Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to, I don't own any of these characters. (
Chapter One
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As Sara Sidle peacefully drifted off to sleep in front of her television, she was suddenly awoken by a loud knocking on her apartment door.
"Who could that be?" she muttered to herself as she stumbled across her lounge room floor to her apartment door. "Everyone knows I work the graveyard shift." She opened the door.
"Miss Sidle?"
"Yes" Sara sleepily replied, leaning against the doorframe.
"Oh I'm sorry, this looks like a bad time. I'll come back later."
"No" she interrupted, "It's fine." Sara said as she stifled a yawn and carefully studied the man, trying to work out where she had seen him before. He wasn't someone from work, well, not from her shift anyway. Maybe he was one of the new day shift people who she hadn't met yet. Not that she knew them that well anyway. The man suddenly interrupted her chain of thought "Oh, how rude of me. I'm Bill Sanderson, the owner of this apartment" Sara grogginess suddenly went away, and was quickly replaced with confusion. What was the owner doing here, in her apartment? He was supposed to be away. In fact, he was supposed to be anywhere but at her front door. It was as if Mr Sanderson had read her mind.
"You look confused Miss Sidle, are you alright?"
"Yes, yes I'm fine. Um, sorry, but I thought you were in Europe?"
"Didn't you get my letter?" Her blank expression answered his question. "Why don't we sit down somewhere and I'll explain everything to you."
"Oh, sorry, "said Sara. She had forgotten to invite him in. "Come in" she said as she gestured inside her apartment. Mr Sanderson quickly glanced around. Sara moved over to her old, comfortable but worn couch and sat down. "Here, sit" she told Mr Sanderson, as she waved her arm to indicate where he should sit. Instead he chose the chair - slightly taller than the rest of her furniture, giving him a more intimidating feel. Sara noticed that now he was properly inside her apartment, he was looking around, taking everything in - the placement of the table, the television, how she had set up her belongings on the shelves. This made Sara uncomfortable. She didn't usually have people over. Usually if she went anywhere it was with her colleagues, and that was usually to the café around the corner from the lab, or Catherine's house. The last time anyone had come over was Hank, and that was before she found out about that other woman, Elaine. Sara shuddered when she remembered the picture of Hank and Elaine together, and how as soon as she got home she destroyed all evidence of Hank. That was one benefit of being a CSI - knowing how to thoroughly destroy evidence, even if it was for your emotional benefit only. Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Mr Sanderson watching her, having finished his analysis of the apartment.
"Oh, sorry," she replied "Can I get you a drink or something?"
"No, I'm fine," he replied
"Now, what did you want to talk to me about" Sara asked, turning fully around to face him.
"Well, Miss Sidle, the truth of the matter is that my family and I have returned form Europe early."
"That I can see" Sara muttered to herself
"And we'd like to get settled back into Las Vegas as soon as possible." Mr Sanderson said bluntly. Sara was shocked.
"So, you want me to move?" Sara couldn't believe it. Her apartment was her life, her sanctuary. Ever since Grissom had told her to 'get a life', she had been doing everything and anything she could to make a life. Including making her home a home.
"Well, yes. As soon as possible. Can you be out of here in one week?"
"One week?" Sara weakly replied
"Yes, that would be excellent if you could do that." Mr Sanderson no longer appeared so nice to Sara. Here he was, appearing out of the blue, destroying more of her life than what was already in ruins. But she knew that she couldn't fight him. Her contract wasn't strong, and she knew that she had to move as soon as she was told. There was no way that she could fight it. And Mr Sanderson was fully aware of that. "Well, I must be going," said the now apparently evil Mr Sanderson.
"Yeah, I have to get ready for work, " Sara absently said. She felt drained and exhausted.
"I'll see you in a week then, Miss Sidle" said Mr Sanderson as he walked to her door. The door that was soon to become his door. "I'll give you a call later on in the week, and we can arrange key transfers and other details like that."
"Ok," she replied, "See you then." She then shut the door on him, and leaned against the wall, cradling her face in her hands. "God damn" Sara said to herself, as she slid down the wall, and landed on the floor with a bump. "God damn."
