This takes place during Grissom’s sabbatical. Sara’s POV. It's a little something I cooked up today while I was bored. Enjoy. “Missing you has never been this hard,” I muttered as I got out of bed. I never knew how close I could become to one man. Nor did I know how hard it would be to be that close and not see him for a month. It’s only been a week, and already I feel like I’m going through withdrawal symptoms. I can barely eat, or sleep, or carry on a conversation. I know how pitiful that sounds, but I feel like I was attached to him in some way I’ll never figure out. I always thought I could live my life without a man, and if I did get one, I had vowed to myself to never be that arm candy that attached herself to her man. I was never going smother him with kisses after being apart for an hour, or neither would I think about him at all hours of the day. I wasn’t going to get that far off look while thinking of him, nor would I want to spend all hours of the day with him. I’d be independent, just like I always had been. Even though all those things were coursing through my brain that morning as I got ready for work, still, I knew I had that far off look. I knew that I’d smother him with kisses when I saw him and we were away from the rest. I knew I was going to be thinking of him all day, and craving him with all I had. I knew that once he got back, I’d never want him out of my sight. I, Sara Sidle, was a longing girlfriend in mourning. The worst part about this feeling was that I couldn’t talk about him. We were still, figuratively and literally, kept under covers. Catherine had her suspicions, and no doubt she was sharing them with anyone who’d stop and let her chew their ear off, even if only for five seconds. No one knew about it, us, I mean. I shoveled my breakfast down and slipped on the first pair of shoes I had by the front door. Catherine had called me at around 7:00, just as I was getting out of the shower, and said she needed me to pull a double, she was desperate. I had to agree, she was desperate for something. It was winter in Las Vegas, which really made no difference to the temperature. But at 7:30 pm, it was chilly. I tugged an old sweater over my shoulders and stuck my hands in my pockets as I headed to the dark shadow of a Denali that was in my parking space outside the apartment complex I lived in. The old steps were creaking under my feet, and I tripped down towards the concrete. There was a dark purple and orange sunset over the skyline of towering buildings that I could see from my position on the base of the steps. I sighed to myself, and thought of the long walks that Grissom and I had taken on many a night like these. We’d talk about everything and nothing, sometimes just hold hands and walk. It was always so relaxing, and the times I felt most in love. “Snap out of it, Sara,” I said aloud. “He’s coming back in three weeks.” But even as I said it, I realized three weeks felt like a really long time - A long time to wait, and an even longer time to think. As I drove out of the parking lot, I popped a CD in the slot. Music was always relaxing for me. My Evanescence CD, “Anywhere But Home” that I had owned since it first came out. I played “My Immortal” and sang along to the chorus that blasted from the speakers. “When you cried, I’d wipe away all of your tears. When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears. And I’ve held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me,” My voice matched Amy’s perfectly I sang the high notes, surprisingly. As I sang, I thought of Gil, not surprisingly. When I arrived at the Lab, the CD had played through about 1 and a half times. I turned the keys in the ignition and pulled them out, tossing them in my jacket pocket. I walked towards the front doors and sighed, pulling at a piece of stray hair. “Good Morning, Sara,” came Judy’s voice from the reception desk. I waved my hand at her aimlessly, and continued down the hall towards the break room. Catherine was standing in front of the table with slips of paper in her hand. I was late for assignments. I picked up my pace a little as I came near the room. Swinging the door open, I nodded towards Catherine. She sent an apologetic look my way and continued to talk. “Warrick, as I said,” she looked at Warrick, who was sitting to her left, “You and Nick are going to be working on this 4-19 at the CD plus store -” A normal day, with normal assignments, normal work, normal dead bodies “- Sara, you and I are going to be working on this one,” she waved a slip in her hand and tossed it to me at the end of the table. I picked it up and read ‘Triple homicide at the Rio.’ I nodded. “Greg, you can take this 4-16, apparent assault.” Greg’s face fell. “But Catherine, I wanted to work with Nick,” Greg whined. “I’m handing out assignments Greg, this is not a negotiation,” Catherine lowered her voice, imitating Grissom. The room erupted in a burst of laughter, all except me. I just looked over my assignment slip. If Gil had been around, everything would have been so normal. There would have been no laughter or jokes. That’s the only thing I didn’t miss about Grissom being gone, the lightness of working with just Catherine overseeing us. Grissom was always so hard and firm around the guys and Cath and I. But it was all different when we got home. He was sweet and soft and tender, passionate and loving and fun. I had been trying to convince him it was okay to let other people see that side of him. Grissom had gone away mad. We had had a fight about him not telling me. He said he was planning to tell me the next day, but it would have been too late. We went home and he tried to apologize, to make it all better, but I just shut him out. The next day, he was upset. We hadn’t had a chance to talk that night, and wouldn’t be able to do so for four weeks. I’m starting to realize my mournful attitude about Grissom being gone away is more so guilt. I feel bad for being so upset with him. I wanted everything to be so easy, like that first night he held me so close and kissed me so soft. It was magical, and I never wanted it to end. So much so I wanted every day to be just like that. But it wasn’t – It was rough for us to regain each other’s trust, and just to trust each other in the first place. I headed down to the locker room to put my jacket in my locker, and grab my kit. I passed by the reception desk again, and Judy called out my name. “Sara,” she called, waving, “I have a package for you.” I walked over to her, confused. “T-thanks,” I muttered, walking away. I carried my prize into the locker room with me, and sat down on the bench. I stared at the wrapping it was in, and inspected the top left hand corner. It said “Grissom.” I smiled, and brushed my eyes over the long flowing handwriting he had so tediously written. “Sara Sidle, Las Vegas Crime Lab, Las Vegas, Nevada.” I tore into the package, ripping the tape off the box and casting the brown paper to the side. I opened the lid of the cardboard box and took out the packaging paper gently. Inside was a long stick with a cocoon on the end. I picked up the end of the stick and smiled, laying it to my right on the bench. I took out the paper on the bottom of the box and put it with the rest, expecting a note or something as well. I was puzzled to find nothing else but an empty box. How typical of Grissom. I replaced the things in the box and closed it up, got my silver kit from my locker, and locked the box safely inside. Catherine joined me in the locker room just after I had locked the box up. I glanced in her direction and smiled innocently. “Are we ready to go?” she asked impatiently. “Yeah, ready as you are,” I replied, standing up and following her out, my mind still lingering on that coded message of a cuccoon. Not bad, if I do say so myself. More or no? You decide.
