AN- spoilers for several episodes from all seasons.
Chapter 13: "The years teach much..."
Nick and Sara's report is sitting in front of me, yet I still can't wrap my mind around it. It was so important to this young man to fit in that he humiliated himself and permitted the very action that caused his death. The entire circumstance is horribly sad and cruel.
I have this sudden urge to get to Emma any way I can and keep her hidden and locked away forever. She's started looking at different colleges and universities, intent on studying dance. For a moment I ponder if it's really necessary for her to study if this kind of abuse and recreation continues. But then I know that this line of thought is entirely selfish and Emma would never be drawn into something so drastic.
Then again, no one ever thinks their child can be involved in any of the heinous acts we investigate.
Honest, yet cynical, hard working yet lazy, Emma is a study in contradictions. She's sweet, beautiful, funny, hard as nails and sarcastic. More me than her mother, she's a geek, but a personable geek who didn't need to be a ghost in high school. She loves art and music and will still sit in front of a TV or her computer for hours if I let her. She's so well-rounded, so amazing, so perfect I'd never thought it possible. She's my angel, my salvation.
Maybe I'm afraid she'll fall from heaven when she goes away to college, or maybe I'm just afraid of losing her to life.
Ether way, I'm afraid. Of everything.
Besides, no one thought when this young man left for school that they should be afraid of fraternities. Or raw liver.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes you just need someone behind you, pushing.
I push Emma.
Sara pushes me.
Sometimes I wonder what pushes Sara so hard. It's like there's a ghost looming over her shoulder, reminding her of all her failures, and making her risk her health to solve each and every case. I know there's a ghost in her past, it's what form it takes that I'm unsure of.
Fresh from the shower and sitting at my kitchen table, I'm going over my notes from this evening. I was wrong, and I freely admit it. She was dead five days, not three.
I was so sure of my science, of what I thought I found, that I didn't give myself a chance to really think. The whole time she was behind me, pushing, and telling me that something was wrong, even if the science was right. Sometimes I'm so wrapped up in the evidence that I lose the human aspect of the cases. But sometimes that is all that Sara sees. Yet, she sat with me all night, and made it clear that even if she was wrong, she'd be happy knowing she was proved wrong by one damn good scientist. It was nice to spend some time with her that was less work-related than is normally the case.
The phone rings, and I reach and answer it.
"Dad, I swear to God my teacher is evil!" Emma's frustration flies through the phone. In the last couple of years she's stopped the daily for help with homework in favor of internet chatting or just calling to talk, but the last few months she's been phoning me just about every other day.
"Physics again?" I want to laugh, but hold it in.
"You know, I honestly don't care if the farmer ever gets across the river to his poor pig that's being staked by the wolf!"
"What?" Ok, now she's lost me. A flash of Porky all wrapped up in a blanket crosses my mind.
"We have to calculate something about the boat going against the current, but all the information is hidden in this incredibly verbose word problem about a farmer and his poor pig being staked by a wolf." She's flustered and frustrated, and it's showing in her voice.
"Ok, velocity, vectors, degrees. You can do this Emma, think about the problem, and take out all the unnecessary information."
"You make it sound so easy," she sighs in resignation, "Ok, we don't need to know that the pig is the farmer's prized pig."
"Well, technically, it is. And, technically, we don't need to know that it's a pig. Label it as a point, say 'p,' on the bank." I start sketching my own river on the side of my legal pad.
"Technically," she shoots back sarcastically, "it's only easy if you're a genius. Do we need to know the flow of the river?"
"Yes. And I'm not a genius."
"Ok, 'cause that's not in the problem. And yes, you are." I hear her start flipping through the pages in her book. "At least, you are to me."
"Well, then, if you say so." I smile as she curses under her breath and pretend I didn't hear it. "You know, physics is a very important aspect of dance."
"I know Dad, you gave me this lecture when I wanted to drop the class." She pauses and makes a low noise in her throat. "I told you my teacher was evil. We have to do an unassigned problem to get the velocity of the river." She grumbles under her breath, and this time I do laugh.
