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.
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.
Chapter 6 - I ask no other thing
"Sara, nicely done," Mobley said from the doorway. "I realize that was an uncomfortable situation."
"Thanks, Sheriff."
"I wanted to let you know that a memorial service for the children has been scheduled," he said softly. "You've been asked to attend. I told the organizers that I would give you the message."
She turned to look at him in surprise. "When?"
"Thursday evening, six o'clock, at Guardian Angel Cathedral."
She nodded her head. It was the least she could do for them.
"I've also spoken to David Hernandez. His daughter, Teresa, was one of the children you rescued. The girl you carried off the bus?"
"How is she?"
"Weak, but getting better. She lost a lot of blood and she'll need plastic surgery, but the doctors say she'll be fine."
Fine except for the nightmares. Children were actually more resilient than adults. Teresa probably won't be plagued by nightmares for years. Lucky for her. She saw the look Grissom was giving her. Had she shuddered again? Probably too much caffeine and lack of sleep.
"Good," she said.
"Anyway, her father was wondering if you would be willing to visit Teresa in the hospital. She's been asking for you. She wants to thank you," Mobley said.
"Sure, yeah," Sara said, hoping this wouldn't turn into another photo session. "What hospital?"
"Desert Palms."
"I'll go by tomorrow morning after shift ends," she said.
"Good. I know you're probably getting stir-crazy Sara, but I'm afraid I have to insist you stay in the lab until the media frenzy dies down. We can't risk them contaminating a scene."
"Okay." Damn.
"One last thing, Sara. Will your family be attending the ceremony on Friday? The event coordinator is making up seating arrangements."
"I don't know. I haven't talked to them recently," she said. Noticing Mobley's shocked expression, she added, "I'm still going through my phone messages. I haven't even listened to the ones on my machine at home."
"Why don't you call them, Sara?" Grissom pushed his office phone towards her. "I'm heading home to change before shift starts. Do you want me to bring you back something for dinner?"
"No thanks, Griss. More baskets came today. I'll graze," she said, picking up the phone. "Sheriff, I'll let you know what my parents say."
Nodding his head, Mobley waited in the hallway until Grissom exited, closing the door behind him. "Gil, if you have a minute, there's something we need to talk about."
~~~~~~~~~~
Sara held the phone, waiting until her supervisors left the room. She gave Grissom a smile of thanks when he closed the office door. He understood this was a conversation she would want to have in private.
"Might as well get this over with," she muttered, waiting for the call to connect. "Hi, Dad. How are you doing?"
"Sara! What's up?"
What's up? All the major news organizations in the country were tracking her every movement, and he asked what's up. Typical, actually. They probably hadn't even noticed it was her on the TV.
"Nothing much, Dad. Same old, same old."
"What? Oh, sorry, got distracted there. I hope this hasn't been typical for you, Sara."
Well, he did have a clue. That was a surprise.
"You noticed?"
"Well, there's about five camera crews going around town talking to everyone who ever met you."
"Tell me you're joking! Please?" Sara asked in disbelief.
"'Fraid not, Sara. When you decide to do something, you go all-out don't you?" He laughed. Of course, her parents would find this amusing.
"I didn't 'do' this, Dad. This happened. I wish to hell it would go away."
"Don't worry, Sunflower, it will," he said. Sara winced at the nickname. She hated it. She had always hated it. Her parents knew that. They still used it. They probably hoped it would rub off on her and change her disposition. Still, she was lucky that they hadn't actually named her that.
"Look, Dad, there's a ceremony Friday. They want to know if you and Mom are coming. They hadn't heard from you and I haven't had a chance to go through all my messages, yet," she said, not really expecting there would be a message.
"Oh, your mom mentioned something about that. She was going to check with Stan and Mary and see if they could watch the place for the weekend. Let me see if she ever got an answer; hold on."
Sara stared at the phone in shock. Her parents were actually thinking about coming? Here? Her parents had never once visited her, not even when she lived in nearby San Francisco.
Demons must be rushing to buy ice skates.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Gil, have a seat. This won't take long," Mobley said, closing the door behind him. "First, let me assure you this conversation is completely off-the-record. Don't feel anything said here will reflect poorly on you."
That was never the start of a good conversation.
"What's up, Brian?" Grissom asked.
