Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.
Chapter 2 - I like a look of agony
"It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"
Sara snapped her head off the table when she heard the sheriff's voice calling from the doorway.
"Sheriff, those stories, I never ran into a burning bus. Really. They've got the story all wrong."
"Sara, it's all right. You'll have your chance to tell your side of the story at the press conference," he held up his hands to prevent her from interrupting. "Trust me, Sara, it'll be easier than you think. And the sooner you talk, the sooner they'll go away."
"Who?"
"The media," said Mobley kindly. "Right now the parking lot is filling up with news crews. We neglected to mention how early you come in before shift so you wouldn't have to deal with them."
"Oh, god."
"If you want to wait until tomorrow to talk to them, that'll be fine, Sara. We'll be having an official press conference then. Did you get my message?"
"I have no idea," she replied honestly, pointing to the stack of messages in front of her. "My pager and phone are backlogged with messages too. I was at a seminar all afternoon," she offered as explanation.
Mobley smiled at her. He always welcomed good publicity for the lab, but frankly he'd been unprepared for the sheer impact those photographs were having. Sara had had no advanced warning she was going to become a celebrity. Mobley knew it would be disconcerting for the unassuming and sensitive scientist. Especially since her fame came at the expense of eight young children.
"Sara, I realize this is overwhelming right now. But you did rescue a group of children and the people of Nevada want to thank you. The governor's office and the mayor both have awards for you. In addition, you'll be receiving a departmental citation for bravery. I believe the Fraternal Order of Police are planning an award as well.
"We're still working out the details, but it will be one simple ceremony. We didn't think you'd want to be dragged before multiple events. The whole lab will be invited," the sheriff addressed her fellow CSIs.
"I know this is hard on you, Sara, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to talk to the media. But if you avoid them, they'll hound you until they get what they want. Spend one afternoon answering their questions and they'll leave you alone."
Talk to the press? About a dying boy who mistook her for his mother? About the blood soaking the seats and dripping from the ceilings? They wanted her to celebrate that?
She shivered as the image of a sad smile flashed in her mind.
"Brian, let's get back to you on this. Let Sara have a chance to decide what she wants to do," Grissom said, trying to discreetly hand Sara the teddy bear.
"Of course, Gil. Sara, trust me. It'll all die down in a few days," he gave her another kind smile. "What are you planning to do with all of this?" He indicated the overabundance of gifts.
"Grissom suggested sending them to a nursing home or hospital."
"Good idea," he said, nodding towards Grissom. "Tell you what, Sara. Why don't you stay in the lab and sort through all this and decide what you want to keep. I'll arrange for a van and some uniforms to disperse the rest. I have a feeling the reporters will just try to follow you if you go out on a case. You don't need the distraction. I'm sure some of those messages are from friends and colleagues. Go ahead and answer them."
"I, okay, Sheriff," Sara said. She didn't want to spend the night in the office sorting through this. She wanted to bury herself in a case so she could forget this. But she couldn't face the press now.
"One last thing, Sara. You need to see Dr. Kane. It's departmental policy, nothing to worry about. Philip will be expecting to hear from you soon."
Sara nodded.
"Gil, can I have a word with you?" Mobley asked as he left the break room.
Nick knelt beside Sara and draped his arm across the back of her chair. "He's right, Sara. You avoid the press and they'll think you're hiding something. Just get it over with and they'll leave you alone."
"It won't be so bad, Sara. Those reporters will eat you up; they already are. They'll ask a bunch of dumb questions about how it felt, then they'll go away," Catherine told her, setting a cup of coffee in front of her.
"Thanks. I can't believe this is happening."
Warrick leaned against the counter, watching Sara carefully. He didn't like the direction his thoughts were heading.
~~~~~~
"Brian, I won't allow you to use Sara as a publicity gimmick," Grissom said as soon as he closed the door to Mobley's office.
"I have no intention of doing so, Gil. In fact, I want to keep her away from the media as much as possible."
"You do?"
"Believe it or not, Gil, I value Sara's contribution to this department as a CSI more than a PR piece," he said firmly. "I admit, I like good publicity, but this is beyond anything I've ever seen. We've had calls from all the major media outlets wanting background information on Sara. The news magazines want interviews. There have been two Hollywood producers calling. And that's just here at the lab. I can't imagine what it's like at her home," the sheriff said.
"I'm worried about her, Gil. You know her better than I do. What will this do to her?"
"I honestly don't know, Brian. Sara is a very private person. She doesn't like being the center of attention. She won't want any personal information released."
"What about the accident itself?"
"What about it, Brian?"
"Gil, Sara can become very emotional. I believe you've used the term 'empathic' to describe her reactions. We both know what the inside of that bus must have looked like," Mobley said softly. "Do you think she'd be willing to take a vacation after the press conference? If she wasn't around, they would move on to the next big story."
