Unwilling
To see the true love
You're giving
I have ignored every blessing
I'm on my knees
Sara stared at the pictures she'd taken at the crime scene that night. Other than her and Catherine's triple homicide, things were relatively quiet tonight—Nick and Warrick were out working an armed robbery in a local neighborhood and Grissom was busy interrogating a suspect for rape and attempted murder. Nick had said earlier that Warrick and him had collected all the evidence they needed to convict one of their suspects, and that they could help with her and Catherine's case when they were finished, if they wanted it. Grissom's suspect seemed to be cracking under the pressure of the interrogation. He was good at that—imposing more stress than was necessary in order to get a quicker confession. It was the eyes that always did it—the piercing, unwavering stare he always gave his suspects during an interrogation. The intense shade of blue was prominent among the rest of his features and seemed to suck you in once you were in their grasp—the grasp of those beautiful, blue eyes of his…of Grissom's…Grissom…
She shook herself out of her daydream again. How long could she really go without thinking of him? An hour, maybe an hour and a half, tops. Forget it; two minutes, at the absolute longest. Rubbing her temples, she refocused her eyes on what lay in front of her—the case she was assigned to. By Grissom. Snap out of it, Sidle. Get to work. Sara blinked and began sorting each picture—one pile for evidence, another for each victim. Four piles in total. She had just begun processing the first body—a girl, not even 20—when Catherine came in with results from the lab. Sara welcomed the interruption.
"So?"
"Our killer wasn't alone, that's for sure. The DNA from the hair that you found didn't match the initial suspect, but the prints did. I had Greg run another CODIS search on the DNA from the hair and came up with another name—Matthew Romble. From the looks of it, Matt here is a little familiar with us—the police, that is. He's been convicted in the past few months of possession of illegal drugs, possession of illegal drugs with intent to sell, shoplifting—twice, and rape, but the charges were dropped on that last one. Maybe he wanted to try again?"
"Hmm, maybe. It would explain the extra DNA found at the scene, unless someone planted it…" Sara began looking through the photos of evidence again.
"Doubtful; unless our first killer—going by the name of Jake Vitzel—wanted to frame Romble. But I'm not ruling it out. Barry could just be trying to slow us down with red herrings, too; a triple homicide isn't something you can just walk away from with a fine and minor jail sentence." Catherine set the rap sheets for Jake Vitzel and Matthew Romble on the table, next to Sara's pictures.
"Very true. So, thus far, Romble and Vitzel could either be close conspirators or they hate each other." The sarcasm in Sara's next sentence was unmistakable. Anyone could tell she was getting more and more eager to solve the case. "Well, that gives us a lot to work with…"
"The fates have given mankind a patient soul." Grissom had startled both women with his profound thinking. He was leaning against the doorframe and had a small grin on his face. "Homer."
"How long have you been standing there?" Sara was obviously a little shaken up—she seemed a little edgy tonight.
"Long enough to know that you need more information to start drawing conclusions—come on, Sara, most of the evidence isn't even processed yet. You know better than to go on impulses."
"I'm not drawing conclusions, Grissom. Nor going on impulses. I'm just speculating—there's nothing wrong in that, is there?" It was clear by the look on her face that she wasn't happy with him when she turned to look directly into his eyes. "And you can stop drawing conclusions about me, thank you." Her stare was ice.
Catherine sensed the tension in the room and began to stand up. "Look, Sara, I'm…going to get some coffee. You want some?"
"Sure." She needed it if she was going to get through the night in one piece without biting anyone's head off.
"Gil, you want any?"
"No, I'm on my way to the break room right now. I can get it myself. Thanks, though." Grissom had not only returned Sara's stare but he held it even as Catherine spoke to him. His eyes weren't too full of warmth themselves, although they did have some confusion in them.
Catherine made her way out of the room, leaving Grissom and Sara alone. When are they going to stop being just so—stubborn? It wasn't her place to say that out loud, though.
"So your suspect confessed. Congratulations." Sara said in a stale voice as she turned back to her pictures.
"Thanks. I'm touched that you care." Grissom returned Sara's sarcasm.
Sara rolled her eyes at him and started looking at the pictures again.
"Need any help?"
"No, we'll be fine." She turned back to him. "I can do this, Grissom." He could tell she was bitter. About what, though?
"Suit yourself." And with that he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Sara to her evidence.
