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An online haven where Grissom Sara Romance is free
to flutter ... By KMnO4 The Awakening Rating- R Summary- Tormented by nightmares of the
past, when will Sara find her awakening? The cold metal chilled the soles of her feet.
She fought not to squirm in the vicelike grip of the stirrups. It would only
lead to further discomfort. The thin fabric of her hospital gown did little
to protect her from the frigid air of the tiny operating theatre. She
shivered and shut her eyes tight against the pain of her doctor's probing
fingers. The hard table beneath her created a
dull aching along the length of her spine. The elevation of her pelvis made
her feel like she was being pulled apart in two differing directions. A sharp
cry escaped her mouth as he began scraping at the walls of her womb. She
fought to control her clenched fists which were spasming beside her hips. "It's almost over, Miss Sidle.
Please relax. When you become tense it causes your muscles to contract
inwards. This will only make it hurt more. You must keep still." Sara felt the pressure of his hands and
bit down hard on her lower lip to stop herself from screaming. Tears formed
behind her closed eyelids and spilled out beneath her lashes. She felt a
violent emptying within her. The doctor's instrument grated against the
sensitive surfaces it encountered with a harsh unfeeling intensity. An utter
agony. Then there was nothing. For a moment she
thought everyone had disappeared. Sara prayed that she would awaken and it
would all have been some kind of terrible dream. But then she heard the slick kiss of his
latex gloves and the gentle thud as they fell into the waste bin. He
addressed her kindly as he made his way out of the small room. "You see dear. It wasn't so bad
after all. Nurse Anna will tidy things up and you'll be on your way in no
time. Don't forget to sign out at reception and pick up your slip for those
painkillers." With a quick swish of the double doors
the doctor was gone. Sara was left lying with her legs up in the air being
tended to by a middle aged woman with bright red hair. It all seemed too
surreal. It left her hollow. She looked down at the little identity tag on
her left wrist. The name there was definitely her own, yet now it seemed so
foreign. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Las Vegas 2004 "Honey, look at me." Grissom held her hands loosely at the
indent of her wrists. He released his grip in order to stroke the right side
of her face. She opened her eyes and a dark fire raged within them. He smiled
at her vulnerability. Sara tried to speak but her voice caught inside of her
throat and consorted against her, until she was left with only a sigh. The rise and fall of her chest began to
increase with a frightening rapidity, and she fought to breathe. His fingers
had moved away from the sensitive skin of her cheek, and had started to blaze
a path along her neckline. It was like an unbearable form of torture that
spurned an ache which was deep it threatened to swallow her whole. Grissom bent down to kiss the even plane
of her stomach and her muscles contracted against the brush of his lips. They
were sat upright, facing each other with an intense awe. He gently gripped
her hips as he continued his way along the yielding lines of her upper thigh.
Sara clenched her eyes shut against the onslaught of feverish longing. His head rose to claim the delicate
underside of her left breast with its reverent assault. She struggled to articulate
the effect Grissom was having on her body. It was like teetering on the brink
of the most delicious pain. Sara reached for his face and pulled it up to
meet her waiting mouth. Hungry with years of unfulfilled fantasies. "Wake me up. I'm so sick of
dreaming..." An open mouthed kiss initiated the
beginning of an impatient searching of bodies. Their hands roamed over
unfamiliar surfaces, memorizing attributes, mapping textures and sounds.
Grissom lay heavy against her, tipping them backwards until Sara's spine
connected with the cool touch of the crisp bed linen. Her body relaxed. She felt the full pressure of his weight
along the curving slopes of her form. Their legs entangled beneath the sheets
that fell across their glistening bodies like a modest draping. Sara felt
sweat begin to bead along her jaw line and in the sloping arch of her lower
back, as Grissom entered her with ease, elevating her right leg for comfort. He rocked against her delicate nerve
endings, causing Sara to tightly grip the covers while arching upwards and
throwing back her head in a moment of reckless abandon. Grissom's voice
caressed the inner drums of her ears, vibrating across their surface with a
rousing tenor. She stilled herself to listen to the words that had escaped
him. "Please, say it's not too
late." IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII The countdown to the New Year had begun.
In less than forty minutes Sara would be standing beside the large expanse of
dance floor, more alone than ever, while everyone else got their special
kiss. She wasn't sure if it was even worth waiting around for that kind of
embarrassment. In the end, she decided it definitely was not. Sara slipped out to the coat check, and
handed her ticket to the young woman behind the desk. She silently prayed
that none of her colleagues had seen her leaving before midnight, there would
be no living that down. The lab was not usually the home of social activity,
but they went all out for the holiday season. Decking halls with holly. She hadn't been to so many parties since
her freshman year at Harvard, when she had taken to dating like it was an
Olympic sport. The short black dress Sara had eventfully squeezed herself
into tonight was one of the only surviving relicts from that era of her life.
