguish and her pain, "How can he do this to me!"

She was on her knees again, murmuring those words over and over, senselessly torn from her throat without knowing why. Without ever hoping for an answer. Without ever wanting one. Content to be the lonesome soundtrack for the tears that continued to tumble, silently, from bitter eyes.

He hardened his heart as her screams of pain and frustration reached his ears and for the first time in his life, he wished that he could not hear.

He knew this was what she wanted. He did not know why. He did not need to. He had never been in the business of knowing why. Knowing what was usually enough. But now, now he wanted to know why. He wanted to know why his wife suddenly wanted him to leave. What, or who had decided that he should return to Peru because surely this was coming from somewhere other than Sara. He knew her. He thought had had known her. There was more to this. There had to be.

But as he climbed into the car he told himself that did not matter. He wanted her to be happy. If it would cause her pain to have him stay, then he would do as she wished and leaved. No hesitation. No questions asked. Trust. He trusted her. Unconditionally. Intimately.

Still, he did not trust her enough at the moment to leave her alone like that, and so, while he drove to the airport and booked his flight, when he was in the waiting room, he pulled out his phone.

His finger hovered over her name. The only thing he had left of her, left to him. But he refused to press it, choosing another instead.

"Nick Stokes?" the voice came cheerfully from the other end of the line, his tone telling him that they had just wrapped up a case.

"Nick?" he said, quietly, "It's Grissom..."

"Oh..."

There was so much contained within that word. Confusion, suspicion, anger, frustration, empathy, curiosity, intrigue, wonder and he did not have time for any of it. He would take the time to answer to Nick later. Now he had to look after Sara.

"Are you at the lab?" he asked, directly,

"I'm just about to leave, why?"

"I need you to check up on Sara." He told him softly, trying to convey his need for him to do this without wanting to sound desperate and worrying the other man.

"Why?" he asked, concern being the main emotion colouring his voice but also that faint hint of suspicion and bitter disappointment.

"I'm at the airport." He said flatly, being well aware of this fact and the one that his flight left in less than twenty minutes, he did not have time to dress up the truth, he did not care about the potential fallout for himself, he just wanted to make sure that she was taken care of, "I'm leaving and I need you to make sure that she's alright."

"Well why are you leaving?" Nick demanded hotly, reacting in the way he had known that he would, "If you want to make sure that she's alright then you get your ass back to her!" he said, angrily,

"I can't do that Nick." He said quietly, running a hand through his hair as he closed his eyes, suppressing telling him that he wanted to do nothing more than that, but she did not want him to and that was what was important here. Her.

"No, you know what you can't do? Keep reeling her in and offering her everything then leaving her out in the cold when it suits you! She deserves more than that Grissom! After everything she's been through, after everything you've both been through, you can't just pick her up and drop her and then expect other people to come and pick up the broken pieces for you."

"No." He said, quietly, "I can't and I don't...You don't understand what's happening here Nick..."

"Then tell me." He said, his voice caught now between pleading and frustration.

"I can't do that Nick." He said gently, he had already decided that if Sara did not want him to know her reasons behind this departure, then she would not want them to know anything about it. She could make the decision to tell them the details if she wanted to, he was not going to impose that on her, to paint her out as the villain when he did not have any idea of her motives. It would be her choice. "If you ever cared for me, and if you do care for Sara, then you'll trust me now."

You have to trust me...For her.

There was a pause before Nick said, "I'm only doing this for her, you understand that?"

"I do." He said quietly, not particularly giving a damn why Nick was doing it at this point, so long as he actually did it.

"What do you want me to do?" Nick asked, hollowly,

"Go to her." He murmured softly, "Please, just go to her..."

A/N: Thanks for reading! What did you think of this chapter? Don't be shy, let me know, good bad or ugly!