She watched him as his silhouette grew smaller and finally disappeared. What was that all about, Sara? Why did you have to go and chase him out of the room like that? What did he ever do to you—well, tonight, anyway? Sara shook herself out of her thoughts just as Catherine returned with the coffee and they both sat down to work on the case. Because you know better, Sidle.
Grissom entered his office and absently started some paperwork. He couldn't much concentrate, though. Why was Sara being so cold all of a sudden? What had he done to piss her off this time? Just give it time, Gil. Just give it time. But he was running out of time. "As soon as you figure it out, it might be too late…" He definitely needed to talk to her.
Each time I see your face
I am staggered by your beauty
Jake Vitzel sat at one end of the table in the interrogation room, opposite the two women assigned to his case. Brass was leaning against the wall in a corner, observing.
Catherine stared at the man in front of her. He was wearing a slightly soiled white wife beater and his dirty blonde hair looked greasy and in bad need of a shower. He had a tattoo of a heart with a knife through it on his left bicep.
Catherine gave him a once-over. "Nice tattoo. How long have you had it?"
"A couple a months. What's it to ya, doll?" He winked at Catherine. Catherine blinked. Sara winced.
"Just making conversation. Mr. Vitzel, do you know of a Matthew Romble?" Catherine kept steady eye contact with the man as she slid a copy of Romble's picture across the table.
Jake Vitzel's fists visibly balled even as she spoke the name. He looked at the picture in disgust and, after a beat, decided to reply. "Know him? Why would I know him?" He said through clenched teeth. His eyes didn't move from the picture. Sara decided she'd have a hand at the questioning.
"Mr. Vitzel, we have reason to believe that you and Romble were involved in this crime. We have substantial evidence to convict either one of you; we're just trying to give you a chance at innocence." Sara glanced at Catherine when he didn't respond. His eyes were still glued to the picture in front of him. "Mr. Vitzel? I'm sorry, I don't think you heard me correctly, I said—"
Jake Vitzel stood up and pounded his fist on the table. "I know damn well what you said, woman!" He saw Brass approaching the table at sat back down again. Visibly struggling to keep his composure, he said: "Look, call me Jake. Sorry, I've been known to have a bit of a temper. You said his name was Matthew Romble? Hmm, can't say I do. Like him, that is." An evil grin spread across his face as he gazed at Sara. "Know him plenty."
Normally, this type of behavior from a suspect wouldn't have bothered Sara; she and Catherine got it quite frequently, especially from rape suspects. She wasn't sure that was a good thing, though. "What is his affiliation with you, Jake?" She was visibly uncomfortable and both Catherine and Brass noticed this.
"You know, anytime you want me to take over, just say the word…" Catherine whispered to her.
"I'm all right. I can do this, Catherine." Sara hissed back. Regaining her composure, Sara asked her question again.
"Who, Matt? Let's just say…well, to put it bluntly, Matt is what you could call a rookie to this type of thing." His eyes darted between Catherine and Sara, and occasionally to Brass in the corner.
"Rookie?"
"That's what I said," He focused his eyes on Sara. "Ma'am."
"To what type of thing is Matt a rookie to?" Catherine silently decided that she was leading the questioning now.
"Oh, well, isn't that what you guys are 'sposed to figure out? If I told you, then, what would be the point, right?" Jake Vitzel seemed infatuated with Sara.
Grissom was watching outside the room. He could see and hear everything that was going on, and anyone could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't happy with this Jake Vitzel. It was obvious that Sara was ill at ease and anxious to get this investigation over with, and Jake Vitzel wasn't helping. As each question was asked and then answered, Jake Vitzel's eyes never left Sara. Grissom wasn't sure whether the sensation trickling up his spine was concern for Sara, hate of Jake Vitzel, or maybe even jealousy. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Sara was noticeably bothered by this case, which didn't happen often—normally, she would be as focused as could be, showing no emotion whatsoever. But this case was different. Why?
Brass had noticed this, as well. He came over and took a seat next to Catherine. "Look, Catherine, do you have many more questions to go?" He nodded toward Sara and Catherine understood.
Before she could even open her mouth, Sara replied, "No, we're just about finished for the time being. We'll most likely have more questioning to do, though, once the rest of the evidence is processed and the autopsies are finished." She made sure that Jake Vitzel heard the last part of her statement.
"Oh, I'll be looking forward to it, sugar." He winked at Sara and remained staring at her until she left the room.
"Well that was comforting." Sara said to herself. She involuntarily shivered.