Chapter One
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
As Sara Sidle peacefully drifted off to sleep in front of her television, she was suddenly awoken by a loud knocking on her apartment door.
"Who could that be?" she muttered to herself as she stumbled across her lounge room floor to her apartment door. "Everyone knows I work the graveyard shift." She opened the door.
"Miss Sidle?"
"Yes" Sara sleepily replied, leaning against the doorframe.
"Oh I'm sorry, this looks like a bad time. I'll come back later."
"No" she interrupted, "It's fine." Sara said as she stifled a yawn and carefully studied the man, trying to work out where she had seen him before. He wasn't someone from work, well, not from her shift anyway. Maybe he was one of the new day shift people who she hadn't met yet. Not that she knew them that well anyway. The man suddenly interrupted her chain of thought "Oh, how rude of me. I'm Bill Sanderson, the owner of this apartment" Sara grogginess suddenly went away, and was quickly replaced with confusion. What was the owner doing here, in her apartment? He was supposed to be away. In fact, he was supposed to be anywhere but at her front door. It was as if Mr Sanderson had read her mind.
"You look confused Miss Sidle, are you alright?"
"Yes, yes I'm fine. Um, sorry, but I thought you were in Europe?"
"Didn't you get my letter?" Her blank expression answered his question. "Why don't we sit down somewhere and I'll explain everything to you."
"Oh, sorry, "said Sara. She had forgotten to invite him in. "Come in" she said as she gestured inside her apartment. Mr Sanderson quickly glanced around. Sara moved over to her old, comfortable but worn couch and sat down. "Here, sit" she told Mr Sanderson, as she waved her arm to indicate where he should sit. Instead he chose the chair - slightly taller than the rest of her furniture, giving him a more intimidating feel. Sara noticed that now he was properly inside her apartment, he was looking around, taking everything in - the placement of the table, the television, how she had set up her belongings on the shelves. This made Sara uncomfortable. She didn't usually have people over. Usually if she went anywhere it was with her colleagues, and that was usually to the café around the corner from the lab, or Catherine's house. The last time anyone had come over was Hank, and that was before she found out about that other woman, Elaine. Sara shuddered when she remembered the picture of Hank and Elaine together, and how as soon as she got home she destroyed all evidence of Hank. That was one benefit of being a CSI - knowing how to thoroughly destroy evidence, even if it was for your emotional benefit only. Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Mr Sanderson watching her, having finished his analysis of the apartment.
"Oh, sorry," she replied "Can I get you a drink or something?"
"No, I'm fine," he replied
"Now, what did you want to talk to me about" Sara asked, turning fully around to face him.
"Well, Miss Sidle, the truth of the matter is that my family and I have returned form Europe early."
"That I can see" Sara muttered to herself
"And we'd like to get settled back into Las Vegas as soon as possible." Mr Sanderson said bluntly. Sara was shocked.
"So, you want me to move?" Sara couldn't believe it. Her apartment was her life, her sanctuary. Ever since Grissom had told her to 'get a life', she had been doing everything and anything she could to make a life. Including making her home a home.
"Well, yes. As soon as possible. Can you be out of here in one week?"
"One week?" Sara weakly replied
"Yes, that would be excellent if you could do that." Mr Sanderson no longer appeared so nice to Sara. Here he was, appearing out of the blue, destroying more of her life than what was already in ruins. But she knew that she couldn't fight him. Her contract wasn't strong, and she knew that she had to move as soon as she was told. There was no way that she could fight it. And Mr Sanderson was fully aware of that. "Well, I must be going," said the now apparently evil Mr Sanderson.
"Yeah, I have to get ready for work, " Sara absently said. She felt drained and exhausted.
"I'll see you in a week then, Miss Sidle" said Mr Sanderson as he walked to her door. The door that was soon to become his door. "I'll give you a call later on in the week, and we can arrange key transfers and other details like that."
"Ok," she replied, "See you then." She then shut the door on him, and leaned against the wall, cradling her face in her hands. "God damn" Sara said to herself, as she slid down the wall, and landed on the floor with a bump. "God damn."