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 9 - Apparently with no surprise
"No way!"
The team jumped as Nick's exclamation finally shattered the silence that had settled over Grissom's office. "No way, man. Not Sara! Not ever!"
"Look, Nick, all I'm saying...," Warrick stopped when Nick jumped in front of him angrily.
"What? That's Sara's gonna kill herself? Did she tell you this? Show you the pills? What? What are you saying?" he hissed.
"Nicky, calm down," Catherine said, laying a reassuring hand on his arm.
"Calm down? Don't tell me you think Sara would do that."
"No, Nick, I don't think Sara would ever kill herself," Catherine replied honestly. She regarded the Texan carefully. He seemed desperate to believe there wasn't any reason to be concerned. Still, he needed to be realistic. She pointed to the photos on Grissom's desk. "But how many of their friends would have told you the same thing?"
"Christ! I can't believe you people! Grissom, why aren't you saying anything?" Nick turned to his supervisor who was staring at the photos on his desk. Seeing Grissom wasn't going to answer, he turned away in disgust and looked back at the rest of the team. "Do you even know Sara? She wouldn't even kill someone else in self-defense! How could you think she'd ever hurt herself? You are so wrong, man," Nicked claimed, pushing a finger into Warrick's chest.
"Look, Nick, I really don't think Sara would ever ... do that," Warrick said hesitantly. After broaching the subject, he now found he couldn't actually vocalize his concerns. "But all this was enough to drive those people to ... that extreme. A bunch more had other problems. Drugs, alcohol. We don't know how Sara's going to react, 'cause none of us have any idea what this is doing to her. Nick, I just don't want to see Sara hurt. She's got enough trouble with this, without us adding more. I'm just saying we need to keep an eye on her."
"Fine," Nick said as he headed for the door. "Fine. Just don't let Sara know. Because that would hurt her. That you thought that little of her. 'Cause I'm telling you, Sara would never do that. She wouldn't," he added before leaving the room.
"I'll go talk to him," Brass offered. "Look, Warrick, really I was joking. I didn't think it would bother Sara."
"Yeah, sorry, too," Warrick said. "Grissom, I know I made things worse out there earlier. I'll apologize to Sara," he added before following Brass.
Catherine watched her friend as he sat at his desk. From the way he rubbed his temples and the tightness around his eyes, she guessed a migraine was forming. "Gil? You okay? Want a ride home?" She began to worry when he didn't answer. "Gil?"
"Sara wouldn't ... God, Catherine, Sara would never," he tried again. "I can't believe she'd ever to that," he finally managed.
"I don't either, Gil, but let's not take any chances, okay? Warrick's right: this was enough to mess up a lot of other people." When he didn't respond again, she walked around to sit on his desk and place a hand on his shoulder. "Sara's strong, Gil. I think she'll be all right. I'll try to talk to her, but we're not exactly best friends. If you feel better, why don't you come over later. What hospital did she go to?"
"Desert Palms. She's visiting Teresa Hernandez."
"Okay, I'll see if she'll come over and stay at my place. Give me a call later, okay?"
"Thanks, Catherine."
~~~~~~~~~~
Slamming the door to the SUV, Sara quickly started the engine and pulled out of the garage. The sheriff had kept the press away from the back exit so they wouldn't interfere with the lab's work. With luck, she'd be able to get to the hospital without an escort.
Seeing she wasn't being followed, Sara pulled into a donut shop's drive-thru for coffee and breakfast. Going to a run-down motel, she pulled into an isolated corner of the parking lot to eat her meal in silence. She kept the radio off; she was tired of hearing about what a hero she was; how brave she was; how unselfish she was.
If people only knew the truth.
What was that scene in the lab? Brass was joking. Sure, she didn't feel like listening to it, but what was Warrick's problem? From the looks coming from the lab staff, she knew that she'd be the topic of conversation for yet another night. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?
The coffee and sugar didn't settle well. Her stomach was already upset, her head hurt, she was short-tempered and more than anything she wanted a cigarette. That made her angry: she had finally broke the damn habit and wasn't sure she'd be able to resist starting again.