"Sara, what's wrong?" Three voices were heard simultaneously.
She couldn't help but smiling. "Look, everyone, I'm fine. I honestly don't know what has gotten into me. I probably just need sleep; that's all." As she began walking back towards the lab, she felt someone brush her shoulder. Catherine and Brass were already in front of her.
"I think we need to talk. Are you all right? You've seemed a little…edgy…tonight." Grissom was careful with his choice of words; not knowing what he was getting into; just testing the waters.
"I'm fine, Grissom, really, I am. Must be…hormones, or something." She tried to dismiss the subject with a wave of hand and started to walk away, but Grissom followed—something she wasn't quite expecting…or was she? Does he really care—is he being sincere this time—or is he just going to push me away again?
"I'm not going to buy that. Listen—" He suddenly was at a loss of words. "I just don't want whatever you're dealing with to…to interfere with…your…case. Catherine's depending on your input in order to make sense of the evidence. The stakes are kinda high on this one." Great, Gil, you just had to pull work into it and shield your feelings…again.
"How do you mean?"
Yeah, what do you mean, Gil? "I…uh…well…from what I hear, this killer sounds dangerous." Why are you sounding so stupid all of a sudden? Pull it together, Gil!
"They're all dangerous, Grissom…that's why they're called 'murderers.'" She emphasized the word "murderers" by pronouncing it syllable by syllable. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you, Griss?
"Well…more so than usual. Catherine briefed me on the case after I was finished with mine. Put him away…fast." He was lying through his teeth. Please, please, please don't check with Catherine…
"We're—I'm—doing all I can. Let me get back to work. You're distracting me." And with that, Sara started walking toward the lab to check on the evidence that Greg was processing.
Grissom went back to his office to start on some long overdue paperwork that needed to be completed. Try as he might, though, he just could not get the idea out of his head that Sara wasn't telling the whole truth. If something was bothering her, why didn't she tell him? She knew she was welcome anytime…or does she? Grissom sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Oh, no, you did it again…you pushed her away again. Way to go, Gil—you're really scoring points with her. Why should she come and talk to you when she thinks you hate her? Did she really think that? No, she couldn't…although Catherine did mention the other day that Grissom wasn't Sara's favorite person lately…
Grissom paused as he held his hand over the phone—his heart started to beat faster, and it lurched up into his throat. Blood pounded behind his eardrums and his breath got shorter and shorter. God, Sara, the things you do to me…and he hadn't even talked to her yet. Nothing had ever made him feel this way before, not even another woman—before Sara. He wiped droplets of perspiration from his brow and finally decided to get the phone call over with. Dialing her number, he was suddenly at a loss of words. What are you going to say? He ran through myriads of options as her phone rang and she picked up on the third ring.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded quieter than usual; mousey, even. But God, how good it was to hear her.
"Hi, Sara, it's…me…" Grissom. Your name is Grissom.
"Grissom?"
Impressive. "Yes. Umm…just wondering about that case you and Catherine are working on…" You sound like a bumbling idiot.
Now this was strange. Grissom…calling…her? What is this all about suddenly? Another one of his little games? Wait, he's asking about a work-related issue. You're safe. "Uhh…the case is going fine. Catherine'll fill you in. I…don't think I'm going to be able to make it in tonight. I'm calling in sick. I was about to call you, actually." It was all she could do to keep her voice under control.
Sara's voice sounded strained; maybe she really was sick. "Really. Well…that's fine. I hope you feel better. Get some rest. I told you all that overtime would catch up with you!" Grissom made an attempt to make a joke and chortled nervously; he hoped that Sara was all right. He also hoped he wasn't making a complete fool out of himself—he thought that she thought he wasn't a complete fool for calling her.
"Hey, Grissom?"
"Yes, Sara?" He relished her name rolling over his tongue.
"Why did you call, anyway?" Her tone was all business.
"Well, I…I…always like to check up on my best CSIs when they're having a difficult time…"
"Difficult time? You think I'm having a difficult time?" Uh-oh, this isn't looking good, Gil, you pissed her off…again…
"No, I just—"
"Well, I'm not. I'm doing quite well, actually. We almost have him. He practically handed us a confession during the interrogation last night; we should just cover our asses and get a more concrete one—that, or get more evidence to process…" You're rambling, Sidle…
"He doesn't seem like the one to confess. Evidence would be the best route."