Just when Grissom and Sara start dating she leaves the show!!! I know what is going to happen in the last three episodes.
New chapter. Chapter 2 – “Liar, Liar, Room on Fire”. Catherine and I pulled into the parking lot in front of the Rio hotel, where I had been many times before. Flashing lights and siren beeps greeted us well before anyone in uniform did. We walked side by side into the hotel, silver kits catching the light and bouncing it back off. “Catherine, Sara,” said Jim Brass, putting up a hand in greeting. “It’s going to be a long night,” and he led us to a stairwell, explaining the elevators had been shut down. “Something to do with the case,” Catherine questioned, taking the stairs two at a time. “No,” Brass returned, “Just out of order.” I raised an eyebrow, unsure, and followed Catherine’s lead, taking the steps in double time. We arrived on the 6th floor, headed down the hall and into room 666. The door was wide open, and there were people in the hall, eager to see what was going on. I ducked under the tape first, followed by Catherine and Jim. My eyes opened wide when I looked around the room. “What happened here,” I asked, speaking for the first time. “Apparently a murder,” Catherine replied. There was blood spread all across the room, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, bed sheets, tables and other paraphernalia all coated. “It looks like someone painted everything in the room with –“ she paused “- blood.” “This can’t be only one person’s blood,” I looked around, putting on my gloves, inhaling iron-y the odor, “We must have at least a triple, if not more.” “Yeah, or a serial,” Brass injected, “Who’s only souvenir is blood.” I pulled my flashlight from my vest pocket, turned the top and shone it around the room. Catherine did the same, and I headed for the bathroom. I put my gloved hand on the doorknob, drawing it back quickly and inspecting it. “Sara,” Catherine walked to me and stood just above my right shoulder, “What’s up?” “The doorknob,” I indicated to my hand, where the latex had been melted, “It’s hot.” “Hot?” Catherine touched it with three fingertips, pulling off and looking at them with her brow furrowed. “Jim, can you get the fire department in here please?” “The fire department?” Brass sprinted across the room to the bathroom door where we were, and got down on his hands and knees. He peered under the door and came back up, coughing. “I see.” Brass held down the button of his walkie-talkie on his shoulder and spoke into it. “Control, this is Detective Brass, we need a fire crew over at the Rio hotel, room 666.” “Control to Det. Brass, right away. A truck is on their way now. What’s your situation?” “There appears to be a fire inside the bathroom of room 666. I have two CSIs here with me now, we’re investigating what appears to be a triple homicide.” “Evacuate the room and halls, Brass, get everyone out. Pull a fire alarm if need be.” “Will do, thanks,” Brass motioned for us to follow him out of the room, and we did so. He started yelling at the people around, “Get out! Get out, there’s a fire! Everyone out! Everyone out, fire! Fire!” There was a loud scream as the people blocking the halls scurried to get out quickly. I panicked, afraid someone was going to get trampled. After a few seconds, the 6th floor was clear of all intrigued peoples. “Hey, Jim,” I turned to him, “That’s a good way to clear a crime scene.” “Very funny Sara,” he said sarcastically, smirking. Catherine chuckled. “I suppose we should get out, too.” “I guess so,” I said, and we made our way safely out of the building. Once on the ground, I stood next to Catherine, watching the fire department roll up. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how we’re in room 666, and the walls are painted with blood, and now there’s a fire...” I let my voice trail. “What are you thinking,” Catherine looked puzzled. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, shaking my head of all things not to do with the case, “Well, blood, fire, murder … and there aren’t even any bodies. Did you find any fingerprints?” “I didn’t have much time to look for them, but I dusted the doorknob, glasses, things like that, but I didn’t find anything. Why?” “I’m thinking ritualistic murder.” Catherine stared at me hard. Our eyes met, and I saw a spark light in her head. She turned to Brass. “Jim, what’s the date?” “June 6th,” he replied. “Thanks,” Catherine said. She looked back at me, “June 6th, 2006. 6/6/6, in room 666.” “I think we’re on to something.”