Seeking a Miracle
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Notes: For the
LiveJournal MultiFandom1000 “A Bad Idea” challenge
When he answers his front door and sees her standing there, Sara can read the surprise in Warrick’s eyes loud and clear, doesn’t need the vocal to go along with it. He’s not to know that though, and his, “Sara! What are you doing here?” doesn’t exactly ring with tidings of glad welcome.
Not that she can blame him. After all, in the time she’s been living in
Vegas, she can count on her fingers – possibly of one hand – the number of
times she’s been to his house. Even then, it was always with the rest of the
shift, occasionally for breakfast, once for a barbecue.
She’s never come here on her own before, never just dropped by because
she was in the neighbourhood, which, as she considers Warrick one of her best
friends, if not her best, she finds pretty damn depressing.
Of course, that’s pretty much her problem with life in general at the
moment.
It’s also why she’s here.
Because she’s tired of walking around the lab like some animated
corpse, tired of the weight of eyes on her shoulders. She’s tired of friction
with Catherine and competition with Nick, and she’s so damn tired of all the
drama with Grissom.
Most of all, she’s tired of being alone.
She’s not sure what broke her today, not sure why she left her
apartment and came here, only that she was driven by the sure knowledge that
Warrick would welcome her, that he wouldn’t turn her away.
But now, standing in front of him, a thousand questions lurking in
those green eyes of his, she’s not so sure. And she, with the Harvard
education, she who has never had a problem telling people what she thinks, is
suddenly lost for words.
“I just…” She looks away from him, reaches up to brush back a lock of
hair behind her ear, only for it to become immediately dislodged when she
shakes her head. “I was… um…” He’s still looking at her, curiosity giving way
to concern, and she shakes her head again, takes a step back. “You know what,
never mind,” she says. “This was a bad idea… I’m just going to go…”
She’s stepping back as she talks, turns her back on him, and she’s
surprised when a strong hand closes over her wrist, at the same time as he says
her name. “Sara, wait…”
His grip is firm (he’s not going to let her go) but gentle (he’s not going
to hurt her) and the combination, to her utter horror, sends a lump to her
throat, tears to her eyes. She can’t turn to look at him, won’t turn to look at
him, because she’s never cried in front of him before, doesn’t want to do it
now, doesn’t want to show her weakness.
Maybe he knows what she’s thinking, because he doesn’t try to make her
turn. Instead, he walks around her, rests his hands on her shoulders. “Look at
me,” he says, a request, not an order, and his voice is so low with concern
that Sara literally aches. “Look at me, Sara…”
Slowly, oh so slowly, she drags her gaze up to meet his, and, as she
knew it would, the look on his face does her in completely. Tears flood her
eyes, one making its way down her cheek, and she cannot speak.
“Sara…” Her name is a breath on his lips, and then he’s pulling her
towards him. Part of her wants to resist, but the greater part goes willingly,
slides her arms around his waist, rests her head on his shoulder. One of his
hands cups the back of her head, the other slides up and down her back, and
she’s barely aware of him talking to her. “It’s going to be all right Sara…
it’s gonna be all right…”
Miracle of miracles, standing here like this, Sara finds herself
believing him.