Don't Shoot Me; I'm Only the Piano Player (Warrick/Sara)

Wohoooooooooooooooooooooooooo, our Raven is back!!!!!!! :D One thing girl: You are not supposed to go on vacation again, hear me?

Well, good chapter - but you still hurt Sara and I´m not gonna forgive you for that so - do what my lovely Nighty said: Go make her happy again! :eek:

Tini
 
Maybe I'll take another spur-of-the-moment vacation, Tini!! :lol: Who knows :p

And there's probably going to be another sad chapter, guys... ;) But it'll get happier. I already have my idea for the ending written down.
 
Wait, do I know about this so-called ending? I know I know certain other endings, but did you tell me about this one? I'm thinking probably, but I'm drawing a blank! Mwahaha. *writes down note to remind myself to ask you about it*
 
New chapter, guys! Sorry again about the wait, I despise writer's block :eek: This new chapter partly was an idea from Zan1781 (and you know the ending, Janet ;)) so I dedicate this chapter to her, whether she likes it or not :p

I’m cold, why can’t I get warm? Sara thought to herself. She had spent the entire night trying to get warm unsuccessfully. Finally she had just given up- it was too frustrating and she had too much anger and disgust at the moment to do much about it. Her hand sprung to her shoulders and she began rubbing feebly at her arms to try and warm herself up.

“How about this,” Warrick whispered. And before she could do or say anything to stop him or tell him otherwise Warrick had wrapped his arms tightly around her body, drawing her to him until their bodies were touching each other. Sara slumped further into his arms, her muscles slowly relaxing into his warmth. Resting his head just above hers, Warrick slowly pried her hands away from her arms until they were resting in her lap. Her entire body felt cold…

“Warrick,” Sara finally whispered.

“What is it, Sara?” Warrick whispered back. Finally, she had spoken.

“…I want to take a bath,” Sara whispered. Longest, most painful grueling shower, here she came.

Warrick immediately froze. He wasn’t even thinking about it before, but that was because he was in human mode, not CSI mode. He didn’t want to admit it… not even to himself, and especially not to Sara, but a crime had still been committed tonight… and the evidence was on Sara. He loved Sara and he didn’t want to have to cause her even more heartache, but he was not willing to let the bastard responsible for it in the first place go off scot-free.

“You can’t, Sara,” Warrick quietly told her, “At least not yet… there’s still… evidence,” he whispered, not even wanting to say the word. “We need to have someone process you…”

The truth was that Sara knew, she was just hoping Warrick had forgotten. But of course he wouldn’t, and she knew that too, she really, really did… she just didn’t want to admit it to herself. She knew she was going to have to be processed just like all the other rape victims if she wanted Trey to get what he deserved, but she didn’t want to.

Do you think she wanted to? Sara bitterly thought to herself. Of course she didn’t, but you still did it. It was your job. So why can’t you let someone else do theirs?

She was shaking again, and Warrick noticed that. “Shh… shh, Sara, it’s okay,” Warrick whispered, just holding her even tighter in hopes of making her body stop. “It’s okay…” but it’s not.

“I don’t want to, Warrick,” Sara finally told him, her voice breaking under the pressure of all the emotions she was holding in. Finally she just let it out and started to sob again, moving into Warrick’s lap.

Warrick just nodded slowly, gently rubbing her back with his hand. He hated to see her cry… but he knew right now it was probably the best thing for her. She needed to cope. “Sara, listen to me, okay?” he quietly asked her. “I know you don’t want to… but you can do this. I know you can… you’re a strong person.”

“No I’m not,” Sara sobbed, “I’m not, Warrick! Look at me, I can’t stop crying and she’s in a coma!”

“Who, Sara?” Warrick asked, still rubbing her back, feeling her tense muscles underneath his fingertips.

“Pam!” Sara squeaked, “Pamela Adler!”

Warrick’s eyes widened as he realized who she was talking about. He had heard about that case… and it sounded like a bad one. He just hadn’t realized Sara had been assigned to it. He and Catherine had had a deadline to meet until the DA was at their door so he had been so preoccupied with his own case… he had failed to realize that Sara was suffering. “Sara, that wasn’t your fault,” Warrick told her.

“Warrick, the kid’s getting out in 48 months and it’s all my fault,” Sara whispered, her breaths coming out short and quick against his chest. “If only I—“

“Shh,” Warrick whispered again, lifting her up into his arms, “Just take a deep breath… it wasn’t your fault, Sara…”

“But Warrick, she’s—“

“Shh,” Warrick whispered again, resting his head against hers, “its okay… shh, it’s all going to be okay…”

After a few moments of silence, Sara had managed to find her breath again. Resting her head against his chest, she had calmed down considerably, he himself calming enough. “That kid… Warrick, he was a kid but he still killed her…”

“I know, Sara,” Warrick whispered, “But you did all you could…”

“But that wasn’t enough,” Sara persisted, “I know, you know it, and her husband knows it. She’s… she’s in a vegetative state, and I couldn’t put the person who was responsible for it away for the time he deserves to serve. She’s just going to sit there,” Sara whispered, “The husband doesn’t get it, and he won’t pull the plug, he can’t… he doesn’t realize it…” she whispered.

Warrick continued to rub her back, just letting her talk.

“He won’t pull the plug, and the nurses are just going to make her room look pretty and make sure all the dead flowers get thrown out,” Sara continued, “She doesn’t deserve that, Warrick…”

“But neither do you,” Warrick spoke up. “She wouldn’t want you to suffer either, Sara… you helped her.”

Sara couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “How did I help her, Warrick? By gathering a sexual assault kit from her body when she couldn’t say yes or no?”

“Yes, Sara,” Warrick told her, “You got the guy. You did. That evidence you collected got the guy,” he whispered, “You did a good job, and you got the guy responsible.”

After a few moments of inwardly arguing with herself about this, Sara finally nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Good,” Warrick whispered. “But Sara, in order to get Trey they’re going to need this evidence, too,” he whispered. He hated to have to tell her she was a piece of evidence, though he wasn’t exactly saying those exact words. He knew she knew what he meant.

“…But Warrick, I really don’t want to,” Sara whispered. “I… I want to get the bastard, I really do…” she told him, looking up at him for a minute. He smiled just a little at that little demonstration of Sara Sidle-attitude coming back into the picture. “…But I don’t want to have to do that…” she whispered. “I’m not a vegetable, and I’m saying no.”

About to give up, a thought struck Warrick. He had the badge. He had the certification. He had the LVPD crime lab sticker in his car window. “…What if I did it, instead?” Warrick asked her.

That made Sara turn her head and look over at him again. Warrick wasn’t a nurse or a doctor looking like mad scientists hovering over their test subjects, he was someone who loved her. And someone she loved.

“Okay,” Sara whispered.

He was caught off-guard just a little by Sara’s will to cooperate but he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. Now came the hard part. “…I’m just going to set you back down on the bed and go get my kit, okay…?” he asked her. Kit… Sara… Sara… kit… He hated the combination of words. This was the part every person working in this line of work dreaded the most, but Warrick had never had to do this before. He couldn’t imagine how Sara and even Catherine were able to handle to do such a thing. The thought of it made his stomach turn.

Especially because this time the victim was Sara.

“Okay,” Sara finally whispered. She could sense this was going to be hard for Warrick… but now at the same time she was working on trying to calm herself down again. But it was just Warrick, so she shouldn’t be nervous or scared, she thought… but she was.

