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. 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 14 - If I can stop one heart from breaking
Nature won the eventual battle of the wills. Sara slipped silently into the bathroom, angrily recalling each cup of coffee she had drank that day. Catherine was still awake and Lindsay would be home shortly. She doubted the older woman would go to sleep once her daughter was there; they didn't have enough hours together.
Washing her face, Sara looked up and shuddered when the brown eyes in the mirror weren't her own. "Dammit," she muttered. She hadn't left him behind. He died. She knew it. She had ... Oh, god. Oh, god. She hadn't. Sara reached the toilet in time as her stomach emptied itself. She rested her head against the cool porcelain. How could she have forgotten?
Seeing no point in continuing her pretense of sleeping, Sara wandered into the living room in time to see Catherine shutting down the computer. A quick scan of the room didn't show what she wanted.
"Can I have my clothes, Cath?" Sara asked impatiently. She had to get out.
"Did you sleep?" Catherine asked in a concerned voice. Sara was pale, even by her normal standards. The older woman had heard her in the bathroom.
"I'm not your kid," the brunette informed her bluntly.
"Thank God for that," Catherine said, smiling at the shocked look that crossed the younger woman's face. "Then I'd be as old as I feel right now."
"Did you sleep?" Sara asked with fake sincerity. Play along. Get out.
"Like a baby," the blonde answered. "Last night, anyway. Your clothes are in the laundry basket beside my bed."
Giving her a knowing look and muttering about illegal detention, Sara headed down the hall to find her clothes. She settled on the jeans she wore earlier that morning and the shirt from the day before. It took several minutes to bring her hair under control; she had let it dry in a jumble. A quick look in the mirror convinced her of the folly of makeup. Nothing short of using a spatula to apply it would cover her obvious exhaustion.
When she finally wandered back into the kitchen she was shocked to find Grissom sitting at the kitchen table nursing a glass of ice water. Catherine leaned against the wall, her eyes flashing between her two companions.
"Hi, Sara," he said shyly. Or warily.
"Grissom," she said in surprise. "I, uhm, I wasn't expecting you back."
He shrugged, sipping his water slowly. Sara doubted he came to see her. "Do you two need to talk? I can leave," she asked hopefully, pointing to Catherine.
"No," Grissom said. Sara watched him. He seemed uncomfortable, but with Grissom it was often hard to tell. Catching her examination, he quickly finished off his water. "Want to take a drive?" he asked, getting up to move towards her.
"What?" Why would he want to go for a drive? With her?
"A drive? Get out, get some fresh air?" Grissom leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Get us out of Cath's hair, let her have some time with Lindsay without babysitting us."
Sara stared at him in confusion before finally agreeing. She needed to apologize for her earlier outburst and it'd be easier without an audience. It would be good to get away from Vegas, the memories. The guilt. Once in the SUV, Grissom handed her a cold bottle of ginger ale and opened another for himself. "Stomach's upset," was the only explanation he offered. She took it gratefully.
Within minutes they were on their way to the Toiyabe National Forest to the west of the city. The gentle breeze coming through the open windows was the only noise.
"I'm so sorry, Grissom," Sara said once they were in the open desert. She couldn't bring herself to watch his reaction.
"For what?" he asked, taking a long sip from his drink. Sara sounded so desolate.
Sara turned to look at him in confusion. He didn't know. She couldn't tell him. "I don't know. Maybe for being a bitch? I shouldn't have said those things to you earlier," she settled on.
"Is that how you really feel? What you really believe?" Grissom asked hesitantly. When she didn't answer, he took a longer sip from his drink and nodded his head gently.
"I guess I don't blame you. From your perspective, I wasn't being very nice to you," he said slowly, as if trying out each word mentally before actually voicing it.
"Sara, I was having some ... issues. It had nothing to do with you, or with work. I didn't mean for you to bear the brunt of it, but I guess you did. I'm sorry," he continued in the same cautious tone. "I don't blame you for not trusting me. I don't know how to regain your trust. I just want you to know if you need someone to talk to, well, I'm willing. Don't expect any brilliant insights or great advise, but I'll listen."
