This is my first fan fic. This idea has been rattling around in my head for some time. This is a GSR piece, but will take some time to get there. Reviews are welcomed. This story begins on the night of Sara's DUI arrest.
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to these characters. They do, however, inspire me to tell their story.
I'll See You In My Dreams
Sara walked alone through the lights and the sounds of a Las Vegas evening. Merrymakers, lovers, and sinners crowded the sidewalk as she made her way to her car. She had bid Nick and the others an exuberant goodbye despite their pleas for her to continue with them to celebrate Nick's promotion. Nick had always been upfront with Sara and she genuinely wished him well. She appeared upbeat, she appeared to have it all together – but she was drowning without a lifeline.
Sara walked alone through the crowds as she suddenly was again overcome by a suffocating reality – she had no one and nothing waiting for her at home. As she passed the neon-plastered liquor store, she fantasized about a lover waiting for her with a goblet of chilled champagne. She imagined his smile, the smoldering gaze meeting her as she entered their living room. Sara shivered at the prospect. The window displays beckoned to her. Sexy smiles and naughty innuendo. She fought back her tears. Before her was displayed life as it could be. But there would be no romantic homecoming for her. She was not worthy of love. Her career had become her life. But there would be no distinguishing herself there, either. Nick's promotion just underscored that failure. She stared at the smiling figures in the liquor ads. They seemed to taunt her – their smiling allure a stark contrast to her withdrawn inadequacy. Suddenly, Sara felt a new resolve form. Listening to the ring of the entrance bell as she pushed the door open, she stepped inside swiftly, passing the rows of bottled relief.
Sara sat in her car observing the Vegas nightlife as she continued to work on unscrewing the top of her purchase. She sat there and thought about her life. The hell of her childhood, the loneliness of her foster care years, the rebellion and solitude of her college years…and her first true love. She swiped at a tear and swigged the bottle vigorously. Grissom. She had loved him practically from the minute she first saw him. Her tears fell and she downed another gulp. Grissom. "Can't live with him, can't live without him.", she quipped and laughed mirthlessly as her latest drink drained the bottle leaving it two-thirds full.
She was beginning to feel lightheaded. She wanted to go home. Home. She laughed again and suddenly was overtaken by horrendous sobs that shook her thin frame. Sara had no place to call home. Home was a warm fire. Home was dinner with a family who loved you. Home was a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving dinner. Sara had never had a home. She gulped another mouthful. Home…was Grissom. Sara sobbed again. Sara wanted so badly to GO HOME. She needed the home Gil Grissom could provide. The warmth, the family, the LOVE…but she was not worthy of his love. At that minute the answer became crystal clear. Gil Grissom would never love Sara Sidle. Sara would never have a home. And she was so tired of trying to make it work alone. There was no longer a reason for her to keep fighting. At that minute, Sara had simply given up on living.
She had made her decision. She was a CSI, she had seen many ways that people had ended their life. She had looked down on them as they rested on a slab in the morgue. On a bad day, she had quietly envied their peaceful state. No more loneliness. No more worry. No more pain. As she drove through the streets, she was oblivious to the lights of the nightlife around her. Sara drove with the determination to get to her apartment and end her pain, her misery. A passerby would have remarked on the amazing calm of her demeanor.
She silently composed her farewell note as she noted the roadside landmarks coming into her view for the last time. Surprisingly, she felt a euphoria about the final release from her torturous personal life. Stopped at a red light, she reached over and upended the bottle on the seat next to her. Before partially emptying its contents as she flung it unceremoniously onto the passenger seat, the bottle's liquid measured halfway up the sides of the glass.
The light overhead had changed to green. "Let's finish this," Sara muttered shakily as she gunned the gas pedal. As Sara pulled out into the intersection, however, the glare of the green light above suddenly transformed into the bright lights in her rearview mirror, blinking menacingly in red and blue.
