MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
Can you please get him found soon?
Back To You
- Thread starter MegBreanne
- Start date
CSI_Trainee
CSI Level One
I just spent the day reading your fic (i had a few interuptions) and omg its so intense and so emotional ... i hope you update soon ... i need more fast i am on the edge of my seat
MegBreanne
Police Officer
Chapter 14:
Sara arrived back to the Stokes ranch about an hour after being discharged. When she walked through the front door, Nick's sister Nicole greeted her with a warm hug. "I'm so glad that you and the baby are OK," she whispered.
"Thanks," Sara smiled, hugging the woman back. She was surprised at how quickly she was getting accustomed to hugging this family. And she was even more surprised that she was enjoying it. Being accepted was always one of her fears, and the fact that these people were literally welcoming her with open arms put her fears to rest. "Where are Jacob and the kids?" she asked as she pulled out of the hug.
"I told Jacob he was occupying the kids time this morning," she smiled. "They're back at home playing with Sparky. He's really livened up since he saw you you know."
Sara smiled as she made her way over to the couch. When she sat down, Bill immediately entered the room and gave her a reprimanding look. "Doctors orders, young lady. Bed rest."
Sara knew he meant well, so she brought her legs up on the couch and reclinded into a relaxing position. "I'll go up in a few minutes, I promise."
Bill sighed and nodded his head. "Alright. But just a few minutes, deal?"
"Yes sir," Sara smirked, saluting him.
Bill broke out into a huge grin and walked away chuckling, leaving Sara and Nicole to talk quietly.
"So are you sure you're OK?" she asked quietly, looking Sara over carefully for signs of discomfort.
"Yeah, perfect," she smiled. "I saw the baby," her smile grew even larger. She didn't know a smile that large was even possible. She leaned over carefully to grab her purse, which she'd sat down beside her, and quickly sifted through the contents looking for the picture. She grabbed it, handing it off to Nicole.
"She's beautiful," Nicole commented, tears welling up in her eyes.
"She?" Sara questioned. "Are you psychic?" Her voice had a hint of humor in it.
Nicole smiled a little, scruntching up her nose. "Sorry. I have a tendency of doing that."
"You think it's a girl?" Sara asked.
"You don't?" she threw back good naturedly.
"Honestly? I have no idea," she laughed softly. "As they are healthy and happy, I'll be happy. But when I let myself think about whether it's a boy or girl, I realize that I don't know the first thing about raising a son. But then I remember that I have no idea how to raise a daughter either."
Nicole laughed heartily. "I remember that feeling. But trust me -- even growing up around big families and lots of babies -- it doesn't prepare you completely for when they are your own."
Sara's smile faultered a little. "I'll figure it out, though, right?" She looked at Nicole for some reassurance.
Nicole nodded her head. "Without a doubt. And you have a big support system and built in babysitters when your a Stokes." She paused for a minute. "And believe me Sara, even though you and Nick weren't married in the eyes of God, we still think of you as family. We never saw the two of you together, but it's easy to see how much you loved him. And having met you, I know that Nicky must've fallen in love right away."
Tears immediately formed in Sara's eyes and they pooled down her cheeks. She laughed, groaning a little in embarassment. "I have never cried so much in my life!"
Again, Nicole laughed. "Damn hormones!"
The two talked for a few more minutes before Sara yawned and realized that she needed to get some more sleep. Nicole promised that she'd stop by in the next few days with movies and popcorn and bring her sisters and sister in law with her. They'd set up a movie night in Sara's room so she'd have some contact and maybe a few laughs.
CSICSICSICSICSI
"Oh . . . My . . . God," Sylvia whispered as she looked around the cage. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN HERE?" She demanded.
He sat there, looking pale and defeated. He just didn't care anymore if she knew she had the upper hand. He couldn't pretend. It was too exhausting. And even if he was a good actor, which he wasn't, he knew she could see straight through him.
"You could have hurt yourself!" she admonished him reaching over and grabbing the broom that was resting against the wall oppose Nick's cage. She quickly went to work sweeping up the broken glass that had shattered when the tray she'd been holding hit the floor.
Nick shrugged. "Would it really matter? No one knows I'm down here except you and your thug." He heaved a heavy sigh, running a tired hand over the stuble that was growing each day. He hated not shaving, but she never gave him a razor.
"Do you really hate it here that much?" she asked him, glancing up into his hollowed eyes. When she'd first come in contact with him, she'd seen spirit behind his orbs. Fighting spirit. Now it was gone. "So much that you'd do this?"
"This?" he laughed humorlessly. "This is nothing," he informed her. "You know I considered ending it all."
"You want to kill yourself?" she stopped moving around, looking up straight at him. "Why would you want to do that?"
"I'm not exactly living here, now am I?" he asked rhetorically and sarcastically.
She knew she couldn't deny him that. "Why didn't you?"
His jaw tightened and tears formed in his eyes. "When I was buried in that damned box, I thought I was going to die. And I didn't want too. It scared me. There were so many things that I had left unsaid." He glanced back at the stack of writing tablets. "Its all there in ink now, but the people who need to know those things will never see them. I'll never get to tell them what I think they need to hear."
Sylvia bit her lip in an effort to not cry. "Put your hands through the bars," she said.
Nick did as he was told. This wasn't the first time she'd asked him to do this. Rather than fighting her on it, he had made his decision to try and befriend her . . . gain her trust somehow. "I know you don't want me here, Sylvia," he swallowed, feeling the cold metal cuffs tightening around his wrists, binding him to the iron bars of the cage. "Just let me go."
She looked away from him, avoiding his gaze by keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the cement floor. "You know I can't do that Nicholas."
"Why not?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he continued. "These last few weeks I've realized something about you. You're not a bad woman. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And though I think your loyalty to Walter Gordon is misplaced - I mean, he was obviously a deranged man - I admire you for it. And I can even relate to it."
Sylvia picked up some of the broken pieces of the lamp and then tossed them into the trash can. "Really?" she questioned, still not looking at him and sounding like she wasn't convinced. She moved the box spring back into place on the bed frame then struggled slightly moving the mattress back on top.
"Really," he nodded. "You loved Walter so much. And even though you knew what he was doing was wrong, you tried to protect him. Even if you made some mistakes along the way. My Sara," his voice caught, "I love her like that. If she did something, I'd be there to help her hide it so she wouldn't get in trouble. She is my world."
Sylvia finally looked up at Nick, tears glistening in her eyes. "Walter was my world too."
Nick sighed in relief. Maybe he was getting through to her after all . . . . "You could give me back my world."
"I want too . . ." she admitted.
"Then do it. Let me go," he begged.
She picked up some of the linens and as she re-made the bed, she seemed to be considering it.
"I'll help you," Nick encouraged her. "I know that you are scared about what is going to happen to you because of all this, but I will make sure that they understand, OK?"
Slyvia's eyes found Nick's once again. "Tell me about her."
"Sara?" he asked. When she nodded, a wistful look came over his face.
Slyvia noticed the sparkle return to his eye as he allowed himself to remember the woman whom he said he loved.
"She's incredible. She's passionate. We've had a few disagreements because of her passion, believe me," he smiled at her. "But I love her because of it. I hope she hasn't lost it," he said quietly. "She's so caring. And as much as she doesn't trust people, once your in, your in for life. She'd do anything for her friends. A lot has happened in our group of friends at work. A lot that I needed help getting through. I think Sara understood that. She was always there for me. Never made me say anything. We'd just sit in silence and I realized that I wasn't alone in the world."
"Until now," Sylvia whispered.
"It doesn't have to stay that way," he urged her. "You can let me go."
"No, I can't," she shook her head, but Nick wasn't buying into.
"I will tell them what happened. I will make them understand. That you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
She shook her head violently. "If I'd let you go at the very beginning, it would have worked. But I panicked."
"Yes, you did. It's normal to panic. It wasn't fair that you were put in a position like that. What matters it that you realize it, you're sorry for it and that you're correcting it. I have connections, Sylvia. I can get you out of this."
She walked out of the cage, shutting and locking the door tightly behind her. "No, you can't, Nick."
"Of course I can."
"The entire LVPD will be out for blood. My blood. So will CSI. And your parents! For Christ sake, your Dad is a judge and your mother is the DA of Dallas!"
"Lets talk about this!" he pleaded.
She disappeared behind a corner and heaved a large object into her arms. "I upgraded my TV upstairs," she said acting as if they'd just discussed the weather. She placed the older unit on a chair and then plugged it into an electrical outlet. "I thought you might like it." She screwed in a cable line. "Basic cable is all I have. But since you haven't had this luxury for a while, I thought you might enjoy it. If you don't like TV, don't feel obligated to watch, OK?" she said, fishing the key out of her pocket and undoing the handcuffs.
"Sylvia," he tried again, but she waved him off.
"I'm going to go grab some bottled water and cookies from upstairs from you. I don't have time to remake your breakfast now, so it'll have to do for today. I'll try to grab a pizza or something on my way back from work tonight. Pepperoni alright?" she walked over the TV and grabbed the remote which was sitting on the top. She handed it to Nick through the bars. "New batteries are in it. They should last for a while."
Nick watched as she exitted the room quickly and without turning back.
He could feel that she was slowly starting to crumble. She didn't like his being there anymore than he did.
He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a large left over shard from the lamp that she hadn't found and taken out of the cage.
"I have to figure out a way to get out of here," he said to himself, turning on the television with the remote.
Gentle sounds of voices filtered through the set and inwardly, his heart clenched. The news had a small piece on one of the recent crimes and he could clearly see Grissom and Catherine working behind the yellow tape. The footage was obviously a couple of days old as a small caption on the bottom of the screen said as much . . .
"Where are you Sara?" he asked the television as he scanned the crowd of people, quickly able to spot Brass, Warrick and Greg. A strange sensation settled in the pit of his stomach when he realized that Sara was no where to be found . . .
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
"We made a beautiful baby," he whispered into her ear as he snuggled up behind her, spooning her.
His hand was resting on her abdomen and her hand rested on top of his, gently stroking the smooth skin.
She smiled happily. "So you're good with this? Being a father? Being tied to me for the rest of your life?"
He gently propped himself up on his elbow behind her and removed his hand from her stomach, bringing it up to her face. He gingerly turned her head towards him so he could gaze into her eyes. "I'm more than good with it. I'm thrilled, Sara. I love you so much," he leaned down and captured her lips with his.
"I love you too, Nick," she murmured into the kiss as she turned her body into his so they were pressed firmly against one another.
The mind numbing kiss came to an abrupt hault when both needed air.
"Wow," she giggled.
He smirked down at her before placing one more kiss on her soft lips. "Mm hmm," he mumbled, agreeing.
"I never want this to end," she stated, her eyes shining up at him.
"It doesn't have too," he told her, untangling himself from her arms and standing up.
"Where are you going?" she suddenly asked him, starting to panic.
"Stay calm, honey," he urged, slowly taking a few steps back from the bed and towards the window. "I won't be gone forever."
"Where are you going?" she pleaded again, her heart constricting tightly. "Please don't leave me, Nicky."
"Fight for me, Sar. Fight for us," he told her before his body walked through the wall of the bedroom and out of her line of vision.
"NICK!" Sara yelled, sitting straight up in bed. She looked around the darkened room, the window open just far enough to let a gentle breeze caress her skin.
A tear slipped down her cheek. The dream had been so real. She could feel the way her skin burned when he touched her so gently. The way her lips tingled and felt swollen . . . She laid back down against the plush pillows that were on the bed, her hand finding the spot beside her where Nick had been in the dream. Though it wasn't warm, the sheets were slightly rumpled. Like someone had been laying there with her . . .
She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the CD remote and turned the player on, picking up where it had left off the last time she'd been listening to it. Her chin quivered as she heard Nick's soft but strong voice filtered through the room. The tears came faster now.
CSICSICSICSICSICSI
Come a little closer baby
I feel like layin' you down
On a bed of sweet surrender
Where we can work it all out
There ain't nothin' that love can't fix
Girl it's right here at our finger tips
So come a little closer baby
I feel like layin' you down
Come a little closer baby
I feel like lettin' go
Of everything that stand between us
And the love we used to know
I wanna touch you like a cleaning rain
And let it wash all your hurt away
So come a little closer baby
I feel like lettin' go
If there's still a chance than take my hand
And we'll steal away
Off into the night
Until we make things right
The sun's gonna rise, on a better day
Come a little closer baby I feel like strippin' it down
Back to the basics of you and me and what makes the world go round
Every inch of you against my skin
I wanna be stronger than we've ever been
So come a little closer baby
I feel like strippin' it down
Come a little closer baby
Just a little bit closer baby
Come a little closer baby
I feel like layin' you down
CSICSICSICSI
Nick sighed as he lay on the bed, staring up at the grey ceiling, listening to Dierks Bentley's song finishing on the radio and remembering how he'd recorded if for Sara . . . that wasn't helping him . . .
The days and nights in the cage were excruciatingly long. He just hoped and prayed that each day, he was getting closer to going home . . . but the hope that he held inside was almost burnt out.
Laying in bed, waiting for sleep to claim him was always the hardest part of the day though. He'd just think of how used to lay there, with her in his arms, and together, they would fall asleep into blissful dreams. The smell of her shampoo, the feel of her skin.
He felt like such a selfish bastard, hoping that she'd never forget him or the love that they shared. On one hand, he couldn't stand the idea of her moving on and finding someone else . . . not that he felt like she had moved on already. He knew that she hadn't. He couldn't explain it, but he just knew. He hadn't been gone long, and it wasn't like Sara to just forget something like the bond that they shared. But on the other hand, he was letting himself start to believe that this dark cold room would be his home until the end of his time. And if that was the case, as much as it hurt him to even think about, he didn't want her to be alone. He wanted her to be happy. Even if that meant he'd be crushed.
"At least I wouldn't be there to see it for myself," he mused quietly. He sat up and hit the new plastic touch light that Sylvia had bought for him at a dollar store on the way home. A gentle glow illuminated the space around him and he picked up the newspaper picture of Sara, holding it carefully in his palm, desperate to not crease the photo, preserving it for as long as he could . . . he looked down at her face, able to see in the inner turmoil she'd been feeling at his memorial.
She needed him. And he needed her.
"I love you," he whispered to the photo for what seemed like the millionth time over the last few weeks. Her picture became distorded as his vision blurred by a torrent of tears. He heavily sobbed in dispair. "I love you, Sara. I love you."
It was hours later that he fell into an exhausted and fit full sleep, filled with nightmares that Sara was moving on with her life. Without him.
TBC . . . .
Sara arrived back to the Stokes ranch about an hour after being discharged. When she walked through the front door, Nick's sister Nicole greeted her with a warm hug. "I'm so glad that you and the baby are OK," she whispered.
"Thanks," Sara smiled, hugging the woman back. She was surprised at how quickly she was getting accustomed to hugging this family. And she was even more surprised that she was enjoying it. Being accepted was always one of her fears, and the fact that these people were literally welcoming her with open arms put her fears to rest. "Where are Jacob and the kids?" she asked as she pulled out of the hug.
"I told Jacob he was occupying the kids time this morning," she smiled. "They're back at home playing with Sparky. He's really livened up since he saw you you know."
Sara smiled as she made her way over to the couch. When she sat down, Bill immediately entered the room and gave her a reprimanding look. "Doctors orders, young lady. Bed rest."
Sara knew he meant well, so she brought her legs up on the couch and reclinded into a relaxing position. "I'll go up in a few minutes, I promise."
Bill sighed and nodded his head. "Alright. But just a few minutes, deal?"
"Yes sir," Sara smirked, saluting him.
Bill broke out into a huge grin and walked away chuckling, leaving Sara and Nicole to talk quietly.
"So are you sure you're OK?" she asked quietly, looking Sara over carefully for signs of discomfort.
"Yeah, perfect," she smiled. "I saw the baby," her smile grew even larger. She didn't know a smile that large was even possible. She leaned over carefully to grab her purse, which she'd sat down beside her, and quickly sifted through the contents looking for the picture. She grabbed it, handing it off to Nicole.
"She's beautiful," Nicole commented, tears welling up in her eyes.
"She?" Sara questioned. "Are you psychic?" Her voice had a hint of humor in it.
Nicole smiled a little, scruntching up her nose. "Sorry. I have a tendency of doing that."
"You think it's a girl?" Sara asked.
"You don't?" she threw back good naturedly.
