Defining Moments
Chapter 4 – Sara's Story
Disclaimer: I don't own them - wish I did though.
A/N: Thanks so much to Jill and Doris for the beta. All mistakes are mine.
People lie. It's a fact of life, a lesson I have learned over and over. People have told me lies, in one form or another, my whole life. My parents, Grissom, my friends, complete strangers; they all lied. But worse than that, I've lied to myself. Somehow, despite the pain of having the truth revealed, I couldn't let go of my innate trust in my fellow man. Maybe that made me a sap. More likely it made me a target.
There were very few people I admired but Melissa Winters was one of those. She was tough, tenacious. She rose above her physical handicap to become one of the best prosecutors in Clarke County. I had worked with her a few times but this time I was primary on a case that had been assigned to her. We had spent months going over evidence and testimony. Day after day talking, strategizing and getting to know each other. You can't spend that kind of time with someone without learning a little about what they believe. The ideals she espoused were so much like my own that I felt close to her. But Melissa wasn't what she appeared to be.
Melissa was the ADA in the wheelchair who preached about justice, fairness, right and wrong. She could woo a jury with her honest eyes and earnest words.
Melissa was the ADA in the wheelchair who shot her abusive husband while he slept and lied about it. Blamed it on some nameless, faceless man – some man who didn't even exist.
Melissa was the first woman in Las Vegas that I considered to be my friend. But that wasn't really true. You can't be friends with someone that you don't know. Instead of being the person I thought she was, she turned out to be no better than the criminals she prosecuted, no better than my mother.
She set me up. She wanted the truth to come out and she knew I'd do the job. She knew I would look for justice, knew I couldn't bear to let her attacker get away with what had been done to her. But just like Grissom had promised, the evidence didn't lie. It led me right to her bedside. Confronting her was hard. My heart ached with her betrayal. I couldn't understand why she did what she did. I couldn't understand how she could have crossed that line when she worked so hard to advocate for victims.
The one bright spot during this time was Hank. Hank, with his cute smile and sense of fun, made me feel sexy. He gave me attention when I really needed it. I cared about him. I did. Granted, I didn't love him. My heart was Grissom's and there wasn't room for anybody else. Despite that, I tried with Hank. I needed what he had to give. I needed to belong. It felt so good to be a part of something, to be part of a couple.
There was just one problem; Hank lied to me. I don't know why people think that omitting the truth is any different from actually telling a lie. And he omitted one huge fact. He had a girlfriend. Elaine. He went on vacations with her. He spent time with her. He planned a future with her. Oh, he was attracted to me. At least he fucked me like he was. He didn't love me anymore than I loved him and I would have been okay with that. But I wasn't okay with being the other woman. Hank lied to me and reinforced my belief that all men were pigs.
Grissom did nothing to offset that belief. His lies just kept compounding. From his intimations of togetherness to his stupid plant he continued to pile one lie on top of another. He told me to get a life, find a diversion. That was a lie too. He never meant any of that. What he actually meant was find something to do that will allow you sit around, alone, waiting for me to call. Maybe he thought I'd take up knitting. Instead I took up with another man. And Grissom was not happy. He made that abundantly clear both during and after the Tom Haviland trial.
That entire case, from beginning to end, was a total disaster. First there was Phillip Gerard and his accusations that I fixed evidence because of my relationship with Hank. I was pissed. If I had nothing else I had my integrity and the implication alone was enough to make me see red. The fact that Grissom was there to hear it was almost more than I could stand. Up until that point I had managed to keep any knowledge of Hank from Grissom, sadly holding out hope that Grissom would see the error of his ways making Hank yesterday's news. When Gerard let the cat out of the bag I know I saw a flash of pain in Grissom's eyes and then that morphed into something I never expected. He was disappointed in me and that hurt. The fact that I had nothing to be ashamed of didn't factor into it.
The day that I had to testify was just one continuous nightmare. Grissom tossed me a compliment, his offhand comment making my heart swell. Before I could get too excited he told me it was okay for me to have a boyfriend. Why he thought I needed his permission I'm not sure. And even though he didn't mean it when he told me I deserved to have a life it stung. I still wanted to hear him say he wanted me, loved me. Instead I got a 'you look nice' and 'not your fault' before I headed off to face the firing squad.
If I thought Phillip Gerard was bad it was only because I hadn't met Marjorie Westcott. I was prepared for the bra thing. I expected that. I never saw the rest of it coming. When she asked me about touching Grissom I wanted to sink through the floor. She made it sound like something dirty and devious. The simple act of offering comfort to another human being was brought under scrutiny. For just a second I understood what I thought Grissom was afraid of. When I looked out and saw Nick and Warrick looking back at me with undisguised pity I wanted to run from the building and just keep going.
