Title: Wuthering Souls

Disclaimers: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.

Chapter Seven

4 March 2001 at 4 pm, at Sara's apartment, Las Vegas, the USA

"Oh, no…oh…no!"

Sara's young and beautiful body had been vandalized. Her wonderfully perfect skin was now damaged. Grissom liked arts, tolerated even the extreme works, as well, but it was his Sara's ankle. How would he admit 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. Grissom could not look away; he was staring at the tattoo, and he automatically turned into scientist again. However, the skin was slightly swollen and dark red around the lines; it was obvious that the design had been finished with good care. Whoever had done this, they had spared no effort to do it right.

And this observation led Grissom to a theory. If they had invested so much time and hassle into making this tattoo, Grissom was sure that they had been on a mission. They had had a motive to mark Sara. But who wanted to hurt his Sara? What was the point?

Several minutes later, he decided to investigate this situation more professionally. He suppressed the private man in him in order to be able to record all the evidence he could collect.

Step one: taking photos of the crime scene…of Sara's room. His emotions surfaced at the thought of her home being a crime scene, so he worded his thoughts another way. Taking photos of…the flat.

He knew that Sara kept a spare CSI kit at home, and after a short wondering, he headed straight to her bed and reached under for the CSI bag. Unawares, he started smiling because he also kept his case just right there in his own home. Within seconds, the digital camera was in use. He took lots of shots of the doors, the tiles, the floor, the bed, the carpets, the drawers and finally, he took two close-up pictures of the tattoo. The man looked around to see if he left out anything important. When he made sure of everything was recorded according to the book, he went back to Sara's bedroom to sit down for a minute. He was not feeling well. There was too hot in the flat, he decided, so he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, but it did not help much. He, then, went to open the windows, but the air outside felt way too chili for his liking, so he closed them immediately. Grissom got annoyed at his own wavering.

"Get it done, Grissom!" he told himself.

Step two: dusting the prints…in Sara's flat…Grissom loved cleanliness, he himself lived in a museum (as others called his home), but Sara was a neat-freak…in a good sense of the word. Dusting in her rooms without her permission would be like signing his own death sentence. He was good at postponing confrontation, so he would be worried about the consequences later. It was his lady's safeness in jeopardy, so Grissom was not about to take any risks. In thirty minutes, he had all the fingerprints recorded.

Last step was to talk to any witnesses if there were any. Grissom wiped his forehead again, and let out a humorless giggle. He was all alone…so who to ask…the cat? The cat! He turned quickly toward the carrier. Its door was wide open.

The monster had been let out. But by whom? The priests? And where was she now?

For a moment, Grissom could not decide what he feared the most; that Maia was hiding somewhere and watching him silently or his attacker or attackers had let her out, consequently, Sara would kill him. Which one could be most dangerous? A lunatic cat thirsty for his blood or a furious Sara soon in the same room with him. Grissom would not call it real fear, but it definitely was a worry he was feeling. He took a deep breath and decided to search for the cat. Maia could not be as lethal as Sara, he smiled, but in fact, Grissom could not bear to see Sara's unhappy eyes. It was always her eyes that told the story, not her mouth.

He called Maia for several times, but the cat never answered. The man bent down to look under the bed when a harsh pain split his abdomen. He reached for his belly, and instinctively doubled over.

"What the hell," he moaned, but the pain eased up almost immediately. "Did the priests drug me?"

The sweating man slowly walked back to the bed, and sat on the edge of it. He definitely did not feel good. Days ago, he had been a confident supervisor with an empty, but a predictable life – if I could call that a life, he was pondering -; hours ago, he had been simply miserable in this surreal situation, but now, he was lost. And he was alone.

He looked down at his ankle which actually was not his, and he felt big fat tears running down his cheeks. He touched the face that was not his either, and started apologizing for making his Sara cry. But who was crying at the moment, he asked himself. He could not recall the last time he had been crying…

Grissom got upset, but he was not even able to explain it. The always cold blooded CSI felt so much stress inside, he thought he was going to explode. This was not his normal reaction to stress, he knew that. It was her reaction to pressure. He was on the edge of panic.

"I'm going to go crazy…I need to call Sara!"

With his cell phone in hand, Grissom was standing in Sara's kitchen. He had even dialed her number but simply could not push the call button. He chickened out; there was nothing to polish about this. He put the phone back on the table and sat down at the kitchen island. He needed time to think. And he needed something to eat.

