Title: Wuthering Souls
Disclaimers: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.
A/N: Sorry about the hiatus. I have recently moved to the UK, and you know how it goes…new country, new people…new home, and a new life.
Chapter Six
4 March 2001 at 4 pm, at Sara's apartment, Las Vegas, the USA
There were astounding noises in the room. The whole hubbub sounded like thousands of angry bees seeking the right direction back home, but instead of finding it, they were buzzing senselessly. Grissom could not open his eyes, his eyelids felt extremely heavy, and the man never felt this forceless. He wanted to turn or at least to move one of his arms then one of his legs, but he failed at everything he wanted to do. He tried to breathe evenly and to recall the latest cases he had been working on. Usually, these techniques helped him to calm down and focus. It had never happened to him before that he could not remember the cases he had been actually working on. What was the last one? A touchy case with a woman called Pamela Adler. Officially, it was an attempted murder but no matter that the woman had survived; she was dead to the world, to her husband. And the suspect had been too young to be punished. Such an unfair system, Grissom was pondering.
What kind of system rewards the suspect when the victim is too tough to die?
Sara's voice echoed in his head making the uninvited bees' ruffle even louder and more annoying. He gathered every ounce of his power and sat up.
"Stop invading my thoughts, Sara!"
At first he did not get it, he was so confused but got angrier and angrier.
"I said stop ruling my thoughts, Sara!" his pulse rate rocketed when he now seemed to hear her voice, too. She had taken residence in his head alright, but until now he had not heard her. He was now wondering whether he would even see her when he was going to open his eyes. He shook his head, let out a faint chuckle, and then opened his eyes indeed.
First, he saw little, everything was fuzzy, then he blinked for some times and the view got clearer. He was silently looking at his hands that did not look like his, they rather looked like hers. They were too delicate and silky to be his or of any other creatures. His eyes followed the line of the fine body, and finally, memories of the last day hit him.
Grissom jumped out of Sara's bed and sprang to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was essential to beat the formulating migraine; however, he doubted that at this stage of his nervousness, he could get off the pain. He practically ran back to the bedroom to fish out a tablet, but his hands were shaking so uncontrollably, that the tiny round medicine fell to the floor, rolled under the chest of drawers, and stopped right next to the quartz crystal he had accidentally thrown while he had been dreaming the other day.
After a few well-selected words of swearing, he was about to bend down to retrieve the escapee when he felt a massive pain in his…or her (he could not decide on how to address his body-parts anymore) slender ankle. Automatically, he reached for the ankle, but his hand met with bandages neatly hugging it.
"What the hell," he groaned.
Very carefully, he limped back to the bed and started to peel off the material. It had to be a fresh injury, as every move he made felt like scratching a serious sunburn. The last layer of bandage was the hardest to remove, even though a hint of jellylike stuff covered the wound.
"Oh, no…oh…no!"
Two days earlier, at Sara's apartment, Las Vegas, the USA
The drive home…Sara's home had been a torture for Grissom. Greg had been talking the whole time, mostly because he loved his own voice. Grissom had let him talk, as he had had no comment to add to Greg's bubbling. Perhaps there would have had some, but those would have sounded weird from his…or whom Greg had seen…Sara's mouth, so Grissom had remained passive in their so called conversation.
At home, Grissom was still brooding on Greg's antics. He could not decide what part of them was serious, and which was really only a friendly teasing. And this was also frustrating. Grissom was not used to men looking at him as though they were about to eat him up. Even though Grissom knew that Greg could see Sara's body right now, he knew the truth nonetheless.
He wanted to reprimand the young lab boy so to stop watching his boobs…Sara's boobs or quit drooling or playing gentleman, but how could he do that? Sara would not do that, and this little fact also annoyed Grissom.
"What's up with you, Curly-girly? Don't you even let Maia out of her jail?"
And indeed, Grissom had completely forgotten about the cat. He looked at Greg then at the cat; both were looking at the man in Sara's body. Hesitatingly, he walked toward the cat-carrier, but Maia let out a massive hiss making both Greg and Grissom surprised.
Grissom knew that he was not good with cats, he loved dogs more, but this cat should not know about it, he thought. He tried to open the door of the plastic box again but much more slowly than before, but Maia pushed herself to the back of the carrier and her 'airplane ears' alerted Grissom to back off, too.
