Chapter 12

Under The Skin

She was curled on the floor in her living room, bare feet planted on the cold wooden floor, knees curled painfully as she drew them closer to her chest. Tears still clung to the corners of her eyes and seemed to whisper the reasons for them into vulnerable ears, drawing still more from her.

She regretted sending him away now. She would regret it more later this morning when she could not sleep and needed him there. She knew he had to go. Whether it was what Basderic had wanted or not; she didn't give a damn. All she knew was that she would not let him stay and get hurt so she could be selfish. She had survived for three years like this, she could damned well last a few more weeks until this son-of-a-bitch ended up where he belonged.

She buried her face in the large blue t-shirt she had wrapped around her hands. It was his. It would always be his. She had always worn it when she was in alone and awoke, terrified by the nightmares that had stalked her for over twenty years and showed no signs of stopping now. But no matter how often she wore it, it always smelt of him, it always made her feel alright, and made it easier to maintain the delusion that he cared, that he would hold her himself if he were there.

She held it wrapped between her hands now, burying her tears in it because she needed to feel close to him. She needed to feel close to the one thing in this world who could convince her right now that she was OK.

Before his return to Vegas, it had not taken much. Usually his voice on the other end of the answering machine had been enough, whether he had picked up or not. But now that was not enough. That was nowhere near enough. She did not just want to hear his voice to remind herself of the man she had married, she wanted the man she married. She wanted him here. She wanted him to hold her. And this was the only way she could do that now.

Taking several short, choking breaths, eyes still streaming, she forced herself to tear herself away from the shirt, telling herself that she was being pathetic. Her eyes caught on a dark figure standing just outside her window...

Standing up and screaming, she launched a delicate crystal vase full of flowers he had bought for her across the room, shattering it against the glass. She crossed the room and wrenched the floor length curtains across it, he could not even let her have one night. One night where she could cry on her living room floor and feel her heart break without anyone watching.

"Bastard..." she spat.

She could see the smug, satisfied smile that would no doubt be sickeningly twisting his face just now as he watched the products of his destruction festering away inside her, slowly consuming her with guilt and grief.

She dragged her fingers through her hair, tearing at it in frustration as she sank to her knees behind the curtains once more. She didn't care if he was watching her. She didn't care if he was standing over her with a video camera, uploading her breakdown to the internet. She didn't care because she had to do this. Because the cracks had been showing for months and she needed this. She needed to just fall to pieces and worry about what anyone thought later. She needed to be selfish. To do something for her for once. And right now, that meant this. Slowly pulling at the seams that had been unravelling in herself for so long now and watch as the world collapsed around her.

She screamed again in pain. A horrible, drawn out shriek of pure grief and agony that seemed to fill every nerve in her body with the desperate desire to turn the pain in her chest into something her entire body could feel as they lit up as though someone had filled them with liquid fire.

The tears that fell from her eyes were no longer filled with pain and sorrow, they were empty of any passion or loss, they were now only frustrated and angry. Angry that anyone could control her to this extent, that they could make her feel like this. That they could make her feel weak and out of control. That they could do the one thing she had sworn for all these years that she would never let happen to her again; that she would let another human being get in so close, that she would trust them so much that they could do this, that they could take everything away from her and watch as she slowly destroyed herself.

She stayed on a heap on the floor for God only knew how long as whatever that God was watched, seemingly satisfied with the lot he had drawn for her in life, content to watch as she writhed in agony once more because of 'circumstances beyond her control'. She had never been sold on the idea of a higher power, someone who could control her actions, dictate to her how to live her life, but if there was a God, he was a sadistic asshole.

She finally managed to peel herself from the wooden floor, the tears no longer falling from her eyes but clearly staining her skin with the marks of her misery. As clearly as an addict was branded by the track marks on her arms, so too was she branded by the track marks of her tears that testified to the Hell she was living in.

She staggered along the narrow corridor to the bathroom beyond and collapsed onto the cold tiled floor, her feverish skin desperately clinging to the tiles, savouring the cool, soothing effects they were having.

She was still weak and trembling, every muscle in her body utterly exhausted, making her feel slow and sluggish and she had no desire to pick herself up from the floor now. Every part of her body seemed to have given up and only the stubborn rise and fall of her chest testified to any kind of life left in her.

Finally, she forced herself to her feet and turned on the shower while she stripped the thin clothes from her body, the material clung, stubbornly to her skin that was still slick with the cold sweat that had engulfed her earlier, as though they wanted to protect her from the cold air that bit in to her feverish skin, making her feel vulnerable as she shivered.

Her eyes flicked towards the window in the corner of the room and for a moment as a faint tremor ran the length of her spine as though someone had slipped a live serpent under her skin. Screw him...She thought.