She could not wait to get home, peel it off, and preferably burn it for
warmth. "Sara, are you leaving? The party
hasn't even started yet! Why don't you come back inside and have a drink with
me. I've just been rejected by Anna, that new profiler over at the PD. I need
a morale boost." Sara looked into the steely grey eyes of
Aidan Shaw, the coroner's assistant. He had a pleading expression plastered
across his face, which was hard to turn down. But, she really didn't feel
like going back inside to watch all the happy couples celebrate. It would be
devastating for her ego. Even more so, than Aidan's recent knock back. "I'm sorry. It's just a little
claustrophobic in there. I don't feel up to it tonight, Aidan. Why don't you
go and find Debbie, that cute receptionist you're always going on about? I'm
sure I wouldn't be much fun right now. I'm going to head home." He shrugged nonchalantly, and was about to
walk away. But, just as Sara reached out and pressed for the elevator to take
her down to the car park, Aidan returned with an offer. She smiled politely
and accepted. Surely it couldn't hurt to let him escort her safely to the
rusty regulation vehicle the department had given her. Why the hell not? IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Las Vegas 2004 The music thumped around her with an
almost deafening beat. Sara could feel it pulling her body into the harsh
sway of rhythm and booming base. She tried her best to right at home in the
trendy surroundings of the hottest club on the strip. But it was hard to
remain inconspicuous when she was practically the only woman over thirty. Her problem seemed to be that she was
too gullible. When Greg had confronted her in the locker room and asked if
she would join the boys for a night on the town to celebrate his birthday she
should have said no. But, Nick and Warrick had told her they were going, and
Sara had been momentarily pacified by the promise of company. Also, this turn of events served to
handle her other problem quite effectively, as it meant Sara would not be
accompanying her supervisor back to his townhouse, where they would go on to
make love and fall asleep blissfully entangled. This issue needed a little
more consideration than that of her gullibility. So naturally she pushed it
aside. "Will you come and dance? I bet
you've got some moves. Don't think I haven't seen you shaking your thing when
you think no-one's looking. Come on, Sara. Don't frown at me like that, I'm
the birthday boy. It's my special occasion." She fought the urge to roll her eyes
skyward as she followed Greg out onto the dance floor. There was barely room
to breathe, let alone move, and the noise increased as they drew closer to
the speakers which stood by the DJs booth. Sara could think of nothing but
escape as the warmth of Grissom's embrace seemed to call out to her. At first her hands were kept firmly by
her sides. She made it clear with glaring eye contact that Greg was to remain
a decent distance away from her at all times. There would be no Patrick
Swayze moments for him. After a while, the melody worked its way into her
bones and Sara began to loosen up. Lifting her arms above her head. "Sara Sidle, is that you? My God!
Haven't you changed? I haven't seen you in about a decade! Do you remember
me? Officer James Taylor, from the San Francisco PD." Sara's hands fell with surprise, and she
surveyed the young looking man in front of her with nothing short awe. It was
like looking in a mirror into the past only to recall such a huge mix of
contrasting emotions that it becomes practically impossible to form an
adequate response. So, she continued to gaze at Officer Taylor in wonder. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Looking back, Sara could not remember
the exact moment when she realized something was wrong. They had reached her
dilapidated car and she was searching for her keys, which seemed annoyingly
hard to find in such a small purse. Aidan hadn't said a word since they left
the rattling little elevator. She figured he was hurt. He was a nice guy, but a little too eager.