The one thing I got out of that whole debacle was the realization that Grissom was lying to me about something else. He was lying about his hearing. I sat there and watched him struggle to understand the question he was being asked. I watched his eyes. I watched him watch Marjorie Westcott's mouth. He couldn't hear her so he was reading her lips. I don't know how I really felt about that. Not his hearing problem but his unwillingness to tell me about it. I thought we were friends if nothing else. I guess I was wrong about that too. I never told him that I knew. I figured he'd tell me if he wanted me to know. If I thought I was going to wait him out I really was lying to myself.
Grissom didn't waste any time making his displeasure at my relationship with Hank known. We had gone to a vineyard. I was doing what I'd been told. I was having a life. Unfortunately, I wasn't available when Grissom paged me. It didn't matter that it was my day off. It didn't matter that I made Hank mad by insisting I had to go in to work. Nothing mattered except Grissom's needs. Regardless of the fact that I cut my day short and rushed back as soon as possible Grissom was really pissed off.
When I did get to the scene he assigns me to a murder – solo. Don't get me wrong. Normally I would be excited about working solo and everything that implies. But it was the look in his eye and the anger in his voice that told me this wasn't because he trusted me. He gave me the case as punishment. He could have sent someone to cover the cheerleader's murder and used me to do scut work on either case when I got there. Instead he sent me into exile so that he didn't have to face the question of where I'd been or who I'd been with. But unlike a child who has been unjustly punished, I suffered in silence. I worked the evidence and I solved the case. I never complained. When it was over I let him know he couldn't have it both ways.
Amazingly enough it was like nothing had ever happened. Grissom flipped that invisible switch and I was his best girl again. Flirting, joking, caring, he did it all. Maybe he pretended that Hank didn't exist. Maybe he just buried it wherever he put his ability to be human. I didn't know and I didn't really care. I was back in his good graces and life was fine. Just when I thought everything was evening out the rumor mill started churning again.
Everybody was whispering about Grissom and a dominatrix. I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. Better yet, I couldn't understand it. What did she have that I didn't besides a corset and a whip? We both, in our own way, dealt in pain. Hers was just of the more overt variety. It really didn't matter if the rumors were true or not. It was another blow to my sense of self-worth. I was so tied up in what Grissom thought of me, how he felt about me that any slight, real or imagined, was like a slap in the face. And to think that he could risk things for her that he wouldn't risk for me was devastating.
It was around this time that I found out about Hank and Elaine. There was no big scene. It didn't matter that much to me. We were done and I was still hopelessly in love with Grissom. I had made up my mind to ask him out but then the lab exploded. I will never forget the horror I felt at that bright flash of light. I don't know what hit me next the flying glass or the sound. I don't remember a lot about that day. People running and screaming. The fire department. Greg on a stretcher. Even now it is disjointed. I'm not sure how I got out of the building. All I do know is that Grissom called me honey. It was the first term of endearment I had ever heard come from him and it penetrated my frazzled mind and warmed my heart.
We all cheated death that day. Each and everyone inside that building was a walking miracle. But instead of being grateful I became self-destructive. I was fearless, confronting suspects without thought to my safety. Maybe I thought that nothing could hurt me. I don't know what I was thinking. I was so screwed up by this point that I wasn't really thinking at all. I was waiting for somebody to see me. Waiting and hoping that someone would reel me in. And to his credit, Grissom tried. He just didn't try hard enough.
I did finally get around to asking Grissom out. That was a really bad move. He never even thought about it. He turned me down so fast I think I saw stars. My head hadn't even stopped spinning when he gave me some crazy shit about not knowing what to do. How could he not know what to do? He was a man. I was pretty sure of that. I was a woman. I knew that he was attracted to me. It wasn't that damned hard to figure out. So I threatened him a little, told him that he could be too late. Of course I didn't stick around to get a response. That seemed to be a talent of mine, dropping those bombshells and running for cover. Maybe we weren't as different as I like to think.
Sometimes you get lucky. You may not even realize that it was luck until something bad happens to someone else. The death of Detective Lockwood brought home to me just how lucky I was. He had been a constant in all our lives. Cool and calm under the worst of circumstances. He was the kind of person, the kind of cop, you wanted to be. He wasn't as lucky as the rest of us were that year. He died a hero – but a dead hero is still dead, he just gets a medal for it. I wondered if he knew that it was his day to die. Somehow I doubt it. I can't imagine there being some voice that says 'this is it'. And if there were why would people ignore it?
It's hard to lose friends. It doesn't really matter how you lose them. And mine were dropping like flies. It was one blow after another. But I told myself I didn't need them. I told myself I was okay. I lied to myself and to the people around me. Falling apart in private and maintaining a happy face in public; too proud to reach out for help and too much in denial to realize I needed it.