"I don't know. I doubt it, Brian. Sara turns to work when something is bothering her," Grissom eventually said.
"Make the offer. The department will authorize a one-week leave with pay. She won't even have to use her vacation time."
"That's a very generous offer, Brian," Grissom eventually replied. He eyed the sheriff carefully. The departmental budgets were stretched currently. Why would they make this offer?
"Gil, make sure she sees Philip. Do you know what her solve-rate is? It's the highest in the department and she has a higher ratio of harder-to-solve cases. The lab can't afford to lose her," Mobley said. Was that an odd inflection on 'lose'? "Burnout after something like this is too common, Gil. Keep an eye on her."
Grissom headed to the break room, considering what Mobley had said. He felt there was more behind Brian's comments than he let on. He had mentioned Sara's emotions; maybe he was just afraid she'd lose her temper at a press conference.
He stopped when he came into the room. All of his CSIs were helping Sara sort out packages. They had moved all the food items onto the table, and were fishing out stuffed animals, cards and other assorted gifts from the flowers.
"Why are you all still here?"
"Gil, you never gave out the assignments," Catherine said, pointing to the papers in his hand.
Shaking his head, Grissom quickly called out assignments. "Nick and Warrick, head over to Henderson. Missing person - husband never came back after an argument with his wife. Catherine you get a robbery at a liquor store. Go."
He watched Sara. She seemed distracted. Her hands were running hesitantly over some of the stuffed animals. Quickly, Sara wrapped her arms around herself when another shiver racked her body.
"Sara, why don't you use my office to store the things you want to keep," he said softly, pointing to the assorted flora and plush fauna.
"I don't think I'm keeping any of it, Grissom. Doesn't seem right to keep some of it and not the rest. I've told everyone to help themselves to anything they want. Catherine's taking some of the animals for Lindsay," she said, picking up one of the toys that had been set aside. "Here. I was serious. Give Billy a friend," she handed him the purple singing teddy bear. She gave him an odd smile.
He returned her smile and took the bear. "Sara, Brian wanted me to tell you that you can have a week off if you want to skip town and avoid the press," he said, trying to keep the mood light. "You won't even have to use vacation."
"Oh. I, I don't think I want to do that, Griss. Can I get back to you, though? Let's see what happens with the damn vultures."
Grissom looked at her carefully as she started looking through messages, arranging them into piles. The way she said 'vultures' surprised him; he didn't think she was joking.
"I'll be in the morgue, Sara. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
She turned and raised a surprised eyebrow at him. It morphed into a small smile. "Thanks, Griss. Tell Doc and David to come up if they want something to eat," she nodded to the assortment of foods on the table.
"Okay, Sara," he said. Heading down the hallway, he saw a very agitated Sgt. O'Riley approaching with a folded newspaper.
"Hey, Grissom! Have you seen Sara?"
"She's in the break room, O'Riley. Why?"
"Need to talk to her," came his brusque reply as he walked quickly away.
Grissom started to walk down the hallway, but reconsidered.
~~~~~~
In the break room, Sara leaned over the table, surveying the stacks of messages neatly arranged by whether she knew the caller. Her hands were wrapped around a hot cup of coffee, and she enjoyed the delicious smell reaching her nose.
"Sara."
She looked up to see an unusually emotional O'Riley in the doorway.
"Hey, O'Riley, what's up? What something to eat?"
The police sergeant walked stiffly to her, holding out the newspaper. It was a photo of Sara lifting a crying girl into the arms of a priest. Sara looked at the photo as if it was of someone else.
The child had been walking slowly towards the rear of the bus, crying loudly. Other children brushed past her in their hurry to get out. Sara had reached up to quickly pull her to safety before she was accidently trampled. The elderly man - a member of the clergy - held his arms out to her. Sara lifted the child into his arms, reaching over to brush tears from the girl's face.
Children were crying. People were screaming. The smell of spilled fuel filled the air, but couldn't cover the smell of death coming from the bus.
Sara closed her eyes at the flashback.
"That's my niece," he finally blurted. "Just got back from the hospital. They had to operate. She's got internal bleeding. Broken ribs."
Sara turned startled eyes to the big detective. The rib cage: designed to protect the internal organs from injuries. But when broken, the bones became daggers pointing towards the delicate tissues. All it took was a rough movement, too hard of a squeeze, and the results could be fatal.
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry," she whispered. What had she done to that poor child?
"She's gonna be okay," the detective sniffed, not noticing how pale Sara was becoming. "She's my baby sister's only kid," he choked. "Damn"
The burly man wrapped his arms around Sara and buried his face in her neck. "God, thank you, Sara. Thank you." He quickly kissed her, before running out of the room, wiping away his tears.
Sara sank into her chair. She reached out for her coffee. It had cooled to blood temperature. The bitter liquid carried the acrid taste of copper.
