1 Diversion (1/3)
Summary: Too Tough to Die, Burden of Proof, PNN spoilers. Sara/Grissom centric. Grissom found the beauty of his life, and Sara found her diversion. Chapter 1 Griss POV, 2 & 3 Sara POV
Author: Evelyn Chung, aka "Evie" evelynee_c@yahoo.com
Archive: Go Ahead! Just let me know so I can submit revisions.
Disclaimer: CBS owns everything. "What If I Loved You" sang by Joey Gian.
Notes&ThankYou's: Caitlin and Nick; Devanie, Kasey, Heidi, Mush, and everybody else on G/S Mailing list, "Feel the Geek Love". Kai and Sandy for insanity check and philosophical debates just over everything. Do you know how hard it is to get into a GUY's head?
Please R&R.
Behind The Doors
As a crime scene investigator, I encountered the darkest sides of humanity. When I was a young coroner, I used to be agitated over some victims I processed. I could never understand such hatred, violence and brutality between humans. Although evidences always tell the truth, the system, however, does not always bring justices. I used to be frustrated and even questioned my calling as a crime scene investigator. Over the years I've learned to be objective and indifferent on almost all my cases, and I always told my employees, from my experiences, not to let their personal feelings interfered with their work. Evidences never lie. I investigated clues and evidences in the most rational way and reconstructed crime scenes. It would not be true to say I was never affected personally and emotionally. Some cases just made it difficult to keep my emotions at bay. The harder I tried the more I pressed it on my team to do the same.
Crime scenes, evidences, and puzzles. I seldom asked about motivations of crimes, but I was drawn into the world of solving puzzles; when the puzzle was solved, the cased was over. Closed. Just like any other puzzles. Perhaps all my indifferences were a way to keep myself from the ugliness of mankind. Day after day, victims became the names in the files, or cold sags of tissues and organs on the autopsy table. There were never perturbations in my seemingly peaceful mind, and by doing so I would never get hurt.
Then I saw her that day, behind the door of a hospital room.
Sara.
She talked quietly to Pam Adler, holding her hands.
"I will find out who did this to you, I promise."
Her soft voice echoed in my head, pulling a string in my heart. I remembered a warm light filled the room, and Sara had a calm, dignified, and determined expression. Her caring eyes fixed on Pam Adler. There was more than just empathy; I was moved by her faith.
She was so beautiful.
Sara glowed. I watched in awe, afraid of spoiling this moment. Immediately I knew that even if we found the truth behind Pam Adler's misery, the justice might not be served. I would not want Sara to be hurt like I did when I was young.
I told her if she chased two rabbits at the same time, she was more likely to lose both.
She smiled back at me; she always smiled, even during the roughest time in her life, she wanted everybody to know she was fine, and she was strong. Could her forced smile be an emotional wall like my withdrawnness to people? I stepped out my wall to warn her about the damage of emotional attachment, but I forgot Sara had her own wall too.
She was humming a song, scanning through missing person reports. When she was really concentrated, she would sing softly. The coherence of melody and lyrics told her progression of thoughts. "One way, or another, I'm gonna find out… "
I sat down next to her. I told her that she needed a diversion, something to take her mind off work. Sara had been extremely devoted since I met her during her college years. It was necessary to put her entire life in theoretical physics. Sara had carried that kind of work ethic since then.
I told her I rode roller coaster.
I should have invited her with me. High speed motion increases euphoria. I wanted to see her smiles, not the forced, strong out front, but simply out of happiness.
Yes, she said. She was logging off. The forced smile again. I knew she had sat her mind to this case, and she would not let it go till she found out the identity of the Pam Adler. She was as stubborn as me. Whatever she might feel meant a great deal to me, and if she had to fly toward the fire, at least I could protect her from the heat. I told Nick to keep an eye on her, and I pushed the investigation yet again. Her burden was mine.
Later she came to me; her wall crumbled down; her voice chocking; her face teary. I hated to just sit there and watch her hurting, but I had to tell her again, that although evidences never lied, the justice system did otherwise. She had to learn to let it go and move on --- the only way I learned to deal with my pain.
She stood up quietly, walked to my office door. "I wish I was like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything."
I could not look at her. She was wrong. I did feel things. I could feel her pain. My pain.
I hid deeper back within my walls.
It hurt inside.