Warrick slowly almost deliberately set Sara down on the bed and got to his feet, heading down the hallway out of the bedroom as if he were heading down the road to death row. He loved Sara and none of this was his fault… but his heart had just been broken and stomped on. Not only did he see the one person he loved most in this world broken and crying tonight, but he was going to have to do… this.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, Warrick walked outside and fumbled with his car keys for a moment, cursing as he tried to force his hands to stop shaking. Finally finding the right key he unlocked the trunk of his car and reached inside, retrieving his crime-scene kit. The cold metal box was grinning at him, like that Stephen King novel.

Slamming the trunk of his car, Warrick walked off, heading back into the apartment. This is the least you can do, you couldn’t protect her. Frustrated almost to tears was an understatement for what Warrick Brown was experiencing emotionally at the moment. But there were so many more emotions than that: anger, hatred, disgust, love, concern, worry, fear. There were too many to list, and it was intimidating. Warrick Brown had never had to deal with so many emotions in his entire life.

Walking back into the bedroom, Warrick looked up to see Sara sitting in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, probably in attempt to keep herself warm. Swallowing hard, Warrick set his kit down at the foot of the bed, moving some books off of a foot stool before pulling it up to the bed and taking a seat. “Are you okay?” Warrick whispered, looking over at her for a moment. She still looked scared… now a little more than ever.

“Uh-huh,” Sara simply nodded like a robot.

“Okay,” Warrick whispered. He wasn’t satisfied with her answer but he wasn’t going to push the issue. Leaning down and clicking the ends of the box, Warrick opened the lid of his kit and took out a pair of gloves and a small cardboard box, setting it aside on the bed. Just as he was getting his first glove on he noticed where Sara’s gaze was directed, and though the cardboard box was bland and plain the big red text on it stated clearly what it was for. “Don’t look at it, okay?” Warrick whispered. “Just lay down…”

Sara reluctantly obeyed, lying down flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t want to watch this.

When both gloves were on his hands, Warrick took a deep breath to compose himself before reaching over and taking the SART kit into his hands, opening it up in order to get the things he needed. He would start with fingernail scrapings, then hair, then trace… and wait to do the hardest part last. He wanted to put that part off as long as possible.

Moving the stool with him, Warrick sat down next to the left side of the bed, bindle and scraper in-hand. Reaching over and gently taking Sara’s hand from her side, he braved a glance at her face, noting that she was staring directly at the ceiling and only the ceiling. He couldn’t blame her.
After getting what he could from under her nails on both hands, Warrick stored that in a safe place. He hated what he had to do but he wasn’t going to lose the evidence now. Grabbing a small plastic comb and a white piece of paper Sara had pointed out to him from off one of her journals, he began to comb out her hair smoothly albeit a few tangles from the events of the night. He thought it to be a tender almost romantic gesture if it weren’t for the crime-scene and SART kits lying feet away from the two.

After doing so and making up excuses to do whatever it was he did next in order to prolong the final task, Warrick frowned a little when he realized he was going to need Sara to change clothes. They could get evidence off the clothes she wore to the club… but she hadn’t taken a bath, so there was possible transfer on the clothes she changed into. “Sara, I’m going to need your clothes,” Warrick quietly told her, “…There could be possible transfer on them…”

Sara nodded stiffly though she wasn’t too keen of the thought of giving her favorite pajamas up for evidence in general. And the reason why definitely didn’t help.

“How about you give me the clothes when you’re done?” Warrick asked her, sitting back down at the end of the bed. He knew she was cold and he didn’t want to make her even colder if it wasn’t necessary. That could wait. “And then I’ll make you a mug of hot chocolate,” he added, “And you can throw marshmallows at me.” He was rewarded with a small smile from Sara lying on the bed and she simply nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good to me, too,” Warrick told her with a smile as he leaned down to get the SART kit. If he could preoccupy her with other things while he was doing this, that might make it easier for her.

Setting the kit back down on the bed, Warrick stood up and slowly moved his hands down to hover above Sara’s legs. “I’m just going to take these off, okay?” he asked her. When she nodded he moved his hands under the waistband, but didn’t take them off just yet. “I like these pajamas, though,” he told her, rubbing the fabric in between his fingertips. “I didn’t know you were an Eeyore kind of woman,” he told her with a small grin, holding the Winnie the Pooh character-plaid pajama pants up for inspection once they were finally off.

Sara couldn’t help it, she laughed. “I’ve had them since college,” she told him.

“Yeah, they sure look like it,” he told her with a smile, poking his index finger through a hole in the side.

“Hey, I told you I preferred pajamas over nightgowns,” Sara said to her defense.

“Obviously not enough to buy some new ones,” Warrick laughed, setting them down in an evidence bag.

“They’re my favorites!” Sara insisted. “What was I to do? And the last time I walked through a clothing store some kid walked up to me and asked me if I was looking for the lingerie department.”

“I wouldn’t have minded seeing that,” Warrick told her with a smile, looking up at her as he reached for the SART kit. Just don’t think about it, Sara, you’re doing well.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have,” Sara told him, her smile slowly fading once she realized what he was going to have to do next.

Re-opening the box, Warrick took out his swabs, debating on whether or not to actually do his job or throw them in the trash and call it quits. But he had to do this for Sara. “Are you ready, Sara?” he whispered.

Sara nodded slowly, feeling around for his hand. He immediately moved it into hers, giving it a squeeze to let her know he was there… she wasn’t in a hospital room alone, he was there with her… she wasn’t going to have to do this alone. Her pain was his pain.

“Hold onto it as tight as you want to,” Warrick whispered to her. “And right now, I just need you to prop your legs up, okay…? Just move them up and bend your knee…” This was embarrassing her, and he knew it. Warrick didn’t think Sara should be embarrassed around him, but… he could sense that she was. It was awkward and uncomfortable, even if it was Warrick.

After Sara had done what Warrick asked, and her grip on his hand tightened considerably, Warrick sat back down at the end of the bed, getting the swab ready…

“Warrick,” Sara quickly said.

Warrick immediately stilled his hand from motion. “What is it, Sara…?” he asked her.

Sara blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes as she bit the inside of her bottom lip, willing herself to not start crying. “Be… gentle, okay…?” she whispered.

“Always, Sara,” Warrick told her, rubbing her hand with his thumb. And then as an afterthought, he removed his glove on that hand and moved it back into hers. “Always,” he whispered. “…Are you ready?” he then asked. Sara simply nodded. Am I? “I’ll stop if you tell me to Sara, okay? You just have to say the word,” Warrick told her, “And I’m with you, I am,” he squeezed her hand.

“Okay,” Sara whispered, squeezing his hand back. “Okay.”

Taking a deep breath to not only try and calm Sara but himself Warrick took the swab in-hand again and began his task.

After some painstakingly long moments Warrick realized he was crying. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, and he definitely wasn’t going to be able to stop now that he had started. Braving another look at Sara’s face, Warrick choked back a sob as he noticed the tears running down her own face. “Hey girl, it’s almost over,” Warrick whispered, rubbing her palm with his thumb, “You’re doing really good Sara, it’s almost done.”

Sara nodded slowly, before looking over at Warrick. “You’re crying,” she whispered.

Warrick just nodded, finally finishing up the swabs. “Yeah,” he whispered, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, I am.”

Once Sara knew he was done she got up and lunged into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder and linking her arms around his neck as tight as she could. “Hey,” Warrick whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around her body, laughing a little and crying at the same time. He had to laugh so he wouldn’t lose it entirely. “Hey, look, it’s over,” he whispered, “You did it Sara,” he whispered, patting her back. “It’s over…” he told her.

“I love you, Warrick,” Sara whispered, moving away from his shoulder so she could look into his eyes.