TBC
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.
Chapter 2 - I like a look of agony
"It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"
Sara snapped her head off the table when she heard the sheriff's voice calling from the doorway.
"Sheriff, those stories, I never ran into a burning bus. Really. They've got the story all wrong."
"Sara, it's all right. You'll have your chance to tell your side of the story at the press conference," he held up his hands to prevent her from interrupting. "Trust me, Sara, it'll be easier than you think. And the sooner you talk, the sooner they'll go away."
"Who?"
"The media," said Mobley kindly. "Right now the parking lot is filling up with news crews. We neglected to mention how early you come in before shift so you wouldn't have to deal with them."
"Oh, god."
"If you want to wait until tomorrow to talk to them, that'll be fine, Sara. We'll be having an official press conference then. Did you get my message?"
"I have no idea," she replied honestly, pointing to the stack of messages in front of her. "My pager and phone are backlogged with messages too. I was at a seminar all afternoon," she offered as explanation.
Mobley smiled at her. He always welcomed good publicity for the lab, but frankly he'd been unprepared for the sheer impact those photographs were having. Sara had had no advanced warning she was going to become a celebrity. Mobley knew it would be disconcerting for the unassuming and sensitive scientist. Especially since her fame came at the expense of eight young children.
"Sara, I realize this is overwhelming right now. But you did rescue a group of children and the people of Nevada want to thank you. The governor's office and the mayor both have awards for you. In addition, you'll be receiving a departmental citation for bravery. I believe the Fraternal Order of Police are planning an award as well.
"We're still working out the details, but it will be one simple ceremony. We didn't think you'd want to be dragged before multiple events. The whole lab will be invited," the sheriff addressed her fellow CSIs.
"I know this is hard on you, Sara, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to talk to the media. But if you avoid them, they'll hound you until they get what they want. Spend one afternoon answering their questions and they'll leave you alone."
Talk to the press? About a dying boy who mistook her for his mother? About the blood soaking the seats and dripping from the ceilings? They wanted her to celebrate that?
She shivered as the image of a sad smile flashed in her mind.
"Brian, let's get back to you on this. Let Sara have a chance to decide what she wants to do," Grissom said, trying to discreetly hand Sara the teddy bear.
"Of course, Gil. Sara, trust me. It'll all die down in a few days," he gave her another kind smile. "What are you planning to do with all of this?" He indicated the overabundance of gifts.
"Grissom suggested sending them to a nursing home or hospital."
"Good idea," he said, nodding towards Grissom. "Tell you what, Sara. Why don't you stay in the lab and sort through all this and decide what you want to keep. I'll arrange for a van and some uniforms to disperse the rest. I have a feeling the reporters will just try to follow you if you go out on a case. You don't need the distraction. I'm sure some of those messages are from friends and colleagues. Go ahead and answer them."
"I, okay, Sheriff," Sara said. She didn't want to spend the night in the office sorting through this. She wanted to bury herself in a case so she could forget this. But she couldn't face the press now.
"One last thing, Sara. You need to see Dr. Kane. It's departmental policy, nothing to worry about. Philip will be expecting to hear from you soon."
Sara nodded.
"Gil, can I have a word with you?" Mobley asked as he left the break room.
Nick knelt beside Sara and draped his arm across the back of her chair. "He's right, Sara. You avoid the press and they'll think you're hiding something. Just get it over with and they'll leave you alone."
"It won't be so bad, Sara. Those reporters will eat you up; they already are. They'll ask a bunch of dumb questions about how it felt, then they'll go away," Catherine told her, setting a cup of coffee in front of her.
"Thanks. I can't believe this is happening."
Warrick leaned against the counter, watching Sara carefully. He didn't like the direction his thoughts were heading.
~~~~~~
"Brian, I won't allow you to use Sara as a publicity gimmick," Grissom said as soon as he closed the door to Mobley's office.
"I have no intention of doing so, Gil. In fact, I want to keep her away from the media as much as possible."
"You do?"
"Believe it or not, Gil, I value Sara's contribution to this department as a CSI more than a PR piece," he said firmly. "I admit, I like good publicity, but this is beyond anything I've ever seen. We've had calls from all the major media outlets wanting background information on Sara. The news magazines want interviews. There have been two Hollywood producers calling. And that's just here at the lab. I can't imagine what it's like at her home," the sheriff said.
"I'm worried about her, Gil. You know her better than I do. What will this do to her?"
"I honestly don't know, Brian. Sara is a very private person. She doesn't like being the center of attention. She won't want any personal information released."
"What about the accident itself?"
"What about it, Brian?"
"Gil, Sara can become very emotional. I believe you've used the term 'empathic' to describe her reactions. We both know what the inside of that bus must have looked like," Mobley said softly. "Do you think she'd be willing to take a vacation after the press conference? If she wasn't around, they would move on to the next big story."