"Honestly? I have no idea," she laughed softly. "As they are healthy and happy, I'll be happy. But when I let myself think about whether it's a boy or girl, I realize that I don't know the first thing about raising a son. But then I remember that I have no idea how to raise a daughter either."
Nicole laughed heartily. "I remember that feeling. But trust me -- even growing up around big families and lots of babies -- it doesn't prepare you completely for when they are your own."
Sara's smile faultered a little. "I'll figure it out, though, right?" She looked at Nicole for some reassurance.
Nicole nodded her head. "Without a doubt. And you have a big support system and built in babysitters when your a Stokes." She paused for a minute. "And believe me Sara, even though you and Nick weren't married in the eyes of God, we still think of you as family. We never saw the two of you together, but it's easy to see how much you loved him. And having met you, I know that Nicky must've fallen in love right away."
Tears immediately formed in Sara's eyes and they pooled down her cheeks. She laughed, groaning a little in embarassment. "I have never cried so much in my life!"
Again, Nicole laughed. "Damn hormones!"
The two talked for a few more minutes before Sara yawned and realized that she needed to get some more sleep. Nicole promised that she'd stop by in the next few days with movies and popcorn and bring her sisters and sister in law with her. They'd set up a movie night in Sara's room so she'd have some contact and maybe a few laughs.
CSICSICSICSICSI
"Oh . . . My . . . God," Sylvia whispered as she looked around the cage. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN HERE?" She demanded.
He sat there, looking pale and defeated. He just didn't care anymore if she knew she had the upper hand. He couldn't pretend. It was too exhausting. And even if he was a good actor, which he wasn't, he knew she could see straight through him.
"You could have hurt yourself!" she admonished him reaching over and grabbing the broom that was resting against the wall oppose Nick's cage. She quickly went to work sweeping up the broken glass that had shattered when the tray she'd been holding hit the floor.
Nick shrugged. "Would it really matter? No one knows I'm down here except you and your thug." He heaved a heavy sigh, running a tired hand over the stuble that was growing each day. He hated not shaving, but she never gave him a razor.
"Do you really hate it here that much?" she asked him, glancing up into his hollowed eyes. When she'd first come in contact with him, she'd seen spirit behind his orbs. Fighting spirit. Now it was gone. "So much that you'd do this?"
"This?" he laughed humorlessly. "This is nothing," he informed her. "You know I considered ending it all."
"You want to kill yourself?" she stopped moving around, looking up straight at him. "Why would you want to do that?"
"I'm not exactly living here, now am I?" he asked rhetorically and sarcastically.
She knew she couldn't deny him that. "Why didn't you?"
His jaw tightened and tears formed in his eyes. "When I was buried in that damned box, I thought I was going to die. And I didn't want too. It scared me. There were so many things that I had left unsaid." He glanced back at the stack of writing tablets. "Its all there in ink now, but the people who need to know those things will never see them. I'll never get to tell them what I think they need to hear."
Sylvia bit her lip in an effort to not cry. "Put your hands through the bars," she said.
Nick did as he was told. This wasn't the first time she'd asked him to do this. Rather than fighting her on it, he had made his decision to try and befriend her . . . gain her trust somehow. "I know you don't want me here, Sylvia," he swallowed, feeling the cold metal cuffs tightening around his wrists, binding him to the iron bars of the cage. "Just let me go."
She looked away from him, avoiding his gaze by keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the cement floor. "You know I can't do that Nicholas."
"Why not?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he continued. "These last few weeks I've realized something about you. You're not a bad woman. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And though I think your loyalty to Walter Gordon is misplaced - I mean, he was obviously a deranged man - I admire you for it. And I can even relate to it."
Sylvia picked up some of the broken pieces of the lamp and then tossed them into the trash can. "Really?" she questioned, still not looking at him and sounding like she wasn't convinced. She moved the box spring back into place on the bed frame then struggled slightly moving the mattress back on top.
"Really," he nodded. "You loved Walter so much. And even though you knew what he was doing was wrong, you tried to protect him. Even if you made some mistakes along the way. My Sara," his voice caught, "I love her like that. If she did something, I'd be there to help her hide it so she wouldn't get in trouble. She is my world."
Sylvia finally looked up at Nick, tears glistening in her eyes. "Walter was my world too."
Nick sighed in relief. Maybe he was getting through to her after all . . . . "You could give me back my world."
"I want too . . ." she admitted.
"Then do it. Let me go," he begged.
She picked up some of the linens and as she re-made the bed, she seemed to be considering it.
"I'll help you," Nick encouraged her. "I know that you are scared about what is going to happen to you because of all this, but I will make sure that they understand, OK?"
Slyvia's eyes found Nick's once again. "Tell me about her."
"Sara?" he asked. When she nodded, a wistful look came over his face.
Slyvia noticed the sparkle return to his eye as he allowed himself to remember the woman whom he said he loved.
"She's incredible. She's passionate. We've had a few disagreements because of her passion, believe me," he smiled at her. "But I love her because of it. I hope she hasn't lost it," he said quietly. "She's so caring. And as much as she doesn't trust people, once your in, your in for life. She'd do anything for her friends. A lot has happened in our group of friends at work. A lot that I needed help getting through. I think Sara understood that. She was always there for me. Never made me say anything. We'd just sit in silence and I realized that I wasn't alone in the world."
"Until now," Sylvia whispered.
"It doesn't have to stay that way," he urged her. "You can let me go."
"No, I can't," she shook her head, but Nick wasn't buying into.
"I will tell them what happened. I will make them understand. That you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
She shook her head violently. "If I'd let you go at the very beginning, it would have worked. But I panicked."
"Yes, you did. It's normal to panic. It wasn't fair that you were put in a position like that. What matters it that you realize it, you're sorry for it and that you're correcting it. I have connections, Sylvia. I can get you out of this."
She walked out of the cage, shutting and locking the door tightly behind her. "No, you can't, Nick."
"Of course I can."
"The entire LVPD will be out for blood. My blood. So will CSI. And your parents! For Christ sake, your Dad is a judge and your mother is the DA of Dallas!"
"Lets talk about this!" he pleaded.
She disappeared behind a corner and heaved a large object into her arms. "I upgraded my TV upstairs," she said acting as if they'd just discussed the weather. She placed the older unit on a chair and then plugged it into an electrical outlet. "I thought you might like it." She screwed in a cable line. "Basic cable is all I have. But since you haven't had this luxury for a while, I thought you might enjoy it. If you don't like TV, don't feel obligated to watch, OK?" she said, fishing the key out of her pocket and undoing the handcuffs.
"Sylvia," he tried again, but she waved him off.
"I'm going to go grab some bottled water and cookies from upstairs from you. I don't have time to remake your breakfast now, so it'll have to do for today. I'll try to grab a pizza or something on my way back from work tonight. Pepperoni alright?" she walked over the TV and grabbed the remote which was sitting on the top. She handed it to Nick through the bars. "New batteries are in it. They should last for a while."
Nick watched as she exitted the room quickly and without turning back.
He could feel that she was slowly starting to crumble. She didn't like his being there anymore than he did.
He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a large left over shard from the lamp that she hadn't found and taken out of the cage.
"I have to figure out a way to get out of here," he said to himself, turning on the television with the remote.
Gentle sounds of voices filtered through the set and inwardly, his heart clenched. The news had a small piece on one of the recent crimes and he could clearly see Grissom and Catherine working behind the yellow tape. The footage was obviously a couple of days old as a small caption on the bottom of the screen said as much . . .
"Where are you Sara?" he asked the television as he scanned the crowd of people, quickly able to spot Brass, Warrick and Greg. A strange sensation settled in the pit of his stomach when he realized that Sara was no where to be found . . .
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
"We made a beautiful baby," he whispered into her ear as he snuggled up behind her, spooning her.
His hand was resting on her abdomen and her hand rested on top of his, gently stroking the smooth skin.
She smiled happily. "So you're good with this? Being a father? Being tied to me for the rest of your life?"
He gently propped himself up on his elbow behind her and removed his hand from her stomach, bringing it up to her face. He gingerly turned her head towards him so he could gaze into her eyes. "I'm more than good with it. I'm thrilled, Sara. I love you so much," he leaned down and captured her lips with his.
"I love you too, Nick," she murmured into the kiss as she turned her body into his so they were pressed firmly against one another.
The mind numbing kiss came to an abrupt hault when both needed air.
"Wow," she giggled.
He smirked down at her before placing one more kiss on her soft lips. "Mm hmm," he mumbled, agreeing.
"I never want this to end," she stated, her eyes shining up at him.
"It doesn't have too," he told her, untangling himself from her arms and standing up.
"Where are you going?" she suddenly asked him, starting to panic.
"Stay calm, honey," he urged, slowly taking a few steps back from the bed and towards the window. "I won't be gone forever."
"Where are you going?" she pleaded again, her heart constricting tightly. "Please don't leave me, Nicky."
"Fight for me, Sar. Fight for us," he told her before his body walked through the wall of the bedroom and out of her line of vision.
"NICK!" Sara yelled, sitting straight up in bed. She looked around the darkened room, the window open just far enough to let a gentle breeze caress her skin.
A tear slipped down her cheek. The dream had been so real. She could feel the way her skin burned when he touched her so gently. The way her lips tingled and felt swollen . . . She laid back down against the plush pillows that were on the bed, her hand finding the spot beside her where Nick had been in the dream. Though it wasn't warm, the sheets were slightly rumpled. Like someone had been laying there with her . . .
She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the CD remote and turned the player on, picking up where it had left off the last time she'd been listening to it. Her chin quivered as she heard Nick's soft but strong voice filtered through the room. The tears came faster now.
CSICSICSICSICSICSI
Come a little closer baby
I feel like layin' you down
On a bed of sweet surrender
Where we can work it all out
There ain't nothin' that love can't fix
Girl it's right here at our finger tips
So come a little closer baby
I feel like layin' you down
Come a little closer baby
I feel like lettin' go
Of everything that stand between us
And the love we used to know
I wanna touch you like a cleaning rain
And let it wash all your hurt away
So come a little closer baby
I feel like lettin' go
If there's still a chance than take my hand
And we'll steal away
Off into the night
Until we make things right
The sun's gonna rise, on a better day
Come a little closer baby I feel like strippin' it down
Back to the basics of you and me and what makes the world go round
Every inch of you against my skin
I wanna be stronger than we've ever been
So come a little closer baby
I feel like strippin' it down
Come a little closer baby
Just a little bit closer baby
Come a little closer baby
I feel like layin' you down
CSICSICSICSI
Nick sighed as he lay on the bed, staring up at the grey ceiling, listening to Dierks Bentley's song finishing on the radio and remembering how he'd recorded if for Sara . . . that wasn't helping him . . .
The days and nights in the cage were excruciatingly long. He just hoped and prayed that each day, he was getting closer to going home . . . but the hope that he held inside was almost burnt out.
Laying in bed, waiting for sleep to claim him was always the hardest part of the day though. He'd just think of how used to lay there, with her in his arms, and together, they would fall asleep into blissful dreams. The smell of her shampoo, the feel of her skin.
He felt like such a selfish bastard, hoping that she'd never forget him or the love that they shared. On one hand, he couldn't stand the idea of her moving on and finding someone else . . . not that he felt like she had moved on already. He knew that she hadn't. He couldn't explain it, but he just knew. He hadn't been gone long, and it wasn't like Sara to just forget something like the bond that they shared. But on the other hand, he was letting himself start to believe that this dark cold room would be his home until the end of his time. And if that was the case, as much as it hurt him to even think about, he didn't want her to be alone. He wanted her to be happy. Even if that meant he'd be crushed.
"At least I wouldn't be there to see it for myself," he mused quietly. He sat up and hit the new plastic touch light that Sylvia had bought for him at a dollar store on the way home. A gentle glow illuminated the space around him and he picked up the newspaper picture of Sara, holding it carefully in his palm, desperate to not crease the photo, preserving it for as long as he could . . . he looked down at her face, able to see in the inner turmoil she'd been feeling at his memorial.
She needed him. And he needed her.
"I love you," he whispered to the photo for what seemed like the millionth time over the last few weeks. Her picture became distorded as his vision blurred by a torrent of tears. He heavily sobbed in dispair. "I love you, Sara. I love you."
It was hours later that he fell into an exhausted and fit full sleep, filled with nightmares that Sara was moving on with her life. Without him.
TBC . . . .
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
Yeah I agree quit leaving us hanging and wondering lol
MegBreanne
Police Officer
Thanks so much everyone. I am thrilled that this story is continuing to entertain you all. I love the feedback, so please keep 'em coming
I disclaim . . . . .
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
Nick stared at the tv with contempt. He loved the heat. Perhaps it had something to do with growing up in Texas, and then living in Vegas. He'd never lived in a typically cold climate. Sure, even the warm places at colder days -- but he loved the sweltering heat. He lived for it. Or used too.
"Don't worry, Nicky," Sylvia smiled sympathetically. "You're not missing anything wonderful. That heat is no fun at all."
The weather had been steadily rising past the one hundred degree mark every day for nearly a week, with no signs of stopping.
"I suppose I should be grateful," he said through a tight jaw, eyeing her closely. His voice held no sarcasm, or mallice.
Sylvia looked down at the floor, sighing. "I know this isn't where you want to be, Nick. And as much as you say that you'd help get me out of this, I just can't take the risk."
"So what?!" he snapped. "You're life is more important than mine? You have no problem inflicting pain on me? Someone whose never done anything to you? How about my family? My friends? They all think I'm dead. And I'm not!"
"I'm doing the best that I can!" she yelled back. "I wish that this would just be over. I wish that I hadn't gotten involved. That I just done what I should've from the start. But it's not the easy."
Nick noticed that she was wearing a gold necklace. A cross.
"God punishes sinners," he stated. "I truly believe that. I spent years as a CSI. I saw people on the worse days of their lives. I saw the pain that was not only inflicted upon the victim, but the pain that those who were close to them had to go through. And no one person should ever be able to create so much havoc. I'm not particularly religious -- but I have to believe that anyone who inflicts pain on another human being willingly, knowing that they shouldn't, and when they have an opportunity to change it, but don't . . . I believe that they'll get an eternal seat in hell."
Sylvia's eyes closed shut tightly, tears welling up. "I deserve that," she breathed, trying to not let her emotions fly. "I know I do." She grasped at the necklace. She took a deep breath to compose herself. "I'm going to bring in a couple of bottles of water for you to put in your fridge," she decided, setting down her belongings and walking out of the room in search of the bottled water.
"DAMMIT!" Nick yelled, frustrated that Sylvia didn't seem to be any closer to letting him out. He ran his hands through his hair which was growing longer by the day.
Anxiously, he started to pace the small space, biting down on his lip.
Suddenly, an unusual object caught his eye. He came to an abrupt hault, his vision honing in on Sylvia's purse which had been left beside the bars of his cage. Quickly slipping his hand through the bars, he tried to pull the purse inside the cage, but it wouldn't fit. Irritated, but hopeful that he'd found his way out, he quickly began to dig around inside the contents.
"Please, please," he quietly begged, looking for a cell phone or something with which he could contact the outside world with. Becoming fearful that he'd be caught before he could find anything, he dumped the contents of the bag out, sifting through the materials quickly - and finding nothing of value.
"UGH!" he tried to not loose his temper. He'd been doing that a lot lately. And being a normally calm, collected guy, he hated what he was becoming. Frustrated, and on the verge of a break down, he brought his index finger up to his lips and placed it between his teeth, biting down as hard as he could.
After a moment, he realized that if Sylvia believed he was trying to outsmart her, he might damage all the progress that he'd made so far . . . and being that he'd been there now for a few months, he didn't want to take that chance. He quickly piled all of the purse contents from the floor back into the over priced, over sized bag.
Suddenly, his mind processed the fabric that was caressing the back of his hand . . . it was silk. And it was a cream color . . .
Quickly, he stood up and went over to the bed, lifting up a corner of the mattress and pulling out the shard of glass from the lamp that he'd broken weeks before. Carefully eyeing it, he made the decision that he had to try. At this point, he had nothing to loose. If no one ever found it, at least he'd have given it a try. Bringing the sharp piece of material up to his calloused hand, he swiped at the skin, flinching as the shard burned through his flesh. Warm blood immediately started to pool out of his skin and into the palm of his hand.