“I love you too, Sara,” Warrick told her, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “But how about that hot chocolate?” he asked with a smile. “And then I can help you take a bath.”

“A hot one?” Sara asked, almost hopeful.

“A warm one,” Warrick corrected her as he scooped her up into his arms, grabbing a blanket from off the bed and wrapping that around her body as well. “A warm one,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against her neck.

“Okay,” Sara sighed in contentment, resting her head against his chest. “And Warrick…?”

“What is it…?” Warrick whispered, walking them both into the kitchen.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes slipping closed.

Warrick couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re welcome, Sara.” Reaching into one of the cabinets for the hot cocoa mix, Warrick froze when his eyes fell upon a bulge in his left front pocket. With a frown, Warrick shifted the position of his arms around Sara’s body before reaching into his pocket to see what it was.

Metal. A cold, metal barrel.

His eyes widened when he realized what it was. But Sara was falling asleep, and he was going to let her rest. Biting his lip, Warrick slowly moved his hand out of his pocket to rest at his side.

He was going to hold onto that.
 
Thanks melbel!

Here's a new chapter! I have shingles and a cold, so.. I have some free time on my hands :lol: :p I tried to provide a bit of comic relief with Cath in this chapter but... being the angst whore that I am... :rolleyes:

It had been three days since she last said a full sentence, and Warrick was starting to get worried. Very, very worried.

She had been lying in bed for three days. Occasionally her whimpers and sobs were accompanied by a ‘why?’ or another pitiful-sounding phrase. Whenever she needed to go to the bathroom, she merely held her arms up to Warrick for indication with the saddest of looks on her face, as if she was disappointed in herself that she had to depend so much on one person. Warrick didn’t mind doing these things for her one bit- it was the look on her face that made him so worried.

The first day Warrick had thought she was just tired, that she had worn herself out from the night before. He let her rest as long as she wanted, knowing that she needed it. But when she didn’t get out of bed six hours later he was starting to get worried. He had brought her a bowl of vegetable soup and a few slices of bread on a plate in hopes that she would eat, and when she didn’t budge he had set them on the nightstand next to her hoping she would eat it later.

The second day Warrick didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t talking to him even if he pleaded with her, and she wasn’t drinking enough fluids. He had sat down on the side of the bed with her and watched her sleep, then deciding to feel her forehead. She was burning up.

And on the third day Warrick was in utter desperation. She was running a fever and he knew she must be dehydrated, but he dare not force anything upon her for fear of scaring her. That was the last thing either of them needed. Warrick was the only one there for Sara, and if he did something to scare her she might not even want him around her anymore. But as he had promised, he wasn’t going to take her to the hospital.

Then there was the subject of the evidence he had collected three days prior. He knew that it was precious and that it needed to be taken to the lab, but he didn’t want to leave Sara even for a few minutes without anyone else there. He also didn’t want to call someone else to pick it up because it would raise questions… and the second CODIS beeped and came up with a driver’s license and registration photo of Sara as the match to the DNA samples everything would be out, and he knew Sara didn’t want everyone to know about this.

Finally, after hours of debating this with himself, Warrick picked up his cell phone and decided to call Catherine. He didn’t want everyone to know what happened, but Catherine was someone he had known for years, someone he trusted. He knew she would know better then to shout the word for everyone to hear and spread around the lab grapevine. He loved Sara, but the evidence needed to be processed as soon as possible if they were hoping to get Trey for what he did to her.

“Willows.”

The familiar sound of Catherine’s voice coming from the other end of the phone calmed Warrick some. He hadn’t heard a voice other than his own it seemed in forever, and he needed some communication, any communication. “Hey Cath, it’s me,” Warrick told her. “I need you to come over to Sara’s apartment to pick up some stuff.”

Catherine was just sealing the last of her evidence bags for the DA in the layout room. “Over at Sara’s?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Are you there now?”

“Yeah,” Warrick replied, rubbing his forehead with his thumb, “I’ll explain everything when you get here… but I need you to get this stuff quick.”

“Alright,” Catherine replied, starting to feel a little worried. “I’ll be there in ten minutes tops.” After hanging up her phone Catherine looked around the room as if some item lying around held the answers to all her questions. Why was Warrick at Sara’s apartment, was Sara alright, what did he need her to so desperately pick up and where the hell were her car keys?

Warrick had hung up with a sigh, setting his phone down in front of him on Sara’s oak-stained coffee table in the living room. This was definitely going to be awkward… even if Catherine had dealt with this sort of thing before. This time the victim was a colleague… it was Sara.

Getting up from his place on the couch, Warrick bent down to fold up the blankets he had been sleeping with the past few nights. He was pretty sure the couch was probably molded to his body now. After folding them up and straightening up the pillows on both arms, he headed down the hallway toward the bedroom to see if Sara had woken up yet. He wanted to check on her before Catherine came over.

Cracking the door open ever so quietly Warrick slowly inched inside the room, spotting her still laying in the middle of her bed. The room was silent, which meant that Sara was asleep. Warrick wasn’t sure how she could still be sleeping after three days, but… it was obvious she needed it, and he wasn’t going to argue with that… and he wasn’t about to wake her up, either. So instead, Warrick grabbed a foot-stool from a rocking chair that sat in the dark corner of the room and pulled it up to the bedside, choosing to just watch her instead.

Thousands of thoughts were running through Warrick’s mind, some of the highlights being thoughts such as ‘I need to get that soup bowl out of here before it gets moldy’. But before Warrick’s mind could be filled with more puzzling thoughts the clump under the bed sheets began to stir, bringing him back to reality. As the blankets rustled he directed his gaze back to the bed.

She moved once and then she moved twice, and the third time she was looking for more blankets to cover herself up with. Warrick got up from his seat and pulled them back over her body, but her body seemed to resent this. She flinched and Warrick backed off, afraid that she would try and lash out at him. The truth of the matter was that she was instinctively just still so terrified of human contact, but Warrick couldn’t shake the thought from his mind that she was scared of him.

Sitting back down on the stool he watched her for a minute to see what she would do. Slowly she rolled over onto her side to face Warrick, her eyes still closed. Her right hand snaked out from under the sheets and dangled over the floor as she fell back to sleep and Warrick moved to set it back on the bed, but something caught his eye. Something he hadn’t noticed before.

Bruises, there were bruises on her wrists. Why hadn’t he seen them before? Had the bastard really hurt her that badly? Everything was a blur, he couldn’t remember. What was the name of the club? Were they even there? Yes… yes they were, he realized. He remembered the smell of the perfume she was wearing that night. He remembered how pretty she had looked in her dress that night. He remembered the name of the wine he had bought that night.

Gently so as not to hurt her Warrick ran his fingertips over the bruises on her wrists, looking up at her face for indication of whether or not it was alright to continue. When she didn’t move he directed his gaze back down at her skin. He could see something but he couldn’t see them very clearly. Reaching over and turning on the lamp next to the bed, he bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn’t let out a violent slur of obscenities.

They were there alright, dark and vividly, a clear symbol of the violence and destruction that had occurred just night before. There were finger imprints, angry fingernail scrapings, their appearance all rapidly increasing as Warrick’s eyes scanned up and down her arm. He slowly lifted the bed sheets to discover that they went all the way up to her shoulder if not further. If only he had been there…

The doorbell rang and Warrick jumped, making him realize just how high stung he was over this whole thing. But he knew he could not erase time. But as it went on maybe he could erase the painful memories and create new ones. Better ones. Happy ones. Memories with him and the ones who loved her for who she was. He could help her forget the dreadful things that time had tainted her with. Maybe not forget completely… but help her remember the things she wanted to remember.

