Well, here we are, chapter two.
A few notes:
[1] This is not canon
[2] This is not canon
[3] Yes, I'm twisted, and this is not canon.
I've always thought there was more to Grissom that the common
representation. Scratch a geek and you'll find the hint of deviance,
of being incorrectly wired, that's why we're geeks, we don't really
fit.
Grissom, to my mind, has always been what he is because he has never
encountered the spark that fires the deviance - not that you'll ever
see a latex-clad Grissom in one of my fics [bad mental image].
For me, Lady Heather is Grissom's spark. She's mine too [sorry,
sorry, sorry..to much information]
G/S and G/C shippers will probably want to lynch me...oh well.
Thanks to the wonderful 'tasha, who thinks I nuts, but reads a mean
Beta - she should be bronzed, but then of course she'd be no use..
For those interested, there is another chapter of Song for the Solo
Dancer coming soon, however, I just have to swim out of the angst.
A Coin Has Two Sides
I'm not completely oblivious. Nor so consumed by my work that I am unaware of the world around me: the social world that is, not the forensic world. The encroaching wall of silence made inevitable by my loss of hearing is, if anything, sharpening my powers of observation. Unfortunately my hearing loss hasn't progressed to the point where it completely blocks out Greg's alleged music; but if worst comes to worst, I can always stick a pencil in my ear.
Accusations of my living in an ivory tower are, to some extent, justified. What is, perhaps, not understood, is that I choose such an existence. I fully understand the implications behind the comments, behind the subtle jibes, but I have more interesting things to concern myself with than the mundanity of an ostensibly normal existence. I do understand that my friends speak out of concern and not from a deluded place of superiority, and indeed, if I was younger and less content I would possibly pay closer attention to their suggestions. At the very least, hindsight has allowed me to see the merits of their viewpoint; it's one of the reasons why I encourage Sara to get out and do things - things other than overtime that is - life is too short to live with regrets. As the philosopher, Sinatra said:
For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught. To say the things he truly feels; And not the words of one who kneels. The record shows I took the blows - And did it my way!
I am well aware that Sara is interested, as I said I'm not oblivious. But what I also am not, is interested. It's not about age. Nor my status as her boss. Yes, she is attractive, yes, she is intelligent, and yes she has a wonderful personality, obsessive though it is - and if anyone should know about obsessive personalities it's me - the point is that she is a colleague and a friend and that's it.
Others have suggested that perhaps Catherine and I should get together; the only person more amused and horrified by that suggestion is Catherine. We've worked together for far too long, and been friends for almost the same length of time, to know better. In some ways our attitude to an office relationship is the same, it's a bad idea, at least, that is, when it comes to each other. Also, I would rather spare myself the unpleasant experience of Warrick trying to gut me, if I initiated something with Catherine. It amuses me that the only person that doesn't know that Warrick is interested is Catherine. Fair's fair I suppose, since the only person who doesn't know she's interested in him, is Warrick. I understand that Nick and Greg have set up a sweepstake as to which of them is going to figure it out first; my bet would be split evenly as they're both obviously equally clueless - and people think I'M oblivious.
I have resigned myself to being alone. Wistful? Certainly. But not regretful. Some things are not meant to be. My mother understands, she always said that things happen in their own time, 'Inshallah', she'd say; 'If God wills it'.
Then she appeared and all I could think was that God has a twisted sense of humour.
To be specific to say that she 'appeared' implies that she sprang forth from the head of a god or floated in on a shell; neither is the case. Despite the lack of overt divinity there is, however, an air of overripe sensuality, a taint of corruption that surrounds her, that marks her as different, that makes her...enticing.
As seems to be the case I only meet people through death - fortunately, in this instance, she wasn't the corpse, although some may wish otherwise - but in death there are many things that are not as they seem.
By her very nature she is deemed inappropriate. Morality argues that her position contravenes the clear demarcation between the light and dark sides of society, but I am not driven by morality. I am driven by the evidence. She has, at times, said that I am a slave to the empirical, to that which can be observed, but in reality we are all slaves to something no matter how much we strive those ties that bind be they made of iron or silk.
I do not know what binds her. I am not sure I want to know. What I do know is that her mask of reserve hides something that is perhaps best left alone.
Thus I find it hard to define her, inasmuch as she allows definition.
"Must you classify?" she asks.
"It's what I do".
"And when you've figured me out will you place me on a shelf somewhere, to be pulled out and dusted off on special occasions?"
"Classification leads to greater understanding, I want to understand; I am not a collector."
I think she was relieved that I had no intention of dosing her with chloroform and mounting her in a display case; John Fowles has a lot to answer for.
I understand what she means though, if we're honest with ourselves our society is based upon putting a label on everything and thus the thing labelled becomes safe; I'm told that part of my job involves making the world safe - perhaps I need more labels?
However, to quote Wilde, 'The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible', and as she has pointed out on numerous occasions, nothing is as it seems.
I really need more labels.
Strangely enough, Jim understands. Labels that is. Of all the people I know he is possibly the least judgemental. Although what he lacks in judgement he makes up for in cynicism. She confuses him; she doesn't allow him to reconcile his intuition with his training, however, I think he's more concerned about what I'm thinking.
I think it's a police thing
Then again his is not the cynicism derived from trite intellectualising but from having his rose-coloured glasses trampled on once to often yet still managing to believe that there is something out there that isn't corrupt, that isn't, by it's very nature, a profane rendering of the sacred.
Maybe that's the crux, which we all struggle to reconcile, the oppositions in our world. Then again, opposites attract - or so I'm told.