"What, exactly, is your relationship with Sara?"
Grissom stared at the sheriff. What was he talking about?
"Professional," he finally said, giving the other man a harsh look.
"Anything else?"
"Look, Brian, I don't know what type of accusations you're trying to make, but..."
"Gil, calm down," the sheriff held up his hands. "No accusations are being made. I'm just trying to get a handle on this situation."
"What situation? Sara, and our relationship, isn't any different than what I have with any of my other CSIs," Grissom stressed.
"Do you caress your other CSIs during press conferences, Gil?" Mobley asked directly.
The question shocked Grissom. Caress? When had he caressed Sara? The sheriff noticed the confusion in the other man's eyes. "When the reporter was asking Sara about graduate school, Gil. She tensed, you reached over and caressed her back," he prompted. "She relaxed at your touch."
"Brian, I wasn't aware I had done that," he finally said in shock. "Look, I take full responsibility for that. That was inappropriate of me, Brian, but don't hold it against Sara. Feel free to reprimand me, but don't think that Sara is acting unprofessionally."
"Gil, calm down," the sheriff repeated. "As I said, this conversation is completely off-the-record. There will be no reprimands."
"Brian, I want to take responsibility. I don't want this held against Sara. If people start talking about this,..."
"You mean like the Haviland case? Where Sara was accused in court of caressing you, I believe? Gil, what became of that?" The sheriff paused until realization struck Grissom. "Exactly. Nothing. The citizens of Las Vegas do understand that defense attorneys will attack members of this department in an attempt to discredit them. The department certainly understands it."
Mobley watched as Grissom finally sat down. It wasn't often he saw the entomologist either at a loss for words or totally surprised.
"Gil, if there is a relationship between you and Sara, I need to know the truth so certain arrangements can be made."
"What?"
"Steps would have to be taken to avoid any accusations of favoritism," the sheriff explained.
"What?"
Mobley suppressed his humor. He knew Grissom wouldn't enjoy this conversation, but Mobley never thought he'd find it amusing himself. The enigmatic scientist reduced to monosyllabic answers. "If you and Sara are involved in any way other than professional, just tell me, Gil. We can take the necessary steps," Mobley said.
"Brian, again, there is no relationship between us. We're friends, but that's it," Grissom said, still processing this conversation. "Any other type of relationship would be in violation of departmental regulations."
"I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that those particular regulations are routinely ignored."
"What?"
A small smile finally escaped from the sheriff. For a brilliant forensic scientist, Grissom was not good in social skills. Luckily. The man was an asset that any other lab in the country would gladly take. If he understood people better, he'd know the lab would go to considerable trouble to keep him. Too often, people of his caliber became ogres when they realized what they could get away with. "Gil, you wouldn't be the first couple to be violating those regulations."
"I had no idea," Grissom said honestly.
"Exactly. Discretion is key," Mobley decided to show some mercy. "Those regulations exist for legal reasons, Gil, but we're realistic here. People tend to be attracted to those with similar educational backgrounds, especially among scientists. For a city this size, Las Vegas has very few facilities which hires people of our caliber. It's normal for inner-office romances to develop. As long as the couple are discreet and professional, we tend to ignore it. Now, in your case, there's the added complication of you being a supervisor. A few precautions would need to be taken."
"What?" Grissom saw the smile the sheriff tried to hide. "What kind of precautions, Brian? Are you talking about transferring her to days?"
The sheriff regarded him calmly. For someone who had no relationship, Grissom seemed oddly interested. The other man noticed.
"You've made me curious, Brian. I never expected you to be one to bend the rules like this."
"Gil, I'm an elected official. My job description is knowing which rules to bend and when to do it. As for transferring Sara, that would only be a last resort. You couldn't be in a position where you had direct influence on her career. Basically, someone else would have to do her evaluations and if the need ever arose, you couldn't be involved in a disciplinary action."
Mobley watched as Grissom digested this information. "Gil, if your relationship with Sara does change I expect to be made aware of it immediately. I believe you were on your way home." He wondered how long Grissom would sit there if he didn't encourage him to leave.
"Right," Grissom got up and wandered towards the door. "Oh, Brian, Sara's a vegetarian. Let the event coordinator know."