He took occasional glances, trying to judge her reaction. She stared straight ahead for the next several miles. "Have your ... issues ... been resolved?" Sara eventually asked, mimicking his own cautious tone.
"Pretty much," he said, turning slightly to give her a wry smile. "I just need to repair the collateral damage."
Sara gave him a brief smile before turning her attention back to the road. Grissom finished the remainder of his ginger ale in one swig. After several minutes, she turned her eyes toward him. "Thanks, Grissom. I'll, I'll remember that," Sara said. She couldn't hold his eye, and turned away quickly. "It's, uhm, I'm not ready. To talk."
"Okay. But when you are, I'm here, if you need me," he said softly.
"Thanks," she yawned.
"Sure," he said. "You know, the vacation offer still stands. If you want it."
"I can't go, Grissom," she said softly.
"Why not, Sara?" he asked gently. When she didn't answer immediately, he glanced her way and saw her wiping away tears. He wondered if this was a safe topic to cover.
"I'm afraid," she finally said in a voice so quiet he barely heard her. "I'm afraid I won't come back. If I leave now, if they chase me away, I won't come back. Not to the lab, not to Vegas, probably not even back to forensics. I, I don't want that." She turned to stare out the window. "Can we drop this?" Her tone clearly carried her embarrassment.
"No problem," he said just as softly, glad she wanted to drop the subject. He had no idea how to reply. Grissom never expected that answer. Noticing an approaching sign, he reached over to nudge her arm and pointed to it. "Want to pull over and hit a walking trail?"
"Do you mind if we just drive for awhile?" Sara asked between yawns.
"As long as you want. Just let me know when you want to go back," he said.
She nodded her thanks, yawning again. Within minutes, she was asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
Catherine watched as the SUV pulled away. A reporter's questions had initiated a series of phone calls which had ended with Grissom tracking down Philip Kane who was visiting his wife at the hospital.
Now, the usually remote man was taking Sara for a drive after she had brusquely turned down his earlier attempt at help. Grissom continued to surprise Catherine; she would have thought he would have avoided Sara after their earlier confrontation. She was glad to be wrong.
Grissom hadn't had time to go into details, but he said that Kane didn't seem overly concerned about Sara's behavior. He did agree that it sounded like Sara hadn't told them everything about the accident, but insisted that was normal.
But the psychologist didn't know about the incident in Catherine's living room that morning. She didn't want to aggravate the already nervous Grissom, so she hadn't told him the entire story. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Sara had been worried in the morgue that she had left a child behind. She kept apologizing to thin air. A reporter was seeking specific information on just one of the children's deaths. Catherine didn't like where the evidence was pointing. Except it didn't make sense. Sara would never have left a child behind. At the very least, she would have told the rescue crews.
But if something had happened, how could the reporter have found out? That didn't make any sense. Sara obviously hadn't talked. Could some of the parents be behind the story? It'd be natural for grief-striken parents to wonder why their child hadn't survived.
Natural, but it would still be hell on Sara.
She didn't want to think what she would be like if she ever lost Lindsay. She had been rattled enough by last year's accident. Catherine's dark mood was broken by the sound of her daughter's laughter as she ran into the house. Sweeping the young girl into a big hug, she kissed her cheek.
"Hey, sweetheart," she whispered.
"What happened, Mommy?" Lindsay asked when she saw her mother's face.
"Nothing to worry about," Catherine said, not believing a word of it.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was well after sunset before the Tahoe pulled into a gas station. Sara was still asleep. Grissom had briefly considered taking her back to Catherine's house. He rejected that idea when he realized that even if he could manage to carry Sara inside without hurting one or both of them, he couldn't do it without waking her.
Instead, he spent the last several hours meandering around the desert, considering his next move. Al's phone call had been the trigger which sent him searching out the staff psychologist for advice. The specific nature of the reporter's questions and Sara's earlier reaction had concerned the coroner enough to contact Grissom.
He had tracked down Kane looking for reassurance. The friendly psychologist explained that Sara's behaviors, while startling, weren't uncommon and by themselves nothing to be overly alarmed about. If they persisted or worsened, then it could be the sign of a serious condition. Kane assured him that he would contact Sara in the morning. Ironically, Grissom found the doctor's lack of concern to be frustrating rather than comforting.
