Summary: A blast from her San Fransisco past, Sara recalls a night her pride didn't want her to remember. "The night had begun in a routine fashion.And it became completely foreign when Grissom strolled in with a piece of my past tailing behind him." Sara-centric.
A/N: I'm back on the bandwagon.. And I've got a ship load of Sara stories that I've had written since this summer. Unfortunately, due to my computer's retardation and my laziness, they won't all be up anytime soon. But this one.. Yeah, don't know where it came from, but it's here! Give it a shot. Some of you will like it (hopefully), some of you will hate it, but tell me something regardless.
Also, I have only brushed over this to look for errors, and as we know it is human to err.. So there's bound to be grammatical & spelling errors. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not have the copyrights to CSI. If I did, do you think Sara would be gone and Warrick would be popping pills like he's auditioning to be the next House?
All
Jacked Up
By:
MC New York
Sara's POV:
I wasn't sure which concept was more difficult to grasp; The fact that I'd run into someone from my old team in San Fransisco or that I'd so easily forgotten the memory said person brought up. When put like that, though, I suppose the latter was the answer. After all, I had made more than an ass of myself that night than I can remember in the entire history of my life. But, that's usually what drunk people do to themselves.
The night had begun in a routine fashion. Walked into the break room at the beginning of shift to see Nick practically begging Greg to save our taste buds with his Blue Hawaiian, fished around the fruit bowl for a fresh red apple before finally taking a seat to await the arrival of our assignments. It become a little less than routine when the wait exceeded five minutes. And it became completely foreign when Grissom strolled in with a piece of my past tailing behind him. And I'll be damned if the past didn't have a mouth as wide as the Lincoln Tunnel.
To make a long story short, Tiffany Tuesti was a bright-eyed lab technician back in the San Fransisco Crime Lab who aspired to work her way up to a CSI position someday. For some reason or another, she idolized me from the moment I began working there, which was fine in my eyes. I could barely stand anyone else there. I guess it's safe to say she was a good friend of mine. And now her plans consisted of learning the tricks of the trade along side the second best CSIs in the country.
Her side mission, however, seemed to bring back every memory – good, bad, humiliating, or the like – for everyone to hear. But it had only gone horribly awry when she brought up our night at the Quarter Deck bar in Hyannis, Massachusetts. It was one of those nights I preferred to not think about.
The sunrise was dull enough to blind me as I drove home, reminding me of the shady lighting of the bar that barely illuminating the night sky. The repetitive stretch of road didn't help ward off the inevitable memory that was rudely shoving its way up to the top of my thoughts. After another half mile, there was no fighting it.
Flashback
For our last night in Massachusetts, Teef insisted we stop by a local favorite bar: The Quarter Deck. I'd been adamant about not going, but Tiffany was just as bad, saying that this would be one of her last times in town. And that was the sole reason why we were heading down Route 28 at 8:00 p.m. in the rustic blue ford pick-up her brother had left in her possession for the time being.
Hyannis was everything Teef had described it as when she'd asked me to accompany her on a vacation back to her hometown, persisting that a vacation would do me some good. The town was always on the move, but it had the attitude of the country. An oddity was what I considered it. A quaint oddity. The closest you could get to a city without going to Boston. There was an IHOP, The Cape Cod Mall, the Old Country Buffet where you could eat to your heart's content for $5.50 per person, and all of the night clubs and bars to make an insomniac or drunkard think they'd died and gone to Heaven. Of course, it varied from section to section on its quaintness. There were also your common hookers and dealers on every other sidewalk in the shabbiest of sections.
"You're gonna love this place, Sar. I've never met anyone who didn't." Teef promised me, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I just want to give you the true feeling of Hyannis before we head back to San Fran tomorrow morning. We won't be long."
There was a dubious quality to that statement. How many times had she said that in the past four days only to leave eleven hours later? But there wasn't much I could do at this point. We were miles from the hotel and I didn't have the slightest of ideas on how to get back on foot.
"Well. Here we are!"
I was about to question where "here" was when all I noticed was possibly the world's smallest airport to the right and Teef began to turn left. The bar was what people considered a "hole in the wall" and it seemed that if you were to blink while driving past, you'd miss it entirely.
Teef pulled the truck along the side to continue toward the back of the bar, past the full front parking lot that was filled with Harley-Davidsons that seemed to hug the front wall, lest they be hit by oncoming traffic. The asphalt became immediately replaced by dirt as we parked underneath one of the few light poles in the back parking lot.
There were a few people that hung around behind someone's pick-up truck, drinking beer and having a genuinely good time amongst themselves. And it was obvious they knew Tiffany when they called out to her the second we stepped out.
"Hey guys!" She waved over her shoulder before she leaned in toward me. "This is a town were everyone knows everyone. You can't run into a person you don't know if you grew up here."
The very thought of something so close to privacy invasion made me squirm. I couldn't imagine having knowing eyes watching me every waking moment. It was akin to living in a glass house.
