The Shiner
Sara sat in her car, playing with the clasp on her compact mirror. Shift was about to start, and for the first time in years, she was dreading it.
Sighing, she flipped open the mirror again, checking out her reflection. The thick layer of foundation hadn't done much to hide the bruising. Daubing on a bit more concealer, she winced slightly at the contact.
It was going to be a long night.
Grissom was already handing out assignments when she walked in the door. The others glanced up at her, then did a double-take.
"Holy cow," Greg yelped. "Sara, what happened to you?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly, glancing at Grissom.
With a carefully blank expression, he handed her an assignment slip. "You're with Greg and Catherine tonight. DB at the Tangiers."
She nodded. "What about the Bellagio case?"
"Nick and Warrick are in the layout room now, finishing it up."
She watched as he finally looked at her swollen black eye, his jaw tightening slightly. "Okay," she said, spinning around and heading for the door. Greg and Catherine followed.
"So what happened?" Greg pressed as they got into the Denali. "How'd you get the shiner?"
"Oh, it was dumb," she said, forcing a grin. "I tripped and whacked my eye on my bedroom doorknob."
"Ouch." Catherine was watching her far too closely. "You sure you're all right?"
"Positive."
o-o-o-o-o
"Ugh, this vault is airtight." Nick slumped into a chair in the conference room, staring at the blueprints in front of him.
Grissom nodded, taking another sip of coffee. "It looks impenetrable. Has to have been an inside job."
"The employees' records all came up clean," Nick sighed. "But I guess every crook has to start somewhere. I'll interview them again."
"Good. I'll check in with-" Grissom's voice trailed off as he caught sight of someone passing in the hallway.
Nick looked up, too, and blinked in surprise. "Whoa. does Sara have a black eye?"
"Yes, she does. Anyway, I'll check in with the bank manager-"
"Hold up. Is she okay?"
"She's fine."
"Did something happen at her scene? Didn't PD secure it before she went in?" Nick was halfway out of his chair before Grissom laid a firm hand on his shoulder.
"She's fine, Nick. She slipped in the shower and hit herself on one of the knobs. Now, let's get back to work, shall we?"
o-o-o-o-o
There was an hour left in the shift, and Greg needed coffee. Badly. Making a beeline for the break room, he found Nick already brewing a fresh pot.
"Long night?" Nick asked, pulling a second mug out of the cabinet.
Greg groaned in reply. "There were three of us working that scene, and even still, it took us five hours to process it. My back's killing me."
They watched the coffee percolating, and breathed in the fragrant smell rapturously.
"Hey, you see Sara's shiner?" Greg asked.
"Yeah, a little bit ago. Looked like a doozy."
"She kept stopping to put more makeup on it, because the cops were staring. I felt bad for her."
Nick shook his head. "Single woman like her, living by herself... she's lucky nothing worse happened. I'm gonna get her one of those no-slip mats for the tub. Maybe one of those bathroom panic-alert buttons, too."
"What are you talking about?" Greg reached for the creamer. "Sara hit her head on the bedroom doorknob."
"No, she told Grissom she slipped in the shower."
At the same moment, they froze, then looked at each other in horror.
"Coming to work with bruises-"
"Telling conflicting stories about where she got them-"
Nick nodded, looking sick. "Sara's showing textbook signs of being a battered woman."
o-o-o-o-o
Sara sat in one of the layout rooms, staring at photos of the crime scene. She'd managed to avoid Grissom for most of the shift, but he'd seen her a couple of times in the hallway. Both times his expression had grown stormy, and she'd hurried away.
"Hey, Sara."
She looked up to see Nick and Greg standing in the doorway, looking somber.
"Hey, guys, what's up?"
"We need to talk." Nick took the seat next to her, while Greg leaned against the table on her other side.
"Okay..." She set the photos down.
"We're worried about you," Greg said softly.
"Worried?"
"The bruise," Nick supplied.