When he heard her coming down the stairs, he raced over to the bag, and dove his hand inside the purse, creating a quick path to the bottom, pressing his hand firmly against the fabric. Withdrawing his hand just as quickly, he silently hoped that someone would notice it -- though it was unlikely.
As her steps got closer, and louder, he sprinted across the cage and laid down on the bed, his eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling. He couldn't look at her. He feared that she'd figure it out if she saw his eyes.
"Here you go," she announced her presense by setting the bottled water, which would fit through the bars of the cage easily, down on the floor. "It's already been in the fridge upstairs, but you should but at least a couple in yours down here," she told him.
Getting no response, she sighed. Looking over, she noticed her purse. "Hmm," she mused quietly. "I didn't realize I left this."
"Left what?" Nick asked, knowing full well what she was talking about. He didn't both to look over at her.
She glanced over at Nick before grabbing for her purse. "My bag," she shrugged. "Oh well." It wasn't like she had her cell phone or any other means of communication in there. "I'm going to work. I'll be late tonight. I bought a couple of sandwiches at the deli yesterday," she added. "I put them with the water. They really should go in the fridge so the meat doesn't spoil."
Nick scoffed slightly. The room was dark, and cool. No natural sunlight. The only reason why he knew that it was summer and hot temperatures out there was because of the news. If it weren't for the TV, he'd have no way of knowing what was going on in the outside world -- except for the occassional newspaper that Sylvia brought him.
Upon getting no further response, she looked down at the floor as she headed back towards the stairs to go upstairs. "I guess I'll see you later," she sighed and left the room.
Once he heard the wall firmly lock into place, securing that he was indeed locked up tight in the basement, he sat up and glanced around. He looked at his hand -- which was still bleeding, but thankfully, not as much. He stood up and walked into the small bathroom that was inside the cage. He looked around the small space, sighing. A small five by eight bathroom which had no more than a sink and vanity, toilet and tub/shower combo unit. The only contents the bathroom held were essentials, like toilet paper, a few towels that were laundered frequently, a tooth brush and tooth paste, a hair brush, shampoo . . . and a first aid kit -- sans scissors. He reached down into the small box looking for a band aide.
The bathroom itself had become his place refuge, so to speak. It was the only place where he could truly get an privacy. But even closing the door to the small room, and in essense, closing out Sylvia - was slowly getting to him. He found himself spending more and more time in there -- and every day, the walls seemed to close in just a little more . . . both in the bathroom and in his cell.
Nick feared that he was slowly loosing his mind. "Please, God," he prayed, finding that he'd been doing more of that lately, "let someone find me." If they didn't, he felt that he would go crazy.
CSICSICSICSI
Sara sat on the back deck of the Stokes home, letting the warm evening summer breeze float over her skin. Though it was still quite warm out, it was a definite improvement from the heat that the state offered during the day.
It was now late July. Her stomach was slightly swollen, but easily concealed by a baggy shirt. Only those around her who knew of her condition out tell she was with child.
She fiddled with the hem of Nick's college shirt that she was wearing absently. Though it didn't smell like Nick, she felt like it was hugging her in a way that only he was able too. Although she knew it was crazy -- wearing the shirt made her feel closer to him. Less alone. The entire Stokes family had insisted that she wasn't alone -- but sometimes, she just couldn't help but feel like it . . . .
"Hey Sparky," she smiled as the dog trotted up to her, resting it's head in her lap, requesting a scratch behind the ear. "What're you doing here, huh buddy?"
The dog yawned in answer, but gave her his paw to shake. A few minutes later, the dog tired of standing and laid down directly at her feet. She placed a hand on her abdomen and smiled when she felt a little fluttering inside. Though it wasn't strong enough quite yet to be considered a kick, she still reveled in the fact that it was her child making that momement within her.
Flashback
It was an unusally warm December evening in Vegas and Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle walked calmly through the doors of the hospital, each holding a young child. Sara held a scared little girl close to her chest, the child clinging to her neck for comfort. Large tears rolled down the little girls face. In Nick's arms, a small three month old baby boy nestled against his chest, moving in unpracticed movements in his sleep. His left arm was under the baby's bottom, while large right hand rested over the upper part of the boys back and neck, protecting him from harm.
The two walked over to check-in and cautious to not jostle the child in her arms, Sara jutted out her hip to the a nurse, showing her her ID badge clipped to her belt. "CSI Sidle and Stokes."
"Yes, yes," she smiled slightly, quickly paging for a nurse to come to them. "Child Services called and said that you were bringing them in."
Nick nodded in affirmation. "Yes, they're a little backed up tonight."
"They said they'll be here in a while," she concluded.
Sara looked at Nick and rolled her eyes. Though she knew they really only did have the child, or childrens, best interest at heart, sometimes they could take hours to respond to a call. While she didn't want to judge them for the sometimes lack in response time, she couldn't help but be bitter. They were only called in when a childs welfare was on the line. Wasn't that important?
A nurse showed up a few minutes later, motioning for both Nick and Sara to follow her up to Pediatrics. The only sound being made was from the little girl in Sara's arms as she tried to regain her breath made shallow by the torrent of tears that had been falling. And Sara's gentle shushing noises, wordlessly telling her it would all be OK.
The two of them, and Grissom, had been working a case involving a known drug dealer being shot and killed. Part of the investigation had taken them to the drug lords house, so with a warrant in hand, the three CSIs, in two Denali's had made their way to the home followed by Uniforms. Once they got there, Grissom had stayed down stairs while Nick and Sara did a sweep upstairs. She had been the one to make the discovery. A young girls bedroom, which seemingly sat empty.
Having no clue that the man in question had even been a father, she called Nick - who'd also had no idea about a child, or children, living at the residence. Sara, remembering her own childhood and hiding under the bed in fear, crouched down and peered between the small space of the floor and boxspring. She coaxed the little girl out slowly but surely and finally when she embraced Sara for all she was worth, she mumbled about a baby. Nick thought she'd meant her doll, which was laying on her bed, but she shook her head in a tantrum, her dirty blond curls flying emphatically around her small face. Her lips formed a pout and she pointed to the door across the hall before burrying her head into Sara's shoulders, convinced that the woman who cradled her was going to keep her safe.
The two CSIs and the small child cradled in Sara's arms walked across the hallway. When Nick's hand grasped the handle, he and Sara shared a nervous glance. Who could leave one child, let alone two, alone in a house? Upon entering the room, a small baby boy lay in the crib, eyes wide open showing the world the most beautiful blue orbs. He fussed in the crib quietly, almost in a demand to be picked up and cradled. So Nick had complied.
The four had then made their way back downstairs to meet with Grissom who was shocked at the two new, tiny faces. He'd immediately called Child Services who requested that the CSIs take the children to the hospital until they could send a case worker there themselves. Although irritated, it hadn't been the first time such a request had been made. So, he and one of the officers at the house had went into the garage, and thankfully found a car with the appropriate child restraint seating. Since the car was potentially evidence, Grissom had extracted the safety seats himself, handing them off to the officer to secure in one of the Denali's. Deciding it best that both Nick and Sara stay with the kids, he sent them on their way and called the lab to have another CSI assigned to the case, at least for the moment.
When the elevator door opened, revealing the Pediatrics wing, the three adults stepped off and a new nurse stepped forward, immediately reaching out to take the child from Sara's arms. Sara glared at the woman for being so callous, trying to rip a child from her arms when the child was obviously scared.
"No," the little girl protested, clinging to Sara even tighter. The nurse took a step back and though she didn't apologize for trying to grab the child, she did look rather sorry.
Sara's heart bled for the little girl. "It's OK, sweetie. This nice lady is going to take into a room and get you cleaned up, OK? Get you some nice and warm, clean clothes."
She felt the small childs head leave her shoulder and their eyes met. "You be here when I get back?" she asked timidly, grabbing at some of Sara's loose curls.
"We're not going anywhere," she promised, placing a quick, comforting kiss on her forehead. "Promise."
Even though she was still hesitant, the little girl allowed herself to be removed from Sara's arms. The nurse placed her on her hip and started to walk down the hall, but the little girl just watched them until they were out of sight.
Sara sighed heavily and sat down on one of the waiting room chairs. Nick followed suit, the baby in his arms still sleeping soundly and now sucking his thumb. "Poor kids," he commented.
Sara smiled a little and reached out to touch the infants back. "Yeah," she agreed. Soon, the nurse returned and took the baby out of Nick's arm.
The two sat in a comfortable silence, both waiting for word on either child. Nick had motioned to his pager and she had nodded, acknowledging that Nick was going to call Grissom for a minute. Shortly before he returned, the nurse once again returned and placed the now awake baby in Sara's arms. He'd been redressed in a clean jumper and had his diaper changed. She craddled him in her arms, watching him carefully and with a wondering eye as she fed him the bottle of formula that the nurse had handed off to her.
"He's in perfect health," the nurse offered before walking off.
When Nick returned, he sat down beside them. "You look good with kids, you know," he said. It wasn't a comment aimed to make her feel pressure, or to give her any ideas of where he thought their relationship may have been going. It was just an honest observation.
Sara smiled. "Funny. I was just thinking you do too." He smiled back at her, chuckling softly and leaned over, placing a gentle kiss to her lips, careful of the eating baby between them.
After a few more minutes of silence, the little girl reappeared. Her clothes had been changed, her face cleaned, and her hair had been washed and combed. She looked like a happy little girl from a good home. The only thing that betrayed her was the distant look in her eye. "She's fine physically," the doctor offered them. "Emotionally is another story. I will give the full report to the Child Services worker when they arrive. Any idea on when that'll be?"
"I just talked to our boss," Nick answered as he bent down and picked up the little gil this time. She didn't seem to be shying away from him, which he took as a good sign. "They're still backed up and will probably be a few hours."
"I wish that you could stay here, but -"
"It's alright," Nick answered. "I've cleared it with our boss. We can watch them until a worker can get then."
The doctor nodded in understanding and bid them goodbye.
"So, how would you feel about McDonalds?" Nick asked the little girl. Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning.
"Can I get a Happy Meal?" she asked timidly.
"You bet," he answered as the four made their way from the hospital.
Sara smiled as she watched Nick tickle the young girls stomach causing her to giggle and smile happily.
Once at McDonald's, the little girl ran towards the play area, which was surprisingly vacant. After telling her that she could only play for a few minutes until the food was ready, Sara settled herself in at the counter, facing the window that looked into the play room, holding the baby in her arms. It was only a few minutes later when Nick found her, a tray in hand. Two burgers, one for him and the little girl, and fries for all three, and a salad for Sara. The baby was almost lulled to sleep by the quiet but steady sounds in the restaurant. Rather than risking waking him up, Nick had said that he'd retrieve the little girl from the play room. She smiled as she watched Nick playfully chasing after the little girl who was giggling the entire time.
"You have a beautiful family," an elderly woman commented as she and her husband headed towards the exit.
Sara smiled at the woman, and although she was going to correct her that it wasn't her family, she would then feel compelled to explain the situation. And it wasn't needed. Instead, her smile widened as she turned to look at Nick who was happily throwing the little girl over his shoulder and chanting something, probably, "eat, eat, eat."
"Thank you," she smiled, finally responding.
"You and your husband are very blessed. Two beautiful children. Happy and healthy. Hang on to that."
Sara sat in stunned silence as the couple made their way out of the establishment. She wasn't stunned by the words that the woman had offered her. Obviously she'd assumed that the kids were hers and Nick, and that they were married and a family . . . she was stunned because she found herself not minding that someone thought that. And even more stunned that it didn't scare her like she thought it would.
End flashback
She stared at the gently rippling water in the pool as the breeze caressed the surface, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "You've got energy tonight, huh kid?" she asked her tummy, chuckling softly. "You gonna let mommy get any sleep?" she continued on. For the last week or so, she'd felt the sensations. No one else had been able to feel what she was feeling, but it was so sensational that everytime it happened, she stopped what she was doing. If it happened when she was asleep, or just about, she'd wake right up . . .
The ringing phone brought her out of her reverie.
Clearing her throat, she answered, "Hello?"
"Sara?" his voice was deep and strong.
She smiled. "Yeah. Hi. It's good to hear your voice."
"Miss me that much, huh?" he chuckled.
"You know I do," she sighed.
"So what's going on?"
"Not much. I've got the house to myself tonight. It's kind of odd. It's so quiet. Normally there are tons of people around. I don't think I've been able to hear myself think like this in a long time," she smiled a little.
"Don't get too used to it," he countered. "Once that baby makes their appearance, you won't be able to hear yourself think for 18 years."
She laughed. "I'll take that under advisement," she jested.
He chuckled. "So, how are you? I mean, how are you really, Sara?"
She could hear the concern in his voice. "I'm doing good," she answered. It wasn't a complete lie. She had moments now where she was able to think of Nick and not burst out crying, though those moments were still few and far between. "I still can't feel it though."
"What?" he asked suddenly. "The baby? Sara, you know that will take a little bit of time. The doctor said everything is good, right? Wait, nothing has happened, has it?"
She smiled at his concern. "No Warrick, nothing has happened. The baby and I are fine. Actually, though, I can feel it. No one else can yet, but I can feel it moving around in there."
His smile widened and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Good."
"I still don't feel like Nick is gone though," she said quietly. "It's like he's on an extended holiday. There was no finality to it."
"Sar -" he tried, but she cut him off.
"I know I sound like a broken record, Warrick, but I just can't make it real. And I don't want too."
"I understand," he told her. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he knew that something was off with the whole thing. He just didn't know what. And he didn't want to say anything to upset Sara. Sure she had a right to know that they were looking into a few things that pertained to Nick's case, but as of right now, there was nothing solid to give her. It broke his heart when he heard her sniffling. He decided to change the subject. "You know, you should considering coming back to Vegas for a couple of days at the end of August. Ecklie is holding the company summer end party a little early this year. I guess some of the parents who work in the lab, Cath included, decided that their kids needed to be able to join in on the festivities as well."
"I'm not exactly a member of the team anymore -"
"It's only temporary, Sara. I truly believe that. And besides, whether or not you are currently working as a member of our team, you'll always be a part of it. Whether you like it or not," he smiled.
"Thanks Warrick," she sighed. "I really needed to talk to someone tonight. And I'm glad it was you." She cleared her throat. "So, how're you doing? Everyone else?"
"We're all good. The heat is sweltering, like always," he informed her. "Crime is at an all time high this summer. Feels like we're all working over time. Go home exhausted . . . . I actually just wrapped a case with Cath and we're waiting for our next assignment." He looked up and noticed Catherine stopping in the door way. He spoke into the phone, "speaking of next assignments," he held the reciever away from his mouth, "you got one?"
She nodded. "Whose that?" she pointed to the phone.
"It's Sara," Warrick informed her.
"Hi Cath," Sara said into the phone.
Warrick smiled at Cath. "Sara says hi."
"Hi, Sara," she called back but she shook her head no when Warrick held out his phone for her to take to talk to Sara. "I'll call her tomorrow," she said in an all-business tone, holding up the folding in front of her.
"Uh, Sara?" he spoke, "I gotta go. Cath has a new case, and it's hot. She says she'll call you tomorrow."
"OK," she answered. "Just make sure it's tomorrow afternoon. I have an ultrasound and doctors appointment in the morning."
"I'll let her know," Warrick told her. "Love ya, Sara."
"Love you too."
When Warrick heard the phone disconnect, he hung up his end. "You got that look."
"You're never going to believe this," she breathed.
"What do we got?"
"A dead female in a parking garage, pinned between a cement wall and her own car."
"Her own car?" Warrick questioned. "Sounds like someone had a grudge," he furrowed his brows together.
"There's more," Catherine cleared her throat. Seeing that she had Warrick's full attention, she continued. "The victim is Sylvia Mullins."
It took a minute for what she'd said to register in his mind. "Sylvia Mullins? As in Walter Gordon's Estate Trustee?"
"The one and only," Catherine nodded.
"I think we may have just hit pay dirt," Warrick stood up quickly and began to head towards his Denali, Catherine close behind him.
TBC . . . .
I disclaim . . . . .
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
Nick stared at the tv with contempt. He loved the heat. Perhaps it had something to do with growing up in Texas, and then living in Vegas. He'd never lived in a typically cold climate. Sure, even the warm places at colder days -- but he loved the sweltering heat. He lived for it. Or used too.
"Don't worry, Nicky," Sylvia smiled sympathetically. "You're not missing anything wonderful. That heat is no fun at all."
The weather had been steadily rising past the one hundred degree mark every day for nearly a week, with no signs of stopping.