Sara was agitated and clenched her teeth. "Thanks, Grissom. I really needed to know that—"
"I'm serious, Sara…be careful."
She sharply took in a breath. Does he know? No, he couldn't; it's not possible… "About what?"
"I don't like this Jake Vitzel. Judging from the way he was looking at you last night during the interrogation, he seemed to be preoccupied with other things than just the case—"
"You were watching? How incapable do you think I am, Gil Grissom?!?" He had to hold the phone away from his ear because she was shouting so loud. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He hated pissing her off.
He also hated using his role as supervisor against her. "Goodbye, Sara. Go to sleep. You need it. I don't want to see you working tonight. And cut back on the overtime for a little while. You're going to get burnt out." And hung up with her still shouting on the other end. Quite the contrary, though—he wished she were coming into work so he could just see her, even if she was mad at him. Maybe they could straighten things out.
Sara nearly spilled her coffee on herself when her phone rang again. Her pulse quickened a bit; could it be Grissom again? She felt her heart beginning to race and suddenly it was very hot in the room. God, Grissom, the things you do to me…She picked up.
"Sara? Sorry to disturb you again, but—"
She longed to open a window. "No, Grissom, not at all…"
He tensed at her biting sarcasm. "Look, if you're still mad at me, forget it."
"No, I'm not still mad…perturbed, maybe…" Forget what?
"Well, are you sure you're all right? I mean, really?"
He actually sounded sincere this time. "Yeah, sure, Grissom; I'm perfectly fine. No difficult times here."
Her tone had seemed to soften until that last sentence. She just wouldn't let it go, would she? "Hey, I said I'm sorry. Now, are you going to be all right? Should I send someone over to check up on you? Your neighborhood is en route to the scene of a new crime that just came in tonight…"
How comforting. "No, Grissom, I'm fine. Absolutely perfect. Peachy. You don't need to send someone over here, that would just be a bother for everyone." Unless it's you…
"You know, Sara, you can stop biting my head off anytime now."
Whoops. She hadn't really meant to this time. "Sorry." She squeaked. "Hold on, I have another call."
Grissom waited for what seemed like an eternity; in reality, it was only about five minutes. He wondered if she really was all right.
When Sara came back on the phone, it seemed like she was out of breath and straining to hold back emotion in her voice.
"Sara, is there anything wrong?"
"Listen, Grissom, I…have to go." He thought he heard a vague noise that sounded like coughing; maybe she was just sick after all. "And I'm perfectly fine. You can expect me back at work tomorrow night…I'll be fully recuperated by then." Her voice caught on her words. Great; the last thing I need is my boss nosing around in personal business of mine. Wonderful.
This was not lost on Grissom. "Sara, I really don't think—"
"I'm fine. Goodbye, Grissom." She growled and clicked off.
He made up his mind. He was personally going to visit her and be certain that she really wasn't just putting on a front. It was odd that she was crying, though; she almost never did, certainly not in front of Grissom.
I thought I was strong without you
For so long
Nothing could move me
For so long
A knock on the door snapped Sara out of a brief nap on her couch. She was slightly irritated by it; she knew that Grissom had sent someone over. Oh, well, maybe it was better for her to talk about it anyway. Hoping it was Nick just because she was closest with him but at the same time half-hoping it was Grissom, she looked through the eyehole in the door. A quick gasp couldn't help but escape as soon as she saw who it was. She had no choice but to open the door, but she tensed up even as she unlocked the deadbolt.
"Sara." Grissom was soaked. It was pouring out.
"Grissom." Sara echoed his tone. "I thought I told you—"
He gave her a once-over. Her puffy eyes gave it away. "You told me not to send anyone over. Well, I didn't."
"Well, yeah, but—"
"Sara, I need to make sure you're really all right. You weren't all that convincing on the phone." He thought he saw traces of anger beginning to form in her eyes. "Can I…come in?"
Her eyes softened and she felt she should at least offer him a towel and maybe even a cup of coffee before she sent him away. She moved out of his way. "Go ahead."
They were now standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room area of her apartment. It was Sara who broke the uncomfortable silence. "I'll…get you a towel. Would you like some coffee or something?"
His eyes never left hers, not only because he enjoyed looking into them but also was looking for further clues about her distressed well-being. Clearing her throat, she left for the towel.
When she returned, she poured him some coffee and sat down in a chair beside the couch. Handing the mug to him, she motioned for him to sit down as well.