"Wow, Maia! Calm down girl, it's just Sara," said Greg trying to soothe the shy cat.
"I don't get it, really."
It was quite embarrassing to Grissom. What was so unlikeable in him for this feline? Maia had to see Sara's body, so what was it all about?
"She doesn't like me, Greg."
"No way. It was a 'love at first sight' the last time. Believe me, Curly, I recognize moments like that."
Again…why can't you just stop this flirting…I'm not Sara, you idiot!
"Maia chose you at the shelter, so she had to have a feeling for you…and once in love with you, nothing could change that…"
And again…
Grissom tried to improvise to get some additional information about this animal, "Still can't understand how a cute cat could find itself in a shelter, it is a rare breed after all."
"Yeah, she is perfect with a hint of imperfection…Maia is a typical one-person cat. This is not an appreciated characteristic."
Wonderful, Grissom thought. Now he had a cat with behavioral difficulties and to top it all off, this one-person monster - who allegedly loved and chose Sara to be her owner - seemed to hate him. But what was its problem with him now? He looked like Sara, sounded like Sara, even tried to act like Sara…then he could not imagine what this cat's problem was.
"Well, let her accommodate to her new home first, I let the carrier's door open, and she will come out when she feels it is safe," he suggested.
The only problem was that Grissom did not dare to go close to that Egyptian beast. He would solve this slight problem later; he just wanted to get rid of Greg, and then call Sara.
"So?"
"So?" Grissom asked back not getting what Greg wanted.
"What is my reward for picking up your baby?"
"Sorry? I didn't ask you…"
"Still, I deserve a reward," he insisted.
"Yeah, you deserve overtime tomorrow…without being paid."
"You shouldn't spend so much time with Grissom, you sound like him…perhaps Maia smells him in your aura…that's why she was so scared."
Greg did not even realize – how he would have done anyway – what he had just been saying, but it hit Grissom. One, why would anybody fear him…even if he was not present, as Greg had assumed? And two, what if this cat really sensed him in Sara's body. Cats were always considered as mysterious, they could see things humans were unable to. What if Maia knew?
"Okay-okay," Greg pretended that he got hurt. He theatrically walked toward the door.
"Greg!"
He stopped immediately and turned back. His face brightened up already. Grissom felt awkward but also knew that he should act the way Sara would act, so he went to Greg and offered his hand for him. Well, it was not a gesture Greg was waiting for, but the young guy had his wits about him, so Greg offered his cheek for 'Sara'.
Grissom was pondering on the situation, he knew what he should do, but he simply did not want to kiss a guy, not even in a friendly manner. But it would have been rude of 'Sara' if she refused to kiss Greg on his cheek. Grissom was extremely grateful that the young man did not hold out his lips, because rude or not, Greg would have gone home without his reward. Then – until he changed his mind - Grissom performed the fastest peck in the middle of his cheek of the world…ever. Still, he went red from head to toe. And Greg loved the blushed Sara.
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The beginning of the evening had not gone very smoothly for Sara. She could not sleep well, she had felt that she had invaded Grissom's privacy when she had been in bed and the 'morning' shower had been a torture, too. Sara had concentrated so much not to peep, but she could not have avoided touching. The less she had wanted to touch, the more she had succeeded, as her senses had suddenly gone into overdrive. It had not helped matter that she had known that Grissom had had to go through the same procedure. Sara had been giggling when she had thought about remote support with computers…so their shower adventures could be considered as remote foreplay?
The next hell had been the clothing. She had found it interesting that she loved every piece of shirts and pants Grissom usually wore, but at that moment it had been her who had been standing in front of his wardrobe and tried to pick a decent set of clothes. She had not liked any. All of them had been either too baggy or too out of fashion. Eventually, she had decided to wear jeans and a light shirt with jacket.
Now, she was at the door ready to leave for work when she ran back to the bathroom to take a final look in the mirror. She did not like what she saw. It was Grissom, but a day-off Grissom in this outfit, Sara did not want any gossip in the Lab, so she changed clothes in two minutes. For the last time, she checked her…or his look in the mirror, and although she still did not like what she saw, at least it was the Grissom everybody knew. How was it that she loved how he looked when he wore these not so cool garments, and almost hated them when she had to have them on? She did not know.