"I suppose I should be grateful," he said through a tight jaw, eyeing her closely. His voice held no sarcasm, or mallice.
Sylvia looked down at the floor, sighing. "I know this isn't where you want to be, Nick. And as much as you say that you'd help get me out of this, I just can't take the risk."
"So what?!" he snapped. "You're life is more important than mine? You have no problem inflicting pain on me? Someone whose never done anything to you? How about my family? My friends? They all think I'm dead. And I'm not!"
"I'm doing the best that I can!" she yelled back. "I wish that this would just be over. I wish that I hadn't gotten involved. That I just done what I should've from the start. But it's not the easy."
Nick noticed that she was wearing a gold necklace. A cross.
"God punishes sinners," he stated. "I truly believe that. I spent years as a CSI. I saw people on the worse days of their lives. I saw the pain that was not only inflicted upon the victim, but the pain that those who were close to them had to go through. And no one person should ever be able to create so much havoc. I'm not particularly religious -- but I have to believe that anyone who inflicts pain on another human being willingly, knowing that they shouldn't, and when they have an opportunity to change it, but don't . . . I believe that they'll get an eternal seat in hell."
Sylvia's eyes closed shut tightly, tears welling up. "I deserve that," she breathed, trying to not let her emotions fly. "I know I do." She grasped at the necklace. She took a deep breath to compose herself. "I'm going to bring in a couple of bottles of water for you to put in your fridge," she decided, setting down her belongings and walking out of the room in search of the bottled water.
"DAMMIT!" Nick yelled, frustrated that Sylvia didn't seem to be any closer to letting him out. He ran his hands through his hair which was growing longer by the day.
Anxiously, he started to pace the small space, biting down on his lip.
Suddenly, an unusual object caught his eye. He came to an abrupt hault, his vision honing in on Sylvia's purse which had been left beside the bars of his cage. Quickly slipping his hand through the bars, he tried to pull the purse inside the cage, but it wouldn't fit. Irritated, but hopeful that he'd found his way out, he quickly began to dig around inside the contents.
"Please, please," he quietly begged, looking for a cell phone or something with which he could contact the outside world with. Becoming fearful that he'd be caught before he could find anything, he dumped the contents of the bag out, sifting through the materials quickly - and finding nothing of value.
"UGH!" he tried to not loose his temper. He'd been doing that a lot lately. And being a normally calm, collected guy, he hated what he was becoming. Frustrated, and on the verge of a break down, he brought his index finger up to his lips and placed it between his teeth, biting down as hard as he could.
After a moment, he realized that if Sylvia believed he was trying to outsmart her, he might damage all the progress that he'd made so far . . . and being that he'd been there now for a few months, he didn't want to take that chance. He quickly piled all of the purse contents from the floor back into the over priced, over sized bag.
Suddenly, his mind processed the fabric that was caressing the back of his hand . . . it was silk. And it was a cream color . . .
Quickly, he stood up and went over to the bed, lifting up a corner of the mattress and pulling out the shard of glass from the lamp that he'd broken weeks before. Carefully eyeing it, he made the decision that he had to try. At this point, he had nothing to loose. If no one ever found it, at least he'd have given it a try. Bringing the sharp piece of material up to his calloused hand, he swiped at the skin, flinching as the shard burned through his flesh. Warm blood immediately started to pool out of his skin and into the palm of his hand.
When he heard her coming down the stairs, he raced over to the bag, and dove his hand inside the purse, creating a quick path to the bottom, pressing his hand firmly against the fabric. Withdrawing his hand just as quickly, he silently hoped that someone would notice it -- though it was unlikely.
As her steps got closer, and louder, he sprinted across the cage and laid down on the bed, his eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling. He couldn't look at her. He feared that she'd figure it out if she saw his eyes.
"Here you go," she announced her presense by setting the bottled water, which would fit through the bars of the cage easily, down on the floor. "It's already been in the fridge upstairs, but you should but at least a couple in yours down here," she told him.
Getting no response, she sighed. Looking over, she noticed her purse. "Hmm," she mused quietly. "I didn't realize I left this."
"Left what?" Nick asked, knowing full well what she was talking about. He didn't both to look over at her.
She glanced over at Nick before grabbing for her purse. "My bag," she shrugged. "Oh well." It wasn't like she had her cell phone or any other means of communication in there. "I'm going to work. I'll be late tonight. I bought a couple of sandwiches at the deli yesterday," she added. "I put them with the water. They really should go in the fridge so the meat doesn't spoil."
Nick scoffed slightly. The room was dark, and cool. No natural sunlight. The only reason why he knew that it was summer and hot temperatures out there was because of the news. If it weren't for the TV, he'd have no way of knowing what was going on in the outside world -- except for the occassional newspaper that Sylvia brought him.
Upon getting no further response, she looked down at the floor as she headed back towards the stairs to go upstairs. "I guess I'll see you later," she sighed and left the room.
Once he heard the wall firmly lock into place, securing that he was indeed locked up tight in the basement, he sat up and glanced around. He looked at his hand -- which was still bleeding, but thankfully, not as much. He stood up and walked into the small bathroom that was inside the cage. He looked around the small space, sighing. A small five by eight bathroom which had no more than a sink and vanity, toilet and tub/shower combo unit. The only contents the bathroom held were essentials, like toilet paper, a few towels that were laundered frequently, a tooth brush and tooth paste, a hair brush, shampoo . . . and a first aid kit -- sans scissors. He reached down into the small box looking for a band aide.
The bathroom itself had become his place refuge, so to speak. It was the only place where he could truly get an privacy. But even closing the door to the small room, and in essense, closing out Sylvia - was slowly getting to him. He found himself spending more and more time in there -- and every day, the walls seemed to close in just a little more . . . both in the bathroom and in his cell.
Nick feared that he was slowly loosing his mind. "Please, God," he prayed, finding that he'd been doing more of that lately, "let someone find me." If they didn't, he felt that he would go crazy.
CSICSICSICSI
Sara sat on the back deck of the Stokes home, letting the warm evening summer breeze float over her skin. Though it was still quite warm out, it was a definite improvement from the heat that the state offered during the day.
It was now late July. Her stomach was slightly swollen, but easily concealed by a baggy shirt. Only those around her who knew of her condition out tell she was with child.
She fiddled with the hem of Nick's college shirt that she was wearing absently. Though it didn't smell like Nick, she felt like it was hugging her in a way that only he was able too. Although she knew it was crazy -- wearing the shirt made her feel closer to him. Less alone. The entire Stokes family had insisted that she wasn't alone -- but sometimes, she just couldn't help but feel like it . . . .
"Hey Sparky," she smiled as the dog trotted up to her, resting it's head in her lap, requesting a scratch behind the ear. "What're you doing here, huh buddy?"
The dog yawned in answer, but gave her his paw to shake. A few minutes later, the dog tired of standing and laid down directly at her feet. She placed a hand on her abdomen and smiled when she felt a little fluttering inside. Though it wasn't strong enough quite yet to be considered a kick, she still reveled in the fact that it was her child making that momement within her.
Flashback
It was an unusally warm December evening in Vegas and Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle walked calmly through the doors of the hospital, each holding a young child. Sara held a scared little girl close to her chest, the child clinging to her neck for comfort. Large tears rolled down the little girls face. In Nick's arms, a small three month old baby boy nestled against his chest, moving in unpracticed movements in his sleep. His left arm was under the baby's bottom, while large right hand rested over the upper part of the boys back and neck, protecting him from harm.
The two walked over to check-in and cautious to not jostle the child in her arms, Sara jutted out her hip to the a nurse, showing her her ID badge clipped to her belt. "CSI Sidle and Stokes."
"Yes, yes," she smiled slightly, quickly paging for a nurse to come to them. "Child Services called and said that you were bringing them in."
Nick nodded in affirmation. "Yes, they're a little backed up tonight."
"They said they'll be here in a while," she concluded.
Sara looked at Nick and rolled her eyes. Though she knew they really only did have the child, or childrens, best interest at heart, sometimes they could take hours to respond to a call. While she didn't want to judge them for the sometimes lack in response time, she couldn't help but be bitter. They were only called in when a childs welfare was on the line. Wasn't that important?
A nurse showed up a few minutes later, motioning for both Nick and Sara to follow her up to Pediatrics. The only sound being made was from the little girl in Sara's arms as she tried to regain her breath made shallow by the torrent of tears that had been falling. And Sara's gentle shushing noises, wordlessly telling her it would all be OK.
The two of them, and Grissom, had been working a case involving a known drug dealer being shot and killed. Part of the investigation had taken them to the drug lords house, so with a warrant in hand, the three CSIs, in two Denali's had made their way to the home followed by Uniforms. Once they got there, Grissom had stayed down stairs while Nick and Sara did a sweep upstairs. She had been the one to make the discovery. A young girls bedroom, which seemingly sat empty.
Having no clue that the man in question had even been a father, she called Nick - who'd also had no idea about a child, or children, living at the residence. Sara, remembering her own childhood and hiding under the bed in fear, crouched down and peered between the small space of the floor and boxspring. She coaxed the little girl out slowly but surely and finally when she embraced Sara for all she was worth, she mumbled about a baby. Nick thought she'd meant her doll, which was laying on her bed, but she shook her head in a tantrum, her dirty blond curls flying emphatically around her small face. Her lips formed a pout and she pointed to the door across the hall before burrying her head into Sara's shoulders, convinced that the woman who cradled her was going to keep her safe.
The two CSIs and the small child cradled in Sara's arms walked across the hallway. When Nick's hand grasped the handle, he and Sara shared a nervous glance. Who could leave one child, let alone two, alone in a house? Upon entering the room, a small baby boy lay in the crib, eyes wide open showing the world the most beautiful blue orbs. He fussed in the crib quietly, almost in a demand to be picked up and cradled. So Nick had complied.
The four had then made their way back downstairs to meet with Grissom who was shocked at the two new, tiny faces. He'd immediately called Child Services who requested that the CSIs take the children to the hospital until they could send a case worker there themselves. Although irritated, it hadn't been the first time such a request had been made. So, he and one of the officers at the house had went into the garage, and thankfully found a car with the appropriate child restraint seating. Since the car was potentially evidence, Grissom had extracted the safety seats himself, handing them off to the officer to secure in one of the Denali's. Deciding it best that both Nick and Sara stay with the kids, he sent them on their way and called the lab to have another CSI assigned to the case, at least for the moment.
When the elevator door opened, revealing the Pediatrics wing, the three adults stepped off and a new nurse stepped forward, immediately reaching out to take the child from Sara's arms. Sara glared at the woman for being so callous, trying to rip a child from her arms when the child was obviously scared.
"No," the little girl protested, clinging to Sara even tighter. The nurse took a step back and though she didn't apologize for trying to grab the child, she did look rather sorry.
Sara's heart bled for the little girl. "It's OK, sweetie. This nice lady is going to take into a room and get you cleaned up, OK? Get you some nice and warm, clean clothes."
She felt the small childs head leave her shoulder and their eyes met. "You be here when I get back?" she asked timidly, grabbing at some of Sara's loose curls.
"We're not going anywhere," she promised, placing a quick, comforting kiss on her forehead. "Promise."
Even though she was still hesitant, the little girl allowed herself to be removed from Sara's arms. The nurse placed her on her hip and started to walk down the hall, but the little girl just watched them until they were out of sight.
Sara sighed heavily and sat down on one of the waiting room chairs. Nick followed suit, the baby in his arms still sleeping soundly and now sucking his thumb. "Poor kids," he commented.
Sara smiled a little and reached out to touch the infants back. "Yeah," she agreed. Soon, the nurse returned and took the baby out of Nick's arm.
The two sat in a comfortable silence, both waiting for word on either child. Nick had motioned to his pager and she had nodded, acknowledging that Nick was going to call Grissom for a minute. Shortly before he returned, the nurse once again returned and placed the now awake baby in Sara's arms. He'd been redressed in a clean jumper and had his diaper changed. She craddled him in her arms, watching him carefully and with a wondering eye as she fed him the bottle of formula that the nurse had handed off to her.
"He's in perfect health," the nurse offered before walking off.
When Nick returned, he sat down beside them. "You look good with kids, you know," he said. It wasn't a comment aimed to make her feel pressure, or to give her any ideas of where he thought their relationship may have been going. It was just an honest observation.
Sara smiled. "Funny. I was just thinking you do too." He smiled back at her, chuckling softly and leaned over, placing a gentle kiss to her lips, careful of the eating baby between them.
After a few more minutes of silence, the little girl reappeared. Her clothes had been changed, her face cleaned, and her hair had been washed and combed. She looked like a happy little girl from a good home. The only thing that betrayed her was the distant look in her eye. "She's fine physically," the doctor offered them. "Emotionally is another story. I will give the full report to the Child Services worker when they arrive. Any idea on when that'll be?"
"I just talked to our boss," Nick answered as he bent down and picked up the little gil this time. She didn't seem to be shying away from him, which he took as a good sign. "They're still backed up and will probably be a few hours."
"I wish that you could stay here, but -"
"It's alright," Nick answered. "I've cleared it with our boss. We can watch them until a worker can get then."
The doctor nodded in understanding and bid them goodbye.
"So, how would you feel about McDonalds?" Nick asked the little girl. Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning.
"Can I get a Happy Meal?" she asked timidly.
"You bet," he answered as the four made their way from the hospital.
Sara smiled as she watched Nick tickle the young girls stomach causing her to giggle and smile happily.
Once at McDonald's, the little girl ran towards the play area, which was surprisingly vacant. After telling her that she could only play for a few minutes until the food was ready, Sara settled herself in at the counter, facing the window that looked into the play room, holding the baby in her arms. It was only a few minutes later when Nick found her, a tray in hand. Two burgers, one for him and the little girl, and fries for all three, and a salad for Sara. The baby was almost lulled to sleep by the quiet but steady sounds in the restaurant. Rather than risking waking him up, Nick had said that he'd retrieve the little girl from the play room. She smiled as she watched Nick playfully chasing after the little girl who was giggling the entire time.
"You have a beautiful family," an elderly woman commented as she and her husband headed towards the exit.
Sara smiled at the woman, and although she was going to correct her that it wasn't her family, she would then feel compelled to explain the situation. And it wasn't needed. Instead, her smile widened as she turned to look at Nick who was happily throwing the little girl over his shoulder and chanting something, probably, "eat, eat, eat."
"Thank you," she smiled, finally responding.
"You and your husband are very blessed. Two beautiful children. Happy and healthy. Hang on to that."
Sara sat in stunned silence as the couple made their way out of the establishment. She wasn't stunned by the words that the woman had offered her. Obviously she'd assumed that the kids were hers and Nick, and that they were married and a family . . . she was stunned because she found herself not minding that someone thought that. And even more stunned that it didn't scare her like she thought it would.
End flashback
She stared at the gently rippling water in the pool as the breeze caressed the surface, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "You've got energy tonight, huh kid?" she asked her tummy, chuckling softly. "You gonna let mommy get any sleep?" she continued on. For the last week or so, she'd felt the sensations. No one else had been able to feel what she was feeling, but it was so sensational that everytime it happened, she stopped what she was doing. If it happened when she was asleep, or just about, she'd wake right up . . .
The ringing phone brought her out of her reverie.
Clearing her throat, she answered, "Hello?"
"Sara?" his voice was deep and strong.
She smiled. "Yeah. Hi. It's good to hear your voice."
"Miss me that much, huh?" he chuckled.
"You know I do," she sighed.
"So what's going on?"
"Not much. I've got the house to myself tonight. It's kind of odd. It's so quiet. Normally there are tons of people around. I don't think I've been able to hear myself think like this in a long time," she smiled a little.
"Don't get too used to it," he countered. "Once that baby makes their appearance, you won't be able to hear yourself think for 18 years."
She laughed. "I'll take that under advisement," she jested.
He chuckled. "So, how are you? I mean, how are you really, Sara?"
She could hear the concern in his voice. "I'm doing good," she answered. It wasn't a complete lie. She had moments now where she was able to think of Nick and not burst out crying, though those moments were still few and far between. "I still can't feel it though."
"What?" he asked suddenly. "The baby? Sara, you know that will take a little bit of time. The doctor said everything is good, right? Wait, nothing has happened, has it?"
She smiled at his concern. "No Warrick, nothing has happened. The baby and I are fine. Actually, though, I can feel it. No one else can yet, but I can feel it moving around in there."
