Grissom pulled into a parking space in front of Sara's apartment.
After about 2 minutes, Sara was still sitting in the passenger seat of his
SUV, every so often a lone tear falling from her eyes. Finally, he turned
to her and asked in the gentlest voice he had, "Sara?"
The soft sound started her out of her thoughts, and she realized that she was at her apartment. The past twenty minutes she had spent trying to calm her anger, and also decipher Grissom's attitude towards her. Even though their relationship had progressed well in the past two weeks, she still couldn't figure out why he was being so nice to her, especially since she was being emotional over a case. She self-consciously rubbed her eyes and turned to look into his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry Grissom. I just kind of got lost in my thoughts for few seconds."
"A few seconds, Sara? You've been lost in thought since we left the lab." He reached over and touched her arm.
"Yeah, I guess I have." Sara looked up at her apartment building, instantly realizing she didn't want to go up there alone. "Griss?" She hesitated.
"Yes, Sara?"
"Um, would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?" She looked over towards him, and at his confused look, answered his unasked question. "I just don't think that I want to be alone right away. Just a cup of coffee, between friends?"
Knowing that confessing that she needed someone was something Sara Sidle didn't normally do, Grissom could not refuse. "Coffee between friends would be nice."
They climbed out of the SUV and walked side by side into the apartment building, Grissom guiding Sara with his hand on the small of her back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After fixing two cups of coffee, Sara brought them into her living room where Grissom was seated on her couch. After taking a small sip from his, Grissom started their conversation, "Sara, are you really okay?"
Sara sighed. "I think so. I just needed to get it all out. It was a really rough case."
"I know Sara, but you've really got to let these cases go. They shouldn't bother you this much."
Sara jumped up off the couch. "Grissom, do not give me this right now! I don't need to hear it. I've heard it enough times already."
"Sara." He tried to clam her down, and got up to get her to stop pacing the room.
"No!" She jerked her arm away from him when he went to touch her. "I can't listen to you! You tell me this every single time I get emotional about a case. And yet I know for a fact that there are cases that make you emotional Grissom, and don't you dare try to deny it!"
"I'm not going to deny it. I just want to know why you act like this. Why you let it get so bad that you have to cry or get so angry you hurt yourself."
"I'm not like you Grissom. I realize you do have feelings, but I can't keep mine all bottled up like you do. I need to let it all out, or I'll go crazy."
"I realize this. But I have never seen you get this bad. I've seen you cry, but sobbing and getting angry is something I've never seen, Sara, and I'm.I'm worried about you."
Sara stopped pacing, and looked to Grissom, who was now standing back over near the couch. When she finally looked up into his eyes, she could see the emotions running through their blue depths. She had seen his eyes like that twice before, first when she was decoy for the Feds during the "Strip Strangler" case. And second after the lab blew up and he had found her on the curb.
When he noticed that she had calmed down to an extent, he pleaded with her, "Sara, will you please come over here and sit down." He motioned to her couch and sat down, indicating for her to sit next to him.
She walked over and sat down. Grissom reached over and rubbed her shoulder, letting her know that he was just trying to help. After a few silent, comfortable minutes, Sara quietly spoke.
"She was only nineteen years old."
A lone tear made its way down her cheek. Grissom reached over and wiped it away. She looked up from the coffee table she had been staring at, and questioned him silently. He just shrugged.
She spoke again once she looked away, back to the tabletop. "Did you know that she was a physics major?"
"Yes, I did."
"I guess the case hit a little too close to home for me, Griss." Anticipating his next question and looking up to see his questioning glance, she continued. "Why? Why do cases make you emotional, Grissom? You've said it yourself. Men that hit their wives and people that hurt kids. Those are the cases that bother you. You don't have people asking why those cases bother you, even when you do show the little emotion you do. Why do they ask me? Why does everyone have to know why a case bothers me, but not you?"
"I don't know. Maybe you make it a little more obvious that there is a reason for you being determined to solve the case." His hand had moved down her arm to her hand, where she turned her hand over and allowed their fingers to intertwine.