In the fridge, he found some cheese, chocolate spread, and milk. He grimaced at the selection as he did not fancy any of them. He felt nauseated. He was in dull pain, and most of all, he was uncharacteristically emotional. Probably, this latter scared him the most.

"I can't do this…"

He started to stand up to go back to analyze the findings on fingerprints when he almost jumped out of his skin. Right next to him, on the kitchen island, there was Maia silently watching him.

"Damn it!"

This time, the cat looked friendly, but Grissom did not trust her a bit. He did not approach her, he only called her name, and Maia answered with a light miaow.

"Are you hungry?"

"Miaow."

"I'll take it as a yes. Milk?"

No answer.

"I'll take it as a yes, too."

The man warmed a small bowl of milk for Maia and carefully served it. Then, he decided to drink some himself. He also found a roll, so he ate it with the milk. Minutes later, both human and animal were content. They were looking at each other, but neither said a word. Minutes had gone by this way when the phone on the table went off startling both Grissom and Maia. One was rushing to pick up the phone while the other was hissing then running away.

Sara.

He was holding the device in his hand, but did not answer it. Everything was a mess. Print dust covered most of the doorframes, the edges of the drawers…and the floor. Maia disappeared again, but at least, she was still at home. And the most serious thing was his ankle…her ankle. To top this all, he was suffering from the effect of the unknown drug he had been given. All the coming and going abdominal pain scared Grissom. This was unusual; he had never experienced this kind of sickness before. He needed help, and he needed Sara. Grissom trusted no one but her; still, he was hesitating to answer her call.

The mobile phone suddenly stopped ringing.

"Oh, no!"

If Grissom had been hesitant to pick up the phone before, now it was his turn to call Sara. The pain in his belly intensified, and he felt dizzy. Quickly, he sat down and wiped his wet forehead.

His phone went off again, and this time, he answered it right away.

"Sara!"

"Grissom! What's up? I thought you said you were going to…"

"Sara! Would you please come over?"

Sensing the agitation in his voice immediately, Sara quit ranting. "What's wrong?"

"Just come…please."

"Are you ok? Griss!"

"I'm…fine."

Sara knew well too much this 'I'm fine' mantra. Something was off, she could tell, and his voice was unusually low, and as if he was in pain. Sara could not bear the thought of Grissom being in pain, so she wasted no more time.

"Be there in thirty minutes," she promised and broke the line.

Sara Sidle was grateful. There had been no patrols on the roads, so she had not been stopped by any for driving too fast. She parked her…his car in front of the apartment house and ran up to the third floor. She estimated that she was going to be faster than the elevator. About eighteen minutes after their phone conversation, Sara was standing in front of her own door knocking on it. An elder lady locked a door and knowingly smiled at him…her. Sara knew her well. She was the neighbor who loved to know everything about the tenants' private lives. On one hand, it was good as she operated better than a CCTV, but on the other hand, the old lady was way too nosy. Sara knew that she had to be let in soon, or the old lady was going to roast her.

"Are you Miss Sara's friend?" she asked pushily.

Late.

"Yes."

"She's at home."

"I know, thanks. However, you shouldn't share such information to just anyone."

"You've just said you are a friend."

"Fine, just ignore me. Have a nice day," Sara said through Grissom's voice.

"Such traffic…"

Traffic? What did she mean by this? Sara did not get it, but honestly, she could not care less. Sara knocked on the door again, but this time, she applied some more force into the movement.

"Grissom!" she called, but corrected her slip right away. "It's Grissom, Sara?"

She could hear that someone was walking with a limp to the door. She smiled at it, as she knew it was a trademark for Grissom…even in her body, he kept shuffling. Moments later, the door opened. To say that the sight that welcomed Sara was catastrophic was an understatement. She recognized the typical smell of print-dust, not that she had to sniff around. Sara was immediately up in arms, but when she looked at the pale and miserable woman before her, all her anger disappeared.

"Jesus, Grissom! What happened to you? Are you ok?"

"Just closed the door, please," and he went straight back to the bedroom.

Sara followed 'herself' into the room and silently watched, as Grissom was suffering in her body. She…he looked so weak, so pale, so vulnerable that Sara felt that tears were building in her eyes, but interestingly enough, she could not cry as easily as she had been able to before the body-swap. She could not explain it; however, she did not have the time to ponder on it, either.

"What happened?" she asked. Is it Maia again?

"Nah, she is here…somewhere," he wanted to continue, but the pain made him close his eyes.