And when she felt sad, he would be there with her. And when she got scared, he would be there to hold her and tell her it was going to be alright. When she cried he would be there to dry her tears. And when she was happy he would be right there with her to share the good times.

Getting to his feet, Warrick gently set her arm back down on the bed at her side ever-so gently, as if she were a porcelain doll about to break. But she was, he realized, and she had already been broken once. He was going to put her back together again.

Leaning down and planting a kiss on her forehead, Warrick made sure she was warm before he headed down the hallway, cracking the bedroom door closed on his way out as the doorbell rang again impatiently. Walking up to the front door he looked through the peep-hole only to discover a fidgeting Catherine Willows standing outside the door, practically bouncing from foot to foot.

Opening the door, Warrick asked, “Cath…? What are you doing here?”

Catherine stared at him quizzically. “You called me… don’t you remember?”

Oh crap. That was right. Well, she was going to be pissed.

“I’m sorry,” Warrick sighed, rubbing at his forehead with his palm, “I guess I forgot.”

She smiled sympathetically. That didn’t look pissed off to Warrick.

“It’s okay,” she told him, stepping inside the apartment once he had stepped out of the way for her. After the door was closed, she set her things down on the floor. “So where’s Sara?” she asked.

“She’s in the bedroom right now…” Warrick said, “She’s sleeping… well, she has been for a few days now…”

Catherine blinked, it not really clicking in her mind. She could tell Warrick was a little out of it. “A few days? Has she eaten anything?”

Warrick shook his head. “I’ve tried to make her eat, but she refused…”

“Has she had anything to drink?” Catherine continued, already heading into the kitchen to see what she could find.

“Only a few sips here and there…” Warrick said, starting to feel a little embarrassed. “What are you doing, Cath?”

“I’m going to make her eat, that’s what I’m doing,” Catherine said firmly, opening up the refrigerator. Catherine, being a mother, had always made sure that her daughter got enough to eat. Lindsey was healthy. Catherine had never seen Sara have more than a cup of coffee or an apple or candy bar from the vending machine in the break room at the lab. This time she was going to eat something more than that.

“Cath, maybe we should just let her sleep…?” Warrick suggested.

Catherine stopped for a minute, closing the refrigerator back up- her search had come up empty anyhow. “Warrick,” she said bluntly, getting back to her feet. Looking at him for a good few moments, she put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?” she whispered, looking into his eyes for the answer. She knew something was wrong or he wouldn’t have called her, but she had a feeling it was more than that if he was acting this strange. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t normally this shy or timid.

Warrick threw a gaze down the hallway at the cracked bedroom door before looking back down at Catherine. “It’s just… y’know, I tried, and…” he whispered, more to himself than Catherine, “I tried to look out for her, and… and now look,” he said, motioning with his hand down the hallway. “She hasn’t said a full sentence in three days, and it’s all my fault. I couldn’t protect her, Cath, and it’s my fault that this happened.”

Catherine didn’t like seeing people upset, especially her friends, but she knew it was good that Warrick was letting it out now. She didn’t know exactly what he was talking about but at least he was saying something.

“And… and now all I want is for her to get better,” he whispered, “And I’m doing a crap job at that, too. What kind of person- what kind of man am I if I can’t even make her feel better?”

Catherine could sense he was about to break, and as horrible as it may have sounded she was a little relieved. Finally he was showing his true colors; he was showing emotion, and he was showing that he was still himself. His muscles were tense and his eyes were glistening with tears he stubbornly held back for the sake of not looking weak. “Warrick,” she said, putting another hand on his shoulder, “Look at me, okay?” she asked. When he did she continued, “Do you love her?”

Catherine knew she didn’t even have to ask when she saw the look in his eyes. “Yes I do, more than I’ve ever—“ Catherine cut him off.

“Then that’s all that matters,” she whispered, “If you love her Warrick, then that’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is.”

Warrick slowly nodded.

“You know this isn’t your fault,” Catherine continued, “…Whose is it?”

Warrick let that slur of obscenities he had been holding back for the past three days out as he balled his hand into a fist. “He raped her, Catherine. That bastard raped her.”

Catherine’s eyes widened as everything began to become clearer. But she was completely thrown off-guard. When Sara had first come to Vegas, Catherine had dubbed her an annoyance and nothing else. She had almost been sure Grissom had brought her in just to spite her. But as the weeks and eventually months went by she realized that Sara wasn’t there to try and make her life harder. She was there to solve crimes and do her job passionately and professionally, just like they all were. But she had noticed that Sara was almost too determined, and she practically worked herself to death. Catherine had always secretly kept an eye on the younger woman; she saw so many resemblances with Lindsey in her. She had become sort of her daughter-away-from-home.

And something like this happening to her daughter was her worst nightmare.

“How…?” she managed to whisper in disbelief.

After Warrick had managed to tell her what had happened, Catherine was speechless. It took a lot to render Ms. Catherine Willows speechless.

“I just… I just don’t understand how anyone could’ve done something like that, Cath,” Warrick whispered, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do for her. She’s just so… broken. She doesn’t want to get out of bed, she won’t eat anything…”

“Then we’ll just help put her back together,” Catherine said. Without another word she headed down the hallway toward the bedroom, Warrick trailing behind her.

The look of the bedroom was less than inviting but Catherine could’ve cared less. All that mattered now was making sure Sara was alright. Walking around to the side of the bed, Catherine leaned over and brushed some brown hair out of Sara’s eyes, placing a hand on her forehead. When Sara mumbled something and moved away from her hand, Catherine moved back. “Is she always this stubborn?” Catherine asked Warrick with a small smile. “Well she’s warm but she’s still stubborn, so that’s always a good sign.”

Warrick let the smallest hint of a smile cross his face.

“I’m going to go warm some soup up for her,” Catherine announced, heading for the door, “Can you wake her up?”

Warrick simply nodded, walking over to the bed. He really didn’t want to disturb Sara, although he knew she needed to get up and get something to eat and drink. Lying in bed for three days straight was far from healthy. “Sara, come on girl, wake up…” he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder.

When Sara didn’t budge Catherine walked in front of Warrick to try her method- the mommy method. She obviously wasn’t in to Warrick’s pansy method, he thought. He almost expected her to roll up her sleeves with her years of experience as she leaned over Sara. “Sara, you need to get up,” she said louder, “You need to get up and eat something.”

Warrick decided to stand back and let the master work, a light shade of red starting to flush his cheeks. Why didn’t he do that before?

“You need to get up, and you’re going to eat,” Catherine continued, “Do you understand?”

Sara didn’t budge.

“Sara,” Catherine sighed, “I knew you were stubborn, but this is ridiculous,” she said, trying to poke fun. If she knew one thing about Sara it was that she hated being taunted. “Lindsey’s not half as hard to wake up in the mornings.”

Nothing.

“Alright Sara,” Catherine sighed again, “You’ve left me no choice.” Leaning over Catherine pulled the blankets off of Sara which Warrick was about to protest to before panic set in.

There was a thin layer of sweat above her forehead and the nape of her neck, beginning to drip down her chest through her tank top. Her eyes remained glued shut and her body motionless, the only indication that she was alive being the somewhat strained raise and fall of her chest. “Sara?” Warrick quickly asked, kneeling down beside the bed. “Sara, wake up,” he whispered. His heart was pounding in his ears, his hands were shaking, and his mind was racing.

Oh god please don’t die on me now.
 