"I don't know. I doubt it, Brian. Sara turns to work when something is bothering her," Grissom eventually said.
"Make the offer. The department will authorize a one-week leave with pay. She won't even have to use her vacation time."
"That's a very generous offer, Brian," Grissom eventually replied. He eyed the sheriff carefully. The departmental budgets were stretched currently. Why would they make this offer?
"Gil, make sure she sees Philip. Do you know what her solve-rate is? It's the highest in the department and she has a higher ratio of harder-to-solve cases. The lab can't afford to lose her," Mobley said. Was that an odd inflection on 'lose'? "Burnout after something like this is too common, Gil. Keep an eye on her."
Grissom headed to the break room, considering what Mobley had said. He felt there was more behind Brian's comments than he let on. He had mentioned Sara's emotions; maybe he was just afraid she'd lose her temper at a press conference.
He stopped when he came into the room. All of his CSIs were helping Sara sort out packages. They had moved all the food items onto the table, and were fishing out stuffed animals, cards and other assorted gifts from the flowers.
"Why are you all still here?"
"Gil, you never gave out the assignments," Catherine said, pointing to the papers in his hand.
Shaking his head, Grissom quickly called out assignments. "Nick and Warrick, head over to Henderson. Missing person - husband never came back after an argument with his wife. Catherine you get a robbery at a liquor store. Go."
He watched Sara. She seemed distracted. Her hands were running hesitantly over some of the stuffed animals. Quickly, Sara wrapped her arms around herself when another shiver racked her body.
"Sara, why don't you use my office to store the things you want to keep," he said softly, pointing to the assorted flora and plush fauna.
"I don't think I'm keeping any of it, Grissom. Doesn't seem right to keep some of it and not the rest. I've told everyone to help themselves to anything they want. Catherine's taking some of the animals for Lindsay," she said, picking up one of the toys that had been set aside. "Here. I was serious. Give Billy a friend," she handed him the purple singing teddy bear. She gave him an odd smile.
He returned her smile and took the bear. "Sara, Brian wanted me to tell you that you can have a week off if you want to skip town and avoid the press," he said, trying to keep the mood light. "You won't even have to use vacation."
"Oh. I, I don't think I want to do that, Griss. Can I get back to you, though? Let's see what happens with the damn vultures."
Grissom looked at her carefully as she started looking through messages, arranging them into piles. The way she said 'vultures' surprised him; he didn't think she was joking.
"I'll be in the morgue, Sara. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
She turned and raised a surprised eyebrow at him. It morphed into a small smile. "Thanks, Griss. Tell Doc and David to come up if they want something to eat," she nodded to the assortment of foods on the table.
"Okay, Sara," he said. Heading down the hallway, he saw a very agitated Sgt. O'Riley approaching with a folded newspaper.
"Hey, Grissom! Have you seen Sara?"
"She's in the break room, O'Riley. Why?"
"Need to talk to her," came his brusque reply as he walked quickly away.
Grissom started to walk down the hallway, but reconsidered.
~~~~~~
In the break room, Sara leaned over the table, surveying the stacks of messages neatly arranged by whether she knew the caller. Her hands were wrapped around a hot cup of coffee, and she enjoyed the delicious smell reaching her nose.
"Sara."
She looked up to see an unusually emotional O'Riley in the doorway.
"Hey, O'Riley, what's up? What something to eat?"
The police sergeant walked stiffly to her, holding out the newspaper. It was a photo of Sara lifting a crying girl into the arms of a priest. Sara looked at the photo as if it was of someone else.
The child had been walking slowly towards the rear of the bus, crying loudly. Other children brushed past her in their hurry to get out. Sara had reached up to quickly pull her to safety before she was accidently trampled. The elderly man - a member of the clergy - held his arms out to her. Sara lifted the child into his arms, reaching over to brush tears from the girl's face.
Children were crying. People were screaming. The smell of spilled fuel filled the air, but couldn't cover the smell of death coming from the bus.
Sara closed her eyes at the flashback.
"That's my niece," he finally blurted. "Just got back from the hospital. They had to operate. She's got internal bleeding. Broken ribs."
Sara turned startled eyes to the big detective. The rib cage: designed to protect the internal organs from injuries. But when broken, the bones became daggers pointing towards the delicate tissues. All it took was a rough movement, too hard of a squeeze, and the results could be fatal.
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry," she whispered. What had she done to that poor child?
"She's gonna be okay," the detective sniffed, not noticing how pale Sara was becoming. "She's my baby sister's only kid," he choked. "Damn"
The burly man wrapped his arms around Sara and buried his face in her neck. "God, thank you, Sara. Thank you." He quickly kissed her, before running out of the room, wiping away his tears.
Sara sank into her chair. She reached out for her coffee. It had cooled to blood temperature. The bitter liquid carried the acrid taste of copper.
TBC