Quiet Desperation
Summary: When a young woman goes missing, the case threatens to complicate matters for Grissom and Sara.
A/N: Just a reminder – this story started when the team was split on the two shifts. Yeah, I know. Way too much time passed while I was working on this Thanks go out to csipal for looking this over, but I'm not sharing any typos. I'm greedy that way.
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plains, and I still have nothing to do with this show.

Heavy traffic from an accident and the Fates conspired to prolong the drive to Sara’s apartment, but Grissom was still trying to organize his thoughts when he finally pulled into the parking lot. Even over the phone, he clearly detected her numbness, and he asked only one question – Where was she? – before promising to get there as soon as possible.

This case had bothered her from the beginning, and whatever transpired during the night apparently made things worse. Now that he was there, he wondered what exactly he could do to help. It wasn’t like either personnel or personal issues were his specialty. He wasn’t even certain that his attention was welcomed.

Despite her promise, Sara never called to let him know she was home. That suggested she didn’t want him around. He told himself it was understandable, and reminded himself that he had routinely unwound alone after a troubling case. An irksome voice in the back of his mind insisted on noting that he had done so out of necessity; Sara chose to be alone when he was available.

Getting out of his car, Grissom considered that his concerns were unfounded. Maybe she just wanted some time alone. Despite knowing each other for years, there was a lot he didn’t know about her moods. She was upset, that much was clear. The similarities of Rachel’s early life to Sara’s, the lack of resources directed at the case in the beginning, even the unfounded accusations directed his way all combined to unsettle her.

After a moment’s consideration, he took his overnight bag from the backseat. If she wanted to be alone, he would leave, but he didn’t want her thinking he didn’t want to be there. A mild wave of guilt assaulted him as he went towards her building; her welfare was his main concern, not fretting over a potential bump in their relationship.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Grissom pulled her into a warm embrace, his lips barely brushing against her cheek. He tried not to wince when he realized how tense she was, instead moving his hand in a soothing motion over her back.

“Hey,” he whispered, quietly grateful when she accepted his embrace. They leaned together for a long time, her arms hugging him tightly before she pulled back. Her demeanor suggested she was embarrassed, and he could tell she had been crying. Without thinking about it, his thumb rubbed against the tear tracks. “You should have called.”

She stepped away, and her self-conscious shrug confirmed his suspicions. “I was getting ready to when you called me. Really. I don’t like people seeing me cry. You don’t like watching me cry. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

Grissom flexed his hands, his head nodding slightly. Her inner strength was amazing, but he knew it was a survival skill born of necessity. There were old wounds under the surface, and she wasn’t ready to expose her vulnerabilities to him yet.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he said, accepting that it would take time for that level of trust to form.

“Thanks.”

Sara looked at him gratefully, resisting the urge to step farther away. It would be too easy for him to misinterpret the action. She was truly glad that he was there, and she had felt more at ease in his arms than she ever imagined possible. The idea of resting there longer was tempting enough to surprise her, but it was too risky.

Ever since she came to Vegas, he worried that she became too emotional on some cases. She was passionate about her work, and that passion fueled her drive to help the victims. It also cost her, and her attachment to Rachel Mathers left her exhausted, both mentally and physically.

She was the first to admit that she had made mistakes, nearly destroying her career, but she’d made progress. The last thing she wanted was for Grissom to worry that she was going to have a relapse. Soaking his shirt with a crying jag wouldn’t put him at ease. Right now, she didn’t have the reserves to hold back the tears if she let him coax them out. He had enough problems of his own, whether he was willing to admit to them or not; she wasn’t going to add more.

Breaking eye contact, she realized they were still by the door. “Come on in. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine. How is she?” he asked kindly. “The news didn’t have any details.”

“Rachel was alive, barely, when we found her. Still was, last I heard.”

Grissom cocked his head in confusion. “Last you heard?”

“Ecklie sent me home,” she said, moving deeper into her apartment. Seeing his expression, she continued quickly. “I maxed out on overtime the other day. He cut me some slack, since we’re shorthanded, but I had to leave at the end of shift.”

“So Greg is the only CSI on shift now.”

“He’s doing a great job.”