New chapter! The flashbacks in this chapter from from various episodes in the first season (I-15 Murders and Unfriendly Skies)
---

“Sara?” Warrick whispered again. Every passing second was making him become more frantic with worry as she remained motionless on the bed. “Sara, wake up, please!” She couldn’t go now… she couldn’t leave him, not now…

Catherine had already ran to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with cold water and returning to the bedside where she set it down on her sweat-drenched forehead, slowly dabbing it away. “Sara honey, wake up.”

When she didn’t stir, Warrick was beginning to panic again. “I’m going call 9-1-1,” he said and without another word to Catherine he bolted through the doorway of the bedroom into the kitchenette where the phone was.

Staying with Sara, Catherine kneeled down in Warrick’s place on the floor, still gently rubbing Sara’s forehead with the washcloth. “Sara, wake up,” she pleaded with her again, “Please, just wake up.”

Everything was blurry and hazy and cloudy but she could hear muffled voices as she began to stir on the bed. Who was there, though? She couldn’t tell. She took a deep breath and instantly recognized a scent- perfume. Catherine’s perfume. She only wore it when she wasn’t working, it interfered with the job. “Cath?” Sara finally whispered.

Catherine immediately let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah honey, I’m here. Warrick’s calling an ambulance, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Sara hoarsely whispered, licking her dry lips. Her lips felt like sandpaper and her tongue wasn’t moist enough to help at all.

“You passed out,” Catherine explained, heading into the bathroom. Spotting some paper cups, she grabbed one and filled it with some water, returning to Sara’s bedside. “Here, drink this,” she instructed her, putting a hand on her back to steady her as she tried to sit up.

Sara took the water greedily, like she had just been handed a million dollars, and sat up despite her tired body’s groaning protests. She held it up to her lips and started to gulp it down before spitting it out and lunging forward to the edge of the bed as her body heaved.

“Sara?” Warrick instantly came running at the sound, “Sara, what’s wrong?” he worriedly asked, running to her side and putting a hand on her back so she didn’t fall. When she was unable to respond, he looked to Catherine, “What happened?”

“She woke up and I handed her some water but she can’t keep liquids down,” Catherine said. Then thinking about it for a minute, something dinged in her head. “I’ll be right back,” she told him, getting up and jogging down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Sara?” Warrick whispered as Sara finished emptying the few… oh so few contents of her stomach. Once she had collapsed against his body, he wrapped an arm around her waist and felt her forehead with his. She was burning up now more than ever and her body was shaking. It was scaring the hell out of him and he didn’t know what to do. He only hoped the ambulance came soon.

“Here,” Catherine said, returning the bedroom with a clear plastic cup filled with some crushed ice, “When Lindsey was little, she got dehydrated and she couldn’t keep liquids down,” she explained, walking over to the other end of the bed and sitting down next to Sara, “She can suck on ice for a little while until she can.”

“Okay Sara,” Warrick whispered, taking the glass from Catherine and slowly holding it up to her lips. “Come on, open your mouth,” he whispered, nudging her with his arm when she didn’t respond.

After Sara eventually complied, Warrick tilted the glass and let some ice fall into her mouth before taking it back. “Just suck on it,” he told her, “Just suck on it and then I’ll give you some more.”

Sara immediately started working at the ice with her tongue, with the roof of her mouth, with her teeth, anything she could in order to melt it to soothe her sore dry throat. Within seconds it was gone and she was already reaching for the glass.

“Hey,” Warrick whispered, slowly grabbing her hands and bringing them back to her side, “Easy, I don’t want you to choke yourself,” he told her, “If you have too much you might throw up again, Sara…”

“But I’m thirsty!” Sara protested, “Why can’t I just have some water?”

”Because you can’t keep fluids down, Sara,” Catherine tried to explain, “Remember? I handed you a cup of water and you couldn’t keep it down…”

Sara was much too tired and agitated and upset to think much of what they were saying to her or of what she was saying for that matter. She just wanted water and she wanted it now, despite the consequences. She would kill for a glass of water. “I want some water!” she angrily cried, looking up at Warrick, “Why won’t you give it to me?”

The look on Sara’s face was enough to break Warrick’s heart. Her face was damp with sweat; her forehead, upper lip and bridge of her nose were caked in it. Her hair was matted and sticking to the sides of her face and her eyes were glistening with tears. “Sara, listen to me,” he whispered, gently lifting her into his lap despite Catherine’s presence. He didn’t care who saw the display of affection at the moment. “I want to give it to you, I really do, girl, but I don’t want to make you sicker than you already are.”

“I just want some water, Warrick,” Sara whispered, “That’s all I want!”

“I know, Sara,” Warrick whispered, gently pulling her head against his body, “I know…”

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore,” she finally admitted as more angry tears descended down her face, “I don’t want to feel helpless! I want to feel human again!”

Warrick didn’t respond; he couldn’t. He was too frightened at the feeling of Sara’s rapid heartbeat against his own chest. Her breaths were short and quick, coming out shallower every second. “Sara, you have to calm down,” he whispered.

“I don’t, Warrick! I don’t want to feel this way anymore, this entire thing wasn’t my fucking fault!” she screamed, angrily pounding at his chest with her fists. She was too weak to hurt him but Warrick was still worried.

She was going to snap, he could sense it. And normally he would feel relieved that she was finally letting it all out, but not now. Her heart was beating far too quickly and her fever was much too high.

“Warrick!” Catherine called from in the living room when she saw the ambulance pull up outside. She had been the only one who had heard the sirens approaching. “The ambulance is here!”

Warrick immediately scooped Sara back into his arms, almost running out of the bedroom to the front door of her apartment, “I know it wasn’t your fault, Sara,” he tried to remain calm for Sara’s sake, “but can you breathe for me now?”

“Warrick, she’s not moving,” Catherine immediately felt her blood run cold as she looked down at Sara’s motionless form. She had been screaming seconds ago, something definitely wasn’t right.

“Damn it!” Warrick angrily shouted, “Sara, wake up!” he yelled, throwing the front door open and almost knocking Catherine out of the way in the process, “Wake up, right now!” he angrily told her as he bolted down the stairs, looking around for the ambulance on the way. As he saw a group of EMTs running with a gurney between them he looked down at Sara as he tried to catch his breath. “Sara, please,” he whispered, “You can’t do this… not now. You can’t leave me now, girl,” he whispered. “Not after everything we’ve been through together!”

“Damn! Taking the whole window!”

She turned around and shot him that look he had seen far too often on her face, one of her signature glares. “Grissom reinstated you.”

“And you have a problem with that.”


“Sara, please wake up,” Warrick whispered.

“Let me guess. Grissom gets you to dime yourself off and now you both feel better? You’re supposed to be in court. Instead, you’re placing bets for a cheap thrill to satisfy nothing!”

“Hey! This has nothing to do with you. So are we going to work together… or not?”


She couldn’t leave him now, not after he had come so close to losing her. He had almost lost her in the midst of the Holly Gribbs investigation because he was too blind to accept he had made a mistake. He was fighting himself and his gambling addiction, and the stupidest thing he chose to do was fight with Sara. Because of their strong will, they both eventually had mended fences. But if they hadn’t he never would have been able to experience this wonderful life she had showed him.

“Sara, please,” Warrick whispered, ignoring the EMTs who were trying to get his attention. “You can tell me I’m an idiot, you can yell at me for not protecting you, you can hit me…” he whispered as he felt moisture beginning to run down his face, “I don’t care, just don’t leave me!”

“I want to be Shannon,” she had that excited tone to her voice as she let Grissom know exactly what was on her mind. She smiled as he handed her the card and she was victorious.

“The stewardess,” he bluntly said.

“Excuse me, it’s ‘Flight Attendant’,” she corrected him.