If she wanted to shower in her own home then she bloody well would. Even if the sick bastard had invited half her street to come and press their noses against the glass with him, he could not see anything. She refused to let him control her as easily as he had done with Edie. She would get him for this, and in the meantime, he could go fuck himself for all she cared.

The steady stream of water she forced herself under was cold and initially made her wince as it contrasted sharply with her burning skin. After the first shock touch however, it began to soothe her and she found herself being embraced by the cool torrent as it cleansed her of his sins without question and without judgement, happy to simply wash away the nightmare she was living in, even if it was only for a moment.

She had never been one for standing and turning aimless, endless circles in the shower, hoping for the answers to life from the bathroom mirror and as a result she was in and out of the shower in under ten minutes.

She quickly wrapped herself in a soft white towel and, for all of her assertions about not giving a damn about the array of psychotic stalkers and neighbours treating her house as the human equivalent of a goldfish bowl, she dressed in the relative safety of her bathroom.

She padded quietly from the bathroom and back into the living room, sighing and shuddering slightly as she was hit by the room and everything it had held in the last few days. She hated that it was still in darkness and a part of her wanted to wrench the curtains open but she did not. She told herself that she was denying him, going against him, but in truth, she was terrified and she did not want to see him quietly standing on the other side of the street doing nothing but stare in at her.

The thought sent tremors up her spine and she shook them off, curling up onto the chair in the living room and trying to pretend that she could do this.

She sat wrapped in darkness and embraced by silence for almost an hour until the relative peace she had managed to lower herself in to was shattered by a soft, sickening tap on the window behind her.

She forced herself to ignore it. He tapped again, long fingernails rattling off the glass and rattling her nerves at the same time. She ignored it again, closing her eyes and murmuring to herself as she had done when she was a child and had heard her father creeping up the stairs for her. He continued tapping on the glass at random intervals for over half an hour until she snapped.

"Go away, just go, please, please God, something just make him leave, please." She murmured, coiling her t-shirt between her hands just for something to do.

Finally, she stood up and wrenched the curtains open, going as far as to throw open the patio doors they had concealed and step outside, the fresh, cool night air nipping at her exposed flesh.

"What?" she demanded as he smirked in a satisfied fashion at her, "What is this what you want? To see me? To be able to watch me? To look at me when I don't want you to? What, would it make you happy if I just decided to strip for you now? Is that what you want?" she screamed, moving towards him and forcing him to step away from her in order to maintain the distance between them.

"I wanted to make sure that you were OK Sara..." he told her innocently, "You seemed upset..."

"Oh did I? Well there you have it, you've seen me, I'm still alive, I'm still here Ronald and you can go to Hell right now if you think I'm going to let you drag me there." She told him forcefully before lowering her voice to a sinister whisper and hissing, "You can't have me Ronald...I won't let you control me like you controlled Edie..."

"Well it seems I can..." he shot back smoothly, "Otherwise, tell me, where is the good Doctor Grissom?"

His name sent a shiver through her body but she ignored it.

"You're not hurting anyone I care about to get to me." She snarled, "That was my choice Ronald, mine...It ends now. You can set up a tent out there for all I care, this is my life, and fairly soon, you won't be in it, I'll see to that."

She turned on her heel and stormed back into the house, only just catching what he said before she slammed the door on him and resisting the urge to throw up at his whispered words,

"Sweet dreams Sara..."

She forced herself in to the house and sank to the floor, dissolving in to silent tears again, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was getting to her. She could not stand this. She could not stand him. Every time she built herself back up, he was there ready to break her all over again along the cracks he had carefully left from last time.

She slid down the wall feeling her shoulders shaking violently as she attempted to pull herself together without success.

But everything she was feeling stopped at once, only leaving behind tension and adrenaline coursing through her system in response to the light, almost mocking tap on her front door.

Standing on trembling legs, she pulled the gun noiselessly from the drawer in the corner of the room and padded to the door, fully intending to shoot the bastard in the chest and deal with the consequences later.

Every muscle in her body tensed as she wrenched open the door and aimed the gun over his heart.

"Bloody Hell Sara!" he exploded, jumping backwards as she breathed a sigh of relief, the tension draining from her muscles.

"You need to stop answering the door to me like that..." Nick told her, taking several deep breaths as she dragged her hands, gun and all, through her hair and turned away from him in despair, cursing under her breath, "People are going to start thinking that you don't want visitors."

"I don't." She told him shortly, bile clinging to her throat, one of many signs that she had overdone it tonight.

"Come on Sara..." he began gently,

"No, no 'come on Sara'." She choked, "Get out Nick..."