His smile widened and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Good."
"I still don't feel like Nick is gone though," she said quietly. "It's like he's on an extended holiday. There was no finality to it."
"Sar -" he tried, but she cut him off.
"I know I sound like a broken record, Warrick, but I just can't make it real. And I don't want too."
"I understand," he told her. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he knew that something was off with the whole thing. He just didn't know what. And he didn't want to say anything to upset Sara. Sure she had a right to know that they were looking into a few things that pertained to Nick's case, but as of right now, there was nothing solid to give her. It broke his heart when he heard her sniffling. He decided to change the subject. "You know, you should considering coming back to Vegas for a couple of days at the end of August. Ecklie is holding the company summer end party a little early this year. I guess some of the parents who work in the lab, Cath included, decided that their kids needed to be able to join in on the festivities as well."
"I'm not exactly a member of the team anymore -"
"It's only temporary, Sara. I truly believe that. And besides, whether or not you are currently working as a member of our team, you'll always be a part of it. Whether you like it or not," he smiled.
"Thanks Warrick," she sighed. "I really needed to talk to someone tonight. And I'm glad it was you." She cleared her throat. "So, how're you doing? Everyone else?"
"We're all good. The heat is sweltering, like always," he informed her. "Crime is at an all time high this summer. Feels like we're all working over time. Go home exhausted . . . . I actually just wrapped a case with Cath and we're waiting for our next assignment." He looked up and noticed Catherine stopping in the door way. He spoke into the phone, "speaking of next assignments," he held the reciever away from his mouth, "you got one?"
She nodded. "Whose that?" she pointed to the phone.
"It's Sara," Warrick informed her.
"Hi Cath," Sara said into the phone.
Warrick smiled at Cath. "Sara says hi."
"Hi, Sara," she called back but she shook her head no when Warrick held out his phone for her to take to talk to Sara. "I'll call her tomorrow," she said in an all-business tone, holding up the folding in front of her.
"Uh, Sara?" he spoke, "I gotta go. Cath has a new case, and it's hot. She says she'll call you tomorrow."
"OK," she answered. "Just make sure it's tomorrow afternoon. I have an ultrasound and doctors appointment in the morning."
"I'll let her know," Warrick told her. "Love ya, Sara."
"Love you too."
When Warrick heard the phone disconnect, he hung up his end. "You got that look."
"You're never going to believe this," she breathed.
"What do we got?"
"A dead female in a parking garage, pinned between a cement wall and her own car."
"Her own car?" Warrick questioned. "Sounds like someone had a grudge," he furrowed his brows together.
"There's more," Catherine cleared her throat. Seeing that she had Warrick's full attention, she continued. "The victim is Sylvia Mullins."
It took a minute for what she'd said to register in his mind. "Sylvia Mullins? As in Walter Gordon's Estate Trustee?"
"The one and only," Catherine nodded.
"I think we may have just hit pay dirt," Warrick stood up quickly and began to head towards his Denali, Catherine close behind him.
TBC . . . .
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
I'm getting unhappy that you're taking so long. Can't he get rescued now? More more!
And please dont think I'm being mean to you, I'm not, it's just my way...I have no patience at all lol
Glad they got a lead though
And please dont think I'm being mean to you, I'm not, it's just my way...I have no patience at all lol
Glad they got a lead though
aw, Meg, i LOVED this chapter. that's so cute about the family scene!! i can definatly see that happening!! i love it! yeah!! they got a lead!! now they go down, find Nicky and Sara and Nick get married and have the cutest family in the world!! i love that you're keeping this going and making us wonder. the more the merrier!! lol. please, update soon!
NHRFan
Coroner
Come on Sara, you can find him, only you can find him, you can feel him. Your baby is trying to tell you something when the baby kicked you in the stomach. Don't let Nick miss the birth of his baby. I hope Warrick and Catherine figue it out where the case lead to, unless Kelly find him first before they do.
MegBreanne
Police Officer
Chapter 16:
Warrick and Catherine arrived at the crime scene ready to work and eager to find out what had happened.
"I wasn't sure if I should call it in as a 419 or a 401a," Sophia said when she saw the CSIs approaching.
"Hit and run?" Catherine questioned, eyeing Sylvia's body, which was still wedged between the wall and the car. Being told over the phone what they were walking in on did not prepare Catherine for the image that she was seeing.
"You tell me," Sophia said, cocking her manicured eyebrow at them.
"Mm, I don't know. When you run, you usually take the car," Warrick stated, looking around the immediate area of the body looking for any clues as to what may have happened. Aside from the connection that Sylvia had to Nick's case, which as far as he knew, could have been nothing, this had to be one of the most bizarre cases he'd ever worked.
"She works in one of the offices upstairs. The security guard found her."
Sophia and the CSIs separated, each having their own job to do in order to solve the case.
Catherine snapped random photos. "Cell phone, a shoe and a briefcase. Probably lost them all on impact."
Warrick added, "Looks like she saw the car coming. Impact's pretty evenly distributed. The car hit her straight on."
"Most cars have to be going at least 14 miles an hour to trigger the airbag," Catherine stated, though she didn't need too. It was a common known fact among CSIs. She opened the car door with her gloved hand, and notices something. "Well, I can't be sure, but it looks like somebody popped the ignition."
A few minutes later, Catherine suggests, "Carjacking gone bad? Vic gets off the elevator, walks to her spot ... on the phone, distracted, catches the guy stealing her
ride ...He runs her over and splits."
"Pedal to the metal," Warrick sighs, nodding his head to David that it was alright to start moving the body. "Wait a minute . . . " he bent down and took a closer look at the tow truck slowly move the car away from the body. "STOP!"
Everything came to a dead stop in the parking garage and everyone was silent.
"What is it?" Catherine asked him.
Warrick braced himself against the front bumper of the car as he reached down and picked up the object. "What does no woman ever leave the house without?"
Catherine smiled widely.
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
"Fucking Ecklie," Warrick muttered, opening the door to the break room with a bang. The door rotated on it's hindges so quickly that it hit the wall and recoiled back, nearly hitting Catherine as she walked in the room behind him.
"Hey now," she tried to calm him down after bracing herself from the door flying back in her face.
"Sorry," he apologized, and though he didn't sound like he meant it, he really did. He glanced up at her. "You OK?"
"More concerned about you," she said immediately as she opened the refrigerator, looking for a cold drink.
Their shifts had become a double and besides the heat, and exhaustion, Ecklie had gotten on Warrick's bad side.
"He's such an ass!" Warrick exploded. "He knows damn well the connection between Sylvia and Nick and yet he won't make this case a top priority for the lab?"
"Warrick-"
"Don't tell me is just a coincidence, Cath," he warned.
She held up her hands. "I don't think it is." She sighed. "I'm on your side Warrick. We all are. But even Ecklie has his orders. Our tests will be run in the order in which they are received. Nick's case is a cold case. Whatever connection Sylvia had with Nick will still be there when we get our results."
"Hey," Greg greeted as he entered the room. "I hear through the grapevine that you've got a wicked case."
"Who've you been talking too?" Catherine asked.
He shrugged. "People. No one will give me any information though. So, I've got no clue what you're investigating. First time that anyone in this lab as been tight lipped about anything, actually. I wonder why that is . . . "
"Sylvia Mullins was murdered," Catherine stated bluntly.
"Excuse me?" Greg gasped. "How?"
"Someone broke into her car, and then for whatever reason, gunned the engine and pinned her between the grill and a cement wall in the parking garage of the building that she works in."
"Anything interesting?" he asked. They both knew what he meant. Had they found anything on Nick?
Warrick shook his head. "Her purse is a bit odd though. At the bottom of the bag, in the silk lining, is a smear of blood. We've got the samples in for testing, but they aren't exactly Ecklie's priority."
"What a prick," Greg mumbled. "You know, one of the techs owes me a favor. I think I'm going to go call it in."
Warrick smirked. "Thanks Greg."
Catherine glanced at her watch. "Well, it's going to be a few minutes, so I think I'm going to go make a phone call."
"Sara?" Warrick's voice softened upon thinking of his friend who was thousands of miles away, the one person most affected by Nick's loss . . .
She nodded her head slightly. "With the time difference, I think it's a safe bet that she's finished up with her appointment by now."
Warrick nodded his head. "Tell her I say hi, will ya?"
Catherine smiled a half smile, nodding her head. She walked out the break room door and headed for the CSI parking lot intent on sitting under a shaded tree and talking to her missed friend for a few minutes.
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
As Sara stood in the bathroom suite of Nick's room, her room, she heard a gentle tapping on the door. She glanced at her reflection, flinching at drying tear tracks that we fading, but still angrily red, and her puffy eyes. She knew that she couldn't hide it.
"Yes?" she called, stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
Jillian poked her head into the room and smiled gently, knowing that Sara had had a rough day. She held out the phone to show Sara the object. "It's Catherine."
Sara smiled slightly in return, stepping foward and gratefully taking the phone from Jillian's hand. "Thanks."
She nodded her head in acknowledgement before turning to leave the room.
She took a moment to compose herself, and once the door was firmly closed behind Jillian, she took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "Hey, Cath," she tried to sound cheery.
"Hey," she greeted back, a worried tone in her voice. "You OK?"
"Yeah, yeah," Sara said quickly, silently cursing Catherine's CSI skills. Couldn't she ever have an off day? "So . . . how's it going?"
Catherine nodded her head, knowing full well that Sara was trying to deflect the conversation. "Working a double. But, I have a couple of minutes and thought that I'd see how you're doing."
"I'm doing pretty good," her answer sounded formal. "So . . . ah, big case?"
"Yeah, kind of," she told her friend. "Warrick and I have been assigned to a case where the victim was pinned between a cement wall and her own car in the parking garage of the building that she works in."
"Wow," Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Someone had a grudge."
Catherine laughed softly. "That's what Warrick said too."
"So do you have any suspects?"
Cath shook her head, though she knew Sara couldn't see her. "Not one. Not yet anyway."
"Anything clues?" Sara asked.
Catherine smiled. "You really miss working, don't you?"
Sara laughed a little, though it even sounded hollow to her own ears. "There is a part of me that really does."
"And the other part?"
She let out a breath of air that she didn't know she'd been holding. "The other part still feels like it's too soon."
"I see," Catherine nodded her head again. She, of course, knew that that really meant 'I still miss Nick.'
"So, what clues do you have?"
"Archie is going over the security tape," Catherine answered. "And we found something in the vics purse that is out of place."
"What?"
"Blood. Not a lot of it, but enough to make it look weird. We've put a sample in at the DNA lab, but they are a little backed up."
"Blood in a purse," Sara repeated. The hair on her arms stood up and an odd sensation washed over her. "It has to be a big piece of the puzzle."
"Why?"
Sara shrugged. "I dunno. My instincts say so," she supplied.
"Well, enough talk about work. What I really wanted to talk to you about was your appointment. How'd it go?"
Silence.
"Sara?" Again, nothing. Until she heard a soft sniffle. "Sara, is everything OK?"
"I'm a mess, Catherine," Sara finally admitted, a sob escaping her throat. She laid down on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest.
"The baby? Did something happen?"
Sara heard the urgency in Catherine's voice and shook her head. "No," she sniffled again. The tears were pouring down from her eyes. Her breathing became labored as she desperately tried to calm herself. "The baby is fine."
Catherine let out a sigh of relief. "Sara, honey," she said soothing -- well, what she thought was soothingly -- but the woman just started to cry harder. "What's going on?"
"Nick used to call me that," she wailed.
Catherine finally understood. The tears were all about Nick. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it worse."
"You did-n't," she gasped. "I just miss him so much," hiccup, "Cath."
"Take a few deep breaths," she coached, and breathed in deeply as an example for Sara. "You need to calm down and relax."
When her breathing was more regulated, Catherine decided to try again. "Talk to me, Sar."
"I can feel him," she said.
"It's a boy?" Catherine asked.
Sara could hear the smile that spread across Catherine's face. "I don't know. I think so. I think that, today, anyway," she managed a small laugh. "I can feel the baby. It's moving around, not quite a kick yet, but just this fluttering. And I know it's in there. And when I feel it move, I feel him. I can feel Nick."
Catherine could feel the tears building in her own eyes.
"I start thinking that Nick would want to know this. He's want to be here, with me, when it kicks for the first time. I mean, really kicks. How'd he'd just want to be a part of it all. But he's not. And it makes me so angry. Some ass had to kidnap him and bury him alive. And because of that, Nick is gone, I miss him so badly that sometimes I can't breathe. And then I calm down long enough - only to realize that my baby is never going to know it's father. And then I'm mad all over again."
"Oh, Sara," Catherine said sympathetically, wishing she could take her friend in her arms. "Your baby will know Nick. We will all make sure of that."
"I know," she admitted. "And I'm so grateful for that. I never thought that I'd have a sense of security. But Nick gave that to me. Then when he died, it went with him. And there are times when I do feel like I have a family because of him, and this baby . . . but it's not the same."
"What can I do to help make you feel secure, Sara?" her friend asked. "Tell me. Tell us, the team. We'll do whatever we can."
"That's just it, Cath -- there is nothing anyone can do. Right now, it's the baby that is giving me that sense of security. And I don't think it's healthy. I feel like I'm putting all this pressure on a child that isn't even here yet. And I catch myself wondering what it's going to be like when he or she is born."
"Sara, that's not going to happen. We've seen what parents putting undo pressure can do to their kids, and I know that you'd never do that."
"Maybe not intentionally," she said, her voice cracking again. She sighed. "Cath, this baby is all I have left of Nick. And as grateful as I am, I'm terrified. When I said I could feel him, I really meant that I could feel him. Nick. When the baby moves, I feel Nick. And I'm so afraid that as soon as this baby makes their way into the world, I'm going to loose that feeling. Like I can only feel Nick because a part of him is literally still with me."
"Sara, listen to me," Catherine said softly, "Nick loved you. I know he did-"
Sara chuckled slightly. "Catherine, you guys had no idea Nick and I were even together until I told you I was pregnant."
She chuckled a little too. "You don't have to be together to be in love, Sara. I saw it written all over Nick's face from the day the two of you met. You always had this flirtation going on between you. Actually, it was more than that. It was . . . indescribable," she smirked. "There was a definite spark. "I always knew that some day, the two of you would get together."
"I could say the same for you," Sara smirked.
"What are you talking about?" Catherine sobbered up immediately.
"You and Warrick have always kind of had this thing," she smiled. "A sort of flirtations. It's indescribable," she was using Catherine's words, almost word for word. "There is a definite spark."
"Oh, shut up," Catherine said good naturedly, but couldn't help but giggle along with Sara.
"Thanks Cath," Sara finally said a few minutes later. "I really need to laugh. I miss you guys, you know."
"We miss you too," she answered. She glanced up and was confused. "Ah? Sara? Can you hang on for a sec?"
"Yeah, sure," she responded.
"What's going on?" Catherine asked as she stood up from her spot on the cool grass underneath the tree.
Greg came to a dead stop infront of her, breathing deeply. Trying to catch his breath, he couldn't stop his mind from screaming at him, telling him, among other things, that he needed to exercise more. "The results," he huffed, "of the blood . . . . are in."
"Sar? I'm gonna have to call you later," Catherine said, eyeing Greg. Obviously, whatever he'd found was huge, because he never before ran to find her - or anyone, for that matter.
"That's Sara?" Greg asked, standing up a little straighter. He was torn -- to tell her, or not to tell her . . .
"Yeah, sure, Cath," Sara said over the phone. "Let me know about the case, alright? I want to know how it turns out."
"Will do," Catherine agreed, and then said good bye and hung up.
"Bye," Sara echoed, and then turned the talk button on the cordless phone off. She rolled over and looked at the radio beside the bed, switching the radio on and a soft, steady stream of a new song by Rascal Flatts poured from the tiny speakers.
She stayed mad at him for a lot of years
For taking her husband
Started losing her faith and thinking that
Her life meant nothin
But when she looks at those kids
She raised all by herself
She knows she had some help
Yeah she knows
He ain't the leavin' kind
He'd never walk away
Even from those who don't believe
And wanna leave him behind
He ain't the leavin' kind
Though she did feel a few tears fall quickly down her face, she smiled. The song talked about how the love of the womans life was no longer there physically, but that he'd been with her emotionally. "I know you're not the leaving kind, Nick."
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"What is going on?" Catherine demanded as they finally reached the conference room. She looked oddly at both Warrick and Grissom who were already waiting for them.