Woman were always turning him down, and at a party where there were so many
good looking police officers, nobody had much time to spare for a man who
worked with corpses. Sara turned to dismiss him from his chivalrous post,
confident that she could get home by herself without too much peril. "Don't scream, Sara. I won't hurt
you. Just do exactly as I say. Get into the back seat. Quickly! Don't fight
with me on this; I'm bigger and stronger than you'll ever be-- I can't
believe you bit me! You stupid bitch!" Her right cheek exploded with pain as
his fist came into contact with the supple skin. A blinding light broke out
behind her eyelids and she fought to remain upright, but his hands were heavy
on her shoulders, pushing her roughly against the worn leather seat. Sara's
voice rose in peeling screams which echoed across the long barren basement. Aidan's sweaty palm was soon covering
her mouth, dispelling any sounds she tried to admit. Her heart was hammering
and her limbs ached. It was like being underwater, every movement was labored
and his weight on her chest was unbearable. She pushed away the hand that was
steadily making its way up her left thigh. Scorching the skin. "Nobody is going to hear you, so
don't even bother. Just relax and try to enjoy it, baby. I know it's been a
while since you've had any, but you'll soon remember. Just like riding a
bike. But, slap me away again, and I swear I'll cut off your pretty little
hands. Keep still!" His lips dropped hard kisses onto her
mouth, while he simultaneously removed her underwear. Sara's stomach burned
with an acidic fury. She wanted nothing more that to throw up, or at the very
least spit in his face. But Aidan had her paralyzed by her own sense of
helplessness, and she could do nothing but taste the salt of her tears. Upstairs, the party continued. Loud
music and nervous excitement served to drown out all her previous cries of
distress. Sara's violator bit down hard on her neck as he slowly entered her,
protracting his assault. Her mouth finally freed, she let out a loud shriek
and refused to stop shouting until her head connected with the glass window. Las Vegas 2004 “Do you love me?” Grissom
asked softly, tickling the soles of her feet. Sara’s heart dropped. It had been
two months, and it was not surprising that he would want some kind of
affirmation. But still she had been hoping this moment would not arrive.
Grissom’s eyes were bright and expectant, it felt like the weight of
his happiness rested in those three little words, yet it was impossible for
her to say them. He waited patiently, his gaze searching
her own. She drew in a deep breath and quickly looked away. It had been
foolish to think that it would last forever, if Sara couldn’t commit
verbally, how did she ever expect to do it physically? In that instant
she did the unthinkable and hated a dead man, for the mess he had made of her
life. “Where are you going, Sara?”
Grissom questioned. She scrambled across the room and headed
towards the front door, picking up her coat and shoes along the way. All she
wanted was some fresh air and to regain the ability to breathe. Grissom
followed in her footsteps, his voice stuttering with confusion and
uncertainty. Sara was almost at the threshold when he reached out and took
her arm. The sudden contact made her flinch, and
she turned on him. He caught a glimpse of something behind the brown of her
eyes. It was the one emotion that Grissom had never dreamed he would see
reflected in Sara Sidle’s gaze. There was no hiding the fact that she
was deadly afraid and he hated that he could have inspired such fear. “I’m won’t hurt
you,” he whispered. Sara shut her eyes against the sound of
words she had heard spoken before, which had subsequently been followed by the
worst pain of her life. The synapses of her mind were overwhelmed and she
fought against the blur of images that rose from the recesses of her memory.
Pictures of Aidan’s face merged with Gil Grissom’s. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII “Say that you love me,”
Aidan began slowly, “If we’re in love, then this is okay, Sara.
If you love me, then you can forgive me, baby.” Everytime he mentioned the word love
she shook. His pleading voice was grating her nerves and Sara hated the way
Aidan was acting, like he was the victim. She was the one who lay bleeding
from the gaping wound in the back of her head, casting sticky red trails down
the window pane. All he could do was whine on at her in that voice. After a few minutes he stopped speaking
all together, and just began to stare. Sara could almost visualize the clogs
of his brain, frantically turning over as he figured out what to do. His
expression changed suddenly and began to search around the car as if looking
for something in particular, though she couldn’t guess what that could
be. “You’re a nice girl,”
Aidan enthused. “You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen, right?
