Permanent Records
Detective Jim Brass sat across from her in his office and waited for Sara to stop weeping. She had broken down in front of him when she approached him for some friendly advice. The papers splayed out before her held nothing nice, and he himself could hardly look at them because it was unbelievable.
She had her head down on her arms on his desk, sucking in breaths every few seconds. Sara was in bad shape, and he was trying to think of all the ways he could help her. He knew about her little drinking habit, so that was no secret, but anything else was ultimately left up to her discretion. He'd never seen Sara cry before. Not once, and he was beginning to think not ever until now.
She doesn't deserve any of this, he thought to himself. This kid's been through more stuff in the last two years than I have been through over the last twenty seven years.
"Hey," he said, reaching out to caress the top of her head. "You'll be okay. Just calm down and start from the beginning."
Sara sniffled and wiped her tears before starting.
"I don't think I can do this job anymore," she confessed tearfully. "I can't live here in this city anymore. It's suffocating me. I feel like I've been falling down this long dark hole."
"I've been there plenty of times," Brass remarked.
"I have never been so hurt and so lonely in my life," she said in frustration. "I'm holding out my hand but no one's offering to take it, and I can't deal with rejection anymore. I've made myself emotionally available. I really have. Every time I open myself up, I'm always the one feeling guilty and hurt. Why is that?"
Brass didn't know how to explain her feelings to her. She had to explore them herself. He was no psychologist. He wouldn't know therapy if it bit him in the arm pit. All he could do was offer her a little bit of reassurance.
"Sara, as bad as things may be right now, I'm sure that you'll feel that much better," was all he could come up with and he thought that it was pathetic.
The look in her eyes confirmed his very thought and he shook his head.
"Scratch that," he chuckled.
Sara had a slight smile, then it went away as quickly as it had come. She stared at the papers in front of her, making the paid in her stomach grow more painful. According to her permanent record, her conduct needed improvement, her overall performance for the year 2003-2004: poor, and level of need to seek professional help: immediate. Signed, Gil Grissom.
Then she looked at her evaluations from previous years and she noticed the trend: excellent, great, satisfactory, poor.
But there was more to permanent records than just papers. It was her very memory that plagued her and she had not been right for a long while. It was all the pieces of herself that she'd lost along the way and couldn't recover. She did not feel like the Sara Sidle of old anymore. She felt like a snake; shedding away dead, dry outer layers of herself. Now she found herself susceptible to more pain and raw emotion.
"Sara, it's just one man's opinion against the opinions of those who know and love you the most," Brass said, noticing that she was looking at the papers from her file again, the hurt and acceptance registering on her face. "In fact, I say to hell with what Grissom wrote about you on your permanent record. You are worth much more than you think you are," he said firmly. "I'm not going to sit here for another moment and let you feel sorry for yourself. If you love this job as much as you say you do, you have to think about what's most important in your heart, not your mind."
"I've tried that Brass," Sara chuckled bitterly. "I doesn't seem to work."
"Make it work," he said. "The only reason why Grissom wrote that is because he hasn't been through the shit you've been through in the last two years. No one deserves what you've been through, and kid, I'm surprised you're still here."
She looked at him strangely at his tirade.
"Why?" She asked.
"Because anyone else would have been at Las Vegas State Hospital right now," he quipped. "I know that you have bad memories, and hell, even scars to prove it, but I know that you're going to make it through this because I know that you don't give a rat's ass about what someone says about you on a flimsy sheet of cheap paper that's a bitch to Xerox."
It was then that Sara laughed a little bit. She began to cry and giggle at the same time.
"I'm guessing your sense of humor got you through bad times," Sara hypothesized.
"Yeah well," he said in his modest dry manner. "I'm a real stand up guy."
Sara smiled again as she gathered up her papers and put them back into her file.
"I'll take that back for you," Brass offered. "Besides, I got a bone to pick with Grissom anyway."
They both stood up.
"Thanks Brass for everything," Sara said gratefully.
"You'll heal," he said as he hugged her, not without feeling a little uncomfortable.
"I know you don't like to get all sappy," Sara said with a smile.
They pulled away and Brass gave her a little wink of hope as he exited his office.