Thanks for the reviews (you made me cry…pathetic I know). Keep reviewing or
else my world will stop turning and my head will explode (I just waxed my
floors so please review).
One more thing: Grissom and Sara rock (although my mom keeps telling me 'he's too old and she's too spicy'… whatever, she thought Scully and Skinner were meant to each other) There's your answer purple-vixen.
***************
'Are you listening to me, Sara?', accompanied by a puzzled and sometimes shocked expression was the question everyone seemed to be asking me lately. It took me a while to admit that my concentration at work (and practically at everything else) had declined horribly. I'd noticed Nick and Warrick were giving me strange looks that resembled two kids looking at the top student in high school saying to the teacher that she didn't know her lesson.
I was distracted yes, but I had discovered, very early in my life that if you flashed a cute oops-smile everyone thought you were ok and blame the distraction on something else. A lot of things can be hidden behind a smile.
I hadn't walked through the Police Crime Labs door when Grissom whooshed by with Warrick tagging along and mumbled something like "C'mon Sara, let's go!". My head was still muzzy from a bad night of sleep so my response to all that running and plunging into an SUV was somewhat sluggish. He had to yell to me again from the Tahoe. Ok, Girs, I'm going…don't' give me that impatient look, yes I look tired because I am tired. Men.
****
Grissom, Warrick and I were at the crime scene, a huge house whose wealthy owner had 'mysteriously' appeared dead. I've heard that before. Needless to say that after Grissom spotted a serious blunt force trauma in the back of the vic's neck we were considering this a homicide. First theory: a burglar that did not like to be interrupted.
Grissom, after snapping his rubber gloves on, told me to bag a small replica of an Oscar Award that could be the murder weapon. My fingers were inches from the gold statue when Grissom hollered "Sara!". I gasped.
I wasn't wearing gloves.
I flinched my hand away from the statue, my heart pounding in my chest. I had forgotten the rubber gloves.
What was I thinking? I think that was the problem, I wasn't thinking.
Slowly I turned my head towards Grissom, he had a flashlight in his right hand and his eyes, just like mine, were wide open. In a crime scene you do not touch anything without wearing gloves. I couldn't believe what I almost did. He couldn't believe it. That was the man I was always dying to please. He didn't seem pleased at all.
Grissom sighed and shook his head. The expression on his face sent a clear massage: 'I knew you were distracted and tired but I'm drawing a line right here, missy. Don't destroy my crime scene'. I didn't move a muscle, I could see he didn't know what to do with me. "Go outside, take some air and come back when you feel like---", he paused, "…come back when you're ready."
I lowered my eyes and went outside 'to take some air'. I went to the vic's backyard since the front yard was crawling with policemen and press members. I leaned back flat against the wall. I was loosing it, I was loosing it. I started to cry, softly and quietly. No sobs just a few sniffs and tears. My back slid down until I was sitting on the ground, with my chin resting on my knees and my arms hugging my legs.
My world was falling apart, piece by piece. I was so tired that I almost fell asleep right there in the victim's backyard. That could've turned into a horrible joke: the case was soooo boring that the CSI's fell asleep at the crime scene.
Five minutes later I was bagging evidence like a pro but under the watchful eye of Gil Grissom.
I avoided eye contact with Grissom for the rest of the shift, I didn't talk for the rest of the shift either. I was too ashamed and I was too exhausted.
I considered taking time off but that would have only meant I would have all day to torture myself with Dylan, his photos and the possibility of quitting my job just to make it all stop. I decided against that option.
After Catherine informed me that we were going to pull another double because of the Oscar guy she told me, with her you're-busted-face, that Grissom wanted to see me in his office. She also asked me if I was ok so I deduced Warrick or Grissom himself had told her about the 'incident'. When I got to his office I couldn't walk pass the doorframe, I was so scared.
"Come in", he waved me in without taking his eyes off some paper work he was finishing. I took four steps forward "Sara, sit down I'm not going to bite you." I sat down, still without making eye contact with him. Right now there was a thin brittle line that separated me from insanity. The last thing I needed was a battle against Grissom's unwavering stare.
He dropped his pen on his desk and leaned back in his chair, with is fingers entwined over his stomach "What's going on?"
"Nothing." I lied even though I knew it was useless. At this point it was obvious something was indeed going on.
"Could you please stop staring at you hands?", he asked. I shifted my gaze to the floor.
