Character Death

Chapter 8

They tried talking to her, but she didn't hear a word.

Consciousness had lost its appeal.

The anesthesia during her surgery gave Sara a long, restful sleep. She awoke to pain and thirst and a world without Grissom, and so she chose to leave it.

Her mother had done it long ago. Watching her had given Sara all the tools; she just had to send her mind on a vacation. Her body could manage on its own.

Her eyes watched Warrick as he sat beside her bed, his arm in a sling. He was talking, he was crying, he was squeezing her hand. She didn't blink. She watched him for a moment, then slipped through the bottom of the bed, through the floor, in search of the dark place where Grissom still lived.

"He doesn't like strangers," Grissom was warning her, as he opened his front door with a concerned expression. "He may growl at you or bark for a while, but he won't bite. I promise, he won't bite. Just make sure you stand still for a little bit."

She was sidling into his home, breathing in the scent and smiling at the fact that he was finally bringing her into his space.

A boxer was trotting toward them, his pace slowing as he caught sight of her.

"Oh, he's adorable." She forgot his warnings and dropped to her knees, taking the dog's face in her hands and scratching his ears. "Who's a good boy, hmm?"

The dog looked at her, looked up at Grissom, and finally let out a sigh, licking her hand before turning and sauntering off.

Grissom laughed incredulously. "That's... I'm telling you, he hates everyone except me. I can't believe that just happened."

"I have a way," she smirked, dusting off her jeans as she stood up.

"Yeah, a way of making every Grissom man fall in love with you," he smirked. Then he froze.

He'd never used the word before. It was too early; they'd only been dating for three weeks. It was too early, and it was too late, and she took his face in her hands and rubbed his ears and kissed him until he knew she loved him back.

Every hour, a nurse took her vital signs. Sometimes they bathed her with a damp sponge. Sometimes a physical therapist came in to bend her legs and massage her feet.

They were on vacation in Colorado. There was snow everywhere. It slipped inside her boots, inside her socks as they trudged up the mountainside.

"Your nose is red," he was telling her.

"So's yours."

"But yours is cuter."

He'd take her back to the cabin that night and build a fire in the fireplace. He'd do it wrong, use too much newspaper and not enough wood, but she wouldn't correct him. They'd drink hot spiced cider and take a bath together, and she'd notice that his nose got red other times, too.

Ecklie visited, looking uncomfortable. He patted her arm awkwardly, pulling away when he realized he'd accidentally bumped her IV needle.

They were watching a movie together in the den. Grissom was sitting on the couch, while Sara took a spot on the floor, leaning back between his legs. Bruno's head was in her lap, and she was stroking it just as Grissom was stroking her hair.

"I love your hair," he was telling her, and it reminded her of something. Something bad.

"Don't talk about my hair," she said.

"It's so pretty, and please wake up I love the way it smells."

She moved her hand to rub Bruno's belly, and he rolled onto his back to give her better access. "Let's talk about something else. Or watch the movie."

"It's a good one," he said, his fingers combing through her tresses. "The scenes I can't do this, please with Gene Hackman are-"

"What?"

"The scenes with Gene Hackman are really good."

"Oh." She shook her head.

Warrick came back often, but she wasn't opening her eyes for him anymore. It just gave him hope when she did that, and the world underneath the bed was so much nicer than the real world.

Grissom got mad at her one day, when she threw away the ratty blanket that used to lie across the back of the couch.

"You should have asked me," he shouted. "That blanket was mine."

"That thing was disgusting, Gil, and you said yourself that you wanted to get rid of it."

"Yeah, but that's my decision." He was pacing and glaring at her. "You don't get to make that call."

She just sighed. "The new blanket looks exactly the same as the old one. It's just missing the two moth holes and the stain where Bruno peed on it."

"It's not fair," he said, really quietly. "It's not fair, we haven't had enough time."

"What, you and the blanket?"

"Please, honey, for me." He was pleading with her now.

"You want me to go dumpster-diving and find the blanket for you?"

"I love you so much."

She laughed. "You're not making any sense."

"It was my blanket, and I can't lose you."

She left that memory, because there was something off about it.

But every memory started becoming that way. Grissom wasn't playing along with her, and she couldn't get comfortable. So one day, when Warrick came to visit, she opened her eyes for him.

"Hey there, pretty girl," he said, his own eyes widening in surprise. "You decide to join the land of the living today?"

She swallowed, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. He understood, pouring her a cup of water and holding a straw out to her with shaking fingers. She took a gulp of water, and it tasted better than she remembered water ever tasting.

"No sling today." Her voice sounded rough and scratchy, but he understood.

"You remember the sling?"

"Yeah."

"I took it off two days ago." He held up his arm to show her. "Still need to have the cast for a while, though."

Sara sighed. "Got shot?"

"Yeah."

"Me too." She moved her head from side to side, making her neck crack. "How's Sofia?"

He looked down. "She's alive, if that's what you mean. But she'll never walk again."