“I don’t doubt his abilities. If I did, he’d never have left the lab. But he doesn’t that much experience.”

“Yeah. There’s a lot you can teach him.”

Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. He understood that she didn’t want him to quit, and was honestly touched by her concern, but he also didn’t want to talk about it. His anger with the sheriff didn’t compare to his feelings for Sara, though; he’d do anything he could to help her.

“You’ve already done an excellent job teaching him,” he noted, deciding to end the conversation. “You found Rachel. That’s the most important thing.”

“The doctors aren’t sure if she’s going to make it,” Sara said, looking around when he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. After a beat, she closed her eyes and leaned back into him. “I processed her at the hospital. Her foster parents were there.”

“That’s not surprising,” he said, her cautious tone piquing his curiosity.

“They were thanking me for finding Rachel. All I wanted to do was yell at them, tell them that they made things worse with their witch hunt. I didn’t,” she added, giving him a warning look over her shoulder. “I was professional.”

“I never doubted you.”

“Humph,” she grunted when he began massaging the tension from her muscles. “Maybe you should. It was so damn tempting.”

“Don’t do anything to risk your position at the lab, Sara. Not for me. That’s not open for discussion.”

She eyed him for a long moment, making him wonder if he had just initiated their first lovers’ spat, but she just turned her head away wearily. Her reaction was more cutting than any angry retort. This case had drained her completely, and his inaction early on contributed to it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Grissom said, gently turning her around to face him. He cupped her face, lifting her head and waiting until she met his gaze. “This wasn’t your fault. I didn’t pull you from the case because I thought you were impartial. Honey, I’m sorry I didn’t trust your judgment on this, but I would have pulled it from any other CSI given the lack of evidence.”

Sara bobbed her head in response, not trusting her voice. He’d allowed his mask to slip, to let her see his concern. She loved Grissom, but she wasn’t blind to his emotional isolation. The magnitude of his opening up wasn’t lost on her.

She quickly closed the short distance between their bodies, her arms wrapped around his neck. Burying her head against his, she missed his jaw opening and shutting in bewilderment before he drew her in even closer. When the tears threatened to start, she stepped back, her hand rubbing over her eyes.

Waiting until she’d regained her composure, Grissom slid his hands down to her elbows, gently escorting her to the sofa. They sat facing each other, his arms wrapped loosely around her. Sara settled close, letting out a small sigh as her head rested against his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, hoping it would help her unwind.

“We’re still trying to piece together what happened. Warrick and Nick found her in an old cabin out near Boulder City. She … it was bad.”

Leaning forward, he dropped a kiss on her forehead, prompting her to run her fingers over his beard.

“Rachel was beaten, badly. Blood was everywhere. Probably from the head injuries. She was tied to a chair when they beat her. The marks are consistent with the broken tripod leg nearby.”

“Tripod? A video ransom note?”

“That’s what it looks like. There were pages from a script there. But we think she was beaten before it was made.”

“That’s logical. If they had made it, they would have sent it to the Kenyons to show she was safe,” he said, his brow wrinkled in thought. “That wouldn’t have worked after the beatings, but why didn’t they send another type of note? She was still alive.”

“With her injuries, she was probably knocked out. And the way her head was bleeding, he probably panicked, thought he killed her. He drove off, wrecked her car. The guys found the wreck site not far from the cabin,” she said. “We don’t know what set him off, but we’re thinking it was Malco since it was his blood in Rachel’s car.”

“Which is why he was killed,” Grissom picked up. “Not only did he ruin their plans, but he left his blood in the car. That linked him to the crime. He can be traced back to the third kidnapper. Malco’s prints are on file somewhere, so he made sure to take his hands when he killed him.”

“After Brass and I talked to Brian Wilcox, he panicked and started calling that pay phone by the auto body shop. He’s dead, too, and his place torched.”

“So the third kidnapper wanted to get rid of anything, or anyone, that connected him to the crime.”

Sara made a sound of agreement, shifting to a more comfortable position.

“I still don’t understand why this third partner never sent a ransom note,” he said. “Rachel didn’t stay alive by herself in a cabin in the desert for days. If nothing else, someone had to bring her water.”