The traffic was surprisingly good this hour of the evening, so it took only thirty minutes to get to the Lab. She was nervous, more than nervous.
"Damn, just how long do we have to do this?"
She did not dare to ponder on this matter any longer, and she chased the what-ifs out of her head. But what if they would remain trapped in each other's body forever?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath risking a hint of pretence that she was ready to go inside of the building. Somehow, she did not walk as quickly as she usually did; still, she succeeded to pull a muscle when she stepped on a small pebble. It was not the pain that almost made her cry, but the fear that she hurt his body.
Inside the building, everything was normal, but Sara did not see it that way at all. The offices, the tech labs, and the break room were perfectly the same, as they had been two days ago, still, Sara walked unsteadily. She did not want to meet anybody except Grissom, but where to wait for him? She felt it would be inappropriate to simply walk into his office.
"Good evening, Mr. Grissom," a technician guy greeted her…
Panicked, Sara did not even acknowledge his greeting, she just walked away. Seconds later, she looked back to check if the poor guy were in shock owing to her rudeness, but it seemed that it was perfectly okay with him. Grissom knew something she thought. He could hurt anybody, and still, they were almost happy with it. Wow. She enjoyed the situation for the first time. Everybody greeted her…him, and a nod here or nothing there was completely fine and enough.
"Ah, finally! You came in, Gil!"
Or not.
Sara turned her head toward the voice, "Catherine."
"I am waiting for you for a century."
"Well, it shows…" Sara fired back, but regretted already. Grissom always tolerated Catherine's outburst and now, she was Grissom. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."
"Hmmm. Let's forget about it."
So generous, Sara thought.
"And what was so urgent?"
"Will we come into your office or I should discuss my problem here?"
Sara unlocked the door and welcomed Catherine in; however, the woman needed no invitation as she swept in. Sara - or Grissom, as Catherine saw her - followed her colleague and looked at her silently asking what he could do for her.
"I promised me two days off, remember? Now I need them."
"Two days?"
"Okay, one but I need two."
"When did I promise you one day off?"
"Oh, you wanted, believe me," she said now charmingly.
"Cath, can't we get back to this later? I...I can't deal with it until giving out assignments."
Sara did not want to cross the line, she wanted Grissom to give Cath those 'promised' days off. But where was the real Grissom? He should be here by now. What if a problem had arisen? With Maia maybe? Nah!
"Oh, come on. It's about Lindsey, I promised her we would visit my mom, and to her greatest disappointment, I had to postpone it twice already."
"Twice?" Sara was getting unsure as what to do.
"Okay, once, but that sucked, you know how it is…"
Sara could not understand why a parent used his or her child to get what she or he wanted because it was proven that in most cases (nine out of ten) the reasons failed to be true. A single person had no this kind of privilege.
"Why don't you call Sara in for tomorrow?"
"Because it's my day off!"
Catherine did not even notice Sara's slip. "Oh, Gil, come on, she would go off the deep end for some extra brownie points!"
"That's not true!" Sara said defensively.
"Okay-okay, you don't have to bite my head off. You don't have to defend her all the time; no one wants to hurt her."
Sara's heart was fluttering with joy, so Grissom had always defended her when someone had started to bitch about her. Her mood definitely improved. She was about to give those two days to Catherine when Brass stepped into his office with a knock on the doorframe.
"Gil, I've got news on the priest robbery. Interested?"
"Oh, sure. We already finished."
"Gil, just don't forget about it!"
Brass looked at the person he thought was Grissom with one of his eyebrows up, but Sara shook her head.
"So?"
"In the early afternoon, two teenagers tried to get rid of four golden goblets. Ring a bell? The antiquarian is actually my old buddy, so he called me immediately. He said that those kids were ridiculously amateurs, they knew shit about antiques. They lied that their granddad gave them the goblets after he returned from Peru."
"Kids guessed those cups are some Incas treasure. Now, this is something. But how sure is it that those goblets are 'ours'?"
"Not sure yet. So we should tell the priests know about it and let them identify the items."
