Defining Moments
Chapter 5 – Grissom's Story
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Thanks to dreamsofhim for the beta. She rocks!
Jealousy is simply and clearly the fear that you do not have value. Jealousy scans for evidence to prove the point - that others will be preferred and rewarded more than you. There is only one alternative - self-value.
Dr. Jennifer James/Urban Cultural Anthropologist
I had been night shift supervisor for three years. It was a job I never wanted and one I wasn't very good at. The smartest thing I had done was surround myself with good people. I had a team I trusted and we were damned good. My people had the highest solve rates in the lab both separately and as a team. We were making a difference and bringing criminals to justice. Funny that I actually believed the shit I was telling myself because I am not a man prone to flights of fancy. I should have known never to tempt fate.
I'm not really sure when I realized we were fighting a losing battle but I think it might have been the night Suzanna Kirkwood died. What happened to her and her family was horrific. I didn't understand until that moment how helpless her father must have felt listening to his daughter being brutalized. I had nightmares for months about her being trapped under the weight of some animal with rancid breath and sweaty hands. I could hear her screaming, crying, begging and fighting while I stood there unable to do anything to save her. I would wake up wrapped in sweat soaked sheets gasping for air while her cries echoed in my head. Nobody thought I felt things but they couldn't have been more wrong.
When I saw Suzanna lying in a pool of blood I knew that the system had failed us all. I had pushed her father to do what I thought was right but I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain. There were so many what ifs. If I had just let it go, if she hadn't been too scared to write that number down, if all the planets had lined up and God had smiled on us things would have been different and she wouldn't be dead. I remember crouching beside her body, looking at her through the mist that was falling and thinking how appropriate that the sky was weeping. I remember watching Sara cross under the tape while I tucked every emotion away and wished I could feel nothing. I knew she was crying. I knew she was in pain. But I was too overwhelmed to take her on. It was all I could do to help myself.
At times I questioned my own sanity. I'd never wanted to be in the position I was in. I had always thought of myself as a teacher. I loved field work and that is what I wanted to do more than anything. Yet I was stuck trying to figure out the dynamics of the relationships of the people who worked for me. I knew enough to know that I just didn't get people. All the different personalities were enough to drive a man to drink. Everybody wanted something from me and I was slowly figuring out what. Nick needed stroking. Warrick needed pushing. Sara needed so much I didn't know where to start. Just staying one step ahead of them kept me busy. Why did anybody think that I could supervise these particular people with all their foibles? Someone must have been having a good laugh at my expense.
If I didn't know better I would have thought that Catherine was trying to drive me crazy. I know it wasn't her fault that Sam Braun was her father. But she jeopardized the lab and her position in it when she used evidence to test for paternity. She should have been fired. We lost a major case because of her rash behavior. From some misguided sense of responsibility I covered for her. I even kept it out of her review so that she could get the increase she had earned. Then she tells me she took his money. Catherine and I had been friends for a long time but that surprised me. I suddenly realized I didn't know her at all.
Adding to my misery was the new position the department was thinking of creating. A Key CSI. What the hell does that mean? Anyway, I had two of my people apply and I was required to write a recommendation for the one I thought would be best for the job. That wouldn't have been such a problem if one of them hadn't been Sara. Was she the most qualified? Yes. Was she the right choice? No. And not for the reasons she thought. She wanted the job too much. She was already struggling. She was always there, always trying too hard; giving her more responsibility would only make that worse. I was afraid that if I gave her the recommendation she so desperately wanted that the job would overwhelm her. I didn't know how close she was already. If I had I might have done a few things differently.
To make things worse there were times I couldn't hide my attraction to her. The day we were working through a theory on the Rachel Lyford case I was inches away from losing control. "Pin me down," she tells me like it's an everyday occurrence that I get to live out something that has haunted my dreams for years. I was so close that I could feel the heat of her body. My hands were pinning her wrists to the sheet while her eyes widened in surprise. The soft skin of her arms under my fingertips was the sexiest thing I had ever felt. I was hard. I knew I should step back but I couldn't. Instead I slid my hands down to frame her hips and shifted a little closer. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her incoherent and writhing under me. It was Berkley all over again. Thankfully, Sara said something and I remembered where we were. She stopped me from kissing her, touching her, and I was both grateful and frustrated. Right or wrong, I still went home and jacked off while the memory played over and over in my head.