“She kept herself alive,” Sara whispered as she closed her eyes. Years of working scenes gave CSIs the ability to recreate what happened. While it helped catch criminals, the skill came with a price – knowing exactly how someone suffered in their last hours.

“At some point, she regained consciousness. She was able to work one hand free, but she couldn’t get the knots undone. The other arm and shoulder were broken. Definitely had a concussion.”

Grissom didn’t say anything, unsure what was appropriate. She’d never given him details of her childhood, and he’d never asked what exactly she had endured. More than anyone else on the team, she understood what an abuse victim went through. He ardently hoped she never lived through anything close to what she was describing.

Sara leaned into his hand when he cupped her cheek. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. “She worked the chair into the kitchen area. It took time. There were blood pools where she had to stop to rest. The chair either fell over, or she tipped it over. With her free hand, she was able to open the drain to the water heater. That gave her enough water to survive. At least long enough for her parents to say goodbye.”

“Blood loss, concussion, dehydration,” he said sadly. Any one of the conditions could be serious by itself.

“Yeah. Even if she lives, the doctors think she’s going to lose her legs. Decreased blood circulation and infection.”

“She’s a fighter, Sara. What you just told me – those weren’t the actions of someone ready to die. Don’t give up hope.”

“Damn it, Grissom!” she exclaimed, her morose shattered by the sudden burst of anger. “She came so far. Her life was such a mess, but she was making something of it. God knows what her mental state is going to be like now.”

He sat there stunned when she suddenly hopped off the sofa, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. After one quick pace around the room, Sara gave her head a shake, flashing him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

“Let’s go to bed.” He began leading her towards her bedroom door when she stopped, dropping her head timidly.

“Grissom, look, I know I invited you to stay here, but …”

“So you can sleep,” he interrupted, the corners of his lips twitching when she blushed. “You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“You won’t know until you try.” Entering the room, Grissom let go of her elbow and rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly. He wanted to stay, to give what comfort that he could, but he also didn’t want to make any missteps. “Do you want me to leave?”

“It’s okay,” she said, giving him a short, sheepish grin. “You don’t have to hang around if you don’t want to. You were expecting … more when you came over.”

He lifted his head, fixing her with a level gaze. “That’s not what I asked.”

Sara tilted her head, watching him closely. Gradually, she walked to his side. “I’d like it if you stayed. I, it would be nice.”

“Okay.” He went back to her front door, where he’d left his overnight bag. Scratching his beard, he looked from the bedroom to the bathroom, finally opting to give her a bit of privacy.

Within ten minutes both had changed and were ready for bed. Grissom waited until Sara settled in close to him before draping his arm over her protectively. He kept a silent vigil over her until she drifted off to sleep, kissing her softly before letting himself rest.

Taking a deep breath, Brass again demanded that the inhabitants open the door. When no answer came, he turned to the officers on either side of him, waiting for them to silently acknowledge their readiness. Next, he nodded to the nonplussed landlord to unlock the door, and the police charged into Jesse Patrick’s rundown apartment.

They already raided the motorcycle supply store that fronted the extended Patrick family’s criminal activities. Most of the family was still on the streets, but they already found narcotics, guns and counterfeited money. The store also stocked the same solvent used as the accelerant in burning Wilcox’s home.

Despite Dvorak’s protestations that Jesse Patrick wouldn’t be involved, he had been missing for days and none of his relatives would say where he was. He did seem to be the exception to the family, attending community college, doing charity work, never missing an appointment with his parole officer. At this point, Brass wasn’t sure if he was looking for an accomplice or another victim.

“Nice place,” Catherine muttered once given the all-clear to begin her examination.

“All these years I thought you had taste. Turns out it was all bad.”

Her eyebrow arched as she began opening drawers in the kitchen. “I’ve seen pictures of you from the seventies.”

“You didn’t have to go there,” he said in mock-pain. His voice lowered as he moved in closer. “Have you heard from Grissom?”

“Talked to him earlier today. Why?”

“I don’t like this.”

“Hello,” she said, reaching under the sink to pull out an unmarked bottle. Opening the lid, she snapped her head back quickly. “Smells like a solvent.”