But we can’t keep it a secret anymore, you’re hurt real bad and
someone’s bound to find out. I want you to understand that
there’s no other way out for me, Sara. I have to do this. It’s my
life, or yours.” He unsheathed the scissors she had
stored in her glove compartment, after helping to decorate the break room last
month. Her mind was sluggish with pain and she wanted to be fully alert to
take in what was happening. At that precise moment, Sara saw that she was
dying, whether it came slowly from the bleed out or swiftly from the blade. “Stop, and back away from the
woman! I’m a police officer and I’m armed. Put down your weapon,
and step out of the car. Do it now!” Officer James Taylor was a head strong
rookie on the San Francisco Police Force. His girlfriend had sent him down to
the car to pick up her forgotten lipstick; she wanted to re-apply before
midnight. Taylor wasn’t about to argue with her as he was due to go
back on duty as soon as the ball dropped, and Sandra wasn’t too over
joyed about that. Finding Sara was a miracle. As Aidan’s hips began to grate
against her own, Sara threw together every intonation she had ever heard in
her life. The hail Mary’s joined with the valley of the
shadow of death, and blended with a messy keep us from all evil. But
now the only sound she could hear was the gun shot that echoed across the
derelict car park and shouts of -- Three, two, one... Happy New Year! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Las Vegas 2004 Sara watched the lines turn blue. It was
like having a satellite fall out of orbit to unexpectedly crash down on her
apartment out of the millions just like it, all over “You’re pregnant,” he
said, repeating the words she had just uttered. It had been a week since she had fled
from his townhouse in such a manic flurry. Sara had gone on to purposely
avoid Grissom at work, and refused to answer his constant calls. At night,
when she couldn’t sleep, on account of the horrific nightmares played
out in Technicolor, she would listen to his concerned answer machine
messages. So it was not surprising that he looked
so shell shocked, to have her finally invite him over to her home, only to
hear that she was carrying his unborn child. Grissom would have liked to have
carefully considered what to say next, but his brain seemed to be incapable
of coherent thought. Sara looked at him expectantly, their roles reversed. “I’m going to keep the
baby,” she said quietly, fixing his gaze. Grissom appeared to be a man with the
weight of the world on his shoulders; he fought to understand the
implications of Sara’s decision. Life would never be the same again,
and even if she never managed to say I love you, the proof of their
devotion would now exist outside of themselves. In a new little human being. He smiled through tear ridden eyes, and
his happiness caught her by surprise. Sara unwrapped her arms from their
resting place, crossed about her waist, and lifted them towards him. This
time was going to be better; she could feel it in her bones and in the
flutter in her belly. There would be no surgeons, no seedy clinics and no
shame. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Sara kept a copy of her statement in a
box under her bed. She spent the entire month of January reading it over and
over again, but nothing changed. Every day she took it out hoping that the
words would be different, and that somebody else’s name would replace
hers, but life is doesn’t come with an automatic rewind and edit. “Call me, honey. It’s mom. I
want to see how you’re holding up. I saw that article they brought out
in the newspaper covering the burial of that bastard’s body. I can tell
you it made me sick to my stomach, to hear his parents blaming the police
justice system for his untimely death!” When February arrived, for the first
time Sara found herself able to think of something other than the fact she
had been raped, beaten, held against her will, degraded, left a bloody mess
on the back seat after almost being slain by her own instrument. And what she
thought was that it had been awhile since her last period. In that bathroom when the test came out
positive, there was nobody to tell. Sara threw up immediately afterwards and
it had nothing to do with the baby. All this time, a piece of Aidan had been living
on inside of her, when she had finally begun to feel safe in her own skin
again; he returned and invaded it with his sickly presence. “I want to schedule an
appointment. I can come as soon as possible, I don’t want to wait. I
think I’m about 8 weeks, is that okay? I’ve never done this
before. I’m certain I don’t want it. I won’t change my
mind, please just tell me that you can get it out of me.” So, five days later she found herself in
a tiny operating theatre, legs hoisted high in stirrups, being pieced back
together again by kind nurse Anna with the luminous red hair. It had been
Sara’s only abortion. She could not explain the feelings it left
behind, all she knew was that there was one phrase that she could never bring
herself utter because she no longer understood the meaning of it. “I love you.” IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Las Vegas 2005 So this was it. Sara saw her little pink
face, and she knew in that instant that she would die a thousand times over,
if it meant sparing her daughter from the tiniest of pains. If anyone ever
dared to hurt “Thank you. She’s perfect,
and I couldn’t have made her without you.” He looked at Sara and smiled. It was not
often that she was so openly gracious and self-conceding. Usually she acted
as though it was possible for all things to be achieved solo, if enough
determination was added to the mix. The pregnancy had softened her features,
but it had also tenderized her heart. It seemed more open. “I saw the statement, when we
moved your things over to my house. It fell out of the box from your bedroom
and I thought it was a case. I kept reading, hoping that they had mistakenly
put the CSI’s name under the victim’s.” Sara didn’t look up at him as she
replied; instead she focused on the baby’s tiny digits and the wrinkled
skin of her hands. They were a little dry from where “That was a long time ago, Griss.
I’ve been trying to forget it. I know I should probably throw that
stupid piece of paper out, but it tells me of who I am and where I’ve
come from.” He was silent for a long time. Sara
watched as he took their sleeping daughter out of her arms and placed her in
the little basket beside the bed. Grissom drew his chair closer and took
Sara’s hand in his. He traced her life line from the base of her
fingers all the way down to wrist, remembering all the comfort her warm body
had brought into his life over the past 9 months. “You are more than that,
honey,” Grissom said softly. Sara thought about what he was saying
for a moment, and after a pause she had to agree. She was more than a woman,
more than a rape victim, more than a casualty of life. She was a lover, a
daughter, a friend and now even “I love you, Gil,” Sara
whispered, clenching her hand over his, knowing that she truly felt it and
could once again appreciate what it meant. THE END |
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