Inside the wooden, barn-esque structure, The Commodores could be heard for what I was sure could stretch for miles in every direction. I couldn't distinguish which song Lionel Richie was singing due to the melted roar of the bar's customers inside however. The wooden door and walls did nothing to absorb or contain the incoherent noises. The thought of sound pollution made me cringe, but I didn't expect people in there to care much about the environment when they're having a good time.
As I reached for the brass doorknob, I felt Teef's hand yank me back by my bicep. I would've inquired her reason for hauling me away, if it weren't for the door slamming open and the first naturally flying human coming out. His flight was short as he hit the ground rolling, and couldn't seem to stand still or steady once he clumsily got to his feet. The man pointed his finger in an accusing manner at the still open door, yelling incomprehensible insults at whoever stood there, if there was anyone that is. It was confirmed a second later that someone still remained as he calmly walked out in a few steps, hand on his hip.
"Get outta here, Danny. You've been here since seven this morning and it's eight at night. Go home to your wife and talk out your problems... Or at least sober up!" It was a given command like an owner to his dog.
The man otherwise known as "Danny" grumbled what surely were cuss words and tossed him the middle finger before carrying himself away from the bar.
"Don't make me call your Mother! I know the number by heart!" He yelled after the problematic drunk. "I..."
"Charlie, I think he gets it. You know he's just gonna go home and drink until he passes out on his couch." Teef finally released my arm and ran over to envelope the heavy set man in a hug.
"Hey kiddo! How's my favorite niece?" His mood changed drastically as he lifted her in the air just to hug her. She certainly didn't get her height from that side of the family.
"Same as always..." She responded once she was back on the ground and able to breath again.
The uncle, known as Charlie, was definitely related to Teef. The same electric blue eyes, the Italian skin tone, the wavy hair that was once upon a time jet black but was now peppered gray and receding, dedicating itself to his neatly trimmed full beard. The gold rimmed bifocal glasses seemed to magnify a warm, caring, and cheerful gaze and his smiling wrinkles were pronounced to frame his perfect teeth. And though he had a voice that suggest he had bronchitis it could've just been a part of aging.
Charlie peered over Teef's head at me, flashing me a congenial smile. "Now who's your lovely companion Teef? When did you forget the manners I took forever to teach you?"
Tiffany jumped into a stiff position as if she'd just been splashed with a bucket of cold water. Turning 90°, she made the introduction and manually made us shake hands herself. But there was no time for discussion or small talk after Teef explained Charlie was the barkeep and owner of the Quarter Deck, because she literally got behind me and shoved me inside.
And that's when everything went wrong.
End of Flashback
I finally regained control over my mind before I got into the humiliating part of that night. Truly, was there any reason to remind myself of one of the most out-of-character nights of my life?
Poor Charlie Tuesti, I'd just learned from Teef today, had passed away a couple months ago. They never joke when they call cancer the silent killer. It seemed as if it still tore Teef up inside at the thought of it, but it would be a miracle if it didn't reduce her to tears. He was practically her father.
But I couldn't be saddened too much when I recalled that night.
No Sidle, stay away from those thoughts, my subconscious warned me in a chiding voice.
But before my subconscious could finish her thoughts, I was thrown back in the loop.
Flashback
By 10:30, I was developing a slur and couldn't deny Teef her long awaited drinking contest. I may have little to my form, but I could hold my alcohol abnormally well. I had both of my parents to blame for that.
It would be stating the obvious if I said that Tiffany was nearing piss drunk. And by the end of the contest, she looked like she was about to pass out. Thankfully Charlie put an end to it before she hurt herself and scolded the other bartender for simply allowing his sweet, innocent niece to continue on.
While he nursed her back to sobriety with food and water, I took the time to look around the place.
Air thick with smoke and smelling of alcohol as any bar should – to the point where one could get drunk just by breathing – the place gave off a shady feeling with the low ceiling and yellow lighting from the dim lights. But it was a stereotypical biker bar. From staring in through the front door, straight ahead was the back door, to the right were four or five tables seating four at each, and to the left was the bar that took up almost the entire length of the building, seating fifteen. The jukebox, possibly the brightest thing in the entire bar, was tot he right of the back door. Lights were located on the walls, implanted in the ceiling, but even those were low watt. Once could guess that Charlie was into energy saving... or keeping his pocket full.
The customers were a rough crowd, mostly workers, bikers, and the bikers' girlfriends. And your garden variety bimbos and women you weren't certain were truly female. But they were congenial. And the ones who weren't? Taken care of by Charlie personally. Or some of his most loyal customers. Even both in some instances.
Time wore on as my eyes searched the full bar, perching upon one of the younger bikers with the face of an angel but the smile of a devil as he acknowledged me from the end of the bar. Hazel eyes, chestnut hair and a body molded into his open leather jacket. I winked back, finishing off my fifteenth beer.
People always advised me, "Sara, count the bottles!" And did I? Yes, but I just didn't stop counting.