"At least you're in a good mood about all of this sweetheart. You know, I did an experiment just like this to find a missing boat once." I start sketching a pig on the bank, and as an afterthought, sketch a blanket around it.
"You found a missing boat by helping a farmer get across a river? You just sat watching a pig decompose all night, you can't be in this good of a mood!" disbelief flies through the phone lines.
"Got my e-mail already?" The pig gets a rope around the blanket, and a bush for shade. "And it wasn't quite helping a farmer across a river. More about calculating current velocity to figure out where the boat went."
"You're so cute with your science! And I check my e-mail every day! Ok, I think I might have this now...." I listen as she mumbles through her calculations, impressed by her ability to work through the problem. Though she would make a wonderful CSI, I've never suggested it to her. Her first passion is dance, and she'd never be happy surrounded by death. I would never want that for her.
She would be like Sara, feeling every case too deeply.
She would see the pig on the shore instead of point "p."
Maybe I can get Sara to teach me how to see the pig sometimes.
~~~~~~~~~~
There was a moment when everything turned upside down.
Just one moment, and my whole perspective on life has changed.
The victims in this case resembled too closely the two women who I felt more for in this life than anyone else: Emma and Sara. I was infinitely grateful Emma wasn't anywhere near Vegas during those few days.
Then Sara volunteered herself to be the bait, and I was furious. I was her friend, and her boss, I had every right to be angry at her for putting her life in danger.
But when I thought that she was staring eye to eye with our suspect and he was ready to defile her like he had done to the rest of those girls, panic surged through my body. I had to get to her, at any cost. And there was no mistaking the incredible emotions I felt as fatherly or supervisory.
Wanted to grab her, pull her into my arms and kiss her so hard that we'd cease existing as two people and merge into one perfect being where I could be with her and protect her forever. She's stopped being the shadow of what I hope Emma to be. Emma is too much of her own person now. Sara has now become the embodiment of my desire: emotionally, physically and mentally.
Chasing after our suspect by myself was, granted, not my brightest idea. But I knew who it was, and my personal sacrifice seemed like nothing compared to the idea that he would be free another day to prey on innocent women like Emma and Sara. The very idea that another young woman would suffer made me sick.
This week has been full of revelations: that my team truly respects and trusts me, that I am too old to go chasing suspects by myself unarmed and without backup, and that I've loved Sara Sidle since I met her.
Until now, I've been channeling all the feelings I have for her into the only outlet I've known for so long: fatherly love. But that's all changed now. She's a beautiful, vibrant woman who has captured my heart.
There are still obstacles, but suddenly they seem unimportant.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "The years teach much which the days never knew." I see now that it is true. With the years I've grown to become a person I never could have imagined I would be.
~~~~~~~~~~
"What about Black Flag?" Greg smirks at me.
I look at the cockroaches I've brought as a decoy. I may not be racing them, but that's no reason to kill them. "Are you nuts?"
I turn the corner and almost spill them all over Catherine, who is dully disgusted. Throughout my conversation with her I keep telling myself to stick only to the facts that I have memorized. They'll buy it, they have before.
I finally extract myself from the situation and head out, stopping at home to leave the roaches back in their habitat before heading to the airport.
~~~
Twilight is falling as I finally make my way into campus, straining to see the small signs. I finally park and make my way into the theater, picking up my ticket at the reserved desk before taking my seat.
The lights dim and I am infinitely more interested in these amazing displays of technical and emotional prowess than I ever was with the linear and simplistic displays her dance school put on. Though her number is last, I find myself enjoying every minute of the program, my mind not wandering, but blissfully relaxing and allowing itself to be influenced by the movement and power on stage.
Finally, after a two hour program, Emma's piece is on. She warned me that it wasn't exactly art, but more of the big-bang finale, and the guest choreographer wasn't really in tune with what the program was going to be like, but that I should enjoy it anyway.
