HOUSE OF CARDS
Disclaimer:Nothing that you recognise from CSI belongs to me, and I'm not making any money from them either. They just make me procrastinate.
Kim Bolton was a tall slim woman with masses of dark red curly hair and a smile that lit up her face, but Sara was determined not to like her, not to fall into the trap of confessing everything to this departmental counselor. She was here because it was required and that was that.
"Sara. I'm Kim. Take a seat."
Sara shook hands as politerly as she could manage, and sat down. She was exhausted, and that made her temper even worse. She hadn't slept well, she'd gone running, she'd come home, she'd snapped at Nick, she'd gone running again, she'd tried to sleep, she'd worried. She'd sat there and looked at the phone and tried to work up the courage to call Nick and apologise, but had gone running again instead. Her legs felt like they were about to fall off.
"Sara, I've been asked by David Elliott of Internal Affairs to talk to you about what happened last night and assess your ability to return to field work. That's standard procedure. However, he's also had a look at your personal file, as you may have gathered, and he's worried about some comments in respect to your handling of certain cases. He asked me to discuss those with you as well."
Something cold grabbed Sara around the heart. "Which cases?"
Kim picked up a piece of paper. "A number of rape cases. Specifically the Susanna Kirkwood case."
"That's irrelevant." Sara swallowed, hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. "That's got nothing to do with what happened last night, or my ability to work in the field."
"That's what we've been asked to discuss, Sara. There's also the matter of your relationship with Nick Stokes."
"That's got nothing to do with any of this either," Sara protested, knowing that it had everything to do with it and that, even if it didn't, the department was capable of making it central to the issue. She swallowed again, and looked at the clock above Kim's head. The thought of what was to come in this hour was making her feel ill.
"I'm sorry, Sara, but we've got to talk about it."
"Great. While we're at it, would Elliott like my life story as well?"
"I'm not going to give him the details of what you tell me, Sara. I'll only give him my opinion."
"That doesn't help."
"No." Kim considered Sara's face. "All right, tell me about last night."
"I shot a man because I thought Nick's life was in danger. I didn't consciously intend to kill him, but I was trained to shoot to kill." The air of bravado was not enough to get her away from the reality of the words shoot to kill. Sara gripped the arm of her chair, fighting the urge to get up and run. If she wanted to keep her job she couldn't afford to run from this, and no matter how far she ran anyway, it wasn't likely she'd be able to escape.
"How did you feel when you saw this man pointing a gun at Nick?"
Sara fixed her eyes on the clock and tried to find the words. "Scared."
"Why?"
"Because I thought he was about to shoot Nick."
"And why did that make you scared?"
Sara bit her lip. "It would make anyone scared. Isn't that enough?"
"No. I'd like to know why it made you, specifically, scared."
Sara watched the seconds hand on the clock tick rhythmically by. She made herself answer when it had done a complete circuit around the clock face. "I - I didn't want him to be hurt, I didn't know what I'd do if he - if he died, I - I was just - scared." She couldn't do it. She couldn't sit here in this room with this woman and make out like what had happened last night, what was still happening in her head, was nothing, was just an ordinary boring incident. But neither could she let Kim see just how much she cared, because that was dangerous. She clenched her hands together in her lap and dropped her eyes from the clock to her white knuckles.
"Okay. What were you thinking before you fired?"
Sara ducked her head down still further, letting her hair fall in front of her face. "That I couldn't let him hurt Nick."
"And you fired and hit the man, and then what happened?"
"I - I don't really remember. I think I ran outside and threw up and Nick came to find me." Thinking of Nick coming after her when he had enough of his own problems to deal with made her feel worse. Without noticing it, she gripped her hands so tightly that the nails of one hand began to dig into the skin of the other.
"And then... Captain Jim Brass... escorted you both to PD when he arrived on the scene."
Sara nodded a yes.
"What did you do while you were waiting for your interview with Mr Elliott?"
"I - I don't really remember that either. I - think I locked myself in the bathroom."
"Why?" Kim's voice was gentle, without accusation, but everything she asked increased Sara's need either to run or to retreat further, within the curtain of her hair where the only pain was what was inside her.
"I had to get away," Sara whispered.
There were a few minutes of silence. Sara, listening to the ticking of the clock, knew that Kim was trying to give her time to collect herself, but she couldn't help but feel exposed and vulnerable, in front of Kim's seemingly all-seeing eye, waiting to have a stranger pry into the dark parts she held jealously.
"Sara. Look what you're doing to your hands," Kim said softly.
Sara blinked and focused on her hands. Where the nails were digging into the skin blood red marks were beginning to appear. She snatched her hands away from each other and stared at the blood rising through the semi-circular cuts.
"Did you know that was happening?"
"N - no."
"Have you done anything like that before, Sara? Do you ever deliberately hurt yourself?"
"I didn't mean to do it."
"No, but has it happened before?"
