The Perfect Heart
Chapter 7: Learning to Trust
Gil Grissom walked to the parking garage as he rehearsed what he would say to Sara in his head. Everything he thought of sounded wrong. He knew he needed to apologize to her for many things before she would even give him a chance, and he really did want a chance. A chance to apologize, a chance to make things right, a chance to be what she needed him to be. However, he couldn't come up with a speech guaranteed to give him that chance; he wondered if it was even possible. As he rounded a corner, Sara's silver Toyota came into view, and Grissom stopped his journey in confusion. He was almost positive that Sara had gone home. She had been nowhere in the lab to be found, but there was her car, so she must still be inside. Changing direction, Grissom briskly walked back into the lab, intent on finding Sara or on someone who could tell him where she could be found.
The first person Grissom came across was Greg, and so he started there. The young lab tech was walking his way, bag slung across his shoulder, i-pod phones stuck in his ears, obviously on his way out. "Greg," Grissom hailed, holding up a hand to stop Greg.
Greg, cursing under his breath about being stopped by Grissom, removed the earphones, letting the loud sounds of Marilyn Manson resonate between them. "Yeah?" Greg asked, praying that the boss-man wasn't going to ask him to stay longer and work on another project. Greg had just worked a double, having covered for the swing shift DNA tech who'd called out sick. He was tired, hungry, and feared he was beginning to smell, which didn't bode well for his office love life with one Sara Sidle, imagined or not on his part.
"Have you seen Sara? I can't find her, but I don't think she's left yet, since her car's still here," Grissom asked quickly.
"She did leave," Greg replied. "She left with Nick almost two hours ago." When Grissom gave him a confused look Greg elaborated, "She didn't look too good. Maybe Nick offered to drive her home to be safe. He's gotten kinda protective over her the last few weeks."
"Thanks, Greg," Grissom replied, once again changing directions and heading back to the parking garage at almost a run. Suddenly thinking that if he was going to have a chance with Sara he was going to have to fix his people skills, he turned back to Greg and called out, "You did good work today, Greg. Get some sleep, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, he walked out into the parking garage and made his way to his car.
Once inside, Grissom quickly buckled his seatbelt and tore out of the lot, turning left, the opposite direction to his townhouse, but he correct direction to Sara's apartment. He turned off the soft rock music coming through the speakers and started to practice possible speeches out loud. "Sara, I know I've been a very unpleasant person to you lately…No, not that…Sara, I know that you said it might be too late…No, can't jump right into that yet or she'll slam the door in my face…Sara, I know that I've been hard to get along with lately, and there's a reason for that…Sara, I'm an ass…Yeah, that's probably what I should say…Sara, I'm sorry for what I've been putting you through and I want to stop, I just need you to help me do just that…Okay, that doesn't sound too terrible. She might even let me in the door if I start off my apology like that. I would really appreciate it if you were to give me a chance to make things right between us and possibly see how a relationship between the two of us would progress." Grissom smiled softly. Yeah, that was it.
In no time, he'd pulled up to her apartment building, parked, and had made his way up the three flights of stairs and down a hallway to stand in front of Sara's door. Hesitating only briefly, he raised his hand, made a fist, and knocked. No answer. He waited a few seconds, and then knocked a second time. Then a third. As he was beginning his fourth try, the door next to Sara's apartment opened and an elderly woman stuck her head out.
"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously, squinting through her coke bottle glasses at him.
"My name is Gil Grissom…"
"What do you want with Sara?" she asked, cutting him off.
"I work with her, ma'am," Grissom responded as politely as he could. "We had a difficult night and I wanted to check on her. Do you happen to know if she's at home?"
"No, she's not," the woman replied sharply.
"Do you know where she is?" Grissom pressed.
"Probably out with that boyfriend of hers," the woman replied. "Nice young man with the southern accent. He helps me carry all my groceries when he's around. Not many men around today with his sense of chivalry. Much better than that blonde jerk from last year."
"Boy…boyfriend?" Grissom stuttered. Southern accent? And Greg said she went home with Nick?
"Yes, though I've seen him around a lot before they started going together, mind you. Nick something, I'm no good with last names. Really nice young man," the woman told Grissom, much to the man's dismay. "I'll tell Sara that you stopped by, Gil…"
"Grissom," Grissom whispered, fighting emotions he hadn't even realized were so close to the surface until Sara's neighbor had dropped her bombshell. Sara was with Nick. He was too late and she'd done exactly what she'd said she'd do, exactly what Brass had warned Grissom she'd probably already done; she'd moved on. Giving the elderly woman a fake smile, Grissom turned and left, his world silently crashing down around him.
