Title : WHEN THE DEAD AWAKEN
Chapter Six
*****
Victoria Klein.
Another dead to stalk the dreams of Las Vegas. Another ribbon of yellow to wrap
a package of human misery. Another night fading to morning. Another job.
His neck hurt and he straightened himself, wondering how many such nights he had
stood like this, trying to find the voice of the dead in the evidece. It
frightened him that he could no longer remember. The dead had grown shapeless
and grey, losing their face as another case came. Another Tara, another
Victoria.
"Warrick?"
Catherine's soft voice drew his attention from the microscope and he gave her a
smile she did not return.
"Nick found a bloody knife a few hundred yards from where Victoria's body was
found," she said, pushing her palms against the table and leaning forward. Her
face seemed grim in the white lighting, pale and with lines drawn. He could read
a lifetime in the lines of her face. And now her lines spoke of a strange
dejection and sadness both.
"The murder weapon?"
"A murder weapon. The blood is not Victoria's." She bit her lip and looked at
him, eyes clear and tired.
"It's Tara's," he said for her.
"Yeah. But the fingerprints - Victoria's."
They both fell silent for a moment, the lab buzzing on around them, ever the
hive of activity that never died.
"There were some cotton fibres on Tara's body. We better see if we can match
them up with anything Victoria wore."
"Yeah," Catherine replied. She shook her head slightly. "Victim and killer both.
I better try to reach Grissom again."
He nodded. As she turned to leave, he allowed himself one touch of her hand.
"You okay?"
"No," she said quietly and left, leaving him with trace evidence and on the
clear table, her palmprints slowly fading.
*****
She awoke to warmth and for a moment, she felt as a child in a womb again,
sleeping in perfect silence and safety. The illusion faded slowly as her senses
started to awaken, adding detail by detail to her surroundings. The hum of
distant electrical appliances working. Filtered light through her eyelids. A
slight breeze stirring the fine hairs on her exposed arms. The heat of skin
against skin. Two breaths mingling.
She shifted slightly and felt the hand resting against her back, almost
clutching her t-shirt. For a moment still, she let the unfamilair sensations
wash over her, pushing the last wave of sleeping haze from her mind.
Grissom.
She felt her body tense as realisation and memory hit at once. She had slept
with him. Or rather, he had slept with her. He had been strangely dominant, as
if realising this time it had been his move to make, his advances. His kiss, his
embrace, his whispers.
She did not remember what he had said. She only remembered how the words seemed
to have merged with his touches in a very Grissomesque seduction. His beard had
scraped her skin and it still felt aflame.
Turning in the bed, she faced him, feeling his calm breath against her cheek.
His eyes were closed in sleep and she dared a caress across his eyelids.
Why now? Why not a year ago? Two years? Why now, when she was tired and dying so
slowly it almost felt like life?
Her phone rang and she slipped out of her bed to answer it, the floor col
against her naked feet. Grissom stirred only slightly.
"Sara."
"It's Catherine. Tara's friend Victoria Klein has been found."
"Dead?"
"Yeah. I can't reach Grissom and we could use a hand."
They both paused for a moment, Sara feeling her own heart beat on as if nothing
had happened, as if life just went on. "I'll be there."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
Hanging up, Sara stood still for a moment, feeling the contrast of the cold
floor against her feet and the warm sun on her back. All her life suddenly felt
as odd contrasts. Life and death. Despair and love. Fantasy and nightmare. Her
and Grissom.
She looked at him for a moment longer, taking in the peace in his face, a naked
foot slipping out from beneath the light covers. A part of her wanted to sink
down and sleep next to him until all nights came to an end.
But she dressed quietly and slipped out, leaving him embraced by the sun
streaming across her bed.
*****
Warrick found her finally in the lockerroom, silently looking at the ceiling.
She heard him come, but did not move.
"Fibres match?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. She let out a slow breath.
"I managed to reach Grissom. He wondered where Sara was." She let out something
that could have been a laugh if not so tinged with a hard edge. "I told him she
was working the crime scene with Nick. He went very quiet in his Grissom way.
He's hooking up with Brass to see what else we can match to tie these two cases
together. And all I can think of is what would drive such a young girl to
murder. She's not that much older than Lindsey."
He slipped down on the bench. "Jealousy. Anger. A simple fight. We've seen
people kill for all the reasons in the world."
"Doesn't make it any less incomprehensible," she said slowly and lowered her
head. There was a brief silence, even the sounds from elsewhere in the lab
feeling muted.
"Kiss me," she suddenly said. He looked up sharply.
"What? Here?" He looked at her as she leaned against her locker, her hair
falling into her face and shadowing her eyes and her thoughts from him.
"Yes."
He pushed himself up to face her, hand on either side of her face, looking into
her eyes. She met his gaze evenly, her breathing slightly shallow.
"You are a lifeline," she whispered, nothing teasing in her voice as he brushed
his lips against her, kissing away her pain. Gently at first, but soon she was
tugging at his bottom lip and he was crushing her against the locker. She pushed
her hands inside his shirt, probably wrinkling his shirt in the process, but he
did not care. This was life.
Life. Breaths and heartbeats and blood racing drowning out even the dead.