"I'd like to know the same thing," Grissom demanded. Greg had pulled him out of an interrogation to tell him something that could not wait, but then he had disappeared in search of Catherine because her cell phone was in use and she'd accidentally left her pager on the break room table, which Warrick was hanging on to.
"You're aware of the connection of Warrick and Catherine's case to Walter Gordon, right?"
Grissom nodded. "Warrick just filled me in. But if I remember correctly, you were not assigned to that case. You were assigned to work with me -- on the case which you just interrupted me from actually conducting an interview. So, the reason why you aren't focusing your attention on our case had better be good, Greg," Grissom's voice was stern and the look in his eye normally would've made the young CSI shrink. But not this time.
"I don't exactly know what it means, but they found a bit of blood that was at the bottom of Sylvia's purse."
Grissom nodded his head. "And?"
"Well, it's an odd place for blood, but then again, the entire case is odd. I don't know about the rest of you, but I haven't even heard of a case where a person is run down with their own car."
"Get to the point, man," Warrick said, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.
"The point," he said, opening the file that he had clutched firmly in his hands, "is this." He withdrew a piece of paper and placed it on the table, which Grissom quickly picked up and scanned the printer read off . . .
"Are you sure?" Grissom asked, peering over the rims of his glasses at Greg.
He nodded. "They ran it twice before they called me. I had them run it a third time. I still didn't believe it, so I ran it myself for a fourth time. It's real."
"What's going on?" Catherine asked, snatching the paper out of Gil's hands. She scanned the contents herself, then gasped and handed over the print off to Warrick.
"The blood is Nick's?" he questioned, looking up at Greg. "How the hell is that even possible? Has it been determined how long the blood has been there?"
Greg looked at all three faces. "I looked into that myself. I'm fairly certain that it recently happened."
All four looked at each other, not knowing what to believe, or where to begin . . .
TBC . . . .
Warrick and Catherine arrived at the crime scene ready to work and eager to find out what had happened.
"I wasn't sure if I should call it in as a 419 or a 401a," Sophia said when she saw the CSIs approaching.
"Hit and run?" Catherine questioned, eyeing Sylvia's body, which was still wedged between the wall and the car. Being told over the phone what they were walking in on did not prepare Catherine for the image that she was seeing.
"You tell me," Sophia said, cocking her manicured eyebrow at them.
"Mm, I don't know. When you run, you usually take the car," Warrick stated, looking around the immediate area of the body looking for any clues as to what may have happened. Aside from the connection that Sylvia had to Nick's case, which as far as he knew, could have been nothing, this had to be one of the most bizarre cases he'd ever worked.
"She works in one of the offices upstairs. The security guard found her."
Sophia and the CSIs separated, each having their own job to do in order to solve the case.
Catherine snapped random photos. "Cell phone, a shoe and a briefcase. Probably lost them all on impact."
Warrick added, "Looks like she saw the car coming. Impact's pretty evenly distributed. The car hit her straight on."
"Most cars have to be going at least 14 miles an hour to trigger the airbag," Catherine stated, though she didn't need too. It was a common known fact among CSIs. She opened the car door with her gloved hand, and notices something. "Well, I can't be sure, but it looks like somebody popped the ignition."
A few minutes later, Catherine suggests, "Carjacking gone bad? Vic gets off the elevator, walks to her spot ... on the phone, distracted, catches the guy stealing her
ride ...He runs her over and splits."
"Pedal to the metal," Warrick sighs, nodding his head to David that it was alright to start moving the body. "Wait a minute . . . " he bent down and took a closer look at the tow truck slowly move the car away from the body. "STOP!"
Everything came to a dead stop in the parking garage and everyone was silent.
"What is it?" Catherine asked him.
Warrick braced himself against the front bumper of the car as he reached down and picked up the object. "What does no woman ever leave the house without?"
Catherine smiled widely.
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"Fucking Ecklie," Warrick muttered, opening the door to the break room with a bang. The door rotated on it's hindges so quickly that it hit the wall and recoiled back, nearly hitting Catherine as she walked in the room behind him.
"Hey now," she tried to calm him down after bracing herself from the door flying back in her face.
"Sorry," he apologized, and though he didn't sound like he meant it, he really did. He glanced up at her. "You OK?"
"More concerned about you," she said immediately as she opened the refrigerator, looking for a cold drink.
Their shifts had become a double and besides the heat, and exhaustion, Ecklie had gotten on Warrick's bad side.
"He's such an ass!" Warrick exploded. "He knows damn well the connection between Sylvia and Nick and yet he won't make this case a top priority for the lab?"
"Warrick-"
"Don't tell me is just a coincidence, Cath," he warned.
She held up her hands. "I don't think it is." She sighed. "I'm on your side Warrick. We all are. But even Ecklie has his orders. Our tests will be run in the order in which they are received. Nick's case is a cold case. Whatever connection Sylvia had with Nick will still be there when we get our results."
"Hey," Greg greeted as he entered the room. "I hear through the grapevine that you've got a wicked case."
"Who've you been talking too?" Catherine asked.
He shrugged. "People. No one will give me any information though. So, I've got no clue what you're investigating. First time that anyone in this lab as been tight lipped about anything, actually. I wonder why that is . . . "
"Sylvia Mullins was murdered," Catherine stated bluntly.
"Excuse me?" Greg gasped. "How?"
"Someone broke into her car, and then for whatever reason, gunned the engine and pinned her between the grill and a cement wall in the parking garage of the building that she works in."
"Anything interesting?" he asked. They both knew what he meant. Had they found anything on Nick?
Warrick shook his head. "Her purse is a bit odd though. At the bottom of the bag, in the silk lining, is a smear of blood. We've got the samples in for testing, but they aren't exactly Ecklie's priority."
"What a prick," Greg mumbled. "You know, one of the techs owes me a favor. I think I'm going to go call it in."
Warrick smirked. "Thanks Greg."
Catherine glanced at her watch. "Well, it's going to be a few minutes, so I think I'm going to go make a phone call."
"Sara?" Warrick's voice softened upon thinking of his friend who was thousands of miles away, the one person most affected by Nick's loss . . .
She nodded her head slightly. "With the time difference, I think it's a safe bet that she's finished up with her appointment by now."
Warrick nodded his head. "Tell her I say hi, will ya?"
Catherine smiled a half smile, nodding her head. She walked out the break room door and headed for the CSI parking lot intent on sitting under a shaded tree and talking to her missed friend for a few minutes.
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As Sara stood in the bathroom suite of Nick's room, her room, she heard a gentle tapping on the door. She glanced at her reflection, flinching at drying tear tracks that we fading, but still angrily red, and her puffy eyes. She knew that she couldn't hide it.
"Yes?" she called, stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
Jillian poked her head into the room and smiled gently, knowing that Sara had had a rough day. She held out the phone to show Sara the object. "It's Catherine."
Sara smiled slightly in return, stepping foward and gratefully taking the phone from Jillian's hand. "Thanks."
She nodded her head in acknowledgement before turning to leave the room.
She took a moment to compose herself, and once the door was firmly closed behind Jillian, she took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "Hey, Cath," she tried to sound cheery.
"Hey," she greeted back, a worried tone in her voice. "You OK?"
"Yeah, yeah," Sara said quickly, silently cursing Catherine's CSI skills. Couldn't she ever have an off day? "So . . . how's it going?"
Catherine nodded her head, knowing full well that Sara was trying to deflect the conversation. "Working a double. But, I have a couple of minutes and thought that I'd see how you're doing."
"I'm doing pretty good," her answer sounded formal. "So . . . ah, big case?"
"Yeah, kind of," she told her friend. "Warrick and I have been assigned to a case where the victim was pinned between a cement wall and her own car in the parking garage of the building that she works in."
"Wow," Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Someone had a grudge."
Catherine laughed softly. "That's what Warrick said too."
"So do you have any suspects?"
Cath shook her head, though she knew Sara couldn't see her. "Not one. Not yet anyway."
"Anything clues?" Sara asked.
Catherine smiled. "You really miss working, don't you?"
Sara laughed a little, though it even sounded hollow to her own ears. "There is a part of me that really does."
"And the other part?"
She let out a breath of air that she didn't know she'd been holding. "The other part still feels like it's too soon."
"I see," Catherine nodded her head again. She, of course, knew that that really meant 'I still miss Nick.'
"So, what clues do you have?"
"Archie is going over the security tape," Catherine answered. "And we found something in the vics purse that is out of place."
"What?"
"Blood. Not a lot of it, but enough to make it look weird. We've put a sample in at the DNA lab, but they are a little backed up."
"Blood in a purse," Sara repeated. The hair on her arms stood up and an odd sensation washed over her. "It has to be a big piece of the puzzle."
"Why?"
Sara shrugged. "I dunno. My instincts say so," she supplied.
"Well, enough talk about work. What I really wanted to talk to you about was your appointment. How'd it go?"
Silence.
"Sara?" Again, nothing. Until she heard a soft sniffle. "Sara, is everything OK?"
"I'm a mess, Catherine," Sara finally admitted, a sob escaping her throat. She laid down on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest.
"The baby? Did something happen?"
Sara heard the urgency in Catherine's voice and shook her head. "No," she sniffled again. The tears were pouring down from her eyes. Her breathing became labored as she desperately tried to calm herself. "The baby is fine."
Catherine let out a sigh of relief. "Sara, honey," she said soothing -- well, what she thought was soothingly -- but the woman just started to cry harder. "What's going on?"
"Nick used to call me that," she wailed.
Catherine finally understood. The tears were all about Nick. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it worse."
"You did-n't," she gasped. "I just miss him so much," hiccup, "Cath."
"Take a few deep breaths," she coached, and breathed in deeply as an example for Sara. "You need to calm down and relax."
When her breathing was more regulated, Catherine decided to try again. "Talk to me, Sar."
"I can feel him," she said.
"It's a boy?" Catherine asked.
Sara could hear the smile that spread across Catherine's face. "I don't know. I think so. I think that, today, anyway," she managed a small laugh. "I can feel the baby. It's moving around, not quite a kick yet, but just this fluttering. And I know it's in there. And when I feel it move, I feel him. I can feel Nick."
Catherine could feel the tears building in her own eyes.
"I start thinking that Nick would want to know this. He's want to be here, with me, when it kicks for the first time. I mean, really kicks. How'd he'd just want to be a part of it all. But he's not. And it makes me so angry. Some ass had to kidnap him and bury him alive. And because of that, Nick is gone, I miss him so badly that sometimes I can't breathe. And then I calm down long enough - only to realize that my baby is never going to know it's father. And then I'm mad all over again."
"Oh, Sara," Catherine said sympathetically, wishing she could take her friend in her arms. "Your baby will know Nick. We will all make sure of that."
"I know," she admitted. "And I'm so grateful for that. I never thought that I'd have a sense of security. But Nick gave that to me. Then when he died, it went with him. And there are times when I do feel like I have a family because of him, and this baby . . . but it's not the same."
"What can I do to help make you feel secure, Sara?" her friend asked. "Tell me. Tell us, the team. We'll do whatever we can."
"That's just it, Cath -- there is nothing anyone can do. Right now, it's the baby that is giving me that sense of security. And I don't think it's healthy. I feel like I'm putting all this pressure on a child that isn't even here yet. And I catch myself wondering what it's going to be like when he or she is born."
"Sara, that's not going to happen. We've seen what parents putting undo pressure can do to their kids, and I know that you'd never do that."
"Maybe not intentionally," she said, her voice cracking again. She sighed. "Cath, this baby is all I have left of Nick. And as grateful as I am, I'm terrified. When I said I could feel him, I really meant that I could feel him. Nick. When the baby moves, I feel Nick. And I'm so afraid that as soon as this baby makes their way into the world, I'm going to loose that feeling. Like I can only feel Nick because a part of him is literally still with me."
"Sara, listen to me," Catherine said softly, "Nick loved you. I know he did-"
Sara chuckled slightly. "Catherine, you guys had no idea Nick and I were even together until I told you I was pregnant."
She chuckled a little too. "You don't have to be together to be in love, Sara. I saw it written all over Nick's face from the day the two of you met. You always had this flirtation going on between you. Actually, it was more than that. It was . . . indescribable," she smirked. "There was a definite spark. "I always knew that some day, the two of you would get together."
"I could say the same for you," Sara smirked.
"What are you talking about?" Catherine sobbered up immediately.
"You and Warrick have always kind of had this thing," she smiled. "A sort of flirtations. It's indescribable," she was using Catherine's words, almost word for word. "There is a definite spark."
"Oh, shut up," Catherine said good naturedly, but couldn't help but giggle along with Sara.
"Thanks Cath," Sara finally said a few minutes later. "I really need to laugh. I miss you guys, you know."
"We miss you too," she answered. She glanced up and was confused. "Ah? Sara? Can you hang on for a sec?"
"Yeah, sure," she responded.
"What's going on?" Catherine asked as she stood up from her spot on the cool grass underneath the tree.
Greg came to a dead stop infront of her, breathing deeply. Trying to catch his breath, he couldn't stop his mind from screaming at him, telling him, among other things, that he needed to exercise more. "The results," he huffed, "of the blood . . . . are in."
"Sar? I'm gonna have to call you later," Catherine said, eyeing Greg. Obviously, whatever he'd found was huge, because he never before ran to find her - or anyone, for that matter.
"That's Sara?" Greg asked, standing up a little straighter. He was torn -- to tell her, or not to tell her . . .
"Yeah, sure, Cath," Sara said over the phone. "Let me know about the case, alright? I want to know how it turns out."
"Will do," Catherine agreed, and then said good bye and hung up.
"Bye," Sara echoed, and then turned the talk button on the cordless phone off. She rolled over and looked at the radio beside the bed, switching the radio on and a soft, steady stream of a new song by Rascal Flatts poured from the tiny speakers.
She stayed mad at him for a lot of years
For taking her husband
Started losing her faith and thinking that
Her life meant nothin
But when she looks at those kids
She raised all by herself
She knows she had some help
Yeah she knows
He ain't the leavin' kind
He'd never walk away
Even from those who don't believe
And wanna leave him behind
He ain't the leavin' kind
Though she did feel a few tears fall quickly down her face, she smiled. The song talked about how the love of the womans life was no longer there physically, but that he'd been with her emotionally. "I know you're not the leaving kind, Nick."
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"What is going on?" Catherine demanded as they finally reached the conference room. She looked oddly at both Warrick and Grissom who were already waiting for them.
"I'd like to know the same thing," Grissom demanded. Greg had pulled him out of an interrogation to tell him something that could not wait, but then he had disappeared in search of Catherine because her cell phone was in use and she'd accidentally left her pager on the break room table, which Warrick was hanging on to.
"You're aware of the connection of Warrick and Catherine's case to Walter Gordon, right?"
Grissom nodded. "Warrick just filled me in. But if I remember correctly, you were not assigned to that case. You were assigned to work with me -- on the case which you just interrupted me from actually conducting an interview. So, the reason why you aren't focusing your attention on our case had better be good, Greg," Grissom's voice was stern and the look in his eye normally would've made the young CSI shrink. But not this time.
"I don't exactly know what it means, but they found a bit of blood that was at the bottom of Sylvia's purse."
Grissom nodded his head. "And?"
"Well, it's an odd place for blood, but then again, the entire case is odd. I don't know about the rest of you, but I haven't even heard of a case where a person is run down with their own car."
"Get to the point, man," Warrick said, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.
"The point," he said, opening the file that he had clutched firmly in his hands, "is this." He withdrew a piece of paper and placed it on the table, which Grissom quickly picked up and scanned the printer read off . . .
"Are you sure?" Grissom asked, peering over the rims of his glasses at Greg.
He nodded. "They ran it twice before they called me. I had them run it a third time. I still didn't believe it, so I ran it myself for a fourth time. It's real."
"What's going on?" Catherine asked, snatching the paper out of Gil's hands. She scanned the contents herself, then gasped and handed over the print off to Warrick.
"The blood is Nick's?" he questioned, looking up at Greg. "How the hell is that even possible? Has it been determined how long the blood has been there?"
Greg looked at all three faces. "I looked into that myself. I'm fairly certain that it recently happened."
All four looked at each other, not knowing what to believe, or where to begin . . .
TBC . . . .
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
oooh I hope the lead leads to somehing. Fast.