"Are you ready to tell me what you couldn't at the crime scene?" Nick softly asked Sara, fingers skimming over her cheek in a gentle circle.
"I don't…I…I'm afraid to tell you…that you'll run away…if I tell you, you can't go back to not knowing…" Sara babbled, tensing up.
Feeling Sara tense, Nick rubbed her back and assured her that he wasn't going anywhere. "Sunshine, there's nothing you can say to me to make me walk away from what we're building here. But, if we're to keep building, you have to talk to me about this, or we need to go our separate ways now. You need to trust me with your secrets, and I have to trust that you'll tell me what's going on with you."
"It's hard for me to trust people, Nick," Sara told him. "I haven't had a lot of practice, and when I do trust someone, they almost always end up breaking that trust."
"You can trust me," Nick said forcefully. "Whatever you tell me stays between us, Sara, I promise you that. And I promise that I'm not going to leave you over it."
"Even if it's something so terrible to cause such emotional damage to me that it affects nearly everything I do?" Sara asked, so faintly that Nick had to crane neck and bend down to hear her.
"Even if," Nick replied with conviction.
"I've never actually told anyone before. Lots of people know, but it wasn't my choice and they're all in my past. No one in Vegas knows," Sara told Nick softly. "It's why certain cases get under my skin so much. Like the case today with those murdered kids. Or the Pamela Adler case, you know, rape victim shot in the head and left for dead?"
"Yeah, I remember. Or the one where that guy who used to beat his wife shot and killed her and Grissom's bugs weren't matching up?" Nick offered.
"Yeah," Sara told him. "How'd you know about that case?"
"I overheard Brass and Grissom talking about it," Nick confessed. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but they were talking with the door open…"
"It's okay. I'm glad you know. Saves me having to explain some of it," Sara said sadly.
Unable to hold back any longer, Nick blurted out, "Were you raped by an abusive boyfriend?" Horrified by the way he'd asked the question, Nick tried to apologize but Sara would have none of it.
"No, Nick, it's okay. And no, I wasn't ever raped, or even beaten by a boyfriend." Sara paused and took a deep breath, gathering as much courage as she could. Nick, sensing she needed a little help, squeezed her shoulder in support before continuing to rub her back. "My father…well, he wasn't exactly father of the year, you know? He was mean and angry all the time. I don't know why, I never asked. He'd always been that way, as far back as I could remember. I thought it was normal, all the fighting he and my mom used to do. I thought everyone's family was like mine, that everyone had fathers who hit their mothers, their brothers. Them. It's how I lived for twelve years, until my mom…well, I guess she'd had enough. We see it enough in our jobs, I suppose, though never with the same front-row seat I had back then. Woman snaps after years of abuse and kills her husband." Sara stopped there, choked up with tears, not sure she could go on, not sure if she had too.
"Oh Sara," Nick whispered, heart breaking for her. He scooped her up so she was sitting on his lap, and wrapped his arms around her as he buried her face in his neck, tears falling from her eyes and wetting his t-shirt. "What happened after that?"
"I became a foster kid," Sara whispered back. "Until I graduated high school. I tried to do something else, but I couldn't. I was haunted by what happened and I desperately needed to understand why people do the horrible things they do to other people. I thought that maybe I could find the answers as a criminalist, you know? But, all I got was more questions."
"Sometimes, there are no answers, no reasons for what people do, the way they act. I know that's not comforting, or what you need to hear, but I don't know what else to say. Why did you continue to be a criminalist, if it wasn't answering your questions?" Nick asked more out of wonderment than curiosity. That a person would purposefully put themselves in a position to be reminded and hurt over and over again bothered him and he needed to know Sara's reasoning, because without it, he wasn't sure he'd be able to help her come to terms with her past thereby solidifying their future together.
"I couldn't help my mom back then, but these people, I can help them. But it doesn't help me get over it," Sara sobbed. "I try and I try, but I can't get past it. And every time we have a case with similar circumstances, I'm that little girl again, hiding in her closet, hoping she's not next…" She couldn't continue; she was crying too hard to speak.
Not next? Nick thought. Next as what? Next as her father's punching bag, or next as her mother's victim? He was afraid to ask. Not sure what to say to make things better, not sure if there was anything he could say, Nick settled for rocking her in his arms as she cried herself out on his shoulder. One hand held the back of her head, fingers threaded through her brown hair. The other rubbed up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her as she cried and cried and cried. And he cried with her, not sure what else to do.