I had never considered myself a jealous person. I had always been of the mindset that people are going to do what they want to. When Sara came along that changed. I was jealous of everyone – Nick, Greg, Hank, Bobby – every male she ever came into contact with. I didn't call it jealousy mind you. I called it concern. I didn't want her to get hurt. I was just being protective. What a load of shit that was. I was so jealous that I couldn't see straight where she was concerned. If I had been thinking at all I would have known that Sara wasn't interested in those other people. But I was in denial about a lot of things at that point in my life.
It wasn't until Debbie Marlin that I realized how fucked up my situation truly was. I saw that girl in her black and white shower and the breath left my lungs. It was like a punch to the solar plexus. I wasn't sure I would ever be able to breathe again. When I opened the front door and Sara was there I wanted to weep. My only thought was to keep her as far away from that scene as possible because if I had to see the two of them together it would be too much. I didn't sleep for days, didn't leave Debbie's house for almost twenty-four hours. I was consumed by the case. I had to know what happened to her. When I found out I wished that I hadn't.
I understood. Might have been the first time I got inside a killer's head. It's scary to look into the eyes of someone you despise and see yourself. Every fear I had ever felt, every niggling little doubt I had was sitting across the table from me. I was so exhausted that my usual filters weren't in place. When I opened my mouth every thought, every emotion from the past few days came pouring out.
I told Dr. Lurie that I loved Sara. Not in so many words but the point was clear. I told him that he had more courage than I did. I told him so many things that were none of his business. I knew that he had killed Debbie because she broke his heart. And while I didn't think I would ever kill someone I knew that eventually Sara would break my heart. She would find someone younger, someone more loving, someone not afraid of his emotions and she would leave me for him. I couldn't take that risk. I couldn't expose myself to that kind of pain. I forgot about Brass and the attorney and everyone except myself. I was mourning the loss of something I had never had and patting myself on the back for being smart enough to not get hurt. In that instant I became nothing.
I had tried so hard to push her away. I could stop loving her if she would just leave me alone. If she didn't look at me with that heat in her eyes or flirt with me then I wouldn't need her. Somehow that never happened. I would push and push and she kept coming back. I told myself it didn't mean anything that she was the only person I bought a Christmas gift for. I told myself that I wasn't more in tune with her than anyone else. I buried my concern behind indifference but that didn't make it any less real. I knew that I was treating her badly. I knew that I was punishing her for my own inadequacies. But what I didn't know is that I was only giving her what she thought she deserved. I was her father. Only the abuse I handed out was emotional and her bruises were invisible.
Every day became a battle. I struggled to maintain at work. I was a pro at shoving my feelings to the side and just doing the job. At home I would sit for hours staring at the television. I saw Vincent Lurie standing in the interrogation room mocking me. I saw the pity in Brass' eyes when he looked at me afterward. I picked up the phone a thousand times and never once dialed. I didn't know what to say or do to make my pain go away. I blamed my mother. I blamed Sara. I blamed everyone but the right one. After all, nobody wanted to be emotionally defunct. It couldn't possibly be my fault.
Something happened to Sara around this time. I don't know what. It was as if she grew up a little over night. She was giving me a verbal report on what she found on Mindy Dupont and something just struck me as different. She was professional and unemotional. Nothing like the girl I knew. No teary eyes or quavering voice. She was very matter of fact. I was so taken aback that asked if I had seen her lately even though I saw her everyday.
Sara found out that I recommended Nick for the promotion. It didn't matter that the position was cut. She was pissed that I thought Nick was more qualified than she was. I know she thought it was personal. But it honestly wasn't. When she asked me I told her that I recommended Nick because he didn't care if he got the job or not. I hoped that one day she would understand that I was trying to do what was best for her. It seemed like I could do no right in her eyes by that point.
If the year started out with a whimper, it went out with a bang. I knew that once a week Nick, Sara and Warrick would cruise down to Freemont Street after work, drink a couple of beers and eat at one of the restaurants there. I was glad that the three of them seemed to be bonding despite their differences. I was glad that Sara was beginning to fit in. I'm not sure what happened that night. I may never know. But I remember how I felt when I got a call from PD. I was terrified that she was hurt. That was followed by relief and then anger. My emotions were all over the place on my short trip to pick her up.
Just when I was prepared to tear into her I couldn't. She looked so miserable, so defeated, that I couldn't add to it. Nothing I could have said or done would have been as bad as what she was doing to herself. So I went in and held her hand and drove her home. No questions. No recriminations. I was more than a little pissed off but, eventually, grateful. If not for that night she might have continued down the road to alcoholism and self-destruction and I wouldn't have seen it until it was too late to save her. She didn't get it together over night but she started working on it. And that has made all the difference.