She shook her head, smiling. "Guys, I just tripped, it's-"
"In your bedroom, right?" Greg asked.
"Yeah."
"Grissom told me you slipped in the shower." Nick leaned forward, taking her hand. "Sara, do you need help?"
She stared at him blankly. "What?"
"Were you assaulted? Are you in an abusive relationship?"
"You don't deserve to be treated like this," Greg piped in, looking upset. "We spoke to a PEAP counselor-"
"You what?"
"We didn't use your name," Nick said quickly. "But it's a counselor who works almost exclusively with abuse victims. She said it's not uncommon for victims who work in law enforcement to avoid reporting it, because they don't want their coworkers to know what's going on."
"We'd never judge you, Sara," Greg added. "No matter what happens, we're always here for you."
As she glanced from one earnest face to the other, Sara felt a swell of emotion. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Guys, I really appreciate your concern. More than you know. But the truth is, the story of how I got the black eye is embarrassing. That's the reason I lied."
They eyed her dubiously. "You sure?" they asked in unison.
"I'm sure. I'm not in any danger, and no one attacked me."
They nodded finally, and let her get back to work after Nick had given her a quick hug. She stared at the crime scene photos for a few more seconds before feeling her eyes grow moist. Stripping off her gloves, she headed for her car.
o-o-o-o-o
Grissom found her curled up in his favorite armchair, a steady stream of tears coursing down her cheeks.
"Sara?" Crouching down next to her, he carefully avoided touching her. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine," she whispered, swiping at her cheeks with one hand.
"You're not fine. Tell me what's wrong."
She shook her head as a fresh wave of tears started. "Nick and Greg came to see me. They were worried about me... they recommended a PEAP counselor who specializes in domestic abuse victims."
He wanted to cry himself. It took every ounce of his strength not to reach out and hold her.
After all, the last time he'd touched her was to give her that black eye.
"Are you going to go?"
"Grissom." She looked at him sadly. "Of course not."
"Then what-"
"It just... it made me think about my mother."
He couldn't stop himself from taking her hand in his, and to his relief, she squeezed it back.
"I never really understood what she went through, until tonight. The stares, the whispers, the looks of pity... She used to go out covered with bruises. Why didn't anyone ever ask if she was all right? Why didn't they realize that no one could have possibly been that clumsy?"
"I don't know," he said finally. "But I'm glad you've got friends who care about you and look out for you."
"Yeah." She sniffled a little. "And I'm so glad I've got you."
"Right," he scoffed, scowling. "The guy who gave you that shiner."
Leaning forward, she took hold of the sides of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Hey. I'm glad I've got you."
He nodded finally, and she let go.
"It's been a long night. I'm going to head to bed. You coming?"
"No, that's okay," he hedged. "I think I'm going to catch up on some reading. Might just crash on the couch."
"The couch."
"Yup."
"The same couch that you said last week we need to replace, because it hurts your back." She looked at him admonishingly. "You don't want to sleep with me?"
His only response was to look dolefully at her black eye again.
She heaved a sigh. "Grissom, we've been together for over a year now. I know how you like your eggs, what your favorite TV show is... and I definitely know that you flail around in your sleep. You think this was the first bruise I've ever gotten from sharing a bed with you?"
"I'll see a specialist," he whispered, reaching up to run his thumb along her cheekbone gently. "I'll take a sedative. I'll fix it."
"Sweetie, we both know you can't take sedatives before bed, not with the number of consults you get called in on. And we certainly both know you didn't thwack my face with your hand on purpose. Come to bed."
She cocked an eyebrow and marched off to the bedroom. Still feeling miserable, Grissom trailed behind. They changed into their pajamas, then climbed into the bed. He lay perched on one side of the mattress.
"I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you again," he said finally. "Do I really always flail around?"
"Not on the nights that you hold me," she told him softly.
"Well then," he said, moving towards her and taking her into his arms. "I'll just have to hold you forever, then, won't I?"