"I told you, I'm just fine." Her tone was neutral; Grissom couldn't detect anything offensive or defensive in it.
"You want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"About…" Carefully choosing his words, he continued. "About your…state of being?" He longed to wipe away a drying tear on her cheek.
Sara turned her face away from him. Through clenched teeth, she replied, "I'm just fine. I told you." She looked at him again. "Absolutely perfect."
Now this would have been the time for one of her famous gap-toothed Sara Sidle smiles, as genuine as ever, but Grissom found no trace. He leaned closer to her. "Sara, I mean it. Your recent—behavior, we'll call it—seems to be affecting your work. Catherine went back over to the crime scene tonight and came back with a ton more evidence than you brought back last night. I talked with her on the way over on her cell. She's found enough to convict both of your suspects. Tell me truthfully—were you…preoccupied…at the crime scene last night? That's not like you at all."
Sara sighed. He wasn't supervisor at the number-two crime lab in the country for nothing. "I didn't think so…at the time, anyway." She paused and tried to change the subject. "What more evidence was there? I scoured the place!"
"That's exactly what I mean—that's exactly what scares me. Please, Sara, just tell me what's wrong. Just to get it off your chest. If, for nothing else, as an attempt for better performance at work."
He did have a point. Damnit, Grissom, why do you have to be so perceptive? She sighed again. What was she going to do? She didn't want to lie to him; she hated lying to anybody, but the truth would put her off the case for sure.
"Sara." He gently prodded.
She hated this. A lie seemed like the only solution to this predicament. "I'm sorry, Grissom. I…was having family troubles. I had just gotten news that my grandmother's medical condition had worsened and it was all I could do to keep my head in the game. I'm really very sorry. It won't happen again."
The tone in her voice sounded really quite sincere, but her eyes betrayed it. "Does that explain the phone call?" He inquired.
"Yes…I…" She tried choking on her words like she had previously done on the phone to make the following sound believable. "The phone call was my mother; my grandmother just passed away." She turned away and tried as hard as she could to get tears flowing again.
It was all Grissom could do to keep from laughing as he cleared his throat. "I thought your grandmother died a few years ago…"
"That was my other grandmother, you see. This one was on my mom's side."
"Hmm, I didn't know that you had two grandmothers on your mother's side…" He had to put his hand in front of his mouth to hide the entertained smile that formed on his lips.
"I'm going to go for more coffee. Care for any more?" Before he had a chance to answer, Sara was off refilling her mug. She did with extravagant care; it didn't take a genius to figure out that she was lying through her teeth—again. Why couldn't she just tell him what she was really going through? Because you're probably the cause of it, Gil. He hated that it was probably true.
She didn't show any sign of returning to him soon. Grissom finally decided to get up and go to her to attempt to get the full story out of her.
Sara could hear him coming. Oh, fabulous. Simply fabulous. She had turned her attention to the coffee grinder and was in the middle of tediously measuring the right amount of beans. He approached her from behind and had cornered her between the counter and himself. She smelled a mixture of rain and…is that cologne?
"Sara, I need to know…" He was using his supervisor voice on her. She hated that voice; it meant that the matter at hand was non-negotiable. She would tell him soon enough…after her case was closed and Jake Vitzel and Matthew Romble and whoever else were put to justice.
Sara still didn't face him, she was still measuring coffee beans.
"Sara…" Grissom scolded gently.
"I think that's enough, don't you?" She said without facing him still. "All right, I'll tell you." She chose that moment to turn on the coffee grinder. Grissom recoiled from the noise, setting her free from her temporary entrapment. As she told her story, he strained to hear her, but she purposefully kept her voice low so it could be easily hidden by the sound of the grinder.
"…So, I'm sorry and it won't happen again. I promise." She was grinning at her cleverness.
Grissom had to admit that even though her tactic was elementary, it had worked; and so he smiled, as well. "Sara, you know as well as I do that you're going to have to tell me sometime…"
"Sorry, I told you once; not my fault you have bad hearing—" She stopped herself. "Bad joke. I'm sorry."
"It's in the past. Tell me when you're ready. It's nice to see you smiling again." It really was.
Sara breathed a sigh of relief that she had dodged the truth almost completely. "Still want that coffee?"
"I'd love it." They were both smiling at each other.