MegBreanne
Police Officer
Chapter 17:
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Catherine drummed her fingers idly on the table in the break room, trying to concentrate on anything -- but she couldn't. The time was slowly ticking by, and the ticking sounds of the clock were slowly driving her crazy. "Would you just take the damn battery out of that thing already?"
Grissom looked up at Catherine's unamused and obviously tired eyes. Though he didn't appreciate her tone, he knew that she wasn't upset with him. Just the situation they were in. He set the clock down on the table and removed the batteries, now stopping the one thing that was keeping him from semi-jumping out of his own skin.
"What is taking so long?" Greg asked, his voice almost taking on a whining quality.
Warrick clenched his teeth, wanting to deck Greg for asking the same question for the fiftieth time. He crushed the paper cup in his hand, then tossed it towards the garbage can.
After getting the test results on the blood stain from the purse back, Grissom had immediately called a Judge, needing an court order granting them access to Sylvia Mullins home. It was the first logical step in figuring out how Nick's blood may have ended up on the silk material. But he'd hit a stone wall. The regular Judge was out of town due to a family emergency, and the temporary Judge and Grissom went WAY back . . . and that, in this case, was a bad thing. He'd handed out a guilty verdict, convinced that the man was guilty. Despite local officials and law enforcement stating their opinions to the contrary, the Judge could not be swayed -- until Grissom's bug evidence made it impossible for the Judge to ignore. So, now, because of the Judge's dislike for Grissom, they'd been backburnered until the Judge could sift through all the material that sat on his desk . . .
Brass strolled through the door, a smirk on his face and file in his hand. "Atwater ripped that Judge Mason a new one." The file was released from his hand, falling to the table with a thud. "I think we shall be attending an impromptu gathering at Sylvia Mullins home."
Catherine jumped up and hugged Jim tightly.
Greg laughed. "A gathering, huh? I prefer the term shin-dig. Think the hostess would mind if we drop by without a side dish?"
"Lets roll," Warrick stood up, and lead the pack out of the break room.
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Nick paced back and forth in the cage, continually glancing at the door, willing it to open.
"Where are you?" he muttered. Sylvia should've been back last night. She always spoke with him in the mornings before work, and in the evenings after . . . it just wasn't like her to not come down and check on him. He knew that her guilt was eating away at her -- and for that, he was happy. Perhaps she would relent and let him go . . .
But now -- he was not only concerned, but lonely too. Sylvia had been his only source of companionship and even though he couldn't stand that, he craved it. Even though she kept him in the situation he was in, he needed the human contact. He always had needed that . . .
"Did you find the blood?" he wondered out loud, concerned that if she had, she was just going to let him suffer alone for a while until she could calm down. No doubt, if she'd found it, she'd be pissed at him . . .
Sighing, he wandered over to the table in the corner and picked up a bag of chips, munching on them slowly. He only had a small amount of food at his disposal, and with no knowledge of how long it'd be before Sylvia returned, he decided to ration it.
He grabbed one last handful of the chips and wandered over to the bed, flipping on the CD player.
I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
And each road leads you where you want to go,
And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin' till you find the window,
If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile,
But more than anything, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.
I hope you never look back, but ya never forget,
All the ones who love you, in the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
And you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
And you always give more than you take.
But more than anything, yeah, and more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.
This is my wish
I hope you know somebody loves you
May all your dreams stay big
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"Something smells good," Sara sniffed the scent lingering in the kitchen.
"Looks like someone is getting their appetite back," Jillian smiled, placing a warm cookie on a plate for Sara.
It had been a particularly difficult week with morning sickness. It had gone away for a while, then came back with a vengence.
"For now, anyway," Sara smiled, gratefully taking the chocolate chip cookie that Jillian was offering her. She reached over and grabbed a fresh glass out of the drying rack beside the sink and the gallon of milk from the fridge. She poured herself a glass.
Jillian smirked. "I thought you didn't like milk?"
Sara chuckled, and rolled her eyes. "Me too. Truth is, this baby has me craving it tonight."
Jillian nodded. "I know all about that. There were things that I would've get within ten feet of before I was pregnant. Then once we were expecting, I couldn't get enough of those things . . . "
"Did you keep eating that stuff after you'd had the baby?"
"Sometimes," she shrugged. "It all depends, I suppose. Why?"
"Both Nick and I hate peanut butter. Yet this baby seems to love it," she answered, grabbing the jar of chunky from the cupboard. She pulled out a table spoon from the drawer before unscrewing the lid, and dipping the spoon in for a heaping helping of the creamy stuff. Slowly, she nibbled at the oily concoction. "Normally," she said, swallowing the thick substance, "I'd say that this, what I'm doing, is disgusting. But right now, I'm in heaven."
Jillian laughed heartily. She scooped some more cookie dough onto a baking sheet. "So, you all ready for tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Sara smiled slightly. "All the kids seem excited about it."
Jillian smiled, nodding her head. "It's a Stokes family tradition. We all love it." The entire family got together for a barbeque and games, just for a day of family fun. And in the evenings, they set off an unimaginable display of fireworks. Sort of a mid summer family tradition.
Jillian looked down at the hard boiled eggs that were cooling in a bowl of ice water. "Nicky loved it, too. She glanced over at the potato salad mixture that was just waiting for the finishing touch -- the hard boiled eggs. "And he loved the potato salad."
Both women could feel the tears welling up in their eyes and reached out for the others hand to draw strength from. "We're gonna get through this," Sara nodded her head at Jillian, though she was still trying to make herself believe that.
"Having you here tomorrow is going to make all the difference for the family," Jillian said. "It won't be the same, but this will be the first year that Nick isn't here for this. You and the baby have been a blessing to us, you know."
"I feel the same," Sara smiled through watery eyes. "I mean, about the baby and your family." She touched her stomach. "I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have this little one, or you all in my life."
Jillian released Sara's hand from her own and walked around the kitchen counter to envelope her in a hug. When they pulled away from one another, Jillian noticed the look on Sara's face. "What're you thinking?"
"Nothing," she shook her head. But when she looked into Jillian's eyes, she knew that Nick's mom didn't believe her. Sighing, she tried to form her words carefully. "Have you ever had that feeling that something is going on, but you don't know what?"
Jillian shook her head, laughing slightly. "Honey, you don't raise seven kids and not feel a little out of the loop at times . . . "
Sara chuckled at Jillian's answer, but couldn't shake the feeling that something big was happening . . . .
CSICSICSICSICSI
The sun was just sinking down below the Nevada mountains as the CSIs came to a hault infront of Sylvia's home, a couple of black and whites stopped behind their Denali's.
"Well, we've got the court order, so now, it'd just be nice to have a key," Grissom mused.
"This," Warrick clutched the court order, "gives us authority to get in by any means necessary."
"No need to go charging down the doors, gentlemen," Catherine smiled, her mood now in decidedly high spirits. She looked at Warrick, smirking a little, "wouldn't want you to hurt that fine body of yours."
Warrick paid no attention to Catherine. Normally, a comment like that would've recieved a flirty little comeback of his own, but he just had a feeling that something big was waiting on the other side . . . . "What'd you find?"
"What better place for a hid-a-key than under the welcome mat?" she smirked.
Warrick rolled his eyes. Sometimes he couldn't believe how trusting and obvious people were. In this case, he couldn't help but be annoyed, yet relieved that getting in would be so easy . . .
"Disconnected the alarm system," Greg announced, walking up to them with a wire in his hand.
"Time to find out what lies behind the door," Brass announced as he and a couple of officers drew their guns. "Do not come in until we say it's clear, understood?"
The four CSIs nodded their heads in affirmation.
Brass looked at them skeptically for a minute, assessing whether or not they were being truthful. Sara had agreed to the same order not long after the lab had exploded, but then decided to follow them inside, her own gun drawn. Yes, she'd ended up being the one to catch the guy, and she hadn't been harmed -- but her head wasn't in the right place. And he knew that the four CSIs he was looking at weren't exactly in the right frame of mind either . . . it wasn't the same situation, but technically, they should've been hands off considering the case had a connection to Nick . . . but telling them that would have been futile and a waste of time.
Brass nodded his head slightly, an indication that he would trust his friends and co-workers to stay safe, and out of the way . . .
"On my count," he said to the officers as he positioned himself at the front door. He put the key in the lock and turned the knob, cracking the door open just slightly. He nodded his head at the officers, preparing for the count. He indicated one, two and three with his fingers, before nodding his head vigorously at one officer, who then charged at the door, knocking it into the room and nearly off it's hindges with the force.
"Clear!" the four CSIs could hear being shouted from room to room. Slowly, the word became quieter, an indication that the team was making their way to the back and upstairs room . . .
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Nick was startled as he heard a loud bang upstairs. "What the hell was that?" he wondered, standing up and looking towards the ceiling as if somehow, he'd be able to see through it and find out what was going on.
The heavy footsteps became louder, then softer. "What's going on up there?" Nick yelled out, thinking Sylvia was home and had company. Perhaps even unwanted company. The footsteps were too loud to be hers, and there were more people than he could count. And he didn't take her for the partying kind . . .
"CLEAR!"
Nick's brow furrowed together. That was crystal clear . . . a strange, masculine voice had yelled out . . .
"Clear? What's clear?" He took a second to think, then it hit him . . . "HEY!" He yelled, running towards his bed, intent on finding a way to get someones intention. "HEY!! HELP! I'M DOWN HERE!! HEY!!!!!!!!!!"
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"All clear," Brass informed the CSIs, appearing in the frame of the front door.
All four stepped inside, taking in their surroundings. Not an opulent or extravagent home, but definitely not ghetto either.
"So," Brass started, rocking back on his heels slightly, "what exactly are you looking for?"
"Don't know," Warrick shrugged, pulling out his ALS from the vest pocket. "Anything that links Sylvia to Nick's case, I guess."
"Do you hear that?" Grissom questioned, standing up straight, a confused look crossing his features.
"Hear what?" Catherine asked, straining her ears to discover what Gil was hearing. "I don't hear anything." She eyed him cautiously. She was still the only one to know about the surgery he'd had on his ear to restore the hearing loss -- in fact, even though the team knew something had been different about him during the time when his hearing was coming and going, she was pretty sure they'd never quite connected the dots. "You OK, Gil?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess I'm just hearing things."
"Guys?" Greg asked from the door way of the living room.
"Yeah?" Brass questioned, glancing at the youngest, and greenest CSI on the team.
"Do you hear that?" he questioned, unaware of the conversation that had just transpired moments before.
"Not you too," Catherine rolled her eyes.
Warrick eyed both Greg and Grissom curiously before stepping towards the living room. His brows furrowed together as he strained to hear - anything, really. "I hear it too."
Catherine's face dropped in wonderment. "Am I going deaf?" she questioned, not thinking about it. A quick glance at Gil to apologize for her blunder and she realized that she didn't need to be sorry. A small smirk played on his lips.
She, Grissom and Brass stepped into the living room and they all stood quietly, trying not to breathe too hard for fear that whatever the noise was wouldn't be heard again . . . .
*bang* *muffled*
"Wha-?" Warrick strained to hear . . . .
*bang* *muffled*
"What ever it is, it's coming from the basement," Grissom announced.
"There isn't a basement," Brass pointed out. "The only other area of the house is upstairs. There are no stairs that lead to a basement. And there is no cellar entry on the outside of the house either."
"Well, there is something down there," Catherine agreed. "And however it got there, someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure it stayed hidden."
"So, how do we get to it?" Brass sighed, scratching the back of his head. "And where do we start?"
"This is a little crazy, and far fetched, but . . ."
"Nothing about this case is conventional, Greg," Warrick pointed out. "You got an idea?"
He looked at Warrick, then to his boss, mentor and friend. "Secret door?" he suggested, almost waiting for someone to tell him he watched too many movies.
"Sounds like a bad soap opera," Catherine shuddered.
"They aren't all bad," Grissom said non-chalantly, then realized everyone was staring at him. "My mom used to watch them, with closed captioning. I'd come home from school and watch her stories with her."
Greg chuckled. "Only my granny calls them stories."
Grissom looked irritated. "My mother is old enough to be your Granny, Greg. Perhaps even your Great Granny."
The smirk disappeared off his face.
"Lets start looking for something that might trigger some sort of movement," Catherine suggested, becoming impatient.
Moving around the near by rooms, each CSI and Brass looked for anything . . . .
The banging noises had only gotten more frequent and louder, but the other noise had subsided . . .
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Nick's hands were bloodied and slight torn apart. He'd once against ripped the mattress and box spring off the frame, then proceeded to take apart the frame with his bare hands -- which is no easy task. Though his finger tips were numb, he pressed on.
Pounding the metal frame against the iron bars of his cage time after time was making his head hurt. The loud banging noise reverberated within the rather small area. He found himself tiring quickly, realizing that the lack of exercise had done a number on him in the last few months. The sudden burst of activity was throwing his body for a loop, but he didn't care.
He hadn't stopped yelling because he didn't want to anymore. He stopped yelling because his voice was now raw.
Only adreneline kept him going . . . .
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Warrick glanced at the wall the tenth time. He didn't know what exactly was drawing his attention there, but he couldn't shake it . . .
"What's that?" Catherine asked as she followed his line of vision from where she stood in the laundry room.
"What's what?" he asked quickly, turning to look at her.
"That," she pointed to the floor, near the base of the large vase the held the potted plant. "It looks like a crack."
Warrick stood back and looked at the wall. "Hey guys?!" his voice sounded almost panicked, but he was excited. "I think we found it!"
"What? Where?" Greg asked quickly.
"There is a crack in the wall here. Looks a little too perfect. And it's hidden by this fugly thing," he moved the vase over to the side, revealing a straight line that went up to the top of the picture.
"If it's a secret door," Grissom pointed out, "there would have to be two," his gloved hand ran over to the smooth crack.
"Could be hidden in the closet frame," Catherine shrugged. The door was over sized, as was the moulding that surrounded the door.
Greg touched the frame, pulling on it a little and it popped out of place, slightly shocking him. When he regainted his composure, he smiled. "Well, well, looky here," his own gloved finger touched the newly exposed crack.
"So, we've found the door. How do we open it?" Brass asked.
Greg started pulling at books in the nearby book case, and then tried to turn the light fixtures that were hanging on the wall.
Warrick reached out, touching the frame of the painting gingerly. "Don't suppose it could be this easy, do you?" he looked at Catherine.
She shrugged her shoulders, knowing what he was thinking. "I guess we're about to find out."
"Yeah," Warrick breathed as he moved the frame of the painting and the wall gave way. The quiet banging noise became loud and obvious.
"Jack pot," Brass said under his breath. He drew his gun and motioned for the CSIs to be quiet and stay put while he went downstairs and cleared the scene.
"Yeah right," Warrick's eyes were wide. He drew his own gun, telling Brass that he was going too.
Catherine, then Grissom and finally Greg, all pulled out their weapons as well, intent on all going down at once.
Quietly, they crept down the stairs slowly.
Brass held his gun firmly infront of him as he approached the landing of the stairs. When he surveyed his surroundings, his eyes fell on the one person he never thought he'd see.
"Holy shit," he whispered in awe, his gun dropping to his sides.
Nick dropped the piece of bed frame, his tired body thankful for a rest. He collapsed against the iron bars, desperately trying to hold himself up, his exhaustion and emotions running at an all time high.
"What?" Warrick questioned as he made the way into room and his own eyes fell upon Nick. "Oh my God."
Catherine was behind him and gasped, tears immediately springing to her eyes as one hand flew to her mouth.
When Grissom saw him, he stood there silently, not believing it to be true. Greg was in a state of utter shock and disbelief.
Tears were now ready to spill from his orbs and his throat constricted. His vision was blurry. He almost didn't trust that the team was standing in front of him. "Hey guys," he managed to croak out the greeting.
Though they weren't the most profound words ever spoken, they were like music to everyones ears.
Catherine was the first to rush forward and grab a hold of Nick's hands, making sure that he was really standing infront of her. And he was.
"It's you? It's really you?" her tears spilled from her eyes.
Nick nodded his head, unable to find his voice.
"Oh thank God," she said doing her best to wrap her arms around Nick, though the bars between them were a big hindrance.
"Think you can get me outta here?" he questioned, his eyes dancing with happiness.
Greg nodded his head vigorously as he radioed upstairs for a uniform to bring them a set of tools to cut the lock off the door.
Nick looked around and his happiness faultered as his vision somewhat cleared. "Where's Sara?"
TBC . . . .