"Good," she said, and already wrote down the address where she had driven the priest.
"I'll send two patrols to pick them up in the morning."
"Wouldn't it be better if you also went with them? They already know you."
"Don't get me wrong, but even the thought of meeting that blind priest gives me the creeps."
"Yeah, Priest Selim is definitely weird, but in this world, it can't be easy to get on in life without sights."
"Sometimes I feel that he can see much more than you or I can."
Suddenly, intense fear flooded Sara. She also had had a strange hunch when she had driven the priests to the Inn. She had had the unsettling feeling that those men had been constantly inspecting her, especially the blind one. At that time, she had been ashamed of having these thoughts.
"The fearless Jim Brass…"
None of them was laughing.
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"Excuse me, Sire!"
"Sorry?" one of the officers asked.
"Sire, do you know the racu by chance why we are wished to pay a bísæc at the honorable Police Station?"
"A what?"
"The reason for the visit," Priest Fadil corrected immediately.
The patrols exchanged looks. Both were born and grown up in Vegas, neither heard this odd way of talking. It was like foreign geeks learned for their English lesson…in the last millennium, and wanted to please their teachers. They met thousands of tourists in Vegas every day, but most of them used simple English and asked direct questions.
"Development in your case, sir."
"Capital, sire! Eormenþéoda!"
After this short conversation, none of them had talked until the car passed a grocery store that had a market place in the front.
"Sire!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Would it be against your will if I asked you to stop here for a young unut?"
"Sorry?" the officer asked again.
"For a few minutes," Priest Fadil said.
"Are you feeling bad, Mister?"
"No, thanks Aten. It's just that we had no chance to go for necessary shopping since the attack, and I would really appreciate it if you could be so kind as to give us ten minutes here."
"Alright, but please be quick. Normally, we mustn't stop."
Priest Fadil helped Priest Selim out of the car, and they walked to the grocery store where a huge selection of fresh vegetables was on display. Priest Selim took a deep breath and smiled. When he had smelled the first fragrance of spices through the small gap between the window and the roof of the car, he had known that their opportunity had just arisen to get the ingredients for their substance.
Ten minutes later, the two priests returned to the patrol car. Priest Fadil held a small paper bag that contained almost everything they needed. The pine wood barn, the corroded bronze and the iron sulphate were from the Garden & Lawnsmith nearby; the vinegar was also easy to get from the grocery store. They also bought some other spices, as well. Only one ingredient of the substance was missing: insect eggs.
Within seconds, they all were again on the road toward the LVPD.
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It was almost the end of the shift, and the young CSI lady - or Grissom in fact - was nowhere to be seen. It was unlike Sara not to be in by the beginning of the shift. Of course, it had been Catherine who had asked about her whereabouts first, but the 'Grissom' - whom she had asked - had let the nosy woman know that he knew about the delay.
Later, when assignments had been given to present CSIs, Nick and Warrick had also wanted to know where Sara had been. Again, a cover story had left the lips of the Grissom-looking person…
Earlier, she had tried to call her own mobile number, later her own landline, but neither had answered. By now, the woman, who had gotten trapped in her boss' body, really started to worry.
Well, if I didn't answer my damn phone, he would bite my head off, she muttered to herself.
Sara was about to leave the Lab, and drive to her apartment when a very tired looking and anguished Sara entered his own office.
Right away a demand greeted the young CSI-looking Grissom. "What the hell has happened? You could at least call in or something, I had to lie and make up stories…so you know, I felt ill…I mean you was ill."
"I'm the supervisor, I can be late, and anyway, who would question me?"
"Yeah, you're the boss alright, but actually you look like me, and Sara is everything in this Lab but a supervisor so you better play along until we find the solution to our situation. You don't want me to be fired, do you?"
"I'm tired of this game, Sara!"
The man hurried to the door and closed it. In this Lab, everybody loved eavesdropping (however, this time 'Sara' was loud enough for anybody to hear); however, no one would understand why they called each other on each other's name. No gossip was needed.
"Do you think I love being you? Do you think it is fun to be feared? Hey, wait, that part is pretty good. But I hate your wardrobe and those disgusting things in every single corner of your house! Do you like living in a monster castle?"