Maybe it's instinct? Previously, I had thought my instinct was extinct. Then again, the irony that she is involved in a business panders to our baser instincts is somewhat mete .
"If they are our instincts are they not part of who we are?"
Even the most robust puritan couldn't argue with that. Perhaps they close their eyes?
"Certainly, but we are now civilised, we strive to improve, to sublimate our baser urges."
"Then civilisation is overrated, to quote Emerson: 'The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of civilization,'"
There's not a lot you can say to that really.
A Coin Has Two Sides
I'm not completely oblivious. Nor so consumed by my work that I am unaware of the world around me: the social world that is, not the forensic world. The encroaching wall of silence made inevitable by my loss of hearing is, if anything, sharpening my powers of observation. Unfortunately my hearing loss hasn't progressed to the point where it completely blocks out Greg's alleged music; but if worst comes to worst, I can always stick a pencil in my ear.
Accusations of my living in an ivory tower are, to some extent, justified. What is, perhaps, not understood, is that I choose such an existence. I fully understand the implications behind the comments, behind the subtle jibes, but I have more interesting things to concern myself with than the mundanity of an ostensibly normal existence. I do understand that my friends speak out of concern and not from a deluded place of superiority, and indeed, if I was younger and less content I would possibly pay closer attention to their suggestions. At the very least, hindsight has allowed me to see the merits of their viewpoint; it's one of the reasons why I encourage Sara to get out and do things - things other than overtime that is - life is too short to live with regrets. As the philosopher, Sinatra said:
For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught. To say the things he truly feels; And not the words of one who kneels. The record shows I took the blows - And did it my way!
I am well aware that Sara is interested, as I said I'm not oblivious. But what I also am not, is interested. It's not about age. Nor my status as her boss. Yes, she is attractive, yes, she is intelligent, and yes she has a wonderful personality, obsessive though it is - and if anyone should know about obsessive personalities it's me - the point is that she is a colleague and a friend and that's it.
Others have suggested that perhaps Catherine and I should get together; the only person more amused and horrified by that suggestion is Catherine. We've worked together for far too long, and been friends for almost the same length of time, to know better. In some ways our attitude to an office relationship is the same, it's a bad idea, at least, that is, when it comes to each other. Also, I would rather spare myself the unpleasant experience of Warrick trying to gut me, if I initiated something with Catherine. It amuses me that the only person that doesn't know that Warrick is interested is Catherine. Fair's fair I suppose, since the only person who doesn't know she's interested in him, is Warrick. I understand that Nick and Greg have set up a sweepstake as to which of them is going to figure it out first; my bet would be split evenly as they're both obviously equally clueless - and people think I'M oblivious.
I have resigned myself to being alone. Wistful? Certainly. But not regretful. Some things are not meant to be. My mother understands, she always said that things happen in their own time, 'Inshallah', she'd say; 'If God wills it'.
Then she appeared and all I could think was that God has a twisted sense of humour.
To be specific to say that she 'appeared' implies that she sprang forth from the head of a god or floated in on a shell; neither is the case. Despite the lack of overt divinity there is, however, an air of overripe sensuality, a taint of corruption that surrounds her, that marks her as different, that makes her...enticing.
As seems to be the case I only meet people through death - fortunately, in this instance, she wasn't the corpse, although some may wish otherwise - but in death there are many things that are not as they seem.
By her very nature she is deemed inappropriate. Morality argues that her position contravenes the clear demarcation between the light and dark sides of society, but I am not driven by morality. I am driven by the evidence. She has, at times, said that I am a slave to the empirical, to that which can be observed, but in reality we are all slaves to something no matter how much we strive those ties that bind be they made of iron or silk.
I do not know what binds her. I am not sure I want to know. What I do know is that her mask of reserve hides something that is perhaps best left alone.
Thus I find it hard to define her, inasmuch as she allows definition.
"Must you classify?" she asks.
"It's what I do".
"And when you've figured me out will you place me on a shelf somewhere, to be pulled out and dusted off on special occasions?"
"Classification leads to greater understanding, I want to understand; I am not a collector."
I think she was relieved that I had no intention of dosing her with chloroform and mounting her in a display case; John Fowles has a lot to answer for.
I understand what she means though, if we're honest with ourselves our society is based upon putting a label on everything and thus the thing labelled becomes safe; I'm told that part of my job involves making the world safe - perhaps I need more labels?
However, to quote Wilde, 'The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible', and as she has pointed out on numerous occasions, nothing is as it seems.
I really need more labels.
Strangely enough, Jim understands. Labels that is. Of all the people I know he is possibly the least judgemental. Although what he lacks in judgement he makes up for in cynicism. She confuses him; she doesn't allow him to reconcile his intuition with his training, however, I think he's more concerned about what I'm thinking.
I think it's a police thing
Then again his is not the cynicism derived from trite intellectualising but from having his rose-coloured glasses trampled on once to often yet still managing to believe that there is something out there that isn't corrupt, that isn't, by it's very nature, a profane rendering of the sacred.
Maybe that's the crux, which we all struggle to reconcile, the oppositions in our world. Then again, opposites attract - or so I'm told.
Maybe it's instinct? Previously, I had thought my instinct was extinct. Then again, the irony that she is involved in a business panders to our baser instincts is somewhat mete .
"If they are our instincts are they not part of who we are?"
Even the most robust puritan couldn't argue with that. Perhaps they close their eyes?
"Certainly, but we are now civilised, we strive to improve, to sublimate our baser urges."
"Then civilisation is overrated, to quote Emerson: 'The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of civilization,'"
There's not a lot you can say to that really.