Warrick tried his hardest to fight back his tears but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “You can tease me, you can taunt me, you can make fun of me, I don’t care,” he whispered to her, rubbing her cheek with his thumb, “I just want to see that smile again. Please,” he whispered.

“Sir, we’re going to need to take her now,” one of the EMTs told him. He had been trying to get Warrick’s attention the entire time but he wasn’t getting through to him. “Sir?”

“Please, Sara?” Warrick asked her, “Come on, just open your eyes…”

“Sir, we need to take her but we’re going to take good care of her,” the EMT told him, reaching over and slowly starting to take Sara from his arms.

Just as Warrick was practically about to punch the guy in the face, Catherine was there to restrain him. “Warrick, they have to get her to the hospital,” she told him, stepping in front of him before he could hurt anyone. “They need to take care of her.”

“They’re trying to take her from me,” Warrick angrily said, looking at Catherine. She knew that look. It was the look of an upset, worried man who had stayed up for three days straight trying to take care of the woman he loved.

“They’re not trying to take her from you,” Catherine calmly replied, slowly prying his fingers off of Sara. “They’re trying to help her. Can you let them do that?” she softly asked him.

Looking at Catherine for a minute, Warrick was about to protest before she made eye-contact with him. Sara had shot him that same look when she was trying to calm him down. “…Okay,” he finally said, and as his hold on Sara finally loosened the EMTs set her on the gurney and wheeled her toward the ambulance.

Not thinking much of it, Catherine caught Warrick in a hug before he was able to go to the ambulance to the follow them. “It’s going to be okay,” she told him before she released him, “Now go take care of her for us, will you?” she whispered.

Warrick nodded, about to run off before he stopped himself. “Thanks, Cath,” he quietly told her before he jogged off after the EMTs to the ambulance.

Catherine waited until they had loaded Sara up into the ambulance and Warrick was inside with her to head back up to the apartment. She desperately wanted to go with him to the hospital but he had called her on the phone and told her he needed her to pick something up. If he had called her, then it was obviously important. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew she would know what he meant when she saw it.

Going through the door of the apartment and leaving it open behind her, Catherine looked around. She didn’t anything that stood out. Maybe he left it in the bedroom, she thought. Heading down the hallway into the bedroom she started looking around for anything that looked out-of-place. And that was when she saw it.

There on the dresser were some clear plastic evidence bags, about two or three of them along with some bindles and swabs that had been closed up and sealed. She suddenly felt cold. Very, very cold.

Approaching the dresser almost cautiously, Catherine swallowed her nerves and reached out to grab one of the bags, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky sigh as she saw what the contents were inside. It was something she had seen far too often and something she should never see in the home of one of her closest friends.

Reaching into her pocket she immediately called Grissom. They needed to get it to the lab and have it tested as soon as possible, but some bastard had hurt their Sara and he wasn’t going to get off scot-free.

“Grissom.”

“Gil, I’m going to bring some samples over to the lab,” Catherine immediately told him without even a greeting, already outside the apartment on her way to her car with the bags in-hand. “They’re a top priority.”

Grissom was confused. “Didn’t you just close a case? It’s your day off.”

“I know it’s my day off,” Catherine said, shoving her car key in the lock and throwing her car door open. Putting the evidence bags in the passenger’s seat, she crawled inside and closed her door behind herself. “But this is urgent.”

“What’s going on, Catherine?” Grissom could sense the tone in her voice and knew instantly that something was indeed wrong.

“It’s Sara, Gil,” she told him, “Warrick’s taking her to the hospital. He told me she was…” she took a deep breath, her eyes slipping closed as she caught herself. She hated the word… “He told me she was raped. He called me earlier and told me he needed me to pick something up from her apartment because he didn’t want to leave her, and I’m bringing a SART kit to the lab,” Catherine explained, already on the road.

The other line was silent for a long moment, the only response being heavy breathing. “…Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Catherine said, speeding through every intersection, “She passed out and she’s barely eaten anything for three days. She can’t keep any fluids down and Warrick’s with her at the hospital now.”

Grissom let out a heavy sigh. “Do we know what happened yet?”

“I don’t have any details,” Catherine told him, “Except that I know the son of a bitch that did this is a dead man.”

TBC
 
“Set up an IV,” one of the EMTs instructed their partner as they set a stethoscope around his neck, pressing the metal against Sara’s chest.

“Is she going to be alright?” Warrick anxiously asked, watching the EMTs’ every move. “She is, right?”

“Sir, we’re not exactly sure right now,” the EMT answered, removing the stethoscope. Looking at their partner, he said, “Her pulse is very slow. I’m going to take her BP.”

Looking at both EMTs with wide eyes, Warrick worriedly looked down at Sara swallowing back his nerves and fear. “It’s going to be okay, girl,” he whispered, “I promise…”

”BP’s off the charts, she’s agitated,” the EMT announced as they arrived at the hospital. “Let’s get her in there, now!”
---

“Greg, these samples need to get processed immediately,” Grissom instructed him as he handed him the SART kit Catherine had brought to the lab before heading back to the hospital.

“Boss, I’m a little backed-up here…” Greg started but he cut him off

“Well those aren’t important,” he simply told him, a panicked and angry sting to his voice, “So process these instead. They’re a top priority for us.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “And turn the music off.”

He walked off, leaving Greg absolutely befuddled as she set the SART kit down next to her, slowly clearing her table off. “Yes Sir,” he blankly said, quickly leaning over and turning the music he was blasting off.

“What?” Nick asked, walking into the room nonchalantly. “You look white as a sheet. Find another extremely freaky semen sample?” he grinned.

“I’ll let you know,” Greg mumbled, opening the kit up and taking out the swabs. “That’s weird…” he trailed off.

“What?” Nick asked.

“These aren’t initialed,” Greg said, checking the box over. “Any of these. Who collected this, day shift?”

Nick shrugged. “How should I know?”

Greg simply shrugged as he looked over one of the swabs. “I don’t see any traces of semen.”

“So he wore a condom,” Nick said.

“No, actually… there aren’t any lubricants, not even a trace of penile penetration,” Greg told him, snipping a piece of the swab off and sliding it under the microscope.

“How would you know? Personal experience?” Nick teased, leaning closer to try and look in the microscope.

“I’ve done a few of these,” Greg wryly answered, increasing the pixels. “I see blood,” he told him. “A little blood, but nothing else.”

“So it was an object rape?” Nick asked.

“Well, let’s see,” Wendy said, going through the rest of the contents in the SART kit. There were a few bindles and plastic evidence bags that fell out but nothing else. “What the hell is this?” she asked, completely confused as she looked through everything. “There’s nothing here! No side-notes, no examination records, not even a patient name—“

“I can give you the patient’s name,” Grissom appeared in the hallway making both Wendy and Greg look over at him. “Sara Sidle.”
---

Warrick sat in the waiting room anxiously tapping his foot against the blue and white tiles on the floor as he stared at the ground, his hands folded together and head hung low. The doctor hadn’t told him anything yet, nor had the EMTs who basically ignored his presence altogether and he was starting to get worried. He was also starting to get frustrated and that stupid ticking clock was beginning to really annoy him…

“Warrick Brown?”

Warrick’s head perked up at the sound of the doctor’s voice. “Yes?” he asked, immediately getting to his feet when he saw him standing in the doorway, clipboard in-hand. “Do you have news?”

“Yes,” the doctor answered, “And she’s going to be alright.” Warrick breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “She was dehydrated and she passed out,” he explained, “We also found bruises around her arms and thighs as well as some vaginal trauma she sustained that appears to be fresh.” He paused for a minute. “Sir, do you know what happened?”