~~~~~~~~~~
After forwarding the fact that her parents were actually coming, Sara went to the break room to raid the new supply of food gifts which had arrived. She then found a quiet corner where she could continue returning phone calls until shift started.
Eventually, she found herself outside the morgue. She needed to talk to Dr. Robbins, but was afraid to enter. She didn't want to think about what might be on one of his slabs. Taking a deep breath, Sara opened the door.
"Hey, Doc, you here?"
"Sara! Come in. What can I do for you?" Dr. Robbins looked up from the microscope where he had been examining samples. He noticed the quick glance she gave around the room and was grateful none of the wreck victims were on display.
"I heard you helped with the bus accident? I wanted to know, if, do you know,..."
"Sara?"
"Were they dead, Doc? The kids? Were they dead before the fire? I have to know I didn't leave anyone behind."
"Sara, I can't give you the answers you need. Not yet, anyway. The fire didn't leave us much to work with," he said quietly, wishing there was some easier way to describe this. "We may never know for certain what the exact cause of death was."
Sara closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. Robbins wondered if she had managed to get any sleep since the accident. She didn't look like she had.
"Sara, all the children who died were at the front of the bus, on the left-hand side. It sustained the brunt of the impact, first from the tractor, then from the load. I can tell you from experience that they had no chance. Even if that wreck had happened in front of a fully-staffed operating room, injuries that severe aren't survivable."
She just nodded her thanks and started to turn to leave.
"Sara? You're not responsible for their deaths. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah, Doc, I know."
"Have you talked to Dr. Kane yet?"
"No. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Because stress can do terrible things to a person, Sara, and this has to be as stressful as hell," he gave her a kind smile. "You have friends who worry about you."
She sniffed and returned the smile. "Thanks, Doc. I just haven't had a chance to talk to him, yet. I will."
Turning to leave, a name written on tape on one of the morgue's vaults caught her eye. "Lawrence, Hunter". A boy with gentle eyes and a sweet smile who had to be identified by DNA. Sara froze briefly before quickly exiting the morgue.
Dr. Robbins watched the scene with concern. He'd have to talk to Gil. Stress could do terrible things to a body and he didn't want Sara on one of his tables any time soon.
TBC
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.
Chapter 6 - I ask no other thing
"Sara, nicely done," Mobley said from the doorway. "I realize that was an uncomfortable situation."
"Thanks, Sheriff."
"I wanted to let you know that a memorial service for the children has been scheduled," he said softly. "You've been asked to attend. I told the organizers that I would give you the message."
She turned to look at him in surprise. "When?"
"Thursday evening, six o'clock, at Guardian Angel Cathedral."
She nodded her head. It was the least she could do for them.
"I've also spoken to David Hernandez. His daughter, Teresa, was one of the children you rescued. The girl you carried off the bus?"
"How is she?"
"Weak, but getting better. She lost a lot of blood and she'll need plastic surgery, but the doctors say she'll be fine."
Fine except for the nightmares. Children were actually more resilient than adults. Teresa probably won't be plagued by nightmares for years. Lucky for her. She saw the look Grissom was giving her. Had she shuddered again? Probably too much caffeine and lack of sleep.
"Good," she said.
"Anyway, her father was wondering if you would be willing to visit Teresa in the hospital. She's been asking for you. She wants to thank you," Mobley said.
"Sure, yeah," Sara said, hoping this wouldn't turn into another photo session. "What hospital?"
"Desert Palms."
"I'll go by tomorrow morning after shift ends," she said.
"Good. I know you're probably getting stir-crazy Sara, but I'm afraid I have to insist you stay in the lab until the media frenzy dies down. We can't risk them contaminating a scene."
"Okay." Damn.
"One last thing, Sara. Will your family be attending the ceremony on Friday? The event coordinator is making up seating arrangements."
"I don't know. I haven't talked to them recently," she said. Noticing Mobley's shocked expression, she added, "I'm still going through my phone messages. I haven't even listened to the ones on my machine at home."
"Why don't you call them, Sara?" Grissom pushed his office phone towards her. "I'm heading home to change before shift starts. Do you want me to bring you back something for dinner?"
"No thanks, Griss. More baskets came today. I'll graze," she said, picking up the phone. "Sheriff, I'll let you know what my parents say."