(1/3)
Summary: Too Tough to Die, Burden of Proof, PNN spoilers. Sara/Grissom centric. Grissom found the beauty of his life, and Sara found her diversion. Chapter 1 Griss POV, 2 & 3 Sara POV
Author: Evelyn Chung, aka "Evie" evelynee_c@yahoo.com
Archive: Go Ahead! Just let me know so I can submit revisions.
Disclaimer: CBS owns everything. "What If I Loved You" sang by Joey Gian.
Notes&ThankYou's: Caitlin and Nick; Devanie, Kasey, Heidi, Mush, and everybody else on G/S Mailing list, "Feel the Geek Love". Kai and Sandy for insanity check and philosophical debates just over everything. Do you know how hard it is to get into a GUY's head?
Please R&R.
Behind The Doors
As a crime scene investigator, I encountered the darkest sides of humanity. When I was a young coroner, I used to be agitated over some victims I processed. I could never understand such hatred, violence and brutality between humans. Although evidences always tell the truth, the system, however, does not always bring justices. I used to be frustrated and even questioned my calling as a crime scene investigator. Over the years I've learned to be objective and indifferent on almost all my cases, and I always told my employees, from my experiences, not to let their personal feelings interfered with their work. Evidences never lie. I investigated clues and evidences in the most rational way and reconstructed crime scenes. It would not be true to say I was never affected personally and emotionally. Some cases just made it difficult to keep my emotions at bay. The harder I tried the more I pressed it on my team to do the same.
Crime scenes, evidences, and puzzles. I seldom asked about motivations of crimes, but I was drawn into the world of solving puzzles; when the puzzle was solved, the cased was over. Closed. Just like any other puzzles. Perhaps all my indifferences were a way to keep myself from the ugliness of mankind. Day after day, victims became the names in the files, or cold sags of tissues and organs on the autopsy table. There were never perturbations in my seemingly peaceful mind, and by doing so I would never get hurt.
Then I saw her that day, behind the door of a hospital room.
Sara.
She talked quietly to Pam Adler, holding her hands.
"I will find out who did this to you, I promise."
Her soft voice echoed in my head, pulling a string in my heart. I remembered a warm light filled the room, and Sara had a calm, dignified, and determined expression. Her caring eyes fixed on Pam Adler. There was more than just empathy; I was moved by her faith.
She was so beautiful.
Sara glowed. I watched in awe, afraid of spoiling this moment. Immediately I knew that even if we found the truth behind Pam Adler's misery, the justice might not be served. I would not want Sara to be hurt like I did when I was young.
I told her if she chased two rabbits at the same time, she was more likely to lose both.
She smiled back at me; she always smiled, even during the roughest time in her life, she wanted everybody to know she was fine, and she was strong. Could her forced smile be an emotional wall like my withdrawnness to people? I stepped out my wall to warn her about the damage of emotional attachment, but I forgot Sara had her own wall too.
She was humming a song, scanning through missing person reports. When she was really concentrated, she would sing softly. The coherence of melody and lyrics told her progression of thoughts. "One way, or another, I'm gonna find out… "
I sat down next to her. I told her that she needed a diversion, something to take her mind off work. Sara had been extremely devoted since I met her during her college years. It was necessary to put her entire life in theoretical physics. Sara had carried that kind of work ethic since then.
I told her I rode roller coaster.
I should have invited her with me. High speed motion increases euphoria. I wanted to see her smiles, not the forced, strong out front, but simply out of happiness.
Yes, she said. She was logging off. The forced smile again. I knew she had sat her mind to this case, and she would not let it go till she found out the identity of the Pam Adler. She was as stubborn as me. Whatever she might feel meant a great deal to me, and if she had to fly toward the fire, at least I could protect her from the heat. I told Nick to keep an eye on her, and I pushed the investigation yet again. Her burden was mine.
Later she came to me; her wall crumbled down; her voice chocking; her face teary. I hated to just sit there and watch her hurting, but I had to tell her again, that although evidences never lied, the justice system did otherwise. She had to learn to let it go and move on --- the only way I learned to deal with my pain.
She stood up quietly, walked to my office door. "I wish I was like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything."
I could not look at her. She was wrong. I did feel things. I could feel her pain. My pain.
I hid deeper back within my walls.
It hurt inside.
(1/3)