Warrick let out a sigh. “She was assaulted about three days ago. We’re with the crime lab and she refused to go to the hospital, so I did the exam myself. It was taken over to the lab to be processed a few hours ago.”

The doctor nodded, writing that down on the clipboard. “The trauma wasn’t severe though there was a bit of bleeding…”

Oh god, Warrick thought, Sara, you didn’t tell me you were bleeding…

“It stopped itself on its own,” the doctor told him, “We set up some IVs and drips to replenish her system, so when you see her she’s probably going to have a lot of cords around her, just remember that it’s normal,” he told Warrick as he headed down the hallway toward her room, Warrick trailing behind him. “We’ve administered her some sleeping medication and some painkillers so she should be out for another few hours.”

“Alright, thank you,” Warrick told him as he walked into Sara’s room, stopping just in front of her bed. “Oh Sara,” he whispered, looking sadly down at her frail form on the hospital bed, machines beeping and drips pumping, “I’m so sorry…”
---

“What the hell are you talking about?” Greg was immediately seething with anger, his hand curling into a fist solely pent on beating the crap out of anyone that would dare hurt Sara.

“Gris… what’s going on?” Nick asked, his eyes narrowing.

“We don’t have all of the details yet,” Grissom explained, “But according to Catherine who talked with Warrick, Sara was assaulted three days ago at a club down on the Strip called the Midnight. He took her home to her apartment and collected the SART kit himself, and afterwards she refused to eat anything or get out of bed.”

“Is she okay?” Nick asked.

“Warrick’s at the hospital with her now,” Grissom said. “Catherine’s on her way. They’re going to call us with any changes.” Turning to Greg, he asked, “Anything probative?”

“There’s blood,” Greg angrily mumbled, “The bastard…”

“Process it, just to be sure whose it is,” Grissom sighed.

“Yeah, Sara’s a tough woman, there’s a chance this might belong to the suspect,” Nick nodded.

“Exactly. Nick, I want you to come with me to the club, see if we can get anything from there,” Grissom told him. “We don’t have a name of the guy yet, so we’ll have to wait until Sara wakes up in order to ask her.”

“Right,” Nick said, already walking out of the lab.

“I’ll let you know what I find,” Greg mumbled, trying to resist the urge to punch a wall in anger.

“Greg?” Grissom calmly asked. “You have to calm down or you’re not going to be any help to Sara. We will get this guy.”

Greg blinked, looking over at Grissom before letting out a sigh, nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah, I know. Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll page you with the results.”
---

“Hey,” Catherine walked through the doorway of Sara’s hospital room. When Warrick turned to face her, her features immediately softened.

“Hey,” he greeted her, trying to wipe any remnants of tears from his eyes. He had already cried in front of Catherine once and he didn’t want to do it again. “How’s everything going?”

“Alright,” Catherine told him, pulling a chair up next to him. “Gil gave the samples to Greg to run and they’re working on it now.”

“Good,” Warrick said, turning to look back at Sara. “I swear Cath, I want to kill him.”

“I know ‘Rick, we all do,” Catherine told him. “How’s she doing?”

“Doc says she’s dehydrated,” Warrick dryly laughed, “And guess why? It’s because I didn’t make her eat.”

“You didn’t want to upset her, Warrick,” Catherine said, “That doesn’t make you a bad person. You wanted her to feel safe and comfortable.”

Warrick was silent for a few moments but nodded finally, looking down at the floor. “Trey.”

“What?” Catherine blinked.

“That’s the guy’s name,” Warrick explained. “Trey. Trey Wolfe.”
---

“Gil, we’ve got a name,” Catherine said over her cell phone outside the hospital, anxiously pacing back and forth.

“Who is he?” Grissom asked as he and Nick arrived at the club.

“Warrick said the guy’s name is Trey Wolfe,” Catherine informed him.

“More like ‘Dead Man Walking’.”

TBC
 
Here's the next chapter, I apologize again for lack of updates, real life sucks :p
---

“What do you mean he got away?” Grissom angrily demanded from his cell phone, listening to Brass on the other line. “Warrick said there were uniforms at the club.”

“Yeah well it turns out our guy is a drug dealer,” Brass let out a heavy sigh. “We caught the cops who let him loose a few miles out of Vegas trying to skip town.”

“You can’t be serious,” Grissom asked, his tone dripping with incredulity.

“There hasn’t been any sign of the guy since, and they claim they don’t know where he ran off to,” Brass continued. “We’ve been interrogating them for hours now.”

“Well keep trying,” Grissom told him, “Because this guy isn’t going loose.”

“I’m on it, Gil.” The phone clicked off as Brass hung up.

“What’s up, Gris?” Nick asked his boss, a bit intimidated at the fierce look on his face.

“Brass said the guy bribed the cops who arrested him with drugs and they set him loose,” he replied in a mere mumble.

“What the hell?” Nick immediately asked. “That’s bullshit, I’m telling you. Pure bullshit. Have they talked?”

“Brass has been trying to make them talk for hours now and they haven’t given him a location yet,” Grissom sighed. “I hate to admit it but they really may not know where he ran off to.”

Nick turned away to look out the Denali’s passenger side window with a scowl on his face. “Well the idiot probably left something behind at the club.”

“Let’s hope they haven’t cleaned everything up yet,” Grissom nodded as he slowed the car to a stop in front of the club, putting the gears in park. He opened his door and stepped outside, closing the door behind him and walking around to the back of the car to retrieve their kits.

“This place looks… sleazy,” Nick grimaced as he got a good look at the place—flickering neon lights (the club was now only technically called ‘ight’, those three letters being the only ones that weren’t burnt out), the world’s worst paint job and cigarette butts- one of which was still burning- thrown on the pavement in front of the door, a Vegas resident’s ash tray. “Why would Sara…”

“Let’s just focus on what we know right now,” Grissom interrupted him as he heaved their kits out of the trunk. It’s my fault this happened. I was the one who told her to get a diversion. “And if this place is the same inside as it is outside the employees here should know how to deal with cops.”

“Right,” Nick agreed, stooping down to pick us hit kit before following Grissom to the front entrance of the club. The inside of the club was barely visible behind the cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke that assaulted their eyes as they entered.

“What can I do for you two?” asked a voice- clearly male- coming from behind the counter.

Grissom waved away more smoke from his line of sight and determined the man as the bartender. “I’m Gil Grissom and this is Nick Stokes,” he motioned behind him to Nick who was trying not to cough up a lung, “and we’re with the crime lab. We’re here about a Trey Wolfe.”

“Michael Stravinski, but you can call me Mike,” he introduced himself. “What do you need to know about Trey?”

“Have you seen him around lately?” Nick spoke up, coming up from behind Grissom. “We need to speak with him and it’s urgent.”

“I haven’t seen him in about two weeks now,” Mike shook his head, wiping off the bar space with a damp towel. “Is this in regards to the incident with Miss Sidle?” he then asked.

“Yes, it is,” Grissom replied, pursing his lips.

“It’s a real shame, what happened,” he sighed, setting his towel aside. “She was a nice woman. Real pretty too. How is she doing, speaking of which?”

“She’s in the hospital,” Nick informed him, narrowing his eyes, “Which is why we’re here. Trey Wolfe has a warrant out for his arrest.”

Mike simply shook his head again with a sigh. “What can I do to help you folks?”

“I was wondering if we could have a look around,” Grissom told him. “Where’s Mr. Wolfe’s office?”