“Yeah, but there’re lots of different kinds. Lots of uses for them. May not mean anything.”

“He didn’t use it for cleaning, that’s for sure. And what don’t you like?” she asked, putting the bottle into an evidence bag.

“This whole thing,” he said, waving his hand distractedly. “Grissom, okay, he’s a calm guy, level-headed. Normally, I’d say he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but this whole deal? It gives me a bad feeling.”

“I know,” she said, drawing out her answer.

Her friendship with Grissom was under strain lately, but she did care for him. If nothing else, she owed him for the times he helped her. She’d been the one instrumental in keeping the exact nature of his suspension under wraps, even to the point of bluntly telling the sheriff that half the lab would walk out in support if the accusations against him were made public.

She had considered herself an expert on Grissom, as much as anyone other than his mother or a deity could be one, but his behavior left her wondering how much she really understood him. He had a thing for Sara for a long time, so his finally acting on it wasn’t totally out of left field, and she really didn’t see him as the type to use her for a mid-life fling.

But he had been deadly serious about quitting, and that was just incomprehensible. He was an fundamental part of the lab, like the sludge that passed for coffee, or the smell that hung around the morgue.

“I mean, what does the guy have besides work? His bugs?” Brass paused for a moment. “Okay, maybe he and the little guys would be happy together in a cocoon somewhere, but I can’t see him just letting his rep get trashed.”

“He said he’s going to quit.”

“No shit!”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I don’t believe it. And I don’t think it’s going to be necessary.”

“Catherine, what kind of secrets do you have?”

“All kinds,” she purred, moving to the refrigerator. She rifled through it hurriedly, shaking her head when she closed the door. “And I thought Grissom was bad.”

“Oh, man. That’s not a secret I wanted to hear about,” Brass said, giving a dramatic shutter.

She let out an irritated sigh, carefully verifying that no one else was in earshot. “Myers’ investigation isn’t legit. I called her office. She took personal leave before she visited the sheriff.”

“So the governor’s office never asked her to investigate,” he said, his eyebrows going up in surprise. “She has chutzpah, lying about something like that.”

“Tell me about.”

“So, what’s the deal? Why is Myers doing something so dumb? It has to be personal,” he said. “But you already found out she and Grissom were never involved on any cases together.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. Yet. I’ve got some feelers out.”

“I’ll tell you one thing – don’t mention this to Sara. I’m surprised she hasn’t ripped Myers a new one yet for getting her personnel files.”

“I think she’s been too busy with other things,” Catherine said, amused by both his paternal attitude and her other secrets. She ignored his mystified expression, continuing her inspection of the room. It didn’t take her long to find a box shoved in a crawlspace behind the rickety stove.

“Ugh,” she said, pulling out a bunch of rags smelling of decaying food. Various roaches scurried away as she rummaged through their home.

“Not saving them for Grissom?”

“He can catch his own damn bugs. I prefer to kill them.”

“Hey, that’s an idea! He can open his own humane extermination business. Instead of killing bugs, he’ll catch them and keep them alive. And then open a bug zoo. Double his profits.”

Catherine shook her head vigorously as she continued sorting through the box. “Don’t give him any ideas. Knowing him, he’d try it.”

Brass chuckled softly and started to move to another room when she called out.

“Hold on,” she said, rapidly snapping photos and pulling out items from the box. “Video camera. Foreign language dictionaries. And a book on developing secret codes.”

“I’ll put out an APB.”

After setting the phone down, Sara headed back to the bedroom. She’d slept solidly, feeling refreshed and much more in control when she woke up. Not wanting to disturb Grissom’s rest, she simply enjoyed his presence.

People could list all his shortcomings – real or imagined – but nothing changed what he had done for her. In his own way, he’d been there for her, putting her well-being ahead of his own desires.

It had taken a long time to reach this point, and she wasn’t convinced that his interest wasn’t at least partially a reaction to what was happening to his career. If he wanted to leave later, then she wouldn’t try to stop him. But until that happened, she wasn’t going to let her fears interfere with their relationship. She was going to love him to the best of her ability.

When he started to stir, she began to stroke him lightly, smiling salaciously when his eyes snapped open. She moved on top of him, relishing the warmth of his body, the security she felt with him, wanting to draw and give comfort.