Sighing, she pulled back onto the road and headed to the hospital. She entered the parking garage from the rear entrance. There were a number of camera crews set up in front of the hospital. They weren't allowed inside and were trying to catch interviews as people entered the building. Sara went to the top level of the parking garage, knowing it would have the fewest cars this time of day. Grabbing the box of toys, she made her way to the elevator and the children's ward. Sara kept her head down as she made her trek. She had borrowed one of Greg's hats, pulled her hair up and was wearing a pair of sunglasses.
Walking to the nurse's station, she handed the box of toys to the duty nurse, asking that they be distributed around the ward. The woman gave her a friendly smile and told her Teresa's room number. So much for her disguise.
She walked slowly to the room, dreading the encounter.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Stokes! Let's get some coffee," Brass called to the man when he caught up to him in the parking lot.
"Look, Brass, don't you start.."
"Shut up," the police captain said softly. "Let's not make another scene. Luckily the press didn't see our earlier show, but this is a more public stage."
"Fine. Meet you at the diner," he said. Brass gave a friendly wave to the reporters who had turned to watch the exchange. Making his way to the diner, he found Nick already in a rear booth, well away from the other customers. Brass ordered coffee before joining the younger man.
"Nick, we're just concerned. We're not going to have her committed," Brass said. "Why is this bothering you so much?"
"I can't believe Sara would ever do that," he said softly, "I don't want to believe she would ever do that."
"None of us do, pal. Let's just do what we can to make sure it doesn't happen."
"Any idea how we do that?" Nick asked. Brass just shook his head.
"'Cause one of my frat brothers killed himself in college. A week before graduation. None of us had a clue anything was wrong. He never showed any of those signs suicidal people are supposed to have. I couldn't bear to lose Sara like that," Nick finally admitted.
"I know, Nick, I know," Brass said. Over his long career, he had attended too many funerals for friends who hadn't been able to handle the stress.
~~~~~~~~~~
Grissom fought a losing battle with his body. His head continued to pound. His stomach was churning. He refused to take his pulse, since knowing exactly how high it was would just make him more upset.
He stared at the photos before him in silence. He had been shocked when Warrick had said all the others had committed suicide. He was relieved when Nick finally broke the silence. At least he knew Sara would never be that selfish. He was going to agree with him when Catherine dropped her bombshell: how many people suspected the others had been suicidal?
Sara would never kill herself. She couldn't. Warrick had to be wrong. He had to be.
Sara was strong. She got overly involved in cases sometimes, but that didn't mean anything. Except she was already getting nightmares. She cried, at least twice, in public. In all the years he had know her, Grissom had only seen her cry once before and that was in the privacy of his office. He tried to forget the number of times he caught her shaking.
Sara was just stressed. She said so herself. She wasn't psychotic. She said so herself. Sara wouldn't kill herself.
She couldn't.
"Gil? Do you have a minute?"
Grissom looked up to see the coroner standing in his doorway. Motioning the doctor in, Grissom sighed when he closed the office door. Today had not been a good day for conversations. "What can I do for you, Doc?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Sara," Robbins began. He noticed Grissom paled. "Has something happened?"
He pointed to the stacks of photos which had been left on his desk. "Warrick's project. These are all people who went through similar incidents like Sara has. They all killed themselves," Grissom said, his tone indicating his disbelief. He felt another knot form in his stomach when the doctor nodded his head in understanding.
"Doc? Don't tell me you think Warrick's right," Grissom growled. Sara would never do that.
"I don't know, Gil. This is a very stressful situation. The psychological impact of stress is Philip's area of expertise, but you know as well as I do the physical damage stress can cause."
"Doc, come on! This press attention will die down in a few days. It bothers her, but it's nothing Sara can't handle!"
The coroner regarded his friend in surprise. "Gil, this has nothing to do with the press. They aren't helping the situation, but they aren't the root problem," he said.
"What are you talking about, Al?"
"Gil, look at this!" Robbins exclaimed shoving Sara's photo into his hands. "That wasn't a scene she processed. She was involved in it. That's not grime on her, Gil, that's blood. From a busload of injured, crying children. That would give the strongest person nightmares."
Grissom blinked as he began to understand the doctor's concern. "Post-traumatic stress disorder? You don't think Sara will be bothered by it, do you?"