"Could you look at me please?", he asked again, this time a bit more exasperated. I looked up "I'm not going to fire you if that's what you are thinking. I just want to know what's going on, and if I can do anything to help you, as simple as that."
I squirmed. "There's nothing you can do, I'm just tired" He eyed me doubtfully, tilting his head slightly to his left.
We stayed there, staring into each others eyes in silence. He did that sometimes, he probably thought: if I stare at you long enough you'll tell me the truth. It worked, sometimes.
My mind started to wonder. We've had a special relationship since the first day we met. He teaches, I learn. We both liked that. But there were fleeting moments in which (I think) we both thought that wasn't enough. Like when we talked about the past, three days ago. There's always a 'but' with Grissom. During moments like this one, I felt he didn't want to know me too well or vice versa.
I was almost lost in his eyes when he finally spoke "Rest. Take a day or two off."
I was sure he hadn't bought my excuse for almost doing the biggest crime scene no-no but he wanted to believe it. So there we were in his office, both wrapped up in denial. He knew I was lying and I knew I needed help. He was afraid of stepping into an emotional situation he wouldn't be able to handle and I was afraid that once I told him about omitting crucial evidence on a murder case to free a (guilty) suspect he wouldn't ever think the same of me. He could react the total opposite and understand my reasons or he could react worse and… I was always in the dark when it came to anticipating Grissom's reactions.
I have always looked at people as if they were a puzzle. I was missing one or two pieces of Nick's puzzle. Catherine was a huge puzzle, I had scattered pieces and none of them fit together. Warrick, well, Warrick was Warrick. Finally, Grissom. He had a routine, every time I thought I was about to join two pieces together, he would rock my table and all the pieces would fly everywhere. He's like a 4000 piece puzzle of clear blue sky.
"Thanks but I don't need a day off", I said.
"Are you sure?", he insisted.
"Sure", I stood up and left his office.
Sometimes Grissom can be just as good as me on ignoring the obvious. As Catherine always says to him, he's not a people person.
TBC….
I WANT TO REVIEW THIS FIC…
I WANT TO REVIEW THIS FIC…
I WANT TO PAINT MY BODY GREEN AND DANCE NAKED IN THE STREET TO THE RHYTHM OF "WHO ARE YOU"….sorry, I was just testing you :)
One more thing: Grissom and Sara rock (although my mom keeps telling me 'he's too old and she's too spicy'… whatever, she thought Scully and Skinner were meant to each other) There's your answer purple-vixen.
***************
'Are you listening to me, Sara?', accompanied by a puzzled and sometimes shocked expression was the question everyone seemed to be asking me lately. It took me a while to admit that my concentration at work (and practically at everything else) had declined horribly. I'd noticed Nick and Warrick were giving me strange looks that resembled two kids looking at the top student in high school saying to the teacher that she didn't know her lesson.
I was distracted yes, but I had discovered, very early in my life that if you flashed a cute oops-smile everyone thought you were ok and blame the distraction on something else. A lot of things can be hidden behind a smile.
I hadn't walked through the Police Crime Labs door when Grissom whooshed by with Warrick tagging along and mumbled something like "C'mon Sara, let's go!". My head was still muzzy from a bad night of sleep so my response to all that running and plunging into an SUV was somewhat sluggish. He had to yell to me again from the Tahoe. Ok, Girs, I'm going…don't' give me that impatient look, yes I look tired because I am tired. Men.
****
Grissom, Warrick and I were at the crime scene, a huge house whose wealthy owner had 'mysteriously' appeared dead. I've heard that before. Needless to say that after Grissom spotted a serious blunt force trauma in the back of the vic's neck we were considering this a homicide. First theory: a burglar that did not like to be interrupted.
Grissom, after snapping his rubber gloves on, told me to bag a small replica of an Oscar Award that could be the murder weapon. My fingers were inches from the gold statue when Grissom hollered "Sara!". I gasped.
I wasn't wearing gloves.
I flinched my hand away from the statue, my heart pounding in my chest. I had forgotten the rubber gloves.
What was I thinking? I think that was the problem, I wasn't thinking.
Slowly I turned my head towards Grissom, he had a flashlight in his right hand and his eyes, just like mine, were wide open. In a crime scene you do not touch anything without wearing gloves. I couldn't believe what I almost did. He couldn't believe it. That was the man I was always dying to please. He didn't seem pleased at all.