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Catherine drummed her fingers idly on the table in the break room, trying to concentrate on anything -- but she couldn't. The time was slowly ticking by, and the ticking sounds of the clock were slowly driving her crazy. "Would you just take the damn battery out of that thing already?"
Grissom looked up at Catherine's unamused and obviously tired eyes. Though he didn't appreciate her tone, he knew that she wasn't upset with him. Just the situation they were in. He set the clock down on the table and removed the batteries, now stopping the one thing that was keeping him from semi-jumping out of his own skin.
"What is taking so long?" Greg asked, his voice almost taking on a whining quality.
Warrick clenched his teeth, wanting to deck Greg for asking the same question for the fiftieth time. He crushed the paper cup in his hand, then tossed it towards the garbage can.
After getting the test results on the blood stain from the purse back, Grissom had immediately called a Judge, needing an court order granting them access to Sylvia Mullins home. It was the first logical step in figuring out how Nick's blood may have ended up on the silk material. But he'd hit a stone wall. The regular Judge was out of town due to a family emergency, and the temporary Judge and Grissom went WAY back . . . and that, in this case, was a bad thing. He'd handed out a guilty verdict, convinced that the man was guilty. Despite local officials and law enforcement stating their opinions to the contrary, the Judge could not be swayed -- until Grissom's bug evidence made it impossible for the Judge to ignore. So, now, because of the Judge's dislike for Grissom, they'd been backburnered until the Judge could sift through all the material that sat on his desk . . .
Brass strolled through the door, a smirk on his face and file in his hand. "Atwater ripped that Judge Mason a new one." The file was released from his hand, falling to the table with a thud. "I think we shall be attending an impromptu gathering at Sylvia Mullins home."
Catherine jumped up and hugged Jim tightly.
Greg laughed. "A gathering, huh? I prefer the term shin-dig. Think the hostess would mind if we drop by without a side dish?"
"Lets roll," Warrick stood up, and lead the pack out of the break room.
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Nick paced back and forth in the cage, continually glancing at the door, willing it to open.
"Where are you?" he muttered. Sylvia should've been back last night. She always spoke with him in the mornings before work, and in the evenings after . . . it just wasn't like her to not come down and check on him. He knew that her guilt was eating away at her -- and for that, he was happy. Perhaps she would relent and let him go . . .
But now -- he was not only concerned, but lonely too. Sylvia had been his only source of companionship and even though he couldn't stand that, he craved it. Even though she kept him in the situation he was in, he needed the human contact. He always had needed that . . .
"Did you find the blood?" he wondered out loud, concerned that if she had, she was just going to let him suffer alone for a while until she could calm down. No doubt, if she'd found it, she'd be pissed at him . . .
Sighing, he wandered over to the table in the corner and picked up a bag of chips, munching on them slowly. He only had a small amount of food at his disposal, and with no knowledge of how long it'd be before Sylvia returned, he decided to ration it.
He grabbed one last handful of the chips and wandered over to the bed, flipping on the CD player.
I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
And each road leads you where you want to go,
And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin' till you find the window,
If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile,
But more than anything, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.
I hope you never look back, but ya never forget,
All the ones who love you, in the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
And you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
And you always give more than you take.
But more than anything, yeah, and more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.
This is my wish
I hope you know somebody loves you
May all your dreams stay big
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"Something smells good," Sara sniffed the scent lingering in the kitchen.
"Looks like someone is getting their appetite back," Jillian smiled, placing a warm cookie on a plate for Sara.
It had been a particularly difficult week with morning sickness. It had gone away for a while, then came back with a vengence.
"For now, anyway," Sara smiled, gratefully taking the chocolate chip cookie that Jillian was offering her. She reached over and grabbed a fresh glass out of the drying rack beside the sink and the gallon of milk from the fridge. She poured herself a glass.
Jillian smirked. "I thought you didn't like milk?"
Sara chuckled, and rolled her eyes. "Me too. Truth is, this baby has me craving it tonight."
Jillian nodded. "I know all about that. There were things that I would've get within ten feet of before I was pregnant. Then once we were expecting, I couldn't get enough of those things . . . "
"Did you keep eating that stuff after you'd had the baby?"
"Sometimes," she shrugged. "It all depends, I suppose. Why?"
"Both Nick and I hate peanut butter. Yet this baby seems to love it," she answered, grabbing the jar of chunky from the cupboard. She pulled out a table spoon from the drawer before unscrewing the lid, and dipping the spoon in for a heaping helping of the creamy stuff. Slowly, she nibbled at the oily concoction. "Normally," she said, swallowing the thick substance, "I'd say that this, what I'm doing, is disgusting. But right now, I'm in heaven."
Jillian laughed heartily. She scooped some more cookie dough onto a baking sheet. "So, you all ready for tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Sara smiled slightly. "All the kids seem excited about it."
Jillian smiled, nodding her head. "It's a Stokes family tradition. We all love it." The entire family got together for a barbeque and games, just for a day of family fun. And in the evenings, they set off an unimaginable display of fireworks. Sort of a mid summer family tradition.
Jillian looked down at the hard boiled eggs that were cooling in a bowl of ice water. "Nicky loved it, too. She glanced over at the potato salad mixture that was just waiting for the finishing touch -- the hard boiled eggs. "And he loved the potato salad."
Both women could feel the tears welling up in their eyes and reached out for the others hand to draw strength from. "We're gonna get through this," Sara nodded her head at Jillian, though she was still trying to make herself believe that.
"Having you here tomorrow is going to make all the difference for the family," Jillian said. "It won't be the same, but this will be the first year that Nick isn't here for this. You and the baby have been a blessing to us, you know."
"I feel the same," Sara smiled through watery eyes. "I mean, about the baby and your family." She touched her stomach. "I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have this little one, or you all in my life."
Jillian released Sara's hand from her own and walked around the kitchen counter to envelope her in a hug. When they pulled away from one another, Jillian noticed the look on Sara's face. "What're you thinking?"
"Nothing," she shook her head. But when she looked into Jillian's eyes, she knew that Nick's mom didn't believe her. Sighing, she tried to form her words carefully. "Have you ever had that feeling that something is going on, but you don't know what?"
Jillian shook her head, laughing slightly. "Honey, you don't raise seven kids and not feel a little out of the loop at times . . . "
Sara chuckled at Jillian's answer, but couldn't shake the feeling that something big was happening . . . .
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The sun was just sinking down below the Nevada mountains as the CSIs came to a hault infront of Sylvia's home, a couple of black and whites stopped behind their Denali's.
"Well, we've got the court order, so now, it'd just be nice to have a key," Grissom mused.
"This," Warrick clutched the court order, "gives us authority to get in by any means necessary."
"No need to go charging down the doors, gentlemen," Catherine smiled, her mood now in decidedly high spirits. She looked at Warrick, smirking a little, "wouldn't want you to hurt that fine body of yours."
Warrick paid no attention to Catherine. Normally, a comment like that would've recieved a flirty little comeback of his own, but he just had a feeling that something big was waiting on the other side . . . . "What'd you find?"
"What better place for a hid-a-key than under the welcome mat?" she smirked.
Warrick rolled his eyes. Sometimes he couldn't believe how trusting and obvious people were. In this case, he couldn't help but be annoyed, yet relieved that getting in would be so easy . . .
"Disconnected the alarm system," Greg announced, walking up to them with a wire in his hand.
"Time to find out what lies behind the door," Brass announced as he and a couple of officers drew their guns. "Do not come in until we say it's clear, understood?"
The four CSIs nodded their heads in affirmation.
Brass looked at them skeptically for a minute, assessing whether or not they were being truthful. Sara had agreed to the same order not long after the lab had exploded, but then decided to follow them inside, her own gun drawn. Yes, she'd ended up being the one to catch the guy, and she hadn't been harmed -- but her head wasn't in the right place. And he knew that the four CSIs he was looking at weren't exactly in the right frame of mind either . . . it wasn't the same situation, but technically, they should've been hands off considering the case had a connection to Nick . . . but telling them that would have been futile and a waste of time.
Brass nodded his head slightly, an indication that he would trust his friends and co-workers to stay safe, and out of the way . . .
"On my count," he said to the officers as he positioned himself at the front door. He put the key in the lock and turned the knob, cracking the door open just slightly. He nodded his head at the officers, preparing for the count. He indicated one, two and three with his fingers, before nodding his head vigorously at one officer, who then charged at the door, knocking it into the room and nearly off it's hindges with the force.
"Clear!" the four CSIs could hear being shouted from room to room. Slowly, the word became quieter, an indication that the team was making their way to the back and upstairs room . . .
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Nick was startled as he heard a loud bang upstairs. "What the hell was that?" he wondered, standing up and looking towards the ceiling as if somehow, he'd be able to see through it and find out what was going on.
The heavy footsteps became louder, then softer. "What's going on up there?" Nick yelled out, thinking Sylvia was home and had company. Perhaps even unwanted company. The footsteps were too loud to be hers, and there were more people than he could count. And he didn't take her for the partying kind . . .
"CLEAR!"
Nick's brow furrowed together. That was crystal clear . . . a strange, masculine voice had yelled out . . .
"Clear? What's clear?" He took a second to think, then it hit him . . . "HEY!" He yelled, running towards his bed, intent on finding a way to get someones intention. "HEY!! HELP! I'M DOWN HERE!! HEY!!!!!!!!!!"
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"All clear," Brass informed the CSIs, appearing in the frame of the front door.
All four stepped inside, taking in their surroundings. Not an opulent or extravagent home, but definitely not ghetto either.
"So," Brass started, rocking back on his heels slightly, "what exactly are you looking for?"
"Don't know," Warrick shrugged, pulling out his ALS from the vest pocket. "Anything that links Sylvia to Nick's case, I guess."
"Do you hear that?" Grissom questioned, standing up straight, a confused look crossing his features.
"Hear what?" Catherine asked, straining her ears to discover what Gil was hearing. "I don't hear anything." She eyed him cautiously. She was still the only one to know about the surgery he'd had on his ear to restore the hearing loss -- in fact, even though the team knew something had been different about him during the time when his hearing was coming and going, she was pretty sure they'd never quite connected the dots. "You OK, Gil?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess I'm just hearing things."
"Guys?" Greg asked from the door way of the living room.
"Yeah?" Brass questioned, glancing at the youngest, and greenest CSI on the team.
"Do you hear that?" he questioned, unaware of the conversation that had just transpired moments before.
"Not you too," Catherine rolled her eyes.
Warrick eyed both Greg and Grissom curiously before stepping towards the living room. His brows furrowed together as he strained to hear - anything, really. "I hear it too."
Catherine's face dropped in wonderment. "Am I going deaf?" she questioned, not thinking about it. A quick glance at Gil to apologize for her blunder and she realized that she didn't need to be sorry. A small smirk played on his lips.
She, Grissom and Brass stepped into the living room and they all stood quietly, trying not to breathe too hard for fear that whatever the noise was wouldn't be heard again . . . .
*bang* *muffled*
"Wha-?" Warrick strained to hear . . . .
*bang* *muffled*
"What ever it is, it's coming from the basement," Grissom announced.
"There isn't a basement," Brass pointed out. "The only other area of the house is upstairs. There are no stairs that lead to a basement. And there is no cellar entry on the outside of the house either."
"Well, there is something down there," Catherine agreed. "And however it got there, someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure it stayed hidden."
"So, how do we get to it?" Brass sighed, scratching the back of his head. "And where do we start?"
"This is a little crazy, and far fetched, but . . ."
"Nothing about this case is conventional, Greg," Warrick pointed out. "You got an idea?"
He looked at Warrick, then to his boss, mentor and friend. "Secret door?" he suggested, almost waiting for someone to tell him he watched too many movies.
"Sounds like a bad soap opera," Catherine shuddered.
"They aren't all bad," Grissom said non-chalantly, then realized everyone was staring at him. "My mom used to watch them, with closed captioning. I'd come home from school and watch her stories with her."
Greg chuckled. "Only my granny calls them stories."
Grissom looked irritated. "My mother is old enough to be your Granny, Greg. Perhaps even your Great Granny."
The smirk disappeared off his face.
"Lets start looking for something that might trigger some sort of movement," Catherine suggested, becoming impatient.
Moving around the near by rooms, each CSI and Brass looked for anything . . . .
The banging noises had only gotten more frequent and louder, but the other noise had subsided . . .
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Nick's hands were bloodied and slight torn apart. He'd once against ripped the mattress and box spring off the frame, then proceeded to take apart the frame with his bare hands -- which is no easy task. Though his finger tips were numb, he pressed on.
Pounding the metal frame against the iron bars of his cage time after time was making his head hurt. The loud banging noise reverberated within the rather small area. He found himself tiring quickly, realizing that the lack of exercise had done a number on him in the last few months. The sudden burst of activity was throwing his body for a loop, but he didn't care.
He hadn't stopped yelling because he didn't want to anymore. He stopped yelling because his voice was now raw.
Only adreneline kept him going . . . .
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Warrick glanced at the wall the tenth time. He didn't know what exactly was drawing his attention there, but he couldn't shake it . . .
"What's that?" Catherine asked as she followed his line of vision from where she stood in the laundry room.
"What's what?" he asked quickly, turning to look at her.
"That," she pointed to the floor, near the base of the large vase the held the potted plant. "It looks like a crack."
Warrick stood back and looked at the wall. "Hey guys?!" his voice sounded almost panicked, but he was excited. "I think we found it!"
"What? Where?" Greg asked quickly.
"There is a crack in the wall here. Looks a little too perfect. And it's hidden by this fugly thing," he moved the vase over to the side, revealing a straight line that went up to the top of the picture.
"If it's a secret door," Grissom pointed out, "there would have to be two," his gloved hand ran over to the smooth crack.
"Could be hidden in the closet frame," Catherine shrugged. The door was over sized, as was the moulding that surrounded the door.
Greg touched the frame, pulling on it a little and it popped out of place, slightly shocking him. When he regainted his composure, he smiled. "Well, well, looky here," his own gloved finger touched the newly exposed crack.
"So, we've found the door. How do we open it?" Brass asked.
Greg started pulling at books in the nearby book case, and then tried to turn the light fixtures that were hanging on the wall.
Warrick reached out, touching the frame of the painting gingerly. "Don't suppose it could be this easy, do you?" he looked at Catherine.
She shrugged her shoulders, knowing what he was thinking. "I guess we're about to find out."
"Yeah," Warrick breathed as he moved the frame of the painting and the wall gave way. The quiet banging noise became loud and obvious.
"Jack pot," Brass said under his breath. He drew his gun and motioned for the CSIs to be quiet and stay put while he went downstairs and cleared the scene.
"Yeah right," Warrick's eyes were wide. He drew his own gun, telling Brass that he was going too.
Catherine, then Grissom and finally Greg, all pulled out their weapons as well, intent on all going down at once.
Quietly, they crept down the stairs slowly.
Brass held his gun firmly infront of him as he approached the landing of the stairs. When he surveyed his surroundings, his eyes fell on the one person he never thought he'd see.
"Holy shit," he whispered in awe, his gun dropping to his sides.
Nick dropped the piece of bed frame, his tired body thankful for a rest. He collapsed against the iron bars, desperately trying to hold himself up, his exhaustion and emotions running at an all time high.
"What?" Warrick questioned as he made the way into room and his own eyes fell upon Nick. "Oh my God."
Catherine was behind him and gasped, tears immediately springing to her eyes as one hand flew to her mouth.
When Grissom saw him, he stood there silently, not believing it to be true. Greg was in a state of utter shock and disbelief.
Tears were now ready to spill from his orbs and his throat constricted. His vision was blurry. He almost didn't trust that the team was standing in front of him. "Hey guys," he managed to croak out the greeting.
Though they weren't the most profound words ever spoken, they were like music to everyones ears.
Catherine was the first to rush forward and grab a hold of Nick's hands, making sure that he was really standing infront of her. And he was.
"It's you? It's really you?" her tears spilled from her eyes.
Nick nodded his head, unable to find his voice.
"Oh thank God," she said doing her best to wrap her arms around Nick, though the bars between them were a big hindrance.
"Think you can get me outta here?" he questioned, his eyes dancing with happiness.
Greg nodded his head vigorously as he radioed upstairs for a uniform to bring them a set of tools to cut the lock off the door.
Nick looked around and his happiness faultered as his vision somewhat cleared. "Where's Sara?"
TBC . . . .