Title : WHEN THE DEAD AWAKEN
Chapter Four
******
Victoria Klein was dying and she knew it.
There would be no sunset for her, no twilight. She would die under the
unrelenting sun and she knew it. She could feel life slip away from her and she
had not the strength to reach. Not anymore. Reaching meant pain and she had
endured too much already. Numbness was a blessing. Everything was dimmed – pain
and light alike. A fading of life. No sudden stop for her, but a slow lingering
at the threshold of life and death until she could not tell which was which.
She had cried at first; she could still feel the trail of tears, almost as if
her soul had cried and not her body. She did not wish to die and she had pleaded
for life, cried for mercy, wept for compassion, prayed for salvation. But
coldness and pain had seeped into her and now she merely stayed as she was,
staring at the sky and dying.
She did not wish to die, but she was so, so tired and her grip on life was more
out of habit than will. Perhaps she could have fought on if she had someone to
live for, but between the cold and the pain, she could not remember her life
anymore. She could not remember if she had anything or anyone to life for. She
could not even remember the feeling of being alive, for surely this was not it.
This could not be it.
No one could endure this much pain. There had to be more, something other than
cold and pain and the smell of death upon her. Life had to be more.
But she could not remember and darkness called her name.
A moment longer she held on, her hands red with her own blood. One last breath,
one last reach – then light and life slipped from her grasp as she exhaled.
And then it was darkness before her, even in the bright day of Nevada.
*****
Day became afternoon and Catherine walked out, feeling the sun burn the tears
she had not shed. No parent should have to bury their dead.
In the back of her mind, she could feel Lindsey laugh with life and joy.
Brass slipped by her and gave her an apologetic stare before vanishing into his
car. Off to deal with the living. She hoped he wouldn’t find them another dead.
But somewhere out there was young Victoria, waiting to be found.
Warrick stepped out next to her and a moment later she felt his hand on her
shoulder, lending warmth and comfort. She wanted to hug him, cling to him,
pretend she hadn’t seen two parents accept their children were gone. But her
limps felt frozen with cold and she remained still, feeling her own breath slow.
“They know she’s dead,” she said quietly.
“We don’t know that.”
“They know.”
He did not refute that, merely stood by her, not asking, not pushing. A moment
too long, a moment too little. With a sigh, she stepped away and headed to the
car. The lab would have something on the blood by now. Perhaps answers, perhaps
questions. But sooner or later, she would find the killer.
The dead demanded no less.
“What is going on with Sara and Grissom these days?” Warrick said quietly as
they approached the car, and she sent him a quick glance. He returned it with a
look of innocence.
“They’re trying to communicate with each other,” she finally replied, getting
into the car.
“I didn’t know communicating was such a problem,” he remarked, sliding into the
other seat.
“It is when you’re speaking two different languages.”
“Are we?” he suddenly said, and she could feel his gaze burn on her face. She
kept her eyes ahead, afraid of what she might see in his gaze.
“We’ll see,” she said carefully. A part of her wanted to steam ahead, as she
usually did, but this was Warrick. This was… She did not know what this was, but
she knew she wanted to figure it out. And then… Then, she would see.
“We could talk later,” he suggested, voice husky. “Over dinner?”
“Lindsey is home tonight.”
“I can make dinner for three as well as two.”
She glanced over at him and saw his smile, earnest and warm and hopefully. And
she realised, whatever ‘this’ was, she did want it. Want him.
“Yes,” she said.
*****
He had driven her home. He had not offered; she had not protested. He had not
touched her in goodbye, but she still remembered the feel of his breath tickling
her skin and the warmth of his hand on hers.
He had offered to help and his eyes had told her this was the truth. And for
now, that was enough. A glimmer of light in the darkness that was her
relationship to Grissom and perhaps… Perhaps.
She was tired of maybe and perhaps, but this was life, and maybe and perhaps was
all it offered in the moment. The future could hold no true promise. She had
learned that long ago. Nothing was forever, not even life. She saw that every
day. But sometimes she almost wished she could pretend.
Her apartment was quiet, only the hum of air-condition and the refrigerator
could be heard. No interruptions for sleep. He had ordered her to sleep, or, as
he had threatened to, he would tie her to the bed and sing lullabies until she
feel asleep just to escape him.
The image had a certain appeal, she had to admit. If only to see if he’d really
do it. Grissom rarely did gestures that indicated caring, so when they came,
they were all the more precious.
But was it enough?
She lifted her gaze to the ceiling, feeling the bed and blankets warm her body.
But it was her soul that was cold and needed warmth. She just didn’t know how.
It was as if her soul had walked too close to death and now did not know life
should be warm. Sometimes, she wondered if the dead had overtaken it, waiting
for justice for their deaths before going to sleep. She could almost hear them
even awake. And always, they waited in her sleep.
She shivered in the heat and without thinking, she reached for the phone and
dialled his number. He answered on the third ring.
“Grissom?”
“Yeah?”
“Sing to me.”