Nodding his head, Mobley waited in the hallway until Grissom exited, closing the door behind him. "Gil, if you have a minute, there's something we need to talk about."
~~~~~~~~~~
Sara held the phone, waiting until her supervisors left the room. She gave Grissom a smile of thanks when he closed the office door. He understood this was a conversation she would want to have in private.
"Might as well get this over with," she muttered, waiting for the call to connect. "Hi, Dad. How are you doing?"
"Sara! What's up?"
What's up? All the major news organizations in the country were tracking her every movement, and he asked what's up. Typical, actually. They probably hadn't even noticed it was her on the TV.
"Nothing much, Dad. Same old, same old."
"What? Oh, sorry, got distracted there. I hope this hasn't been typical for you, Sara."
Well, he did have a clue. That was a surprise.
"You noticed?"
"Well, there's about five camera crews going around town talking to everyone who ever met you."
"Tell me you're joking! Please?" Sara asked in disbelief.
"'Fraid not, Sara. When you decide to do something, you go all-out don't you?" He laughed. Of course, her parents would find this amusing.
"I didn't 'do' this, Dad. This happened. I wish to hell it would go away."
"Don't worry, Sunflower, it will," he said. Sara winced at the nickname. She hated it. She had always hated it. Her parents knew that. They still used it. They probably hoped it would rub off on her and change her disposition. Still, she was lucky that they hadn't actually named her that.
"Look, Dad, there's a ceremony Friday. They want to know if you and Mom are coming. They hadn't heard from you and I haven't had a chance to go through all my messages, yet," she said, not really expecting there would be a message.
"Oh, your mom mentioned something about that. She was going to check with Stan and Mary and see if they could watch the place for the weekend. Let me see if she ever got an answer; hold on."
Sara stared at the phone in shock. Her parents were actually thinking about coming? Here? Her parents had never once visited her, not even when she lived in nearby San Francisco.
Demons must be rushing to buy ice skates.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Gil, have a seat. This won't take long," Mobley said, closing the door behind him. "First, let me assure you this conversation is completely off-the-record. Don't feel anything said here will reflect poorly on you."
That was never the start of a good conversation.
"What's up, Brian?" Grissom asked.
"What, exactly, is your relationship with Sara?"
Grissom stared at the sheriff. What was he talking about?
"Professional," he finally said, giving the other man a harsh look.
"Anything else?"
"Look, Brian, I don't know what type of accusations you're trying to make, but..."
"Gil, calm down," the sheriff held up his hands. "No accusations are being made. I'm just trying to get a handle on this situation."
"What situation? Sara, and our relationship, isn't any different than what I have with any of my other CSIs," Grissom stressed.
"Do you caress your other CSIs during press conferences, Gil?" Mobley asked directly.
The question shocked Grissom. Caress? When had he caressed Sara? The sheriff noticed the confusion in the other man's eyes. "When the reporter was asking Sara about graduate school, Gil. She tensed, you reached over and caressed her back," he prompted. "She relaxed at your touch."
"Brian, I wasn't aware I had done that," he finally said in shock. "Look, I take full responsibility for that. That was inappropriate of me, Brian, but don't hold it against Sara. Feel free to reprimand me, but don't think that Sara is acting unprofessionally."
"Gil, calm down," the sheriff repeated. "As I said, this conversation is completely off-the-record. There will be no reprimands."
"Brian, I want to take responsibility. I don't want this held against Sara. If people start talking about this,..."
"You mean like the Haviland case? Where Sara was accused in court of caressing you, I believe? Gil, what became of that?" The sheriff paused until realization struck Grissom. "Exactly. Nothing. The citizens of Las Vegas do understand that defense attorneys will attack members of this department in an attempt to discredit them. The department certainly understands it."
Mobley watched as Grissom finally sat down. It wasn't often he saw the entomologist either at a loss for words or totally surprised.
"Gil, if there is a relationship between you and Sara, I need to know the truth so certain arrangements can be made."
"What?"
"Steps would have to be taken to avoid any accusations of favoritism," the sheriff explained.
"What?"
Mobley suppressed his humor. He knew Grissom wouldn't enjoy this conversation, but Mobley never thought he'd find it amusing himself. The enigmatic scientist reduced to monosyllabic answers. "If you and Sara are involved in any way other than professional, just tell me, Gil. We can take the necessary steps," Mobley said.