Grissom and Sara were both seated on her couch. They had decided to play a game of Scrabble to take Sara's mind off whatever was on her mind; Grissom reasoned that she would tell him when she felt ready to. He also felt that she had reason to keep it from him—even if he was her boss—because of all the hurt he had caused her in the past and was, apparently, still causing. Sara was busily arranging her letters on the board.
"There. Gewgaw. Record my points, please." She was smiling to herself and Grissom hadn't the slightest idea why.
"That's not a word!" He exclaimed.
She turned to him. "Wanna bet?"
He grinned back at her, spying a dictionary. "Certainly." He grabbed the book and handed it to her.
After some thumbing through some pages, Sara found the word and showed it to him. "There it is. Gewgaw. Noun. 'A showy trifle; a toy, a splendid plaything; a pretty but worthless bauble.'" She returned his grin of earlier that seemed to vanish now.
His eyes narrowed at her as he gave her her points. "My turn now, I suppose?"
"I suppose so." She was still grinning from her last word.
Grissom took a while to think, and then put his letters on the board.
"Bivouac?"
"That is correct."
Sara narrowed her own eyes at him as she strained to remember that strange word. "Are you sure that's a word?"
"Positive." His smile showed no sign of fading.
"Use it in a sentence."
Grissom thought a moment, and then countered. "'In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life." Pausing for effect, he added, "Longfellow."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Go on. Put your points down." He did just that.
Grissom turned to her as she was thinking of a word. "Sara?"
"Yes?"
"Are you ever going to tell me what's bothering you?"
Sara stopped thinking and looked right at him. "Why do you care so much about what's bothering me all of a sudden?"
Ouch. "Because I care about your performance. You're one of my best CSIs; you and I both know that." He did his best to look her in her smoldering eyes. Uh-oh, she's getting angry with me again. "I care about your well-being. Because I care about…you." He tried to take her hand, but she took it away. You really screwed up this time, Gil. But instead of blowing up at him, Sara simply spelled out her word and then got up to hold the door open for him.
Grissom was confused. "Umbrage?"
"You of all people should know what that word means." What is that supposed to mean? He grabbed the dictionary and looked it up. Ouch again. It read: "Suspicion of injury or wrong; offense, resentment."
Sara didn't budge from her stance at the door, so Grissom got up to leave. He had no other choice; he was not welcome anymore. What have I done this time?
Instead of just leaving, though, he stopped directly in front of Sara, facing her. "I just want to let you know that…" He stepped even closer. Their faces were barely inches apart now. Her perfume was intoxicating him; his scent captivated her. "I just want to let you know that I—care." They both felt that they could hold each other's gaze forever, regardless of what had been said earlier and Sara had to fight to stand up straight; she used the doorknob to keep herself upright. God, Grissom, the things you do to me…She thought she saw something other than sympathy in his eyes and he thought he could see genuine ardor. Maybe I'm just imagining things. They both had the same thought.
At length, Sara finally broke the silence with an unusual, quiet tone. "This is the part where you leave now." She looked down at the floor. Please, please don't listen to me, just this once…
Grissom, although taken back, didn't flinch. "Are you sure?"
"Please, just…go. I…can't…handle…you…anymore." The all-too-familiar sting of oncoming tears was back. Oh, no. Don't cry, Sidle, whatever you do, don't…
Without even realizing it he had brushed a fallen tear from her face. Her eyes flickered closed from the sensation she was feeling. "And I definitely don't want to see you at the lab tonight." With that, he left her standing at her door. She was vulnerable right now and he didn't want to find out what he would have done if he had stayed. Grissom sighed. Hurt her again…
Sara was confused as she watched him walk away. She lightly touched her face in the same spot Grissom had moments ago and it still pleasantly burned from his touch. Oh, Sidle, what have you gotten yourself into…
Sara couldn't sleep that night; her body was just too used to her unusual work schedule. She thought of going into the lab anyway, just to spite Grissom, but thought better of it when her phone rang again, this time Nick. And then Warrick. Even Greg had called…Sara was seriously beginning to wonder what was going on over there; was it just a slow night or what? When she saw on her caller I.D. that Catherine was calling her, she contemplated just not answering, but then she would have to explain to not only Catherine but also Grissom why she hadn't been answering her phone. To Sara's relief, Catherine was just filling her in on their case and asked if she would be in the following night; it was refreshing to stick strictly to work instead of Sara's health. Sleep finally found Sara after much tossing and turning and she fell into a deep, dreamless, much-needed slumber.