"Maybe, but these cases are the ones that shape us. They make us the investigators that we are. We try the hardest to solve these cases because they are the ones that we don't want to let the bad guys get away with. We hate to see someone go through what we find to be repulsive, or what we've personally experienced. We all have our cases, Catherine works hardest on cases involving little children. Warrick gets emotional when the case involves a decent person that has come from an underprivileged childhood. Nick, he hates sexual abuse on children. You don't like abusive husbands. I don't deal well with rape and sexual assault. Some are obvious; some are not so obvious because these are our secrets." She sighed and the two sat in silence for a few minutes
She started again, regret evident in her voice. "This Shannon case, it's going to be the case that will bug me for the rest of my career, or my life. I'm connected to this case whether I like it or not. My past makes me relate to this college sophomore that was majoring in physics. Our personalities were very similar. I couldn't solve it, and now its up on the board. When it's slow, I'll pull it down to go over it, then it'll go right back up. Subconsciously, I know that it probably won't ever get solved, but I want to know that I've looked over everything and made sure I didn't miss anything. You have one case that's up on that board that you can't stand it being up there. The Mitchell case, woman found dead in her house, signs of long term abuse, son found locked in his bedroom. Prime suspect: the husband, but there is absolutely no evidence of him being the killer."
"How do you figure that is "my" case?" Grissom was intrigued to hear her answer.
"The file folder it's in is pretty beat up, like it's been handled too many times. The papers are almost yellowed and the edges are soft. It's a ten year old case, but I've seen files from ten year old cases that were in better condition. If I were a gambler, I'd bet good money that that isn't even the original file folder. The original probably split right up the middle from being opened and closed so many times."
"And you would win that bet, Sara." He was impressed at her deduction.
Sara turned to face Grissom, tucking one of her legs under her on the couch. She continued, a little less animated then before. "But it doesn't matter to me why the case affects you, just that it does. I don't think you can be a good investigator if you look at every case without emotion. You have to put emotion into your work, into solving the crimes. That's why we joined this field, to make a difference. You can't make a difference if you show no emotion. Right?"
Grissom was silent for a moment, but soon answered her question. "You are absolutely right, Sara. But don't you ever wonder why? Why certain cases get to someone else? Or is it just me because I'm in a supervisor position and feel that I should know everyone's strengths, or weaknesses?"
"Of course I wonder. I wonder what is in that folder that makes Grissom go back to it every month or so? Why a case involving an abusive husband and father? It makes me wonder what kind of childhood you had if the one case that defines you, the one case you have to solve if it's the last thing you do, includes all of that stuff. It's human nature to wonder why your friends are sensitive to certain things in life. But I'm not about to ask them, because I hate being asked. If they want me to know, they will let me know. And if I'm comfortable with someone knowing why my weaknesses are my own, I will tell them when I'm ready to."
The two of them sat for awhile, holding hands, listening to the soft jazz music Sara had put in the CD player before the emotionally draining conversation had begun. Sara leaned sideways into the back of the couch and shut her eyes. But they soon snapped open when she heard Grissom speak softly.
"I was four years old."
The soft sound started her out of her thoughts, and she realized that she was at her apartment. The past twenty minutes she had spent trying to calm her anger, and also decipher Grissom's attitude towards her. Even though their relationship had progressed well in the past two weeks, she still couldn't figure out why he was being so nice to her, especially since she was being emotional over a case. She self-consciously rubbed her eyes and turned to look into his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry Grissom. I just kind of got lost in my thoughts for few seconds."
"A few seconds, Sara? You've been lost in thought since we left the lab." He reached over and touched her arm.
"Yeah, I guess I have." Sara looked up at her apartment building, instantly realizing she didn't want to go up there alone. "Griss?" She hesitated.
"Yes, Sara?"
"Um, would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?" She looked over towards him, and at his confused look, answered his unasked question. "I just don't think that I want to be alone right away. Just a cup of coffee, between friends?"
Knowing that confessing that she needed someone was something Sara Sidle didn't normally do, Grissom could not refuse. "Coffee between friends would be nice."
They climbed out of the SUV and walked side by side into the apartment building, Grissom guiding Sara with his hand on the small of her back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After fixing two cups of coffee, Sara brought them into her living room where Grissom was seated on her couch. After taking a small sip from his, Grissom started their conversation, "Sara, are you really okay?"
Sara sighed. "I think so. I just needed to get it all out. It was a really rough case."
"I know Sara, but you've really got to let these cases go. They shouldn't bother you this much."
Sara jumped up off the couch. "Grissom, do not give me this right now! I don't need to hear it. I've heard it enough times already."
"Sara." He tried to clam her down, and got up to get her to stop pacing the room.
"No!" She jerked her arm away from him when he went to touch her. "I can't listen to you! You tell me this every single time I get emotional about a case. And yet I know for a fact that there are cases that make you emotional Grissom, and don't you dare try to deny it!"
"I'm not going to deny it. I just want to know why you act like this. Why you let it get so bad that you have to cry or get so angry you hurt yourself."
"I'm not like you Grissom. I realize you do have feelings, but I can't keep mine all bottled up like you do. I need to let it all out, or I'll go crazy."
"I realize this. But I have never seen you get this bad. I've seen you cry, but sobbing and getting angry is something I've never seen, Sara, and I'm.I'm worried about you."
