Killing Sara Sidle - Chapter 6
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At last he can go home. Grissom spent the last couple of days living in his office. He did not want to run into Sara packing her stuff at home, so after her call he went home nearly immediately, tried to get some sleep and picked up clothes for the next couple of days. He even (eventually) installed the doggie-door so Dog can get into the backyard on his own. He left a note for Sara asking her to feed Dog. He was aware that he was being a coward, but he also knew that he could not stand to see her walk away from him again.
He received a text message from her 30 minutes ago, “Done Left key in kitchen S.” He stared at it for a while. He found it hard to believe that this is what they’ve become. Incomplete sentences and absent punctuation. God, he hates text messages. He slowly gets up and makes his way out of the office to his car. He’s taking the night off. He needs it. He feels like shit and looks worse.
He unlocks the door to his house and takes a deep breath before entering. He’s not sure he’s adequately prepared to face the house without everything Sara. Dog doesn’t greet him at the door. Maybe he is still in the backyard. Or did Sara take Dog? Technically he was her dog. Although he never listened to a word she said and followed Grissom everywhere. Still, he was her dog. Grissom doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. He drops his kit on the floor next to the door, keys, wallet and small change on the table to his right, jacket on the floor. He kicks off his shoes and walks into the kitchen, puts ice in a glass and fills it to the brim with his favorite Scotch. He takes a large gulp, then presses the cold glass to his forehead and closes his eyes.
“Headache?”
Grissom drops the glass, swings around and stares in the direction of the voice. The glass hits the edge of the counter, then the floor and shatters into hundreds of pieces. Glass, ice and expensive Scotch all over the kitchen floor. Grissom could not care less about the kitchen floor. Or the whisky. In the dim light he can see her outline on the couch. Dog is lying next to her with his head in her lap. Grissom takes a step towards her. A string of foul language that would make a sailor cringe escapes his mouth as he steps into a large piece of glass. Sara sits frozen on the couch.
Then she jumps up, nearly causing Dog to tumble off the couch onto the floor and starts walking quickly in the direction of the door, head bent, not looking at Grissom. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say goodbye. I’ll go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sounds frightened. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have stayed. I’m sorry Grissom. I’m going. I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up Sara! Just shut up.” Grissom is yelling. Dog jumps up and runs through the doggie-door. Sara freezes with her hand on the doorknob. “I stepped in a piece of glass,” he says more calmly.
“Oh. Oh!” She turns around, “Are you OK?”
“No Sara. I’m not OK. I’m bleeding all over the kitchen floor.”
Sara flips on the light and slowly walks towards him. Grissom forgets all about the bleeding and just looks at her. Her hair is slightly shorter and she didn’t straighten it. She looks healthy and … tanned? She doesn’t meet his eyes but concentrates on weaving through the pieces of glass, until she stands in front of him. She kneels and looks up at him, “May I?” He nods. The gently takes his foot in her hand and indicates he should bend his knee so she can inspect the bottom. “I’m going to remove the glass.” She leans closer and pulls out the glass. “It’s bleeding pretty badly. Do you think you can make it to the couch?” She stands up, puts her arm around him and helps him to the couch. Without saying a word she disappears down the hall to get the first-aid kit from the bathroom. She returns, kneels next to him and proceeds to remove his sock and clean the wound. Grissom doesn’t say anything. He can’t take his eyes off her. Sara sits back, “I think you need stitches.”
“I’m sure a bandage will do.”
“No Grissom. You need stitches!”
“Sara!”
“Just for once listen to me! I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Sara, I’ll be fine.”
“Oh for God’s sake Grissom, just get in the car!”
TBC
A/N: I will post the last chapter tomorrow.
At last he can go home. Grissom spent the last couple of days living in his office. He did not want to run into Sara packing her stuff at home, so after her call he went home nearly immediately, tried to get some sleep and picked up clothes for the next couple of days. He even (eventually) installed the doggie-door so Dog can get into the backyard on his own. He left a note for Sara asking her to feed Dog. He was aware that he was being a coward, but he also knew that he could not stand to see her walk away from him again.
He received a text message from her 30 minutes ago, “Done Left key in kitchen S.” He stared at it for a while. He found it hard to believe that this is what they’ve become. Incomplete sentences and absent punctuation. God, he hates text messages. He slowly gets up and makes his way out of the office to his car. He’s taking the night off. He needs it. He feels like shit and looks worse.
He unlocks the door to his house and takes a deep breath before entering. He’s not sure he’s adequately prepared to face the house without everything Sara. Dog doesn’t greet him at the door. Maybe he is still in the backyard. Or did Sara take Dog? Technically he was her dog. Although he never listened to a word she said and followed Grissom everywhere. Still, he was her dog. Grissom doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. He drops his kit on the floor next to the door, keys, wallet and small change on the table to his right, jacket on the floor. He kicks off his shoes and walks into the kitchen, puts ice in a glass and fills it to the brim with his favorite Scotch. He takes a large gulp, then presses the cold glass to his forehead and closes his eyes.
“Headache?”
Grissom drops the glass, swings around and stares in the direction of the voice. The glass hits the edge of the counter, then the floor and shatters into hundreds of pieces. Glass, ice and expensive Scotch all over the kitchen floor. Grissom could not care less about the kitchen floor. Or the whisky. In the dim light he can see her outline on the couch. Dog is lying next to her with his head in her lap. Grissom takes a step towards her. A string of foul language that would make a sailor cringe escapes his mouth as he steps into a large piece of glass. Sara sits frozen on the couch.
Then she jumps up, nearly causing Dog to tumble off the couch onto the floor and starts walking quickly in the direction of the door, head bent, not looking at Grissom. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say goodbye. I’ll go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sounds frightened. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have stayed. I’m sorry Grissom. I’m going. I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up Sara! Just shut up.” Grissom is yelling. Dog jumps up and runs through the doggie-door. Sara freezes with her hand on the doorknob. “I stepped in a piece of glass,” he says more calmly.
“Oh. Oh!” She turns around, “Are you OK?”
“No Sara. I’m not OK. I’m bleeding all over the kitchen floor.”
Sara flips on the light and slowly walks towards him. Grissom forgets all about the bleeding and just looks at her. Her hair is slightly shorter and she didn’t straighten it. She looks healthy and … tanned? She doesn’t meet his eyes but concentrates on weaving through the pieces of glass, until she stands in front of him. She kneels and looks up at him, “May I?” He nods. The gently takes his foot in her hand and indicates he should bend his knee so she can inspect the bottom. “I’m going to remove the glass.” She leans closer and pulls out the glass. “It’s bleeding pretty badly. Do you think you can make it to the couch?” She stands up, puts her arm around him and helps him to the couch. Without saying a word she disappears down the hall to get the first-aid kit from the bathroom. She returns, kneels next to him and proceeds to remove his sock and clean the wound. Grissom doesn’t say anything. He can’t take his eyes off her. Sara sits back, “I think you need stitches.”
“I’m sure a bandage will do.”
“No Grissom. You need stitches!”
“Sara!”
“Just for once listen to me! I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Sara, I’ll be fine.”
“Oh for God’s sake Grissom, just get in the car!”
TBC
A/N: I will post the last chapter tomorrow.