"Yes," he stated firmly, watching Grissom raise a quizzical eyebrow at his lack of hesitation. "I'd say she went through it after the lab explosion. Her pulling her gun on a suspect? Inappropriate behavior fits in with PTSD. This could easily cause another occurrence. Again, this is Philip's bailiwick, Gil, but I am concerned."
"Damn." Al was right; Sara's behavior after the explosion could have been caused by PTSD. She had wandered around in a daze, took uncharacteristic actions. He was so wrapped up in his own troubles, he hadn't noticed.
"Gil, I really don't believe Sara would hurt herself deliberately. If I did, I'd contact Philip myself to have her relieved of duty immediately. But that doesn't mean she can't be hurt accidently. Stress can disrupt sleep severely. She could make a mistake or have an accident due to exhaustion. Stress can cause weight loss; Sara's thin enough that could cause health problems. It lowers the body's ability to fight infections. If nothing else, burnout is a very real possibility."
"Doc, I don't know what to do," Grissom said softly.
"Have you talked to Sara about the accident?"
"No," Grissom said softly. "Why?"
"Sara came to the morgue earlier. She wanted - no, she needed - to know that all the children had died before the bus caught fire. She's worried she left someone behind. Something happened on that bus, Gil. She needs to talk about it," Robbins said. "Did she refuse to talk or haven't you asked?"
"I didn't specifically ask about the accident, but she didn't want to talk earlier," he replied, trying not to sound defensive.
"Ask her, Gil. See if she'll talk to you."
"Why me? This is Philip's job," he spat out.
"Why? Because she needs to talk," the doctor said patiently. "Why you? Because your supposed to be her friend, Gil. Look, Sara's smart enough to know why she has to go talk to Philip. If she doesn't want to talk to him, she's also smart enough to give him the answers to make him think everything is okay."
"Al, I don't know what to say, what to do."
"Gil, all you have to do is make sure she talks to Philip. He'll handle the 'whats'. You don't have to say anything. Just be there. I know you aren't comfortable with ... personal ... situations, but make an exception for Sara's sake."
Grissom watched as the coroner left his office. He tried not to think how he would feel if he tried to help and failed.
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 9 - Apparently with no surprise
"No way!"
The team jumped as Nick's exclamation finally shattered the silence that had settled over Grissom's office. "No way, man. Not Sara! Not ever!"
"Look, Nick, all I'm saying...," Warrick stopped when Nick jumped in front of him angrily.
"What? That's Sara's gonna kill herself? Did she tell you this? Show you the pills? What? What are you saying?" he hissed.
"Nicky, calm down," Catherine said, laying a reassuring hand on his arm.
"Calm down? Don't tell me you think Sara would do that."
"No, Nick, I don't think Sara would ever kill herself," Catherine replied honestly. She regarded the Texan carefully. He seemed desperate to believe there wasn't any reason to be concerned. Still, he needed to be realistic. She pointed to the photos on Grissom's desk. "But how many of their friends would have told you the same thing?"
"Christ! I can't believe you people! Grissom, why aren't you saying anything?" Nick turned to his supervisor who was staring at the photos on his desk. Seeing Grissom wasn't going to answer, he turned away in disgust and looked back at the rest of the team. "Do you even know Sara? She wouldn't even kill someone else in self-defense! How could you think she'd ever hurt herself? You are so wrong, man," Nicked claimed, pushing a finger into Warrick's chest.
"Look, Nick, I really don't think Sara would ever ... do that," Warrick said hesitantly. After broaching the subject, he now found he couldn't actually vocalize his concerns. "But all this was enough to drive those people to ... that extreme. A bunch more had other problems. Drugs, alcohol. We don't know how Sara's going to react, 'cause none of us have any idea what this is doing to her. Nick, I just don't want to see Sara hurt. She's got enough trouble with this, without us adding more. I'm just saying we need to keep an eye on her."
"Fine," Nick said as he headed for the door. "Fine. Just don't let Sara know. Because that would hurt her. That you thought that little of her. 'Cause I'm telling you, Sara would never do that. She wouldn't," he added before leaving the room.
"I'll go talk to him," Brass offered. "Look, Warrick, really I was joking. I didn't think it would bother Sara."
