Miles to Go Before I Sleep
By Joan Powers
A/N: Having been married for sixteen years, I see this situation differently than others have presented in their post Happenstance fics, so I had to put my view out there. I'd love to hear your thoughts even if you disagree. Thanks to PhDelicious and griot aka Michele for the beta. The excerpt at the end is from Robert Frost's poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening".
Summary: Post Happenstance. What's going on with Grissom? GSR
Type: angst/romance (?)
Timeline/Spoilers: Season 7 -- Burn Out, Happenstance
Rating: K/PG
"I won't wait up"
Her words had jarred him, though not for the obvious reasons. Realistically, he hadn't expected her to wait up. In fact, it was wonderful to be at such a comfortable point in their relationship where they lived together but didn't always have to be on their best behavior. He tolerated her vegetarian entrees while she endured him reading before joining her in bed. Sometimes she waited up for him, sometimes she didn't. He didn't feel guilty about not spending every spare moment with Sara. It was the sign of a healthy, mature relationship. In the past, he hadn't thought such a thing was possible for him.
He closed his copy of "Walden" which was no longer holding his rapt attention. Without conscious effort, his gaze fell guiltily upon the letter from Williams College that he'd received earlier. He'd surreptitiously tucked it beneath a folder, away from prying eyes. Most importantly, away from Sara's keen vision. She'd certainly unearthed that crossword puzzle answer quickly enough, practically reading it upside down.
"Misanthrope."
That had stung. Did Sara think he was becoming one? Although her expression led him to believe she'd been teasing him, in truth he worried that he was starting to lean in that direction.
Leaning back in his desk chair and closing his eyes, Carl Fisher, the pedophile that had been involved with those missing boys, came to mind. The man hadn't looked any different than the average person; in fact a stranger might have considered him clean cut and respectable. Many murderers and serial killers outwardly resemble the guy next door. But their insides -- that was an entirely different story. Their souls had corroded, leading them to commit unthinkable acts.
Fully aware of the facts, on one level Grissom had still wanted to believe that Carl Fisher was innocent, that he hadn't killed young Lucas Hanson. He'd wanted to believe that people could reform, that they could scrub hard enough to wash the filth off of them. When Carl finally unraveled, revealing the sordid details of the affair, Grissom was struck by the depth of his self deception -- how Carl had desperately tried to rationalize each aspect of his aberrant behavior.
Was he, like Carl, deceiving himself?
Grissom could quote the statistics regarding the high turnover rate for his field. Given the gruesome nature of the job and the long hours, it made sense. With the hours he'd kept over the years, his dogged determination and almost obsessive focus on his work, he'd already beaten the odds. But it was catching up with him. Even with his steady reserve and his patented hands-off manner,disillusionment was seductively whispering to him.
Was he really making a difference in the world? Were his efforts putting a dent in the evil that filled that world? Was it worth the effort?
He was having trouble differentiating between criminals and so-called 'good' people. Were there any decent folk left? Uninvited, work had silently crossed the invisible barrier, coming home with him rather than staying neatly boxed up in the office.
At one point, he'd blamed Sara for his troubles, for when he'd invited her into his life she'd forced him to face his emotions which made him inherently more vulnerable. But that was a lie, even then.
Things had started gradually eroding on the job before that point. Look at how obsessed he'd gotten over the Debbie Marlin case, how many nights of sleep it alone had wrecked. But he'd only reacted with specific cases, he'd rationalized. There had been substantive reasons for that case and the few others to disturb him. Not every case had left its mark on him so he strove to ignore the early warning signs of burnout.
When had it happened? When did going to work slowly become more a chore than an eagerly anticipated pleasure? When had the invisible slime started to creep towards him, coloring his perception? After repeatedly ignoring the warning signs, how much dry rot had he already endured? Was it too late for repairs?
He'd thought he was bulletproof. When had his armor lowered or been compromised? Or had he been kidding himself in that respect, thinking that he was invincible, that he could somehow stomach it more than others? Was the only person he was fooling himself?
Still, he'd hesitated, dragging his feet, uncertain how to address the issue. In typical fashion, he ignored the symptoms as long as he could tolerate them. For without his job, who would he be?
It had never occurred to him to talk with Sara about his work issues. It wasn't her problem or even their problem. It was his. Besides, he'd never been the type of man who was comfortable discussing such issues to death. And what would Sara think of him? Wouldn't she see him as less of a man? No, it was much safer not to refer to it at all. Though her comment a few moments earlier led him to realize he hadn't been nearly as secretive as he'd believed.
He removed the letter from the folder, skimming it one more time, though he'd already memorized the content. Why should he feel so guilty for considering such an offer? It was time for a change. It might be just what he needed to renew his perspective on life and humanity in general. He needed to recharge.
He sighed, as he decisively rose to gather his things, acknowledging where his guilt was coming from. For once in his life, his decisions would impact another. Before accepting the offer or moving ahead in any fashion, he needed to discuss what he was considering with Sara. She was an integral part of his life. He closed the office door behind him to hurry home to her.
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
THE END
(Since real life is getting much busier, it may be some time before I'm able to post a new story. I hope you enjoyed this one.)