A word of warning...this is a VERY angsty chapter, I would stay. All who
dare may read on.
I don't own CSI....or Disney for that matter.
Pleeeease R/R!!!!!
***************************************************
"Sara? Sara, honey, you have to get up now." Who was waking her up from that nice nap? There was nothing bad there. Just warm, silky darkness. It was so calm...so peaceful. Sara frowned with her eyes wedged shut, and curled into a ball. You could imagine her sticking her thumb into her mouth.
"Go 'way," she said, and then muttered a string of rebellious, stubborn, sleepy nonsense. She tried to nudge off the hand on her shoulder, but it kept shaking her.
"Come on Sara..." Somebody kissed her lightly. Her eyes fluttered open to find Grissom leaning over her. A bit of his color had returned, and he didn't look quite as shaken up. She reached up and pulled him down, hugging him tightly, relishing the safety, comfort, and calmness he radiated.
"OK. I'm awake. What's up?" She knew what was up. That letter was what was up. She tried to push it to the back of her mind, but it refused to go. She found herself remembering what it had said, in spite of herself.
"So, Gil Grissom! You finally married that girl...the little college student? You two were destined you know. You both have so much in common! You are both second-rate CSI's, and you both are no match for me. I'd like to see you try to get your brat back. You, Gil, with a whole team of half-wits at your beck and call. Too bad they won't do you any good now.
Oh, you don't need to worry, Mrs. Grissom. He's not dead yet. The yet is the key. Mustn't lose hope darling. By some fluke, you might find him. But then, it would have to be a very lucky fluke for you. Even luckier than the one that caused you to get me the first time...because this time I'll be more careful.
I'm sure you have noticed the Queen Charlotte Motel paper? Even you should have, though perhaps I give you too much credit...A dead end. Don't bother to follow it up. Of course, if you do...you can be sure I'll be there. Laughing at your ineptitude! The best part is that you won't know I'm there!
I always did make a better CSI than you, Gil. Too bad Harvard didn't realize that. Well, it's their loss, I will always maintain. Though I blame you, Gil. You should have married me instead of that little slut. I might have been able to teach you how to be a real CSI. But now, it's too late for you. And soon, it will be too late for your son as well!
Lots of love, Vivian"
Sara could almost hear that mocking voice in her head. Vivian Densport...a beautiful, brilliant professor at Harvard with a passion for explosives and the entomologist, Gil Grissom. Nobody could figure out why he wouldn't have anything to do with her. Half the male population of Harvard was vying for her attention. When a student was murdered, and Grissom discovered his body, he took over the case. Vivian volunteered to help, but by then, Grissom had met her, Sara, and a friendship had developed between them. When they worked that case together, her first case, Sara realized that she didn't just like Gil Grissom. She was head-over-heels in love with him.
When he was at the scene, intently hunting for evidence, looking for pieces of the puzzle. Or when they stayed up all night, heads bent together, bouncing ideas off each other. And she loved the look on his face when he made a connection, when the light bulb went on over his head.
This particular light bulb had meant the ruination of Vivian, who was stealing money from the school, and killed the boy, her devoted and enamored accomplice to keep it secret. Grissom and Sara had let the secret out...and from then on, they had been a pair, a team.
Grissom noticed her face, and smiled wryly.
"Vivian always did tend towards the dramatic. It comes from watching all those Disney movies. She thinks she's some sort of Camille de Vil." Sara, who had been an avid Disney watcher as a child, and a particular lover of 101 Dalmatians, corrected him gently.
"Cruella de Vil, Griss." Gil gave her a bewildered stare, discovering yet another hidden facet of the mystery some called Sara. She grinned, and shrugged helplessly.
"Anyway, she thinks very highly of herself for someone who was forced to embezzle money to make ends meet. I would say that, besides knowing personally she's not as good as she says, vanity tends to make people careless."
"Then you think there's hope?" Sara enquired, searchingly.
"There's always hope, Sara, if you look," he said quietly.
"I thought she was gone long ago..." Sara whispered. "You know that was a grueling case. I could tell, even though it was my first. You also know that she IS as good as she says. This won't be easy, Grissom."
Sara looked close to tears again (she noted that it was the first time she had cried since beyond recollection, and the first time, EVER, that she had fainted or considered doing anything of the kind), but was saved by Warrick and Catherine's entrance. Their calm, stoic professionalism served to calm her down and put things into perspective, as they started processing the umbrella and the lamp. The letter had already been whisked away to Greg's domain, but Sara didn't need a copy. The words were burned into her mind, and would not be leaving any time soon.
Nobody would say that Catherine and Warrick weren't shaken, everyone had loved Charlie at the lab, but they just didn't allow it to affect what needed to be done to save him. Sara admired that, but also wondered at it. Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn't investigating this case. Grissom was most likely right. But then again, wasn't he always? She sighed. Break time over.
"Grissom, don't you think we should book reservations at a hotel or something? We probably aren't getting our house back any time soon." He looked somewhat started.
"I hadn't thought of that," he said accusingly. Right, she thought, that's what I'm here for.
"Cath...Warrick? You know where to find us if you need to...umm....speak with us." Catherine studied Sara's face intently, but finally came to an inward decision. Nodding decisively, she said,
"All right. I'll talk to you later. You two should go and get some rest or something. You look both look awful."
That's how Sara came to be sobbing into a strange pillow in a strange room, at midnight that night, feeling as if she could finally acknowledge the fact that her heart was broken.
