|
|
|
|
Retribution
Chapter
Fifteen
Nick
heard the shot and sprinted up the last steps to the apartment over the garage.
His pistol felt heavy in his hand as he rounded the corner at the top of the
stairs.
Jill
stood, her back to him, her pistol trained on Sara’s sprawled, bleeding form.
“Drop
your weapon!”
She
ignored him, pulling the slide back, preparing to fire again.
He
had never discharged his weapon in the line of duty, but he didn’t hesitate,
firing two rounds into the gunwoman. Even as she hit the ground, he was running
past her, kicking her gun away from her almost as an afterthought in his race
to get to Sara.
It
was only as he was applying pressure to her side to try and stem the bleeding
that he saw Grissom.
His
horror doubled.
Outside,
he could hear police cars racing to a stop. Slammed doors and voices. Footsteps
on the stairs below.
“Someone
call an ambulance!” he screamed. “We need some help in here!”
---
Sara
awoke in a white, sterile environment. For a moment she panicked, unsure of
where she was or what had happened.
When
she remembered, the realization made her heart sink with dread.
She
closed her eyes and prayed - something she had never done, not even as a little
girl. She prayed that it had all been a bad dream, some terrible mistake or
nightmarish hallucination.
She
opened her eyes to the awful truth. It had not been a dream. She was in a
hospital bed, and Nick Stokes was sitting beside her, looking grim. When he saw
that her eyes were open, his features softened into a smile.
“Hey.
Look who’s awake.”
She
started to sit up and winced as pain ripped through her side. Waiting for it to
subside, she settled herself into a more comfortable position and cleared her
throat.
“Nick.
How long?”
“A
couple of hours. The doctor said you hit your head when you fell, so you might
have a concussion. But the bullet just grazed your side. You were lucky. Really
lucky.” To emphasize the point, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “What were
you thinking? Running off alone?”
Tears
threatened and Sara shut her eyes, trying to staunch their flow. She had been
thinking of Grissom. Only of him.
“Where
is he?”
Nick
hesitated.
“Nick,
please! I need to see him.”
The
waiting was unbearable. A few more hours passed, during which Nick negotiated
with the nursing staff on Sara’s behalf and then waited by her bedside, holding
her hand. Greg had a death grip on the other and in any other circumstances,
Sara would have found the whole thing incredibly funny. They seemed like a
cross between a prayer circle and a pair of prison guards, there to ensure she
would not run off again.
When
the doctors eventually gave the go-ahead for Sara to see Grissom, they imposed
the condition that she be wheeled to her destination in a chair. She didn’t
have any fight left in her to argue.
As
Nick pushed her slowly down the hallway, the walls seemed to close in, as if
the entire world was pressing in at her on all sides. When they came to a stop
outside that room, a cold thrill of fear ran through her, making her skin
prickle. She did not want to go through that door and yet, part of her wanted
nothing more.
Nick
wheeled her inside, bringing her to a rest beside the bed, close to Grissom’s
unmoving body. “I’ll be right outside, Sara,” he said. “If you need me.”
Sara
barely heard him leave, her eyes now fixed unwaveringly on Grissom.
His
face was white, his various wounds and bruises were garish splashes of color on
his otherwise colorless skin.
He
had suffered. Oh, he had suffered. One eye was swollen and purple; his lips
were bloody and bloated. And yet this only hinted at the true damage, which was
now hidden by the white sheet that covered him. But she had already seen the
wounds, seen the burns - they were etched for ever into her memory and her
heart ached because of them.
Tears
slid down Sara’s face as she reached out to him, touching his face gently. She
took his hand and held it to her lips caressing it gently.
“Griss,
I’m so sorry,” she wept. “What have they done to you? I’m so sorry.”
She
felt the tiniest hint of pressure as he squeezed her hand. His eyes flickered
and he eventually opened them with some difficulty and met hers.
“Hey,”
he said, his voice hoarse. “Honey, are you okay?”
Despite
herself, she laughed through her tears. “You want to know if I’m okay? We
thought we lost you for a while there. When I saw you in that place, I thought…
I thought…”
Her
head sunk onto the bed beside him as her tears came harder now. When she had
seen his limp, broken body in that house of horrors, she had thought that he
was dead. She had felt his loss, deep inside of her, and in that moment part of
her had died too.
She
felt his hand gently cradling her head as she wept.
“I’m
here. I’m not going anywhere,” he told her softly. “It’s over.”
She
nodded through her tears, finally allowing herself to believe it.
It
was over.
“I
love you,” Grissom said, his eyes shining with tears of his own.
Sara
smiled, leaning forward to gently brush her lips against his. “I love you
too.”
---
Miraculously,
Grissom had suffered comparatively little internal damage, his three cracked
ribs somehow not being complicated by internal bleeding. His burns were all
first and second degree - both serious and painful, but luckily not infected.