Seeing his reaction, Kane tried to reassure him. He explained that it had been his idea to keep Sara's exposure to the media minimal once he realized the story was going to explode. Also, he told Mobley to keep Sara away from any crime scenes until further notice. This would give Sara time to decompress and keep her from seeing something which could trigger a flashback.
Kane added it would be normal for Sara to not talk about everything, especially the most traumatic experiences, right away. He told Grissom not to push Sara, but to be available if she wanted to talk. He also told him to be patient and not to take any anger personally. It was a mechanism the mind used as it tried to come to grips with what had happened.
Grissom had trouble with that last bit of advice. It might be a normal reaction, but he realized that in his case it was also justified. He had hoped to bridge Sara's mistrust by explaining his past behavior. Even he found his attempt lacking. Still, she seemed to take him at his word.
While filling the gas tank, he quickly called Catherine to tell her Sara was asleep and he would bring her to work later. Grissom stifled a groan when his stomach began complaining again. The mixture of hunger and nausea was an uncomfortable mix. Paying for the gas, he picked up another bottle of ginger ale. Pepto-Bismol would probably be more effective, but he didn't want Sara to know how upset she was making him.
Their trek across the desert had eventually swung north, where he skirted the Air Force ranges and headed east. That had taken them in the direction of Lake Mead. They would both need to eat before returning to the lab. Checking the time, Grissom headed towards a water-side restaurant. It was off-season and there wouldn't be a crowd. He thought it was a shame he hadn't taken Sara here before she became a vegetarian. She would have liked the calamari.
~~~~~~~~~~
David Philips yawned deeply as he changed into his scrubs. Robbins had called him in early, but hadn't said why. Entering the morgue, he was surprised to find both his supervisor and the day shift coroner examining the charred remains of one of the bus accident victims.
"David, good. We have a lot of work to do," Robbins said urgently. He seemed unusually tense. "We need to find out everything, and I mean everything, we can about how this boy died."
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. 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 14 - If I can stop one heart from breaking
Nature won the eventual battle of the wills. Sara slipped silently into the bathroom, angrily recalling each cup of coffee she had drank that day. Catherine was still awake and Lindsay would be home shortly. She doubted the older woman would go to sleep once her daughter was there; they didn't have enough hours together.
Washing her face, Sara looked up and shuddered when the brown eyes in the mirror weren't her own. "Dammit," she muttered. She hadn't left him behind. He died. She knew it. She had ... Oh, god. Oh, god. She hadn't. Sara reached the toilet in time as her stomach emptied itself. She rested her head against the cool porcelain. How could she have forgotten?
Seeing no point in continuing her pretense of sleeping, Sara wandered into the living room in time to see Catherine shutting down the computer. A quick scan of the room didn't show what she wanted.
"Can I have my clothes, Cath?" Sara asked impatiently. She had to get out.
"Did you sleep?" Catherine asked in a concerned voice. Sara was pale, even by her normal standards. The older woman had heard her in the bathroom.
"I'm not your kid," the brunette informed her bluntly.
"Thank God for that," Catherine said, smiling at the shocked look that crossed the younger woman's face. "Then I'd be as old as I feel right now."
"Did you sleep?" Sara asked with fake sincerity. Play along. Get out.
"Like a baby," the blonde answered. "Last night, anyway. Your clothes are in the laundry basket beside my bed."
Giving her a knowing look and muttering about illegal detention, Sara headed down the hall to find her clothes. She settled on the jeans she wore earlier that morning and the shirt from the day before. It took several minutes to bring her hair under control; she had let it dry in a jumble. A quick look in the mirror convinced her of the folly of makeup. Nothing short of using a spatula to apply it would cover her obvious exhaustion.
When she finally wandered back into the kitchen she was shocked to find Grissom sitting at the kitchen table nursing a glass of ice water. Catherine leaned against the wall, her eyes flashing between her two companions.
"Hi, Sara," he said shyly. Or warily.
"Grissom," she said in surprise. "I, uhm, I wasn't expecting you back."