"Really? Monster castle? At least none of them attacks you!"
"Yeah, it would be difficult to screw off the lid from inside and to swim out of that liquid! And who attacked you, huh?"
"That lunatic cat! See?"
Sara rolled up the sleeves of her black T-shirt, and showed the real Sara the injured arms. They held abstract patterns.
"What have you done to Maia?"
"What have I done to her? She wanted to kill me from the very first moment! Why did you have to choose a criminal cat? She is a loose cannon with a gun! And she is all yours."
"But I need her. And what gun?! Come on!"
"She is like Freddy Krueger. After shift, you can have her."
"Okay, I wanted to go back to my own place anyway."
Although the door was closed, the walls of Grissom's office were made of glasses; therefore the silent but animated scene attracted several laboratory technicians and co-workers, including all members of the graveyard team. They could enjoy the drama no longer when Brass walked firmly toward the door. He made an irritated expression, so the small group of people vanished…everybody, except the team.
Brass knocked on the door, but without waiting for an answer, he poked his head inside.
"Gil, Sara…hey girl, you ok,"
The woman nodded, but said nothing.
"The priests arrived at last. Want to join?" Brass said, and motioned to the door.
"Sure," both said.
They could not get far, as Catherine stepped front and blocked her supervisor's way.
"Gil, shift is almost over, can we discuss my…you know what, right? You know we talked about it at the beginning of the shift."
"Not now Catherine!"
"It's not your business, Sara. Stay out of it," the senior CSI reprimanded the woman behind the boss.
The younger woman's face was priceless. The man inside – the supervisor inside - did not get used to being silenced. It was both humiliating and hurtful.
The woman who was trapped in her boss' body knew too well this feeling, and tried to hide her own hurt. She looked at Grissom in a way that he realized that it was not a one-shot when Catherine was rude to her.
"Can you wait until we are over with the identification procedure?"
"Well, what else could I do?"
"Thanks," answered the supervisor and they all left.
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Priest Fadil and Selim were sitting at the table in a medium-sized room waiting for something…anything to happen. One was holding the small paper bag while the other was holding his breath. Neither hoped that the goblets would ever get back to them. They were not very precious, but they were vital in their rituals.
Patience was in their genes, so the waiting did not affect them; however, they got very excited when the detective and the CSIs entered the room. Brass introduced Grissom and Sara again; it was a vital part of their rituals.
"Yeah, we very well remember you all, sire!"
"That's good," said Brass, "that's good."
"Can we get back our belongings, sire?"
"Sure. We will show you a selection of goblets, and you might want to tell us which ones are yours. Is that okay?"
"Yes, sire. Aten shows us the way"
"Sara, call the officer," Brass said.
When both CSIs stood up to leave, Brass looked at them perplexedly while the priests let faint smiles grace their faces. Recovering quickly, the male CSI opened the door for the female investigator.
About ten minutes later, the two priests were about to leave with all of their goblets. They could select them in no time without hesitation. It surprised Brass and the CSIs that every time Priest Fadil had pointed to a goblet, he had then shown it to the blind Priest Selim, and only after he had nodded had the man said the goblet was theirs.
"We are still working on finding the ring, we will keep posting you," Brass said.
"Thank you. We are very grateful for your effort, sire!"
"Do you need a ride back to your home?" Sara - in Grissom's body - asked the two men.
"Well, we can't ask that much, you were very kind the last time, and we don't want to abuse your patience."
"No problem."
"Then thank you, sire! Aten will reward your service."
"Would you please wait me up at the entrance? I grab my stuff and we can go."
Brass said his goodbye to the priest and went to his business. Sara and Grissom were walking to the locker room and trying to discuss the next steps in their situation when Catherine stepped in front of Grissom. She got there out of the blue.
"Now, Gil, can we talk?"
"Oh, sorry, but I have to…"
"You can't do this to me, Gil. I deserve more than this!"
"Grissom…"
"Sara! It's still not your damn business, ok?"
"I only wanted to say that I can drive the priests to the Inn, and then you two can talk," Grissom said to his 'reflection', even though he was dying to know what Catherine wanted from him.
"Oh…please do that Sara, thank you." Catherine became utterly nice to the woman not really surprising either Grissom or Sara.