"Yeah, sorry, too," Warrick said. "Grissom, I know I made things worse out there earlier. I'll apologize to Sara," he added before following Brass.
Catherine watched her friend as he sat at his desk. From the way he rubbed his temples and the tightness around his eyes, she guessed a migraine was forming. "Gil? You okay? Want a ride home?" She began to worry when he didn't answer. "Gil?"
"Sara wouldn't ... God, Catherine, Sara would never," he tried again. "I can't believe she'd ever to that," he finally managed.
"I don't either, Gil, but let's not take any chances, okay? Warrick's right: this was enough to mess up a lot of other people." When he didn't respond again, she walked around to sit on his desk and place a hand on his shoulder. "Sara's strong, Gil. I think she'll be all right. I'll try to talk to her, but we're not exactly best friends. If you feel better, why don't you come over later. What hospital did she go to?"
"Desert Palms. She's visiting Teresa Hernandez."
"Okay, I'll see if she'll come over and stay at my place. Give me a call later, okay?"
"Thanks, Catherine."
~~~~~~~~~~
Slamming the door to the SUV, Sara quickly started the engine and pulled out of the garage. The sheriff had kept the press away from the back exit so they wouldn't interfere with the lab's work. With luck, she'd be able to get to the hospital without an escort.
Seeing she wasn't being followed, Sara pulled into a donut shop's drive-thru for coffee and breakfast. Going to a run-down motel, she pulled into an isolated corner of the parking lot to eat her meal in silence. She kept the radio off; she was tired of hearing about what a hero she was; how brave she was; how unselfish she was.
If people only knew the truth.
What was that scene in the lab? Brass was joking. Sure, she didn't feel like listening to it, but what was Warrick's problem? From the looks coming from the lab staff, she knew that she'd be the topic of conversation for yet another night. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?
The coffee and sugar didn't settle well. Her stomach was already upset, her head hurt, she was short-tempered and more than anything she wanted a cigarette. That made her angry: she had finally broke the damn habit and wasn't sure she'd be able to resist starting again.
Sighing, she pulled back onto the road and headed to the hospital. She entered the parking garage from the rear entrance. There were a number of camera crews set up in front of the hospital. They weren't allowed inside and were trying to catch interviews as people entered the building. Sara went to the top level of the parking garage, knowing it would have the fewest cars this time of day. Grabbing the box of toys, she made her way to the elevator and the children's ward. Sara kept her head down as she made her trek. She had borrowed one of Greg's hats, pulled her hair up and was wearing a pair of sunglasses.
Walking to the nurse's station, she handed the box of toys to the duty nurse, asking that they be distributed around the ward. The woman gave her a friendly smile and told her Teresa's room number. So much for her disguise.
She walked slowly to the room, dreading the encounter.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Stokes! Let's get some coffee," Brass called to the man when he caught up to him in the parking lot.
"Look, Brass, don't you start.."
"Shut up," the police captain said softly. "Let's not make another scene. Luckily the press didn't see our earlier show, but this is a more public stage."
"Fine. Meet you at the diner," he said. Brass gave a friendly wave to the reporters who had turned to watch the exchange. Making his way to the diner, he found Nick already in a rear booth, well away from the other customers. Brass ordered coffee before joining the younger man.
"Nick, we're just concerned. We're not going to have her committed," Brass said. "Why is this bothering you so much?"
"I can't believe Sara would ever do that," he said softly, "I don't want to believe she would ever do that."
"None of us do, pal. Let's just do what we can to make sure it doesn't happen."
"Any idea how we do that?" Nick asked. Brass just shook his head.
"'Cause one of my frat brothers killed himself in college. A week before graduation. None of us had a clue anything was wrong. He never showed any of those signs suicidal people are supposed to have. I couldn't bear to lose Sara like that," Nick finally admitted.
"I know, Nick, I know," Brass said. Over his long career, he had attended too many funerals for friends who hadn't been able to handle the stress.
~~~~~~~~~~
Grissom fought a losing battle with his body. His head continued to pound. His stomach was churning. He refused to take his pulse, since knowing exactly how high it was would just make him more upset.
He stared at the photos before him in silence. He had been shocked when Warrick had said all the others had committed suicide. He was relieved when Nick finally broke the silence. At least he knew Sara would never be that selfish. He was going to agree with him when Catherine dropped her bombshell: how many people suspected the others had been suicidal?