I don't own CSI....or Disney for that matter.
Pleeeease R/R!!!!!
***************************************************
"Sara? Sara, honey, you have to get up now." Who was waking her up from that nice nap? There was nothing bad there. Just warm, silky darkness. It was so calm...so peaceful. Sara frowned with her eyes wedged shut, and curled into a ball. You could imagine her sticking her thumb into her mouth.
"Go 'way," she said, and then muttered a string of rebellious, stubborn, sleepy nonsense. She tried to nudge off the hand on her shoulder, but it kept shaking her.
"Come on Sara..." Somebody kissed her lightly. Her eyes fluttered open to find Grissom leaning over her. A bit of his color had returned, and he didn't look quite as shaken up. She reached up and pulled him down, hugging him tightly, relishing the safety, comfort, and calmness he radiated.
"OK. I'm awake. What's up?" She knew what was up. That letter was what was up. She tried to push it to the back of her mind, but it refused to go. She found herself remembering what it had said, in spite of herself.
"So, Gil Grissom! You finally married that girl...the little college student? You two were destined you know. You both have so much in common! You are both second-rate CSI's, and you both are no match for me. I'd like to see you try to get your brat back. You, Gil, with a whole team of half-wits at your beck and call. Too bad they won't do you any good now.
Oh, you don't need to worry, Mrs. Grissom. He's not dead yet. The yet is the key. Mustn't lose hope darling. By some fluke, you might find him. But then, it would have to be a very lucky fluke for you. Even luckier than the one that caused you to get me the first time...because this time I'll be more careful.
I'm sure you have noticed the Queen Charlotte Motel paper? Even you should have, though perhaps I give you too much credit...A dead end. Don't bother to follow it up. Of course, if you do...you can be sure I'll be there. Laughing at your ineptitude! The best part is that you won't know I'm there!
I always did make a better CSI than you, Gil. Too bad Harvard didn't realize that. Well, it's their loss, I will always maintain. Though I blame you, Gil. You should have married me instead of that little slut. I might have been able to teach you how to be a real CSI. But now, it's too late for you. And soon, it will be too late for your son as well!
Lots of love, Vivian"
Sara could almost hear that mocking voice in her head. Vivian Densport...a beautiful, brilliant professor at Harvard with a passion for explosives and the entomologist, Gil Grissom. Nobody could figure out why he wouldn't have anything to do with her. Half the male population of Harvard was vying for her attention. When a student was murdered, and Grissom discovered his body, he took over the case. Vivian volunteered to help, but by then, Grissom had met her, Sara, and a friendship had developed between them. When they worked that case together, her first case, Sara realized that she didn't just like Gil Grissom. She was head-over-heels in love with him.
When he was at the scene, intently hunting for evidence, looking for pieces of the puzzle. Or when they stayed up all night, heads bent together, bouncing ideas off each other. And she loved the look on his face when he made a connection, when the light bulb went on over his head.
This particular light bulb had meant the ruination of Vivian, who was stealing money from the school, and killed the boy, her devoted and enamored accomplice to keep it secret. Grissom and Sara had let the secret out...and from then on, they had been a pair, a team.
Grissom noticed her face, and smiled wryly.
"Vivian always did tend towards the dramatic. It comes from watching all those Disney movies. She thinks she's some sort of Camille de Vil." Sara, who had been an avid Disney watcher as a child, and a particular lover of 101 Dalmatians, corrected him gently.
"Cruella de Vil, Griss." Gil gave her a bewildered stare, discovering yet another hidden facet of the mystery some called Sara. She grinned, and shrugged helplessly.
"Anyway, she thinks very highly of herself for someone who was forced to embezzle money to make ends meet. I would say that, besides knowing personally she's not as good as she says, vanity tends to make people careless."
"Then you think there's hope?" Sara enquired, searchingly.
"There's always hope, Sara, if you look," he said quietly.
"I thought she was gone long ago..." Sara whispered. "You know that was a grueling case. I could tell, even though it was my first. You also know that she IS as good as she says. This won't be easy, Grissom."
Sara looked close to tears again (she noted that it was the first time she had cried since beyond recollection, and the first time, EVER, that she had fainted or considered doing anything of the kind), but was saved by Warrick and Catherine's entrance. Their calm, stoic professionalism served to calm her down and put things into perspective, as they started processing the umbrella and the lamp. The letter had already been whisked away to Greg's domain, but Sara didn't need a copy. The words were burned into her mind, and would not be leaving any time soon.
Nobody would say that Catherine and Warrick weren't shaken, everyone had loved Charlie at the lab, but they just didn't allow it to affect what needed to be done to save him. Sara admired that, but also wondered at it. Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn't investigating this case. Grissom was most likely right. But then again, wasn't he always? She sighed. Break time over.
"Grissom, don't you think we should book reservations at a hotel or something? We probably aren't getting our house back any time soon." He looked somewhat started.
"I hadn't thought of that," he said accusingly. Right, she thought, that's what I'm here for.
"Cath...Warrick? You know where to find us if you need to...umm....speak with us." Catherine studied Sara's face intently, but finally came to an inward decision. Nodding decisively, she said,
"All right. I'll talk to you later. You two should go and get some rest or something. You look both look awful."
That's how Sara came to be sobbing into a strange pillow in a strange room, at midnight that night, feeling as if she could finally acknowledge the fact that her heart was broken.