The real Sara tried very hard not to grimace, but she did not want this woman to cry any longer either. Grissom and Sara exchanged looks, but both accepted their fate for the day.
At the entrance, the priests had been already waiting for the male CSI, but when they were informed about the slight change, their faces shone up. Aten was good to them; he led the female into their arms.
Grissom was very tired mentally, but on the other hand, he enjoyed the experience Sara's body was giving him. Sara's young body was more flexible and seemed to be more persistent. He wanted to write an article about his observation, but he doubted anybody would ever believe the source of his experience. He caressed the silky skin of Sara's arm when the pain reminded him of the perpetrator who was responsible for the scars. Maia.
"Would it be a problem if I drop by my place and pick up my cat?"
"Of course not. I hope she is not ill."
Physically not…but mentally…
"Thanks God, she is fine."
He wanted to sleep today, and so, he thought he would pick up the monster on the way to the Inn, and on the way back home, he would drop by his house, so Sara could live with her 'baby'. Good plan. He was thinking about swapping home, too until this hell lasted. He intended to discuss this matter with Sara. He could not wait to see her.
"Sire?"
"Sorry, just lost in thoughts. Did you ask something?"
"Yeah. Can I ask what these jars are for?"
"I collect bugs and I found some really nice eggs in the parking lot. You might find this hobby weird, but I like make experiments."
Well, you shouldn't play with fire, Sire, and make experiments with that quartz crystal…you should stick to your multiple legged creatures.
"The outcome of some experiments could be dangerous, don't you think?"
"That is what makes me a scientist. And here we are. Give me a minute, and I'll be back."
"Um…I know I wish too much, Miss Sidle, but I'm not feeling very well. Can I use your bathroom, please?"
Grissom hesitated, as it was not his home, but how to tell a priest who had been recently attacked that he could not use the toilet. Two minutes could not hurt.
Grissom led the way up to the third floor; he was worried the whole time. His sixth sense told him that he should not let them in, but he was not as confident in this body as he would have been in his own. Keys in one hand and the jars in the other, Grissom walked to the door of Sara's flat.
Upon opening up the door, his fate was decided.
The next thing he heard was the strange noise. It sounded like thousands of angry bees seeking the right direction home, but instead of finding it, they were buzzing senselessly. Sara's voice echoed in his head again and again making the uninvited bees' ruffle even louder and more annoying. He gathered every ounce of his power and sat up.
"Stop invading my thoughts, Sara!"
Grissom jumped out of Sara's bed, and sprang to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was capital to beat the forming migraine; however, he doubted that at this stage of his nervousness, he could get off the pain. He practically ran back to the bedroom to fish out a tablet, but his hands were shaking so uncontrollably, that the tiny piece of medicine fell to the floor, and rolled under the chest of drawers, and stopped right next to the quartz crystal he had accidentally thrown while he had been dreaming the other day.
After a few well-selected words of cursing, he was about to bend down to retrieve the escapee when he felt a massive pain in his…or her (he could not decide on how to address his body-parts anymore) slender ankle. Automatically, he reached for the ankle, but his hand met with bandages neatly hugging it.
"What the hell," he wondered.
Very carefully, he limped back to the bed, and started to peel off the material. It had to be a fresh injury, as every move he made felt like scratching a serious sunburn. His memories failed him. He did not remember getting injured. He did not recall being bandaged. Fragments of images were slowly oozing back, but they made no sense at all. Images of opened jars, some shiny metal buckets or something like that, aromas of spices, and tidbits of mantra or prayer. It was like a surreal scene from one of the Harry Potter movies.
The last layer of bandage was the hardest to remove, even though a hint of jellylike stuff covered the wound.
"Oh, no…oh…no!"
It was Sara's body, and now it was vandalized. Her wonderful and perfect skin was damaged. Grissom liked arts, tolerated the extreme works even, as well, but it was his Sara's ankle. How would he tell her that he was unable to take care of her body? Would she be furious?
He took another look at the sun-, or perhaps flower-shape tattoo on the left ankle. It looked like as if there was an eye in the middle of the figure.
Her body had been marked. Now, the question was why and by whom. Who wanted to hurt his Sara?
TBC