After a few moans, he tried to straighten up a little, but the pain increased instantly. He looked up at her and he only saw his own copy. He wanted Sara…with soul and body together, and what he saw was his own body. He knew that inside that worn body, there was his Sara; still, he missed her compassionate face.

"I…I don't know where to start."

"I won't say that you should start from the beginning because it would sound too authentic, huh?" she tried to ease up the situation with a slight humor, but neither of them found it funny. So she remained silent.

"I'm so sorry," he started. "I should have known better. It is all my fault."

"Have you eaten something? You look green."

"Nah. Or maybe."

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"I…I remember…I don't remember, I mean I remember things I don't know if they are true or just dreams."

"I can't follow you. You need to calm down, honey," she soothed him by touching his cheek, but pulled her hand back after she realized what she had just done.

"Awww," he moaned again.

"My God! Tell me step by step what happened after you dropped the priests off at their hotel."

"Well, I think I've never dropped them off…the last thing I remember is that one of them told me that he needed to use a toilet…the next thing I can remember is being in bed. My head hurt and…"

"You still look horrible."

"I feel horrible."

"Soooo," her brain was in investigator mode already. "They were the last people who saw you alright. No news about the priests since…"

"No. But there is no direct evidence pointing to them, actually," he wanted to stay professional and not to jump to conclusions too early, but from the beginning, he had suspected that the priests had been responsible for his condition.

"At the moment, there is no evidence pointing to anybody but to them!"

"Awww," he moaned deeply.

"Now, this is not a joke. We need to call an ambulance, it sounds and looks serious."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"We have to figure out what happened here first!"

"Your health is more important to me than some case that might not be a case at all."

"But I know this IS a case."

"Right. Tell me what hurts!" Sara demanded.

"I feel nauseated and my head hurts."

"Ok. What else? And don't play a man here!"

"I have some back hurt, but the worst pain is in my abdomen. It is really bad."

Sara was uncharacteristically silent. She was definitely processing the symptoms Grissom had just described.

"So…you have crampy lower abdominal pain?" one of the corners of her lips went upward as she was interrogating the man.

"What's so funny?" he asked edgily.

"And…you feel as if you wanna explode? Everything irritates you, huh?"

"And the heat, I'm burning inside."

Sara went to her calendar and checked the date, even though she had already suspected what Grissom's 'illness' was. She both wanted to laugh that finally one of her deepest wishes had just come true and wanted to run back to comfort the man she knew he was going through hell. She hated to see him in pain.

"Griss! Don't panic, okay?"

"I never panic."

"Oookay. Then maybe you want to visit the toilet."

"No, why?"

"Just go!"

Grissom knew Sara enough to suspect that he should take her advice seriously. Slowly, he got out of her bed, and he approached the bathroom like a prisoner who was condemned to death. With both hands, he held his…her lower belly.

Sara was following him to the bathroom, but Grissom hinted that Sara had to wait outside, "I can do my business alone!"

"Sorry," she said. And the person who was left outside turned deep red. Sara knew what Grissom was going to face soon, and she became anxious herself.

On the other side of the door, Grissom looked into the mirror and still could not believe that instead of his reflection, it was Sara's face looking back at him. Would they ever change back? Would they ever get back their own bodies?

With these thoughts in his head, he undone the tiny jeans' button and pulled them down, soon the delicate panties followed the jeans, but what happened afterwards could not be described by words.

Doubting sanity…fear…shock…and PANIC.

His first thought was that she was going to die. Sara was ill! He could not protect her body from…the priests…or whoever was responsible for this so much blood. Grissom was about to faint.

"Are you okay inside?"

Grissom was now definitely panicking. He was not okay…neither inside the bathroom…nor inside her body!

"Don't panic!"

Sara's calm voice from outside woke the scientist in Grissom. She knew something that he should recognize, too, he could tell. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and started analyzing the situation. Crampy lower abdominal pain + discomfort + blood. Somehow, the temperature in the bathroom felt way too high.

Menstruation.

"Oh my God!"

"Can I come in?"

"No!"

"Look, I can help…"

"I can handle it, I can, don't come in!"

Sara felt like an intruder in this situation; she hated those few days in every month, but now, she felt as if she was robbed. Menstruation was 'invented' for women only, and it was private. She could help or assist him; it was her body for Christ's sake! The thought that a male could face with this condition…and that particular male was Grissom made Sara's face crimson. Grissom was a scientist at heart; still, it was a humiliating situation for Sara, nonetheless.