He shrugged, sipping his water slowly. Sara doubted he came to see her. "Do you two need to talk? I can leave," she asked hopefully, pointing to Catherine.
"No," Grissom said. Sara watched him. He seemed uncomfortable, but with Grissom it was often hard to tell. Catching her examination, he quickly finished off his water. "Want to take a drive?" he asked, getting up to move towards her.
"What?" Why would he want to go for a drive? With her?
"A drive? Get out, get some fresh air?" Grissom leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Get us out of Cath's hair, let her have some time with Lindsay without babysitting us."
Sara stared at him in confusion before finally agreeing. She needed to apologize for her earlier outburst and it'd be easier without an audience. It would be good to get away from Vegas, the memories. The guilt. Once in the SUV, Grissom handed her a cold bottle of ginger ale and opened another for himself. "Stomach's upset," was the only explanation he offered. She took it gratefully.
Within minutes they were on their way to the Toiyabe National Forest to the west of the city. The gentle breeze coming through the open windows was the only noise.
"I'm so sorry, Grissom," Sara said once they were in the open desert. She couldn't bring herself to watch his reaction.
"For what?" he asked, taking a long sip from his drink. Sara sounded so desolate.
Sara turned to look at him in confusion. He didn't know. She couldn't tell him. "I don't know. Maybe for being a bitch? I shouldn't have said those things to you earlier," she settled on.
"Is that how you really feel? What you really believe?" Grissom asked hesitantly. When she didn't answer, he took a longer sip from his drink and nodded his head gently.
"I guess I don't blame you. From your perspective, I wasn't being very nice to you," he said slowly, as if trying out each word mentally before actually voicing it.
"Sara, I was having some ... issues. It had nothing to do with you, or with work. I didn't mean for you to bear the brunt of it, but I guess you did. I'm sorry," he continued in the same cautious tone. "I don't blame you for not trusting me. I don't know how to regain your trust. I just want you to know if you need someone to talk to, well, I'm willing. Don't expect any brilliant insights or great advise, but I'll listen."
He took occasional glances, trying to judge her reaction. She stared straight ahead for the next several miles. "Have your ... issues ... been resolved?" Sara eventually asked, mimicking his own cautious tone.
"Pretty much," he said, turning slightly to give her a wry smile. "I just need to repair the collateral damage."
Sara gave him a brief smile before turning her attention back to the road. Grissom finished the remainder of his ginger ale in one swig. After several minutes, she turned her eyes toward him. "Thanks, Grissom. I'll, I'll remember that," Sara said. She couldn't hold his eye, and turned away quickly. "It's, uhm, I'm not ready. To talk."
"Okay. But when you are, I'm here, if you need me," he said softly.
"Thanks," she yawned.
"Sure," he said. "You know, the vacation offer still stands. If you want it."
"I can't go, Grissom," she said softly.
"Why not, Sara?" he asked gently. When she didn't answer immediately, he glanced her way and saw her wiping away tears. He wondered if this was a safe topic to cover.
"I'm afraid," she finally said in a voice so quiet he barely heard her. "I'm afraid I won't come back. If I leave now, if they chase me away, I won't come back. Not to the lab, not to Vegas, probably not even back to forensics. I, I don't want that." She turned to stare out the window. "Can we drop this?" Her tone clearly carried her embarrassment.
"No problem," he said just as softly, glad she wanted to drop the subject. He had no idea how to reply. Grissom never expected that answer. Noticing an approaching sign, he reached over to nudge her arm and pointed to it. "Want to pull over and hit a walking trail?"
"Do you mind if we just drive for awhile?" Sara asked between yawns.
"As long as you want. Just let me know when you want to go back," he said.
She nodded her thanks, yawning again. Within minutes, she was asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
Catherine watched as the SUV pulled away. A reporter's questions had initiated a series of phone calls which had ended with Grissom tracking down Philip Kane who was visiting his wife at the hospital.
Now, the usually remote man was taking Sara for a drive after she had brusquely turned down his earlier attempt at help. Grissom continued to surprise Catherine; she would have thought he would have avoided Sara after their earlier confrontation. She was glad to be wrong.