He
spent the first 36 hours on a saline drip, replacing the fluids his body had
lost due to dehydration and the burns. The moment the IV needle was out, he was
ready to discharge himself and, were it not for Sara’s influence, he most
likely would have. She spent every moment by his side, eventually convincing
the nursing staff to wheel her bed into his room so they would not have to
sleep apart.
On
the second day, Nick and Greg arrived with good news. Graham Price had been
arraigned in court, and had pleaded guilty to charges of attempted murder and
kidnapping. While the local authorities, and their own colleagues in Vegas were
still investigating him for several counts of murder, it was a relief to know
that he was now behind bars, and would remain there for many years to come.
Pain
relief and Sara’s constant care had a positive effect and after just four days
in hospital, Grissom’s doctor spoke of release. He faced a long recuperation
period, his ribs and burns would take time to heal, but he was on the road to
recovery. Physically, at least.
Several
times each night, Sara awoke to find him muttering in his sleep, occasionally
crying out, obviously in the midst of a nightmare. It was to be expected, after
his ordeal, and Sara knew they both faced the prospect of post traumatic stress
disorder after everything they had been through. Counseling crossed her mind
more than once and she suggested to Grissom that they both consider it once
they returned to Vegas. Grissom agreed to think about it.
The
day before Grissom was discharged, Sara left the hospital for the first time,
journeying north. She still had unfinished business.
Sara’s
mother hugged her carefully in the doorway, mindful of her injuries. Sara had
called ahead and given her an idea of what had been happening, only to be
berated for not calling sooner.
“I
should have been there for you in the hospital!” Laura had said, sounding more
guilty than angry.
It
would be something Sara would have to get used to - having a mother back in her
life, keeping her informed. But she found herself willing to make that adjustment
- eager to do it, in fact.
They
sat in the kitchen, sipping herbal tea and discussing the events of the past
week. Sara shared everything, every emotion she had experienced, finally
talking to Laura the way she imagined a daughter should.
“On
some level, I can’t seem to take it in, that it’s over,” she said. “Price is
behind bars, 25 to life. And Jill is dead.”
The
word came out and there was barely any emotion attached to it. Jill was dead.
It was a relief, and yet Sara was confused that she didn’t feel more guilt or
triumph because of it.
As
though reading her mind, Laura studied her daughter’s face intently. “How do
you feel about that? Jill being dead?”
“I
don’t know how I feel,” Sara admitted. “Part of me wishes I had been the one to
have pulled the trigger. Nick never should have had to…”
Sara’s
voice caught for a moment, guilt at putting Nick in that position catching up
with her, choking her with unshed tears.
“Are
the authorities taking any action?” Laura asked. “About the shooting?”
“There
will be an inquiry. I guess I’ll have to testify at it. But the Sheriff is
satisfied that it was justifiable homicide. Nick saved my life. And Grissom’s.”
Sara
paused for a moment to sip her tea and struggle with all the conflicting emotions
she was experiencing.
“I
guess I know how you felt, now,” Sara said. “I wanted her dead. I wanted to
kill her. For hurting someone I love. To protect him.”
Laura
nodded and her eyes glistened with tears. Sara reached out and took her hand,
holding it tightly. Blinking back the tears, she fought for composure, clearing
her throat before continuing to speak.
“They’re
discharging Grissom in the morning, and then I’m taking him home,” Sara said.
“I’m
glad he’s getting better,” her mother replied. “And you? How are you doing?”
“I’m
going to be okay.”
They
walked arm in arm to the door and hugged a goodbye. In the back of her mind,
Sara realized that, despite the many traumatic distractions, she had
accomplished what she had originally come to
“Mom,
why don’t you come and visit me in Vegas sometime?” Sara asked. “Sometime
soon?”
“I’d
really like that.” Laura Sidle smiled at her daughter. “And you and Grissom are
welcome here any time.”
She
paused, frowning a little in thought. “You know, Sara, isn’t a little odd you
calling the man you love by his last name?”
Sara
shrugged. “It’s who he is. It’s what I’ve always called him. It’s comfortable.”
“What’s
his first name?”
“Gil,”
Sara smiled. “His name is Gil.”
---
Grissom
grumbled about the wheelchair, but when Sara leaned in close and kissed his
neck, he quit complaining. As they left through the front doors of the
hospital, Grissom sighed with relief.
“Glad
to be free?” Sara asked, amused.
“Yes,”
he said. “I hate hospitals.”
“Poor
baby. Does that mean you object to having a nurse?”
He
looked up at her and saw her suggestively raised eyebrow.
“Honey,
if you’re the nurse in question, I could die a happy man.”
“Don’t
you dare,” she growled. “I plan on getting you well. We have many years ahead
of us, Gil Grissom.”
He
smiled. “Let’s go home.”
bravenet.com