Sara was sitting in the break room, it had been a rough night, and she was starting to feel the strain.
Unusually, she'd felt detached from her cases, her mind was elsewhere.
It felt like nothing mattered, nothing was important; she could walk out of there tonight, get hit by a car, and die.
Then nothing she had done in her life would matter. She'd just be gone…
"You ok Sara?" Grissom said, she hadn't even realised that he'd entered the room. She didn't even care.
If he thought a roller coaster ride was going to fix everything; he was wrong.
"Sure." She replied inattentively. Grissom was always so detached; he only realised the ramifications of an emotional situation if someone pointed them out, and used metaphorical terms involving science.
"Want some?" He said, pointing to the coffee maker, but again, Sara was lost in thought. His stare rested on her.
It wasn't until she realised that he was staring at her, that she responded.
"Huh?" She said openly – she didn't want to admit that she didn't know if he'd asked a question.
"Case?" he simply questioned.
She sighed, "No" she offered half-heartedly. She really didn't want to talk. Grissom proclaimed to understand the human psyche – but he really sucked when it came to words of comfort.
You can't comfort a person if you can't sympathise….empathise with them.
You cant comfort a person if you don't feel anything.
"Greg." He muttered, Sara was unsure if this was a declarative or interrogative statement.
"Kinda. Things were fine…" She said, staring into open space, letting her voice drift of, remembering.
"…But now…?" Grissom prompted. He hated seeing her this way. She seemed so tortured; it probably wasn't because she was taking it the hardest, but she found it difficult to separate her own emotions from other peoples problems.
"Griss, a guy I see everyday has something wrong with him, something he's had wrong for a long time, I didn't even notice it. Some CSI I am." She said, her voice wavering in self doubt.
"Exactly." He responded with a light smile.
"What?" She exclaimed, again confused by his answers.
"You are a CSI." He insisted. "You're out in the field most of the time – you're barely in the lab – and when you are – you're there for evidence." He stated clearly.
"You think that should comfort me?" she said, with slight disgust.
"I'm saying that you do a job which requires your full attention." Grissom said, voice escalating with irritation.
"Hmm, thanks Griss," she said, sarcasm brimming in her voice.
She gave him a cold stare before continuing, "I'd really love what you'd come up with if it was a CSI and not a lab tech – I mean, I spend more time with you guys in the field than I do in my own bed – if it had been one of you – your analogy would have been screwed." She yelled with anger.
"Yeah," he responded seriously, his voice reflecting some of the anger that Sara had just displayed. He was trying to help her – but it never seemed enough.
Sara saw his grim expression, and she had a sudden flash of doubt. "No one else is ill, right?" She questioned, seeking reassurance.
He smiled lightly, and touched her arm. "No Sara, no-one is ill."
She smiled lightly, and pattered his hand, got up, and left.
Even though if felt like he said the wrong things at the time, sometimes the conversations she shared with him were reassuring…kind of.
Grissom watched her leave. He couldn't tell her. He saw her face – she already was going out of her mind over Greg.
But he didn't lie…
'…I'm not ill, I'm just losing my hearing…'
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If you read this far, Please review.
Unusually, she'd felt detached from her cases, her mind was elsewhere.
It felt like nothing mattered, nothing was important; she could walk out of there tonight, get hit by a car, and die.
Then nothing she had done in her life would matter. She'd just be gone…
"You ok Sara?" Grissom said, she hadn't even realised that he'd entered the room. She didn't even care.
If he thought a roller coaster ride was going to fix everything; he was wrong.
"Sure." She replied inattentively. Grissom was always so detached; he only realised the ramifications of an emotional situation if someone pointed them out, and used metaphorical terms involving science.
"Want some?" He said, pointing to the coffee maker, but again, Sara was lost in thought. His stare rested on her.
It wasn't until she realised that he was staring at her, that she responded.
"Huh?" She said openly – she didn't want to admit that she didn't know if he'd asked a question.
"Case?" he simply questioned.
She sighed, "No" she offered half-heartedly. She really didn't want to talk. Grissom proclaimed to understand the human psyche – but he really sucked when it came to words of comfort.
You can't comfort a person if you can't sympathise….empathise with them.
You cant comfort a person if you don't feel anything.
"Greg." He muttered, Sara was unsure if this was a declarative or interrogative statement.
"Kinda. Things were fine…" She said, staring into open space, letting her voice drift of, remembering.
"…But now…?" Grissom prompted. He hated seeing her this way. She seemed so tortured; it probably wasn't because she was taking it the hardest, but she found it difficult to separate her own emotions from other peoples problems.
"Griss, a guy I see everyday has something wrong with him, something he's had wrong for a long time, I didn't even notice it. Some CSI I am." She said, her voice wavering in self doubt.
"Exactly." He responded with a light smile.
"What?" She exclaimed, again confused by his answers.
"You are a CSI." He insisted. "You're out in the field most of the time – you're barely in the lab – and when you are – you're there for evidence." He stated clearly.
"You think that should comfort me?" she said, with slight disgust.
"I'm saying that you do a job which requires your full attention." Grissom said, voice escalating with irritation.
"Hmm, thanks Griss," she said, sarcasm brimming in her voice.
She gave him a cold stare before continuing, "I'd really love what you'd come up with if it was a CSI and not a lab tech – I mean, I spend more time with you guys in the field than I do in my own bed – if it had been one of you – your analogy would have been screwed." She yelled with anger.
"Yeah," he responded seriously, his voice reflecting some of the anger that Sara had just displayed. He was trying to help her – but it never seemed enough.
Sara saw his grim expression, and she had a sudden flash of doubt. "No one else is ill, right?" She questioned, seeking reassurance.
He smiled lightly, and touched her arm. "No Sara, no-one is ill."
She smiled lightly, and pattered his hand, got up, and left.
Even though if felt like he said the wrong things at the time, sometimes the conversations she shared with him were reassuring…kind of.
Grissom watched her leave. He couldn't tell her. He saw her face – she already was going out of her mind over Greg.
But he didn't lie…
'…I'm not ill, I'm just losing my hearing…'
==============================================================
If you read this far, Please review.