Grissom hadn't had time to go into details, but he said that Kane didn't seem overly concerned about Sara's behavior. He did agree that it sounded like Sara hadn't told them everything about the accident, but insisted that was normal.
But the psychologist didn't know about the incident in Catherine's living room that morning. She didn't want to aggravate the already nervous Grissom, so she hadn't told him the entire story. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Sara had been worried in the morgue that she had left a child behind. She kept apologizing to thin air. A reporter was seeking specific information on just one of the children's deaths. Catherine didn't like where the evidence was pointing. Except it didn't make sense. Sara would never have left a child behind. At the very least, she would have told the rescue crews.
But if something had happened, how could the reporter have found out? That didn't make any sense. Sara obviously hadn't talked. Could some of the parents be behind the story? It'd be natural for grief-striken parents to wonder why their child hadn't survived.
Natural, but it would still be hell on Sara.
She didn't want to think what she would be like if she ever lost Lindsay. She had been rattled enough by last year's accident. Catherine's dark mood was broken by the sound of her daughter's laughter as she ran into the house. Sweeping the young girl into a big hug, she kissed her cheek.
"Hey, sweetheart," she whispered.
"What happened, Mommy?" Lindsay asked when she saw her mother's face.
"Nothing to worry about," Catherine said, not believing a word of it.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was well after sunset before the Tahoe pulled into a gas station. Sara was still asleep. Grissom had briefly considered taking her back to Catherine's house. He rejected that idea when he realized that even if he could manage to carry Sara inside without hurting one or both of them, he couldn't do it without waking her.
Instead, he spent the last several hours meandering around the desert, considering his next move. Al's phone call had been the trigger which sent him searching out the staff psychologist for advice. The specific nature of the reporter's questions and Sara's earlier reaction had concerned the coroner enough to contact Grissom.
He had tracked down Kane looking for reassurance. The friendly psychologist explained that Sara's behaviors, while startling, weren't uncommon and by themselves nothing to be overly alarmed about. If they persisted or worsened, then it could be the sign of a serious condition. Kane assured him that he would contact Sara in the morning. Ironically, Grissom found the doctor's lack of concern to be frustrating rather than comforting.
Seeing his reaction, Kane tried to reassure him. He explained that it had been his idea to keep Sara's exposure to the media minimal once he realized the story was going to explode. Also, he told Mobley to keep Sara away from any crime scenes until further notice. This would give Sara time to decompress and keep her from seeing something which could trigger a flashback.
Kane added it would be normal for Sara to not talk about everything, especially the most traumatic experiences, right away. He told Grissom not to push Sara, but to be available if she wanted to talk. He also told him to be patient and not to take any anger personally. It was a mechanism the mind used as it tried to come to grips with what had happened.
Grissom had trouble with that last bit of advice. It might be a normal reaction, but he realized that in his case it was also justified. He had hoped to bridge Sara's mistrust by explaining his past behavior. Even he found his attempt lacking. Still, she seemed to take him at his word.
While filling the gas tank, he quickly called Catherine to tell her Sara was asleep and he would bring her to work later. Grissom stifled a groan when his stomach began complaining again. The mixture of hunger and nausea was an uncomfortable mix. Paying for the gas, he picked up another bottle of ginger ale. Pepto-Bismol would probably be more effective, but he didn't want Sara to know how upset she was making him.
Their trek across the desert had eventually swung north, where he skirted the Air Force ranges and headed east. That had taken them in the direction of Lake Mead. They would both need to eat before returning to the lab. Checking the time, Grissom headed towards a water-side restaurant. It was off-season and there wouldn't be a crowd. He thought it was a shame he hadn't taken Sara here before she became a vegetarian. She would have liked the calamari.
~~~~~~~~~~
David Philips yawned deeply as he changed into his scrubs. Robbins had called him in early, but hadn't said why. Entering the morgue, he was surprised to find both his supervisor and the day shift coroner examining the charred remains of one of the bus accident victims.
"David, good. We have a lot of work to do," Robbins said urgently. He seemed unusually tense. "We need to find out everything, and I mean everything, we can about how this boy died."