A/N: Yes, I'm indulging myself and writing a cliché, but I did try to make it different. Whether or not I am successful, I'll let you be the judge of that. This story has three chapters, and this is not a WIP :) I've written it to fit roughly after season five but before season six.
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Playing The Odds
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Bumper cars.
That's what it feels like, as a car rams the front left corner of her Denali, spinning it around so fast her vision blurs. For three seconds, her mind is blank, and all she can see is the swirl of lights outside, impossibly bright; all she can hear is the whine of metal against metal, replacing the gentle strains of music from the radio.
She can remember the last time she rode in a bumper car, at the traveling theme park back in Tamales Bay. She was seven and it smelled like bubble gum and motor oil inside the tiny car.
She loved the rush of adrenaline as cars smashed into her chipped red ride, knowing she was perfectly safe inside of it; loved the dreamy way the cars floated by unlike real cars on asphalt, wondering why it did; loved the way the steering wheel felt in her small palms, making her feel like an adult.
It was weird that the safest place she felt as a kid was inside a metal replica of a car surrounded by rubber strips.
For one week straight, she rode the bumper cars over and over, and mourned the day the theme park packed up and left for another city.
Her car skids to a halt and the broken glass rains down on her as she is slammed into the steering wheel by the momentum. It feels identical to day four on the ride, when one of the cars hit her so hard she was left breathless.
And, like her seven-year-old self, she doesn't make a sound.
As the screeching dies down, everything becomes deathly silent, and she can hear a loud beating in her ears, reminding her that she is alive.
Something warm trickles down one side of her cheek but she gives it no thought as she tries to pull herself from the steering wheel, dazed and disorientated, desperately trying to catch sight of the back.
It has to be safe.
Her legs are trapped, preventing her space to twist around fully to assess the damage done to the back. She turns as far as she can and braces her shoulder against the hard plastic wheel, but all she can see is black.
Before her eyes can focus through the twisted metal and the darkness, another car slams into the back of her vehicle. The car rocks violently, the force throwing her body weight onto her shoulder. She screams this time, but before she can feel, analyse, think, her vision blurs and darkens.
--
Her vision clears and she's is lying on the asphalt with Grissom standing in front of her. He seems to be looking at something in the distance and she takes this opportunity to pick herself up, noting the silence around them. There are no cars, no screaming children, no signs of life. The sun is setting behind her, and looking around, she realises with a jolt the house on her right is her old home.
"Tamales Bay?" She asks him, but there is still that faraway look in his eyes. "Grissom, why are we here?"
He doesn't answer, and she is starting to worry. "Um, Grissom?" She tries to step forward, but realises her feet are stuck to the pavement.
He finally looks back at her, meeting her eyes. "What are you doing?"
"I wanted to get your attention, but I can't seem to move," she says calmly, willing her legs to move.
"You have my attention, Sara."
She frowns and looks up, abandoning her attempt to move. He is acting weirder than usual, and it is starting to scare her. She decides to give up trying to move, choosing instead to talk.
"What are we doing here?"
"Nothing," he replies quietly, looking down at his shoes.
"Grissom," she says, her patience starting to wear thin, "why are you being so obtuse?"
He sighs, apparently just as frustrated as her. "If you don't want to be here, just leave."
"I can't," she says, forcing calm into her voice when all she wants to do is smack some sense into him.
"Why not?"
"I don't know!" she screams, wishing she could hurl something at this calm expression. "Why can't you help me?"
He looks right into her eyes, the blue searing her heart. "Because I'm stuck as well."
She stares at him, her eyes wide, absorbing his words. The sun dips lower and lower below the horizon, and soon enough, the darkness consumes the both of them.
--
She opens her eyes to painful white light and as her vision clears, all she can see is white, white, white. She's not lying on a road somewhere in California, and she can move her feet.
White light, white walls and a white coat.
"Hello," a voice calls out far away, "my name is Dr. Cavanaugh, can you hear me?"
She blinks several times, and the person standing before her comes into focus. Dark hair, kind green eyes. "Yes."
"I'm going to ask you some questions, answer them as best as you can, all right?"
Sara tries to nod, but a wave of pain crashes down and she repeats her answer once more.
"Can you remember your name?"
"Sara Sidle."
He makes a note in his clipboard. "When is your birthday?"
She frowns. "September 16th."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a, uh, crime scene investigator."
He smiles warmly. "Good. What—"
A pager beeps and his smile disappears as he turns away from her, checking the screen. "Miss Sidle, someone will be with you shortly," he says, not looking at her as he exits her room.
She blinks once, twice, and he is gone.
"Wait!" she says, struggling to sit up, but her shoulder can't move, and there are various machines hooked to her that hold her down – a heart monitor on her right, an IV tube on the inside of her elbow and a plastic oxygen cannula taped to her nose.
"Sara?"
She turns her head to the entrance and sees a man with tired blue eyes stepping inside, relief etched in his expression. "You're awake."
"Why am I here?" she asks angrily, feeling the panic rise while trying to pull her IV from her arm, but he reaches over and takes her hand in his.
"You were in an accident, and you were out for almost five hours. The team, especially Greg, wanted to be here, but—"
She lowers her eyes to the sheets, which are white, watching his thumb swirl on the top of her hand. Her heart is pounding, and her vision starts to swim. "Stop," she whispers, "I…don't know what you're talking about. What accident?" She directs the questions to the sheets, feeling the panic rise and crash within her.
His thumb stops moving, and for a moment, the only sound in her room is the steady beep of her heart monitor, rising faster and faster.
"Sara," he says quietly, "do you know who I am?"
She lifts her eyes to meet his, and she sees exactly what she's feeling reflected in his eyes.
Fear.
--
TBC