About a week had passed without much contact between Grissom and Sara. They both stuck to their cases and Catherine and Sara solved theirs almost as soon as the rest of the evidence that Catherine had found had been processed.
Needless to say, Grissom was a little agitated with the whole day shift because "they just couldn't get to one of their cases." So they handed it off to the nightshift without even Ecklie knowing, and Grissom was the only one free at the time who could do the questioning of the witnesses and suspects. Since one of the witnesses were already in the interrogation room when he arrived, Grissom didn't have any time to look over the details of the case so he'd have to just wing it and pray that the witness couldn't find a weak spot in himself or the case. He was taken aback and very confused when he finally came in. Even so, he knew he couldn't let personal relationships get in the way of work. So this is what she didn't want to tell me.
The woman seated in front of him cleared her throat and looked up. She didn't have any idea why she had been crying; it was probably just from stress—she definitely needed some time off. Maybe her boss would finally let her have some time off work…she drew in a sharp breath when she saw who her "interrogator" was. Even so, she knew she couldn't let personal relationships get in the way of work. Well, he wanted me to tell him; this is what he wanted to know, he might as well ask the questions he wants to ask.
She seemed quite flustered. "Look, I don't even know why I'm here; there were 15 other people at the scene…" She kept talking but Grissom couldn't understand anything else; he decided to let her finish before he replied.
He drew in a slow breath and sighed. This was going to be a long night. I thought CSIs couldn't question witnesses they knew…He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Oh, well. Shaking things up a little with the questioning, taking necessary information, and letting the day shift close this won't hurt. Here goes. "It's fine, Sara, just tell me what you remember…from the beginning."
"I know the general procedures, Grissom…" She stopped herself. She wasn't the investigator right now. She was sitting at the other side of the table. "Sorry. I'll try to give you all the details I can." And with that, she began with her story to her supervisor.
"And that's how I was involved, and that's why I've been 'acting differently' lately, and that's why Jake Vitzel had such an effect on me the other night."
"Please don't pull work into this right now, Sara. There's a time and a place for that later."
She sighed and barely controlled her temper. I know that, Mr. CSI Extraordinaire. "Right. Sorry Griss—" She saw his look. "—om." At length, she went back to the case at hand. "Look, it's just that when you see a woman lying unconscious on the side of the road on your way to work you just can't help but stop and help her, and then seeing Jake Vitzel staring at me from behind a tree while I was performing CPR on the victim wasn't much better, and boy, getting to question him a week later really topped it off…I still have the breath shield I used in case you want it for evidence, although I don't really know why you'd want it…"
"Sara…"
"…Because, really, it just has the woman's and my DNA, and we already know that it was used, so trying to match the samples wouldn't help much, it would just be stating the obvious…" She hadn't even heard him.
Grissom reached out and gently touched her forearm. "Sara." His tone of voice made her remember that she wasn't the CSI on this case.
She looked up. "Sorry. I've—been under some stress lately. You know that as well as I do now…you know how I feel about rape cases."
"I, uh…I think the interrogation is officially over. I'll hand this case over to the day shift first chance I get…I think it's too much for all of us to handle."
"Agreed. Uh…any assignments tonight, boss?" She was trying to change the subject.
"Not really; slow night I think. Haven't even seen what's in store for us, but my pager hasn't gone off yet…neither has yours…I think Catherine, Nick, and Warrick have got it under control, don't you?"
"Naturally. Catherine's stepped in I bet."
This made Grissom smirk slightly. "Yeah, I bet you're right. Let's go see what they've left for us."
They both got up from the table and started walking toward Grissom's office.
Now hear my confession
As they were walking, Grissom finally got up the courage to make a small—yet, important—move towards any sort of strengthening of his relationship with this astonishing woman. "Hey Sara?"
"Yep."
He turned to face her. "You know, if you want to talk about…this…well, anything, really…you can always knock on my door."
Sara was touched at his sincerity and looked him in the eye. "Thanks, Grissom. I think I might take you up on your offer sometime."
"I'm looking forward to it." They passed the break room and all the labs and Grissom observed that Catherine, Nick, and Warrick were all out on their respective assignments. Feeling fairly secure with himself, he put an arm around Sara as they walked to his office to see what the night had in store for them.
You are the air that I breathe
You're the ground beneath my feet
When did I stop believing?
To Be Continued...maybe...;-) (Read-and-reviews would be greatly appreciated; but I won't blackmail ya'll! :) )