"No, Sara, please, how long have we known each other?" he asked quietly,

He took a concerned step towards her and forcing her back into the hall. After what had happened with Basderic, this was one of the worst things he could have done and she felt panic fluttering in her chest and gnawing at the corners of her instincts.

"I don't care." She told him, harshly, voice cracking as she breathed, "Nick, please don't, please, just go, just-"

"No." He said, firmly, continuing to walk towards her.

"Stop it." She told him desperately, "Stop it Nick. Please go, please just go, please-"

"Hey what's wrong with you?" he asked, worry flaring in his eyes, "What's happened?" he asked, pausing for a moment,

"Nothing." She spat, nausea still twisting her stomach, "Nothing, please just go." She said, her voice breaking on the last word.

She needed to take control of something in her life and she needed him to leave in case Basderic decided to take things out on him instead. She could not, she would not let him get hurt for her.

"Sara, that's bull and you know it." He told her firmly, "Talk to me, you know you can tell me anything."

"Then why won't you listen when I tell you to get out?" she breathed faintly, feeling her back pressed against the glass that separated the living room and the little entrance they were jammed in.

"Because I care about you." He told her quietly, "And because I'm not leaving you here alone in this state."

"If you cared about me you would." She said in a strangled whisper, "You would leave, you would go, you would listen to me please..."

"What is it that's scared you so much?" he asked her, seeing the terror she tried to conceal stirring in the depths of her eyes, "Come here," he said gently, taking several steps towards her and attempting to pull her into his arms.

"No." She choked and found the gun instinctively pointed at his chest, causing them both to freeze.

"Sara..." he murmured, eyes full of shock and concern.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, the gun clattering to the floor as she sank to it as well, feeling his arms wrapping protectively around her waist and lowering her down more gently as her shaking hands went to her mouth while she choked, "I'm so sorry..."

"It's OK, it's alright..." he told her quietly, pulling her into his arms and holding her gently, feeling infinitely grateful that Grissom had called him, while being furious with him for leaving in the first place, "You'll be OK..."

He helped her to her feet and guided her into her living room, settling her down in the chair before returning to the door for something.

He managed to draw a shaky smile from her as the sight of the German shepherd padding by his heels, but he was rewarded with a disbelieving laugh at the sight of the second dog bounding gleefully towards her as though it were a puppy.

"Hank..." she giggled, trying and failing to fend the big dog off as he danced around her jovially, licking her ears. "Down." She told him, still trying to control her own delight at seeing him. He immediately sank to the floor and allowed her to rub his silky ears while he stared up at her with large, soulful brown eyes.

"Why do you have him?" she asked, gazing up at Nick as Sam collapsed on the floor beside her on her other side, pinning her in to a furry kind of prison, her back against the chair.

He chortled slightly at the sight of the two big dogs lying protectively by her side and said, "Grissom left him with me. He said that I should take him with me when I went to see you. He said he felt that you needed him more than he did..."

"Thank you..." she whispered, amazed at her husband's ability to sense what she needed without her even knowing what it was herself. She took more comfort in the big dig's presence than she could ever explain.

She paused a moment, burying her face in the dogs fur and hastily wiping her eyes and attempting to compose herself. Nick took the hint and padded in to the kitchen to give her a moment.

He returned with two steaming mugs of hot tea which she accepted gratefully and with a small stab at humour,

"Why is everyone's default setting for me when I'm upset to make me tea?"

"Because we don't know what else to do with you that's why." Nick told her, shaking his head and grinning into his own mug.

She smiled slightly at this, taking a sip with difficulty, her arms being pinned to her side somewhat by her furry invaders.

She waited a few moments before she breathed softly and without looking at him, "Grissom called you?"

"Yeah, yeah he did..." Nick murmured quietly, "And it's a good thing too by the looks of it..."

"Listen Nick I-" she began, not knowing what she was going to say but knowing that she owed him more than that.

"No. We'll talk later." He told her firmly, "You're exhausted and you're going to sleep." He told her, "You 're getting two for the price of oone tonight, Sam's staying too..."

"Nick I really it's OK, you don't have to-" she began. While she took comfort in having them both there, she did not want Nick to give up more than he already had for her that night and knew how much the dog's company meant to him.

"I do and I will." He told her firmly, "Don't you worry about taking him away, his Dad's staying too." He told her. When she opened her mouth to protest he shook his head and said stubbornly, "No arguments. I told you that I wouldn't let anything hurt you, and that includes yourself. I'm staying..." he paused a moment as she smiled into her tea, knowing she was beaten before running a hand over his head and saying, "God, what did I let myself in for with you Sara Sidle?"

A/N: Thanks for reading! What did you think of this chapter? Please let me know! ;)