Sara stopped pacing, and looked to Grissom, who was now standing back over near the couch. When she finally looked up into his eyes, she could see the emotions running through their blue depths. She had seen his eyes like that twice before, first when she was decoy for the Feds during the "Strip Strangler" case. And second after the lab blew up and he had found her on the curb.
When he noticed that she had calmed down to an extent, he pleaded with her, "Sara, will you please come over here and sit down." He motioned to her couch and sat down, indicating for her to sit next to him.
She walked over and sat down. Grissom reached over and rubbed her shoulder, letting her know that he was just trying to help. After a few silent, comfortable minutes, Sara quietly spoke.
"She was only nineteen years old."
A lone tear made its way down her cheek. Grissom reached over and wiped it away. She looked up from the coffee table she had been staring at, and questioned him silently. He just shrugged.
She spoke again once she looked away, back to the tabletop. "Did you know that she was a physics major?"
"Yes, I did."
"I guess the case hit a little too close to home for me, Griss." Anticipating his next question and looking up to see his questioning glance, she continued. "Why? Why do cases make you emotional, Grissom? You've said it yourself. Men that hit their wives and people that hurt kids. Those are the cases that bother you. You don't have people asking why those cases bother you, even when you do show the little emotion you do. Why do they ask me? Why does everyone have to know why a case bothers me, but not you?"
"I don't know. Maybe you make it a little more obvious that there is a reason for you being determined to solve the case." His hand had moved down her arm to her hand, where she turned her hand over and allowed their fingers to intertwine.
"Maybe, but these cases are the ones that shape us. They make us the investigators that we are. We try the hardest to solve these cases because they are the ones that we don't want to let the bad guys get away with. We hate to see someone go through what we find to be repulsive, or what we've personally experienced. We all have our cases, Catherine works hardest on cases involving little children. Warrick gets emotional when the case involves a decent person that has come from an underprivileged childhood. Nick, he hates sexual abuse on children. You don't like abusive husbands. I don't deal well with rape and sexual assault. Some are obvious; some are not so obvious because these are our secrets." She sighed and the two sat in silence for a few minutes
She started again, regret evident in her voice. "This Shannon case, it's going to be the case that will bug me for the rest of my career, or my life. I'm connected to this case whether I like it or not. My past makes me relate to this college sophomore that was majoring in physics. Our personalities were very similar. I couldn't solve it, and now its up on the board. When it's slow, I'll pull it down to go over it, then it'll go right back up. Subconsciously, I know that it probably won't ever get solved, but I want to know that I've looked over everything and made sure I didn't miss anything. You have one case that's up on that board that you can't stand it being up there. The Mitchell case, woman found dead in her house, signs of long term abuse, son found locked in his bedroom. Prime suspect: the husband, but there is absolutely no evidence of him being the killer."
"How do you figure that is "my" case?" Grissom was intrigued to hear her answer.
"The file folder it's in is pretty beat up, like it's been handled too many times. The papers are almost yellowed and the edges are soft. It's a ten year old case, but I've seen files from ten year old cases that were in better condition. If I were a gambler, I'd bet good money that that isn't even the original file folder. The original probably split right up the middle from being opened and closed so many times."
"And you would win that bet, Sara." He was impressed at her deduction.
Sara turned to face Grissom, tucking one of her legs under her on the couch. She continued, a little less animated then before. "But it doesn't matter to me why the case affects you, just that it does. I don't think you can be a good investigator if you look at every case without emotion. You have to put emotion into your work, into solving the crimes. That's why we joined this field, to make a difference. You can't make a difference if you show no emotion. Right?"
Grissom was silent for a moment, but soon answered her question. "You are absolutely right, Sara. But don't you ever wonder why? Why certain cases get to someone else? Or is it just me because I'm in a supervisor position and feel that I should know everyone's strengths, or weaknesses?"
"Of course I wonder. I wonder what is in that folder that makes Grissom go back to it every month or so? Why a case involving an abusive husband and father? It makes me wonder what kind of childhood you had if the one case that defines you, the one case you have to solve if it's the last thing you do, includes all of that stuff. It's human nature to wonder why your friends are sensitive to certain things in life. But I'm not about to ask them, because I hate being asked. If they want me to know, they will let me know. And if I'm comfortable with someone knowing why my weaknesses are my own, I will tell them when I'm ready to."
The two of them sat for awhile, holding hands, listening to the soft jazz music Sara had put in the CD player before the emotionally draining conversation had begun. Sara leaned sideways into the back of the couch and shut her eyes. But they soon snapped open when she heard Grissom speak softly.
"I was four years old."