"Brian, again, there is no relationship between us. We're friends, but that's it," Grissom said, still processing this conversation. "Any other type of relationship would be in violation of departmental regulations."
"I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that those particular regulations are routinely ignored."
"What?"
A small smile finally escaped from the sheriff. For a brilliant forensic scientist, Grissom was not good in social skills. Luckily. The man was an asset that any other lab in the country would gladly take. If he understood people better, he'd know the lab would go to considerable trouble to keep him. Too often, people of his caliber became ogres when they realized what they could get away with. "Gil, you wouldn't be the first couple to be violating those regulations."
"I had no idea," Grissom said honestly.
"Exactly. Discretion is key," Mobley decided to show some mercy. "Those regulations exist for legal reasons, Gil, but we're realistic here. People tend to be attracted to those with similar educational backgrounds, especially among scientists. For a city this size, Las Vegas has very few facilities which hires people of our caliber. It's normal for inner-office romances to develop. As long as the couple are discreet and professional, we tend to ignore it. Now, in your case, there's the added complication of you being a supervisor. A few precautions would need to be taken."
"What?" Grissom saw the smile the sheriff tried to hide. "What kind of precautions, Brian? Are you talking about transferring her to days?"
The sheriff regarded him calmly. For someone who had no relationship, Grissom seemed oddly interested. The other man noticed.
"You've made me curious, Brian. I never expected you to be one to bend the rules like this."
"Gil, I'm an elected official. My job description is knowing which rules to bend and when to do it. As for transferring Sara, that would only be a last resort. You couldn't be in a position where you had direct influence on her career. Basically, someone else would have to do her evaluations and if the need ever arose, you couldn't be involved in a disciplinary action."
Mobley watched as Grissom digested this information. "Gil, if your relationship with Sara does change I expect to be made aware of it immediately. I believe you were on your way home." He wondered how long Grissom would sit there if he didn't encourage him to leave.
"Right," Grissom got up and wandered towards the door. "Oh, Brian, Sara's a vegetarian. Let the event coordinator know."
~~~~~~~~~~
After forwarding the fact that her parents were actually coming, Sara went to the break room to raid the new supply of food gifts which had arrived. She then found a quiet corner where she could continue returning phone calls until shift started.
Eventually, she found herself outside the morgue. She needed to talk to Dr. Robbins, but was afraid to enter. She didn't want to think about what might be on one of his slabs. Taking a deep breath, Sara opened the door.
"Hey, Doc, you here?"
"Sara! Come in. What can I do for you?" Dr. Robbins looked up from the microscope where he had been examining samples. He noticed the quick glance she gave around the room and was grateful none of the wreck victims were on display.
"I heard you helped with the bus accident? I wanted to know, if, do you know,..."
"Sara?"
"Were they dead, Doc? The kids? Were they dead before the fire? I have to know I didn't leave anyone behind."
"Sara, I can't give you the answers you need. Not yet, anyway. The fire didn't leave us much to work with," he said quietly, wishing there was some easier way to describe this. "We may never know for certain what the exact cause of death was."
Sara closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. Robbins wondered if she had managed to get any sleep since the accident. She didn't look like she had.
"Sara, all the children who died were at the front of the bus, on the left-hand side. It sustained the brunt of the impact, first from the tractor, then from the load. I can tell you from experience that they had no chance. Even if that wreck had happened in front of a fully-staffed operating room, injuries that severe aren't survivable."
She just nodded her thanks and started to turn to leave.
"Sara? You're not responsible for their deaths. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah, Doc, I know."
"Have you talked to Dr. Kane yet?"
"No. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Because stress can do terrible things to a person, Sara, and this has to be as stressful as hell," he gave her a kind smile. "You have friends who worry about you."
She sniffed and returned the smile. "Thanks, Doc. I just haven't had a chance to talk to him, yet. I will."
Turning to leave, a name written on tape on one of the morgue's vaults caught her eye. "Lawrence, Hunter". A boy with gentle eyes and a sweet smile who had to be identified by DNA. Sara froze briefly before quickly exiting the morgue.
Dr. Robbins watched the scene with concern. He'd have to talk to Gil. Stress could do terrible things to a body and he didn't want Sara on one of his tables any time soon.
TBC