Unfortunately alcohol had the ability to boost my confidence to the mark where I could go toe-to-toe with some of the most egotistical people the world had to offer. And that made me paid dearly for that one wink. Soon I was stretching my neck back just to stare up at one of those questionable women. But it was a wasted movement when I was knocked off my barstool a moment later from her fist befriending my jaw.
Now I was certain of my sobriety level when I only felt the dullest of aches where the beast of the streets hit me. And if there was any uncertainty, it was banished when I got to my feet as quick as lightening to return the favor. To everyone's surprise, she was knocked back on her ass.
The guy that this dispute was over came forward to help her up and escort her out as I reclaimed my seat. And I prayed to a higher power that she was his cousin or sister or close friend and not his girlfriend. I pity him if she was.
I received a few pats on the back and an enthusiastic congratulation from Teef as she rejoined me at the bar. I smiled meekly and ordered another beer, subconsciously rubbing my jaw knowing it would hurt like Hell in the morning.
By the time I hit my twenty-second bottle, and I'd drank almost every guy under the table, Charlie finally confronted me.
"You got a gift kid, but I can't let you abuse it anymore." He said, leaning in with one forearm supporting him. "You guys don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Gotta limit you before you hurt yourself. I'll go call you two a cab and pay the fare."
I tried to focus on my watch as I dragged Teef away from a potential drinking contest. I was beside myself when I saw the hour hand on the two and the minute hand on the twelve. Or maybe it was on the one...
How the hell did it get from ten to two?!
My mind had barely registered the fact that Charlie had said he was calling a cab and that both Teef and I were too wasted to drive. That could explain why we were standing at the driver door of her brother's Ford searching for the keys.
"I gave 'em to you for safe keepin'." Teef struggled to keep steady on her feet. "Memba?"
My fingers searched in every pocket I possessed but found nothing.
Drunken logic "saved" me, however, as I smashed the window with my elbow and unlocked it. I laughed at the glass shards that stuck out of my elbow before I brushed them away and wiped the seat free of any glass shards. I thanked my foster brother for teaching me how to hotwire a car as the engine roared to life when my vision focused in on the necessary wires.
I only noticed that Teef wasn't in as I pulled the shift stick into drive, or what I believe was drive. Instead, Teef was off talking to the numerous amount of people that had filed out into the back lot. Sighing with a roll of my eyes, I readjusted my sitting position, accidentally stepping on the gas pedal in the process. As I, along with the truck, was propelled backwards and straight into that god forsaken light pole, I found it clear that Ihadn't put it in drive. Quite the opposite.
I touched my lip and bloodied my fingertips as I sat back in the seat, pulling the stick into park with a touch of exasperation. I noted Charlie running out toward me with Teef in tow, laughing her ass off when she saw me sigh and lightly bang my head against the headrest repeatedly. Others joined her in laughing, some shook their heads, while the rest continued about their business.
Charlie's repeated question of my current health passed through my ears but never touched my brain and Tiffany's laughter along with her lies that I didn't look like a completely moron joined her uncle's words as I pulled my head into my hands.
The customers had come for a drink and left with a show they wouldn't be forgetting in the near future.
End of Flashback
The car quieted with a turn of the key, leaving me to sit silently in the parked car that lay idle in the garage. I stared out the driver's window at the gas guzzler and I suddenly had a premonition that the car's owner was going to be inquiring about this memory in even more detail than Teef had given it in.
Exiting the car and entering the house, I was greeted by the smell of eggs, blueberry pancakes, and a very exuberant boxer named Hank. I passingly scratched behind his ear as I moved onto the kitchen. I took advantage of him having his back to me and wrapped my arms about his comfortable mid-section and rested my chin on his shoulder. I snatched a frozen blueberry from the plastic container beside him and popped it into my mouth before interlocking my fingers together to trap him in my embrace.
His still existent abdominal muscles contracted as he laughed softly, stealing a blueberry himself. "Keep this up and we'll have ordinary buttermilk pancakes."
Defying him, I took another, breathing in his fresh scent. Fresh out of the shower. "So?"
He laughed his reply and continued on cooking. I was about to sigh in relief when I thought I'd avoided the inevitable question when I jinxed it. "So Ms. Tuesti had some interesting..."
I caught him off the closest second I could. "I hope you know that if you plan on sleeping in the same bed as me this morning, Gris," I held back my smile, "you won't mention it."
"Duly noted."
Kissing him behind his ear and down toward his earlobe, his sensitive spot, I released him and walked toward the bathroom to shower. "I thought you'd see it my way."
The End
A/N2: Yes, so please give me some feedback. I've nary a thing to do here for the next two days due to this immature bomb threat that's going on at my school. I would go, but I would prefer to NOT be frisked by cops and sniffed by scent dogs and having everything I have checked so thoroughly I'm sure it'd qualify as harassment. So I'm going to stop ranting now, and in the meantime you can submit a review!:) Please?