“Back of the building to your left,” Mike answered. “You can’t miss it.” Just as Grissom was about to open his mouth again, Mike beat him to it, “Don’t worry, we didn’t clean anything up yet. We’ve dealt with cops quite a bit here.”

“Oh really?” Nick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Trey’s got himself into trouble before, that ain’t no mystery.”

“I’m going to go process,” Grissom told Nick who nodded and decided to stay at the bar to talk with Mike a little more.

“What kind of trouble?” he pressed on.

“Trey’s got himself busted for drug paraphernalia a few times,” Mike told him, “And we’ve caught him using in his office before a show a few times.”

“Did you inform the police?” Nick asked.

Mike bit his lip, leaning toward Nick. “You see, we would’ve but Trey’s the best act we’ve got here,” he discreetly informed him, “Without him the place would be out of business and I’d have no job.”

Nick nodded his understanding. “What can you tell me about the incident with Sara—“ he caught himself, “Miss Sidle?”

“I was here at the bar all night,” Mike told him, “Working my shift. Miss Sidle came in on time with another man… Warrick Brown if I remember his name correctly. She went backstage to get ready.”

“Was Trey here when she came in?” Nick asked.

“No, he was running a little late I guess,” Mike shrugged. “She went up stage and started with that friend of hers—though I can tell you they were getting pretty friendly—as Trey arrived. He wasn’t too happy about that.”

“Did you see where he went?” Nick continued.

“I saw him heading backstage but I couldn’t follow him, it was a busy night,” Mike told him. “Friday nights are always busy for us. The bar’s swamped. They put on a real nice performance though, I can tell you that much.”

“Do you know what happened, exactly?” Nick asked.

“No, I don’t have all the details,” Mike said, “But I knew something must’ve happened when the cops showed up. I never liked the way Trey looked at Miss Sidle.”
---

Grissom had maneuvered his way through the club to the back where he found Trey’s office, the door marked with his name and hanging ajar. After slapping on a pair of gloves he ventured inside and took out his maglite, shining it inside the room.

It was chaos—one of the chairs was turned over, papers were strewn all over the floor, there was some sort of liquid staining the carpet followed by a few drops of red next to a torn piece of clothing material. Grissom clenched his jaw as he walked further inside.

There was a bottle of champagne open on the desk and one full glass, the other tipped over and laying empty on the floor. Signs of a struggle were definitely there. Everything was here. There was no way in hell they weren’t going to be able to get Trey.
---

“Here, I brought you some coffee,” Catherine’s voice once again freed Warrick of his trance as he finally tore his eyes away from Sara to look over at her.

“Thanks,” he told her, taking the steaming cup from her hands with a sigh.

“She still hasn’t woken up yet?” Catherine questioned, sitting down beside him and glancing over at the sleeping Sara on the bed.

“No,” Warrick shook his head. “I’m hoping it’s still just the drugs. I just… I need to see her wake up, Cath,” he whispered. “I need to see that she’s alright.”

“Just give her some time, ‘Rick,” Catherine assured him, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she must be exhausted. Just give it some time.” Hearing her pager beeping, both Catherine and Warrick turned to look at the small black box clipped onto her belt. Catherine clipped it off and looked at it.

“What is it? News?” Warrick anxiously asked.

“The results from the rape kit are in,” Catherine softly told him, letting out a sigh.

“…Do I even want to know what they say?” Warrick asked, tearing his gaze away from the pager to the floor, the wall, anything but Sara.

“Epotheloles from under Sara’s nails came back to Trey, he has a record,” Catherine started.

“The bastard- serves him right. I hope Sara scratched the crap out of him.” Warrick hissed under his breath.

“The blood sample was a match to Sara,” Catherine then said, looking over at Warrick- and then down at his fist that was quickly turning white as he sat with it clenched. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Warrick asked, quickly looking back at Catherine. “How can that be it? The son of a bitch was so stupid, he must’ve—“

“That’s all that came back from the rape kit, that doesn’t mean that’s all we’re going to find, Warrick,” Catherine assured him. “Have faith in Nick and Gil. They’ll find out more.”

Warrick finally sighed in defeat, nodding his head slowly as he looked back down at the floor. “You’re right. I just hope they find the guy soon.”
---

“I can’t believe he was able to skip town,” Nick continued as Grissom drove them back to the lab. “How does that happen? How stupid can the cops—“

“Nick, being pissed off isn’t going to solve anything,” Grissom interrupted him keeping his eyes glued to the road his fists clenching the steering wheel. “We all want the guy dead but being angry about it isn’t going to find the guy. We just need to get this stuff from the scene processed and we’ll have a strong case against him. He couldn’t have gone far- I’m sure Brass will track him down soon.”

Nick let out a heavy sigh, nodding his head in agreement. “I know Gris, but god, man. I mean this is Sara we’re talking about. Our Sara Sidle- do you know how hard it is to stay partial to something like this?”

“Yes I do, Nick,” Grissom truthfully told him with a frown as they pulled into the lab parking lot. “Yes I do.”
---

After another few hours, Warrick had fallen asleep in Sara’s hospital room. Catherine had left the room to go use her cell phone outside to try and get more information from Grissom on the case. Sara started to stir, finally breaking out of her drug-induced slumber.

The second Warrick felt a movement coming from the bed he snapped awake, his eyes looking around wildly. They automatically latched themselves onto Sara who was trying to move her stiff body. “Sara?” he asked.

Sara let out a painful-sounding moan, forcing both eyes open and squinting at the harsh overhead lights in the room. “Warrick?” she managed to get out. “Wha… what happened?”

Warrick let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pushed him chair closer to her bed, grabbing a hold of her hand. “You passed out, Sara,” he told her. “Do you remember? I called Catherine over and we tried to wake you up but you had already passed out.”

Sara licked her dry lips, grimacing as her tongue felt like sandpaper. “Cath’s here?” she whispered.

“I think she’s just outside using her cell phone,” Warrick informed her, getting to his feet and heading over to the sink to get Sara some water. Grabbing a paper cup, he filled it with some tap water before hastily returning to Sara’s side and holding the cup up to her lips. “Open your mouth,” he instructed her.

Sara did as he said, greedily gulping down the entire cup but only succeeding in swallowing about a fourth of the cup before she coughed up the rest of it.

“I’m sorry,” Warrick sighed. “I forgot. The doctor said you were dehydrated. You may not be able to keep any liquids down. Why didn’t you tell me anything, girl? I was worried sick about you…”

Sara reached up and wiped her mouth off with the sleeve of her hospital gown, looking over at Warrick. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just… I couldn’t stop playing everything over in my head… it was just too much.”

Warrick nodded his understanding, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I understand,” he told her. “But when we get out of here, I’m taking you out to a nice dinner, got it?” he asked her. “I’m talking five-star, candlelit on a balcony overlooking the Strip.”

“I’d like that,” Sara whispered, shooting him the smallest of smiles.

”Good,” Warrick smiled back. Her smile was small, but it was a start.
---

“It’s a good thing Sara didn’t drink the champagne,” Hodges’ voice interrupted Grissom’s meditation and made Nick jump from his place on the break room couch.

“Tox came back?” Nick asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah, with strong traces of Rohypnol,” Hodges informed them, handing Grissom the results. “He drugged it.”

”He had it planned all along,” Grissom said, staring at the results in disbelief. “She was right. She knew exactly what he was going to do.”

“He must’ve freaked out,” Hodges gave his two cents.

“Sara caught him off-guard,” Nick said, “And after she pissed him off he must’ve drugged the champagne and then called her into his office.”

Grissom turned to look at Nick and Nick returned the look, fire in his eyes. “We have to find him, Gris.”
 
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