Grissom sighed and shook his head. The expression on his face sent a clear massage: 'I knew you were distracted and tired but I'm drawing a line right here, missy. Don't destroy my crime scene'. I didn't move a muscle, I could see he didn't know what to do with me. "Go outside, take some air and come back when you feel like---", he paused, "…come back when you're ready."
I lowered my eyes and went outside 'to take some air'. I went to the vic's backyard since the front yard was crawling with policemen and press members. I leaned back flat against the wall. I was loosing it, I was loosing it. I started to cry, softly and quietly. No sobs just a few sniffs and tears. My back slid down until I was sitting on the ground, with my chin resting on my knees and my arms hugging my legs.
My world was falling apart, piece by piece. I was so tired that I almost fell asleep right there in the victim's backyard. That could've turned into a horrible joke: the case was soooo boring that the CSI's fell asleep at the crime scene.
Five minutes later I was bagging evidence like a pro but under the watchful eye of Gil Grissom.
I avoided eye contact with Grissom for the rest of the shift, I didn't talk for the rest of the shift either. I was too ashamed and I was too exhausted.
I considered taking time off but that would have only meant I would have all day to torture myself with Dylan, his photos and the possibility of quitting my job just to make it all stop. I decided against that option.
After Catherine informed me that we were going to pull another double because of the Oscar guy she told me, with her you're-busted-face, that Grissom wanted to see me in his office. She also asked me if I was ok so I deduced Warrick or Grissom himself had told her about the 'incident'. When I got to his office I couldn't walk pass the doorframe, I was so scared.
"Come in", he waved me in without taking his eyes off some paper work he was finishing. I took four steps forward "Sara, sit down I'm not going to bite you." I sat down, still without making eye contact with him. Right now there was a thin brittle line that separated me from insanity. The last thing I needed was a battle against Grissom's unwavering stare.
He dropped his pen on his desk and leaned back in his chair, with is fingers entwined over his stomach "What's going on?"
"Nothing." I lied even though I knew it was useless. At this point it was obvious something was indeed going on.
"Could you please stop staring at you hands?", he asked. I shifted my gaze to the floor.
"Could you look at me please?", he asked again, this time a bit more exasperated. I looked up "I'm not going to fire you if that's what you are thinking. I just want to know what's going on, and if I can do anything to help you, as simple as that."
I squirmed. "There's nothing you can do, I'm just tired" He eyed me doubtfully, tilting his head slightly to his left.
We stayed there, staring into each others eyes in silence. He did that sometimes, he probably thought: if I stare at you long enough you'll tell me the truth. It worked, sometimes.
My mind started to wonder. We've had a special relationship since the first day we met. He teaches, I learn. We both liked that. But there were fleeting moments in which (I think) we both thought that wasn't enough. Like when we talked about the past, three days ago. There's always a 'but' with Grissom. During moments like this one, I felt he didn't want to know me too well or vice versa.
I was almost lost in his eyes when he finally spoke "Rest. Take a day or two off."
I was sure he hadn't bought my excuse for almost doing the biggest crime scene no-no but he wanted to believe it. So there we were in his office, both wrapped up in denial. He knew I was lying and I knew I needed help. He was afraid of stepping into an emotional situation he wouldn't be able to handle and I was afraid that once I told him about omitting crucial evidence on a murder case to free a (guilty) suspect he wouldn't ever think the same of me. He could react the total opposite and understand my reasons or he could react worse and… I was always in the dark when it came to anticipating Grissom's reactions.
I have always looked at people as if they were a puzzle. I was missing one or two pieces of Nick's puzzle. Catherine was a huge puzzle, I had scattered pieces and none of them fit together. Warrick, well, Warrick was Warrick. Finally, Grissom. He had a routine, every time I thought I was about to join two pieces together, he would rock my table and all the pieces would fly everywhere. He's like a 4000 piece puzzle of clear blue sky.
"Thanks but I don't need a day off", I said.
"Are you sure?", he insisted.
"Sure", I stood up and left his office.
Sometimes Grissom can be just as good as me on ignoring the obvious. As Catherine always says to him, he's not a people person.
TBC….
I WANT TO REVIEW THIS FIC…
I WANT TO REVIEW THIS FIC…
I WANT TO PAINT MY BODY GREEN AND DANCE NAKED IN THE STREET TO THE RHYTHM OF "WHO ARE YOU"….sorry, I was just testing you :)