He must have sensed her need, because he rolled them over, taking time to slowly arouse her before tenderly making love. Afterwards, he laid on top of her, his weight supported by his elbows and whispered snippets of sonnets into her ear. She returned his affections, holding him close and kissing him between lines. It wasn’t until the phone started to ring that she left their personal sanctuary.

Walking back into the bedroom, she was equally aware that Grissom’s pajama top left much of her anatomy bare, and that he was watching keenly. The covers came up to his belly, and he was propped up to get a better view. His attention was flattering, even if the intensity was slightly overwhelming.

“You are so randy,” Sara teased as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s human nature to admire beauty.”

“Thanks,” she said, rolling her eyes when she realized she was blushing. “I started some coffee.”

“Was that the lab?” he asked, sitting up and arranging the pillows against the headboard.

“Wrong number actually.”

“Why don’t you get some more sleep? You have time for a nap before you can head into work.”

“I’ve already slept more than I normally do.”

“You could still come back to bed,” Grissom suggested, lifting the covers and waggling his eyebrows. “If you don’t mind a dirty, old man.”

“I’d say more musky than dirty,” she said, watching in amazement as his eyes followed her every movement as she slipped the nightshirt off and slid under the covers. “And you’re not old. Randy, yeah, but not old.”

“I’m not young.”

“You’re only as old as you think.”

“In that case, I’m ageless.”

“Ageless, mindless. So, you have lost your mind.”

“It’s hard to think rationally when you’re naked in my arms.”

“Ahh, hormonal, then.”

“Not really. That went with the youth,” Grissom said wistfully. Her tone was joking, but he suspected there was an undercurrent of worry behind her comments. He distractedly watched as his finger traced the line of her collarbone. “What do you think I need? Professionally.”

“I’m not following you.”

“You think I’ll regret leaving the lab,” he said, licking his lips. “I don’t. I’m not crazy about the circumstances, but I’m okay with leaving the lab.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she began hotly, stopping when he moved his finger to her lips in a shushing movement.

“Despite what people think, I never intended to have my desiccated body found under a stack of paperwork. Las Vegas wasn’t my first job, and I never thought it would be my last.”

“How can you just walk away from such a big part of your life?”

“That brings us back to my question. What do you think I left undone?” he asked, shifting so he was looking down on her and smiled reassuringly. “I’ve done all I ever wanted to do with my career. Look, I don’t want to be promoted any higher. Can you see me doing Ecklie’s job?”

“Scary thought,” she quipped.

He mock-pouted, but it turned to a smile when she stroked his whiskers. “I’ve trained some remarkable people. The lab is number two in the country. The only one better is the FBI’s, and we’ll never approach its resources or manpower. I helped get it there.”

“Most people would say you did more than help.”

“My reputation is solid. I’m asked to assist in cases worldwide. People pay to hear my lectures. You might remember, but I’ve also taught.”

“I know, but it can’t be easy.”

“I never said it was,” he admitted grudgingly. “There were cases that I’ll always wish that I solved, but we both know what the odds of solving a cold case are.” Grissom stopped suddenly, letting out an annoyed huff. “I didn’t mean your case, I ...”

“It’s okay. I understood. And I know this case may never be solved. We don’t have the evidence.”

“Something led you to the cabin.”

“A tip. The Kenyons raised the reward to a million dollars. That brought in a lot of new calls.”

“Don’t you think that would be an obvious place to start?” Grissom asked, unable to understand why she hadn’t thought of it.

“I don’t think so. The tip came from a woman who’s mentally disabled. She can’t live on her own. There’s no way she could have been our mastermind.”

“Not likely,” he agreed. “How did she know anything about this?”

“She rode along when her cousin went on some errands, saw Rachel’s car drive by. She didn’t come forward until she told the story to a family friend.”

“Oh,” he replied, suddenly distracted by the sight of her bare breasts when she sat upright. It took him a moment to realize that she was lost in thought, her eyes focused on the far wall.

“What is it?” he asked, recognizing her look. Some idea just came to her.

Sara turned to him with a quizzical expression. “Let’s take a road trip.”

Chapter 19