Drums and darkness, followed by the hallowed and forceful sounds of tap shoes fill in the darkness as the dancers are illuminated slowly. There's Emma, two from the left, in jeans and a purple shirt. The three in front toss their drums to the back of the stage as the speakers come to life and the girls on the stage start moving with their own beat.
But I can't hear the music, the tapping, or the clapping.
I shake my head and stare at their feet, Emma's smiling face, and know that it's happened again.
Suddenly it cuts back in, and a heavy beat pounds in my ears, a man rapping over it. The taps are loud and crisp in my ears, and I sigh with relief.
The dance ends quickly compared to the ten minute pieces that came before it, and I rush out into the lobby, waiting where Emma told me she'd meet me, bouquet of red roses waiting for her.
~~~
"Hey Griss, how'd it go?" I turn around and head into the break room to talk to Warrick. I'm curious as to how he did.
I stick to my prepared speech instead of telling about my wonderful weekend with my daughter. "The seminar was fine. Every one of my roaches got stage fright. They came in fourth, third, second and dead last. How about you? How'd you do?"
"Well, the job is fine. It's the other stuff -- the personalities." He's finally beginning to understand.
"'I love mankind, it's people I can't stand.'"
Warrick looks up expectantly, "Is that Einstein?"
"Linus." Ahh, the simplicity of Charlie Brown.
"Charlie Brown. Figures. Is that why you put me in charge?"
"You think I like dealing with people? Remember when you asked me what I was in high school?"
"Yeah, you said 'A Ghost'." He looks perplexed. I sit down to explain.
"When I leave CSI, there won't be any cake in the break room. I'll just be gone. So I wanted to see if you could step in." One day I'll just leave behind everything I've come to cherish here in favor of being with the one I cherish most: Emma. Maybe by that time I will have the only other person who means anything to me: Sara, and we will be able to disappear together. But one day I'll just be gone, saving me the pain of realizing I'll be losing something I never really thought I had, and wishing that I could have done it all over again. Warrick looks like he's beginning to understand what it is to be me. "Tell me... all of it. From the top."
~~~~~~~~~~
Emma made me take her ice skating once when she was seven, just before she left. After we had fallen a sufficient number of times we retired to the side of the rink to get some hot chocolate. I remember watching the men and women, skating hand in hand, laughing and enjoying the silly yet romantic moments together.
"There are three things in life that people like to stare at. A rippling stream, a fire in a fireplace and a zamboni going round and round."
Sara doesn't turn, just stares out at the ice. "Charlie Brown. 'I love a zamboni.'"
And I love you.
"We all do."
I want to ask her if she'll go ice skating with me, but at the moment there are more pressing things. This is for another time.
As we go to get the zamboni, it strikes me that Charlie Brown quotes are quite useful.
~~~~~~~~~~
Added to the list of things Emma will never do: ride on a bus.
The whole "locking her in a closet until she's forty" idea isn't looking half bad the more I think about it.
~~~~~~~~~~
There was a sad beauty in her illness.
But it all falls back on her need to fit in, her need to be accepted and loved.
I was worried about Emma when she left, but she's too strong willed and has no need to be accepted to ever try something as drastic as Ashleigh James.
Sara's thin, but not too thin. It's part of her natural beauty.
To be honest, it scared me that she was waiting under the bridge, though in a way I expected her to be there. I could almost feel her pulling me the closer I got, like the sun pulling in the planets. But I can't let that be the lone force in guiding me now.
Though they all think I'm fairly clueless, I know what's going on. She's seeing Hank, and I won't compromise that. If that's what makes her happy, I want that for her. I won't interfere, but I don't know how I can stay away from her.
~~~~~~~~~~
I never slept with Lady Heather.
That doesn't mean I didn't want to.
Besides the obvious, exotic qualities to her, she was a shrewd person. Her empire's built on other people's need for fulfillment, but rather the theatrics of it than the actual act. She was beautiful, smart, and seemingly knew more about me in a few hours than the rest of my team has ever noticed.
I related to her on a psychological level that scared me.
It was like a roller coaster.