Sara would never kill herself. She couldn't. Warrick had to be wrong. He had to be.
Sara was strong. She got overly involved in cases sometimes, but that didn't mean anything. Except she was already getting nightmares. She cried, at least twice, in public. In all the years he had know her, Grissom had only seen her cry once before and that was in the privacy of his office. He tried to forget the number of times he caught her shaking.
Sara was just stressed. She said so herself. She wasn't psychotic. She said so herself. Sara wouldn't kill herself.
She couldn't.
"Gil? Do you have a minute?"
Grissom looked up to see the coroner standing in his doorway. Motioning the doctor in, Grissom sighed when he closed the office door. Today had not been a good day for conversations. "What can I do for you, Doc?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Sara," Robbins began. He noticed Grissom paled. "Has something happened?"
He pointed to the stacks of photos which had been left on his desk. "Warrick's project. These are all people who went through similar incidents like Sara has. They all killed themselves," Grissom said, his tone indicating his disbelief. He felt another knot form in his stomach when the doctor nodded his head in understanding.
"Doc? Don't tell me you think Warrick's right," Grissom growled. Sara would never do that.
"I don't know, Gil. This is a very stressful situation. The psychological impact of stress is Philip's area of expertise, but you know as well as I do the physical damage stress can cause."
"Doc, come on! This press attention will die down in a few days. It bothers her, but it's nothing Sara can't handle!"
The coroner regarded his friend in surprise. "Gil, this has nothing to do with the press. They aren't helping the situation, but they aren't the root problem," he said.
"What are you talking about, Al?"
"Gil, look at this!" Robbins exclaimed shoving Sara's photo into his hands. "That wasn't a scene she processed. She was involved in it. That's not grime on her, Gil, that's blood. From a busload of injured, crying children. That would give the strongest person nightmares."
Grissom blinked as he began to understand the doctor's concern. "Post-traumatic stress disorder? You don't think Sara will be bothered by it, do you?"
"Yes," he stated firmly, watching Grissom raise a quizzical eyebrow at his lack of hesitation. "I'd say she went through it after the lab explosion. Her pulling her gun on a suspect? Inappropriate behavior fits in with PTSD. This could easily cause another occurrence. Again, this is Philip's bailiwick, Gil, but I am concerned."
"Damn." Al was right; Sara's behavior after the explosion could have been caused by PTSD. She had wandered around in a daze, took uncharacteristic actions. He was so wrapped up in his own troubles, he hadn't noticed.
"Gil, I really don't believe Sara would hurt herself deliberately. If I did, I'd contact Philip myself to have her relieved of duty immediately. But that doesn't mean she can't be hurt accidently. Stress can disrupt sleep severely. She could make a mistake or have an accident due to exhaustion. Stress can cause weight loss; Sara's thin enough that could cause health problems. It lowers the body's ability to fight infections. If nothing else, burnout is a very real possibility."
"Doc, I don't know what to do," Grissom said softly.
"Have you talked to Sara about the accident?"
"No," Grissom said softly. "Why?"
"Sara came to the morgue earlier. She wanted - no, she needed - to know that all the children had died before the bus caught fire. She's worried she left someone behind. Something happened on that bus, Gil. She needs to talk about it," Robbins said. "Did she refuse to talk or haven't you asked?"
"I didn't specifically ask about the accident, but she didn't want to talk earlier," he replied, trying not to sound defensive.
"Ask her, Gil. See if she'll talk to you."
"Why me? This is Philip's job," he spat out.
"Why? Because she needs to talk," the doctor said patiently. "Why you? Because your supposed to be her friend, Gil. Look, Sara's smart enough to know why she has to go talk to Philip. If she doesn't want to talk to him, she's also smart enough to give him the answers to make him think everything is okay."
"Al, I don't know what to say, what to do."
"Gil, all you have to do is make sure she talks to Philip. He'll handle the 'whats'. You don't have to say anything. Just be there. I know you aren't comfortable with ... personal ... situations, but make an exception for Sara's sake."
Grissom watched as the coroner left his office. He tried not to think how he would feel if he tried to help and failed.
TBC