"Look, you have to let me in!"

"Don't get me wrong, Sara, but it is private."

"Private?! How could it be more private to you than it is to me?"

Inside the bathroom, Grissom was slowly lost in his thoughts. He kept telling himself that this could not be that difficult to deal with, as he had solved much more impossible situations before. He looked around to see what he had, and suddenly…

.

"Okay, we can go! Sara told him after she got into the car again."

Grissom was given a small package of even smaller boxes.

"What are these?"

There were boxes of tampons and pads. Panic and realization flooded him.

"Well, you will need them in two days…plus-minus one day. What did you say back then? Welcome to my world!"

In his embarrassment, he simply threw the paper bag behind him.

.

"Umm…Sara!"

"What?"

"The package…you bought the other day…you know…um…"

"What do you mean?" she asked already enjoying the situation.

"Would you please pick them up from the car?"

"What is in the car?"

"Just grab them, dammit!" he answered peevishly.

Sara's hilarity decreased immediately. Grissom lost his cool, and he had never lost it easily. Sara had to remind herself that it was natural to lose temper during having period. Even though it was his soul in her body, anatomy was victorious over him. Body vs. Soul: 1-0.

She had to be more patient.

"Calm down! In the cupboard, you can find everything you need."

When the man bent down to spy inside the small furniture, he found tons of pads and tampons there. He stopped for a moment to think. Why had she made him stop by the shop the other day? He frowned…had she enjoyed the coming horror already? First, he got angry, but then, he decided to endure this suffering with dignity…he was a real male after all. However, his…her belly was hurting like hell; he decided not to show his pain in front of Sara.

The next problem arose when he faced two kinds of 'device'. The dilemma was now which one to use. He rejected the idea of using tampons. He thought it would be like a…foreplay…to apply one. But considering the fact that Sara would not be present, he thought the whole action would be like a harassment. He loved the woman in the hall much more than to disrespect her this way, he theorized. Pads sounded safe. Pads vs. tampons: 1-0.

"You ready?" Sara asked.

"Almost."

"So…this was the case you called me for?" she laughed.

He opened the bathroom door and limped through its doorstep. He was pale and worn out, but it was obvious that he tried to act normally.

"Actually…yes and no."

"What?" Her smile faded upon seeing her beloved man like this.

"You might want to sit down."

"No, thank you, I'd rather stand!"

Grissom knew well that whenever a hard or difficult situation had arisen, Sara had decided to stand. He could not explain this; however, he guessed it had to be because she could feel that she could fleet anytime from those suffocating settings. As he was looking at her now, even though he saw his own body, the expression on his…her face revealed the fear and despair she had to be feeling. All of a sudden, he lost courage. He was going to tell her about the tattoo later…just a bit later.

"I don't know what happened to the priests, actually. I remember picking them up at the reception, driving them here…then nothing," he bubbled. These were all true…however, he was only postponing the inevitable. He could not care less about the two priests' welfare after what they had done to her body. Grissom was absolutely positive about their guilt.

"It is easy to figure out! Just call the Inn if they are there…"

"Then you have to call them…you have the same voice as I have…"

"Alright," Sara agreed, but she was not happy at all. She did not want to call that woman again.

"I'll lie down for a minute while you are on the phone," he told Sara already heading toward the bed holding his…her belly.

"Sure, take it easy."

A few minutes later, Sara was walking into her bedroom with the information they needed, but she stopped for a second at the doorframe. The sight of her own body still surprised her. It was curled up in the middle of the bed. Her own face was as pale as snow. Although Grissom had refused painkiller earlier, Sara just could not see him in this miserable condition. She knew the intensity of this kind of pain, but it was a brand new sensation for the man who had never experienced menstruation. She turned back to her kitchen and made some tea. Sara knew that Grissom would refuse any painkiller – he was a strong and brave man inside! - , so she used her emergency effervescent tablet to hide the medicine into the tea. With the cup in hand, she returned to her poor supervisor.

"Here, drink some tea."

"Thank you," he said gratefully and started drinking.

Sara smiled at him and soothingly, she placed her hand onto his ankle. She even squeezed it a little.

Grissom almost choked on his tea, "Awwww!"

Sara let his ankle go immediately. She blushed deeply. "I'm sorry."

He reached for her hand to assure Sara that he had not complained about her touch, on the contrary, but she had just grabbed the tattoo. It was so strange to touch his own hand, Grissom was wondering. The skin on it felt ragged…not so delicious as hers. He looked up at Sara…at his own face and started to ponder on what this young and beautiful woman could see when she looked at him. Could she really like him? Love him?

"Sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"You didn't. It's not that. It wasn't you!"

"What do you mean by it wasn't me?"

"The priests…"

"Ah, speaking of them…you dropped them off at the hotel about four hours ago, don't worry."

"What? No way! I didn't."

"That friend of yours, that Marianne Scott said you escorted them to the reception. Don't you remember?"

"No way I did. I remember smells, mantras and pain only. I woke up here, I was dizzy…how could I have driven them there?"

"So you dusted my flat…as if it was a scene?"

"Yes. I took photos of everything, even of the tattoo…um…"

"What tattoo?"

He had to tell her eventually, so he slowly pulled up his jeans to reveal his…her ankle with the tattoo on it. Sara's eyes could not have been bigger; wordlessly, she was starring at the figure.

"What…how…what…wow."

"You still think that everything is ok? That I was just imagining things?"

"Nah…" she leant closer to marvel the tattoo. "It's beautiful."

"Beautiful? Aren't you angry?"

"Um…I don't know, let's get to this question later, okay? One thing is sure at the moment, you were marked…or I was marked…and so far, everything points to the priests…so we have a case!"

They both were staring intently at the mesmerizing design. It was nicely worked out; it showed that whoever had done this, they drew it with care.

"Just how long did it take them to tattoo me," Sara asked Grissom.

"How would I know? I was knocked out!"

"Have you loaded the photos into the computer?"

"Not yet."

Sara ran to her desk and booted the computer after she had brought it back to the bedroom.

Username: Sara Sidle

It also asked for a password. Sara's face flinched a little, but she tried to type the word quickly.

Password: *********

Not a valid password.

"Dammit"

"Try again," Grissom said in his calm manner.

Password: *********

Not a valid password.

"Oh, come on!"

"Okay, don't fret! What's your password, you're nervous, I type it in," he suggested.

"I…I can do it. Lemme try again."

Password: **********

And this time, the system let her in. She was not ready to share this information with Grissom, it meant way too much to Sara.

The man next to her sensed that the password had to be special and not to be for him to know. It made him curious beyond measure. But they had no time for playing word guessing.

Soon, all the photos were uploaded, and opened in a special program. They ran through all, but took their time at the ones of the tattoo. They zoomed in, and to their surprise, it became evident that it had not created by needles. There were thousands of tiny-tiny cuttings on the skin. Neither of them had ever seen any tattoos like this before. They looked at each other.

"Now what?"

"We will do some research," Grissom said.

"I actually have a friend who has a tattoo arts salon in Frisco. I am calling him," and with it, she stood up and went in search for her phone. Grissom did not like the idea that Sara had that guy's number in her phone. He was wondering if they were in regular contact.

She had her mobile phone in her hands when she heard a lovely voice. She looked toward the direction of the sweet voice, and saw her wonderful cat sitting on one of her bookshelves. The feline was looking at her…him, but it showed that the animal knew exactly who was inside the stranger's body. Sara happily ran to her, and immediately hugged the cat to her chest. Maia started to purr, but she kept staring at something.

"What's that baby?"

"Miaow."

"Yes, I know, I missed you, too," she cheered, but when the cat did not look away from that one certain thing, Sara followed her stare. It was a book she had bought in a market in San Francisco.

The mystery of the Ancient Egypt - sacred writing and symbols

A hint of fear mingled into her joy at the discovery. Sara looked at the cat that was now looking back at her, and Sara could swear that the cat was smiling.

"Ah, so you found the monster?"

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I told you that I didn't need any painkiller."

"Yeah…sure," she muttered. She wanted to tell him so bad that it was the painkiller that made everything better, not his strength, but she did not want to hurt his pride. He was not in pain – for now -, and this was that only mattered for Sara.

She was just trying to pull that certain book out when Maia jumped out from her hug upon seeing Grissom.

"Shit," she swore when both cat and book fell down to the floor.

Maia took a residence in a fair distance from the real Grissom while the book was now on the carpet open. Grissom looked at Sara, and she looked back at him.

Both read the title for the chapter: Akhetaten, the Horizon of the Aten.

They remembered that Hem-netjer Selim had mentioned several times that name, Aten. It could not be just a coincidence. Grissom woke from their musing first, so he grabbed the book. He turned the page to read on…

Their breathing patterns and heart rates synchronized in a crazy dance; their pulse rates rocketed…

TBC