Grissom groaned at the knock on his townhouse door. After speaking to Sara's neighbor, he'd returned home to drown his sorrows in a bottle of scotch and a program about the preying mantis on the Discovery Channel. It seemed fitting, somehow, like a true metaphor for his life. He hoped that if he ignored the knocking, whoever it was would give up and leave him alone to wallow in his self pity. He had been too late. That phrase kept echoing through his head and he was unable to silence it. It was mocking him, taunting him, telling him he wasn't good enough, that he was just a tired old man who was too afraid to change anything in his life, and that he had only himself to blame.
The knocking persisted. Someone wasn't getting the clue. Frustrated and angry, though probably more at himself than at his unwanted guest, Grissom heaved himself up off the couch and walked to the door, planning on slamming it in the face of whoever was behind it. However, when he saw Brass on the other side, another bottle of scotch in his hand and a sympathetic look on his face, he relented and let the man in.
"I figured you shouldn't drink alone," Brass explained.
"I'm too late. She's with Nick," Grissom choked out, returning to the couch and pouring himself another glass.
"I know," Brass said simply. "I called her to check up on her and Nick answered her phone." He sat next to his friend and placed his hand on Grissom's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gil."
Catherine decided to go grocery shopping after dropping Lindsey off as school. The case of the three murdered children bothered her enough to have come right home and made sure Lindsey knew exactly how much her mother loved her and how safe she was in her own home. Lindsey, of course being the pre-teen she was, had rolled her eyes at her mother's emotional display and assured her that she knew. Catherine had offered host a small slumber party for the girl and to cook Lindsey whatever she wanted for dinner that night, and Lindsey had asked for sloppy joes and mashed potatoes. So now Catherine was in the A&P, grabbing the food she'd need, making a face all the while. Sloppy joes weren't her thing, but if it was what Lindsey wanted, tonight Catherine knew she'd just have to deal.
As she rounded the corner of an aisle into the produce section, she nearly bumped carts with her co-worker Warrick. Surprised, Catherine let out a small yelp and quickly apologized for nearly running him over. The tall man just smiled and promised her that no harm had been done.
"I'm fine, Cath. Whatcha doin' out now? You should be getting some rest," he admonished.
"So should you," she shot back. "I promised Lindsey sloppy joes and mashed potatoes tonight, but I don't have any at home, so here I am."
"Ohhh, sloppy joes, one of my all-time favs," Warrick enthused. "My Grams used to make a mean sauce from scratch to use with the meat. I'll call her and get the recipe if you want."
"Hey, thanks," Catherine said. "I'd appreciate that. I was also thinking of inviting the team over again tonight, join in mine and Lindsey's fun. It's Friday, and she's having a few friends over as well. I could use some help chaperoning. Besides," she continued conspiratorially, "It might just give Grissom the push to finally do something about the long-time attraction between him and Sara."
"Uh, no, not that. That's a bad idea right now," Warrick said quickly, trying to stop Catherine from unknowingly doing terrible damage.
"Why? He's upset about the case. She's upset about the case. They can comfort each other…it's so simple, really," Catherine planned out.
"Uh, trust me, Cath, right now it's not that simple," Warrick tried to reason with her.
Catherine narrowed her eyes in suspicion. In the past, Warrick had always been up for helping her to try to play matchmaker between their boss and their co-worker. What was so different now? What was he hiding? "What do you know that I don't know?" she asked him forcefully.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Warrick replied, trying to avoid the conversation. "Lemme call my Grams right now…" There was no way he was going to give away Nick and Sara's secret right now, especially not to Catherine. Though Cath wouldn't go blabbing it around the lab, she'd definitely confront their two co-workers, even tease them about it, and that was the last thing they needed right now when Sara was still trying to get over Grissom and Nick wanted to keep her from running from him as well.
"Warrick," Catherine pleaded, coyly batting her eyes at him.
"No," he resisted. "That's not going to work this time. I made a promise and I'm not about to break it. Just believe me when I say to back off the Sara-Grissom issue, or you're going to make a mess of things, okay?"
"Okay, fine, whatever," Catherine finally agreed, but with much reluctance. "But soon you're going to give in and tell me."
"I'm hoping that soon I won't have to," Warrick countered, dialing his Grams's phone number to get Catherine that recipe. As the phone rang, he thought, keeping Nick and Sara's secret was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