"Oh."

"You should've seen her, going after Crete. Jumping like a goddamned kangaroo."

"Explains the accent," Sara said, and Warrick let out a surprised laugh.

"Yeah." He sobered again. "Took three bullets to the spine to bring her down."

She swallowed, remembering the screaming. "Is Crete dead?"

Warrick nodded.

"Good." She turned her head. "How much longer do you think I'll have to stay here?"

"Now that you're awake, I think they'd let you out pretty soon. Your wound's been healing well. Got your stitches out and all that."

"Already?"

"Sara..." He leaned forward, searching for the right words. "It's been almost five weeks."

She laughed. "Has not."

"No, it has. We were worried you'd never come back to us."

"Yeah, well." She didn't bother telling him that she wouldn't have come back at all, if Dream-Grissom hadn't become so weird. "I don't think I'll be here for long, honestly."

"The hospital?"

"No, Vegas. Too many bad memories."

"Oh." He nodded, looking troubled.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to live up in the mountains. Maybe Colorado. Someplace where it's always cold." She smiled to herself. "I like the snow."

"So when will you leave?"

"Soon as I can."

"And you'll go alone?"

"Yup."

"Oh."

She caught his tone. "You don't think I'll go."

"Oh no, I think Sara Sidle will do anything she decides to do," he said, grinning. "It's just..." His smile faded. "I'd think you'd want to stay near Grissom, that's all."

"I'll bring him along." She flexed her fingers, willing herself not to cry. "We talked about it a few months ago, and both put in our wills that we wanted to be cremated. I'll get one of those designer urns, keep him on my nightstand."

Warrick frowned. "But-"

"I know, he liked it here," she said. "But he wouldn't begrudge me leaving. He knew I'd stayed for him."

He ran a palm over his hair. "Jesus, Sara-"

"It's okay, really. I have enough savings, and-"

"Sara, didn't you know? Grissom survived."

She was falling through the bed again, away from Warrick, away from her body as he shook her arm, trying to rouse her. She struggled to open her eyes, struggled to get a hold of the floor, a hold of the bed, a hold of herself.

The weird part was, by the time she did manage to open her eyes, it wasn't Warrick who was gripping her arm.

"Oh, thank god." His voice was just as it had always been. Smooth and low. Really, a lovely voice. "I was afraid you weren't going to come back."

Sara felt him reach down to squeeze her hand, and she squeezed back. "Ditto," she managed, before her eyes welled with tears.

"Hey." He moved closer. "Hey, it's okay."

"You're really here? You're all right?"

"I will be, yes. Have to stay in a wheelchair for a bit, while I'm still healing. No more working, but I was ready to retire anyway."

She pressed her fingers against his wrist, feeling the beat of his pulse. "You're here."

"I'm here. And you're awake."

"I'm not sure I am." She frowned. "You're only here when I'm asleep."

"Guess I'll have to prove it to you." He pinched her skin lightly, and she drew in a quick breath, swatting him.

"Okay, okay, you're here," she acceded, pressing her fingers back to his wrist. His pulse felt strong and steady under her fingertips, and she felt her own heartbeat start to match his rhythm.

He smiled at her wistfully. "I've been coming pretty often," he said. "You were always sleeping."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're awake now, that's what matters."

Sara swallowed. "I guess I slept through all of the funerals, huh."

He nodded. "I missed them all, too. Warrick went, but I think part of him wishes he hadn't. It was rough on him. You heard about Sofia?"

"Yeah."

"She's not dealing with it too well, from what I gather. The city gave her and Warrick a medal, but other than going to that ceremony, she hasn't left the house. Doc Robbins has been visiting her a lot; he's trying to get her to join a support group for newly disabled people."

She remembered the way Sofia would walk down the hall at work - more like swaggering than walking. Not anymore.

"We owe her our lives."

"We do," he agreed. "I don't know how she and Warrick managed to take Crete down. It's incredible."

"And Warrick? How's he handling everything?"

"Bit of survivor's guilt, I think. Especially since he was the least wounded out of all of us. But he'll be okay."

"I hope so." She remembered the shaking of his fingers as he'd helped her drink. "He's such a great guy."

"He is." His eyes twinkled at her. "Hey, how come when I visited, you didn't wake up, but you woke up for him? Should I be worried?"

"Oh yeah, you caught me, we're having a secret affair," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, I see how it is. Just wait till I'm better, and I'll kick his ass."

"Ah, go easy on him." She ran her fingers along the back of his hand. He was warm, beautifully warm. Her eyes filled with tears again.

"So, um, Warrick said something about you wanting to move to Colorado?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come?"

Her tears spilled over. "Oh, I guess."

He grinned. "Thanks."

"Too many ghosts here, Grissom," she whispered.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah."

"We can get a cabin, once you're better."

"That sounds nice."

"Up in the mountains."

He leaned forward, kissing her shoulder. "I think Bruno will like the snow."

The End