This story is a continuation of the original fanfiction, "Follow the Evidence." There will be references back to things that ocurred in that story.
I look forward to hearing your reaction to my story.
Thank you!!
Follow the Evidence – San Francisco
Chapter 1:
It was Saturday afternoon. Grissom had returned that morning from a night shift investigation out by Lake Mead. A few hours of sleep, and an hour of play with the sensual Sara Sidle, and he was awake and ready for the day.
"What would you like to do today?" Gil asked as they relaxed together in bed.
Sara smiled, "How about more of what we just did?"
"That's tempting!" he laughed, then added, "I was thinking, maybe we could head out to California today. We could take our time, maybe go through Los Angeles and then head up the coast. I could show you where I grew up. If we hurry, we should be able to find a room overlooking the coast tonight."
"I'm afraid to return to San Francisco. I know I can be a good CSI, but will I be able to convince the department after leaving a crime scene like that? Maybe making the trip fun will take my mind off of it."
"I can make a reservation for an early morning flight to Las Vegas, so I'll be back in time for court."
Sara thought for a minute, and then decided, "Let's leave right away…."
They showered and dressed, resisting the temptations that assailed them by simply being near one another. Grissom packed a suit for court in addition to his casual clothes. He packed light so that he would only have carryon items for his flight. Sara packed the clothes that she had purchased in Las Vegas, as well as her CSI uniform. Grissom called his travel agent, and booked a flight from San Francisco to Las Vegas, that would allow him to be in court by ten on Monday morning. Within an hour they were ready to leave. They packed Sara's car, buckling Bert, a stuffed bear that resembled Grissom, into the back seat. Gil removed a file and then placed his briefcase in the backseat as well.
Grissom, being familiar with the Las Vegas roads and traffic, drove for the first stage of the trip. They swung through a fast food restaurant, ordered some lunch and then headed out of town. Grissom merged onto I-15 heading south towards California. Driving through the relentless desert, Sara read aloud from the Sullivan file, reviewing the basics of the case for Grissom.
"Even with all I have lived through, I am appalled by how cruel parents can be to their own children," Sara commented after reading the first few lines.
"This was one of the most sickening cases I have worked," Grissom confessed, "The officers at the scene were vomiting from seeing the child. Catherine and I both fought to keep control; unfortunately, some of the blood evidence was compromised by the DNA in our tears. I was so furious at the cruelty against a toddler that I dented the hood of the SUV with my fist."
Sara shook her head, "I don't think I could have processed the scene."
"Once the coroner removed the little girl's body, it became easier, but I will never forget the horror of her injuries."
"After what happened this week, my biggest fear is that I won't be able to face such scenes without shutting down and running away," Sara confided.
"Sara, I can't promise that won't happen. One of the challenges that we face as CSIs is overcoming our instinctive emotional responses to the viciousness of the crimes that we investigate. People accuse me of not having any emotions, but that's not true, particularly when it is a crime against a child. We are supposed to protect and care for our children, not torture them. When I see a child hurt, it gets under my skin, and it takes all that I have not to lose my temper. Knowing that I respond in that way helps me to deal with the situation. Perhaps understanding your past and recognizing what triggers your fear will help you to control it?"
"I hope that is true. I don't think my supervisor and co-workers care much about why I react to certain scenes. They assume all females are weak and incapable. Now that they'll know my history, they will probably assign all of the domestic violence cases to me, just to force me to quit."
"It's hard to believe they would be that insensitive, but from what you've experienced in the past I am afraid you might be right."
Grissom drove in silence for awhile. 'If only she would stay in Las Vegas,' he thought to himself, 'I could steer her clear of such scenes, at least until she was ready to face them.' The lab policy against romantic relationships crossed his mind, as well as Ecklie's reaction to working with Grissom in general. Ecklie would find a way of making their lives miserable – maybe they could work out a swap with San Francisco, Sara for Ecklie – he'd fit in well up there.
Sara stared out the window, watching with unfocused eyes as they passed mile after mile of scrub brush and cactus. 'When will the screaming start? No ghosts for the last two days, but last week? I never want to hear them like that again! I need to do this. I need to solve crimes and speak for the victims, but will it ever be safe for me emotionally? Can my sanity survive the constant reminders?' She glanced over at Grissom, his eyes were intent on the road, his mind miles away. She reached over and rested her hand on his leg. Smiling, he covered her hand with his, caressing it as he drove.
"Sara?" Grissom asked, "I don't know how to ask this… I know a bit of your story, but there is still so much I don't understand. I assumed when we first met that your motives for being a CSI were similar to my own – the need to find the truth and tell the victim's story… But our lives have been so different. If the crime scenes are so painful for you…"
"Then why do I want to be a criminalist?" Sara finished his question.
"Yes, why put yourself in such a potentially gruesome world?"
"When I haven't been distracted by a certain pair of glorious blue eyes, that's all I've been thinking about this week. Why do I do this to myself? Isn't it bad enough to live with violence as a child without subjecting myself to the results of it daily? I'm not sure I have a good answer." Sara stopped talking, but Gil could sense her struggle to find the right words and he waited in silence until she was ready to continue.
"No one stood up for me. My mom was too scared. My brother ran away as soon as he was old enough. No one ever heard my voice, my cries. Each time I speak for a victim, I tell some of my own story as well. I'm not sure how to say this… I survived and yet… I've told you only part of the story, there is so much more that I am afraid to share – as much as I rely on you, I am mute. I only find my voice in speaking for others. Does that make sense?"
Gil nodded, but didn't say anything. He kept his personal life very private and he had nothing shameful to hide. She had done nothing wrong, she had been a child caught in a nightmare, but she must feel the embarrassment of her parent's crimes. If he were in her place?
"Sara?" he started, "Thank you for trusting me. I hope someday you will feel safe sharing the rest of your story, but I won't pressure you. I rarely tell anyone anything about my personal life, not even Jim. So it makes sense to me that you don't either. I sometimes see myself at crime scenes – what if I had made different choices? It's sobering to realize what we are all capable of given sufficient motivation. The victim's speak to me, they tell their story, but that make me see my own in a different light as well. I think what you have said makes sense."
"Gil, thank you for not judging me."
"I'm not in a place to judge, only to love." They drove in silence for a few minutes before Grissom spoke again, "Sara, I'm reluctant to share this, but I want you to understand me. I've never really cared what anyone thought before – let them wonder – but I want you to know the real me…"
Sara smiled, "I'd like that."
"Do you remember when they captured Jeffrey Dalmer? The media tore into his childhood, exposing his history of killing and dissecting animals. The psychologists and sociologists made the point that this was a sign of his mental illness."
"Yes, I remember, but what does that have to do with you?"
"When I was a child, people thought I was odd," he smiled, "I guess they still think that – but perhaps they had a reason. I never killed any animals, but I was fascinated by dissecting the carcasses that I found. I wanted to know why they died. As a teenager, as soon as I could convince them to hire me, I joined the coroner's office. You've seen me at work, I am driven to understand what has happened, to follow the evidence to find the answers, and until I do, nothing else seems to matter."
"I've seen that side of you – I saw it in your teaching and in your work at the lab. Why did you want me to know this?"
"If I understand correctly, you are motivated to find the truth for the victim's sake. And I am as well, but I also need to solve the scientific puzzle. And I might not be the best companion during the process. I guess I wanted to warn you."
"Well, if you'll let me work beside you, I don't think it will be a problem. We'll be obsessed together."
"There is nothing that I would like more."