I could never turn down a roller coaster. So I kissed her. But there was nothing there, no emotion, no spark, nothing like I felt so long ago kissing Sara. I couldn't use this woman, even if it was her profession.
Rather, we spent the rest of the night, which wasn't long, talking. Her life story was actually quite fascinating. But her ability to see into me, to see who I am scared me and excited me more than I could ever describe.
She knew I was losing my hearing just because I was looking at her lips. She has a great insight into human nature because of her work. I was hoping that maybe I could see the way she thinks.
But the longer we talked, the sadder I was that one of my best investigators couldn't unravel the mystery of my hearing loss that was right in front of her face. Perhaps it's because she's no longer looking at me; that she's happy with Hank.
Then Lady Heather quoted Yeats, and images of Emma flashed though my head. I felt somehow very wrong, like Emma would be ashamed of me associating with Lady Heather, even though I saw her as a very strong willed, intelligent person. The need to run far away began to well in my stomach, and my out was easily created by Heather's own words.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I just want to know why!" Anger and betrayal are heavy in her voice, I rush to try to calm her.
"Why what?" I put my crossword puzzle beside me on my couch and lean back for the upcoming conversation.
"Don't play dumb, Dad! C'mon. Why won't you let me come out there?" She sounds like she's almost in tears.
"Emma, calm down. I honestly don't know what you're talking about." My body tenses, I hate being so far away from her when she's upset. "You know you're always welcome here."
"That's what I thought! So why did you tell Mom yesterday that I can't come?"
"I didn't talk to your mother yesterday." I beginning to see what's going on. "What was she supposed to talk to me about?"
"UNLV is hosting a summer dance intensive that I want to go to, and Mom said I could only go if I stay with you, not in the dorms, which I really don't see the logic in since I live in dorms most of the year here, even though I'd really rather stay with you. Anyway, she just told me she talked to you yesterday and that you said I couldn't!" Her voice is heavy with tears of betrayal, and I wish I could hold her.
"Sweetheart, I haven't talked to your mother in months. And you're always welcome here. I would love it if you would come stay with me for a while. I couldn't think of anything I'd like more in fact." The thought of Emma, here, for an extended period of time, sends chills up my spine; both good and bad.
It's been years since I've spent more than a few days with her at a time, years since she's been here in Vegas for more than a week. Suddenly I'm afraid that I'm no longer the father she knew, that who I am can never hold up to the image of me she has in her mind. For a second I contemplate taking everything back. But I know I can't, I'd be punishing us both unnecessarily.
"Daddy, are you serious?" I can hear the hope and happiness in her voice, and I know I could never deny her that.
"Yes. When can you be here?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Would you like to have dinner with me?" She has the same timber in her voice as when she asked me to sleep with her, and look how well that turned out. I'm in no mood for jokes, I need to pick Emma up and settle her in.
"No..."
"Why not? Let's... Let's have dinner. Let's see what happens." She looks up at me expectantly.
Oh my God, she's serious. "Sara..." I already turned her down, and I can't do it tonight... Since her relationship with Hank ended I've been conflicted. Suddenly, the age difference, my hearing loss, they seem like huge burdens that I can't weigh her down with, but that does nothing to quell my desire for her. "I don't know what to do about this."
She nods as if she was expecting my cryptic answer. "I do."
I have no answer for her. There is too much going on right now for me to even attempt to make things right between us for all that's gone on the last few years. The new problem of the insistence of my hearing problem weighs on me, as does the fear that Emma will not be satisfied with me. If I can't satisfy my own daughter's needs, how in the world could I even begin to satisfy Sara.
"You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late."
Watching her turn and walk away I know that her words are prolific, on so many levels.
(TBC...)
AN- first, I actually DID drop out of physics 4 years ago in high school, so I did the best I could. I am convinced my teacher was the embodiment of evil, though some other people didn't see it that way. Second- the program I described is based on my university's 2002 Dance Ensemble performance where I participated in a tap dance choreographed by Gil Stroming.