"Not really," she said, struggling to get the words out.
"Okay. You had the interview with Mr Elliott, and then what?"
"I went home." Sara's eyes were still fixed on the brilliant red of her blood. As she looked at her hand she seemed to see the blood spreading out across the man's shirt after she'd shot him. She felt sick.
"Did you see Nick?"
"Yes, he was waiting for me at my place. He's got a key."
"And?"
"We... went to bed," Sara muttered, praying that Kim wasn't going to push on that point.
"Okay. Did you sleep well?"
"No. I had... nightmares... and Nick had nightmares..." Sara shrugged. Suddenly, not quite knowing why, she grabbed a tissue from the box on Kim's desk and wiped the blood from her hand.
"What about today?"
"I went running, three times, and I couldn't stop crying, and I shouted at Nick so he went home and didn't - I didn't - didn't call him..." Sara put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, and felt tears wetting her cheeks. She kept her head down and hoped vainly that Kim wouldn't notice.
"Why didn't you call him, Sara? Did you want to?"
"I - I wanted to - I just - "
"Did seeing him remind you of what happened?"
Sara nodded, raising her hand from her mouth to wipe her eyes, and swallowing. "I didn't - he - I knew he needed - needed me and I just couldn't - couldn't cope with it."
"It's all right if you cry, Sara." Kim's voice was sympathetic. "Do you feel bad about what you said to Nick?" Sara nodded again. "Can you tell me why?"
"Because he needed me, and - " Sara drew a long, shuddering breath, "I'm a bad g-girlfriend and he doesn't..."
"Doesn't what, Sara?"
"Deserve someone like me!" Sara stood up, knocking the chair over in the process, and whirling around to stare at the door. She wanted to run. She wanted to kick herself. She wanted to fall on the floor and cry. She wanted to drink Jack Daniels until she was so drunk she passed out. And she couldn't do anything of those things. No matter how hard she tried to control her body the urge to sob was battling all her defences. Sara instinctively wrapped one arm round her stomach and brought the other to her mouth again and tried physically to hold them in, to hold herself together.
She felt Kim's hands on her shoulders as she gently propelled her around and back into the chair which she had put upright again. "Crying does help, Sara. I'm not going to report you to Mr Elliott for crying and it's not going to make me instantly decide you're unfit for fieldwork. What you're feeling are perfectly normal emotions."
Sara lost the fight. Putting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands she gave up and cried. She'd been crying almost non-stop since last night, or at least that was what it felt like, but this was different. This was the sort of crying that she only indulged in when she was alone, when the world was collapsing on her head, and it was the sort of crying that sometimes made her throw up. She hated herself for every sob even as she began to feel some of the tension draining away.
Kim waited until she'd stopped crying and hiccuping, and had wiped her face and blown her nose. "Better?"
"Yeah," Sara admitted, twisting her hands in her lap. She chanced a glance at the clock again. Twenty minutes left.
"Don't worry about the time, Sara. Tell me about Nick."
"I..." Sara realized, almost frustrated, that she felt more inclined to talk. "What do you want to know?"
"How long have you been with him?"
"About eighteen months, I think."
"What does it mean to you? - being with him?"
Sara drew a deep breath, and let it out again. "Lots. I feel comfortable with him. I'm not used to that. He can cheer me up when I'm miserable, and he puts up with me. He's very patient."
"Are you in love with him?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel like you owe him for, as you say, 'putting up with you'?"
"Um." Sara considered this. "Yes. I... feel like I take a lot, but I'm not giving anything back."
"Is that why you told me you didn't think he deserved someone like you?"
Sara winced as Kim repeated her words. Yes, she'd said it, and she'd thought it, but she'd never meant to say it. "I guess so."
"What sort of person do you think he deserves, then?"
"Someone who hasn't got so many issues. Someone who's more fun to be with. Someone who..." Sara's voice trailed off as she thought.
"Someone who loves him?" Kim asked. "Do you think that's enough for him?"
"If it wasn't, he'd have left by now. But I still think he deserves more."
"Isn't that up to him to decide?"
"Maybe." Sara saw Kim searching her face again, but held her gaze this time.
"I'll let you go now, Sara. I'm seeing Nick in about half an hour, but I'd suggest you try talking to him after that. I think it'll help. Don't worry," Kim added, catching the look on Sara's face. "I'm not going to tell him what you told me, just as I won't tell you what Nick tells me. Now, I can't clear you for fieldwork just yet. Can you come back tomorrow - same time?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Bathroom's through there, if you want to wash your face."
Catherine walked into the break room. She'd gone home after the meeting with the Sheriff and fallen into an exhausted sleep before hauling herself out of bed in time to see Lindsey when she came home from school.
Warrick and Greg were leaning back in their chairs, drinking coffee in silence. When Catherine entered, they put their cups down almost simaltaneously. "How'd it go with the Sheriff, Cat?" Warrick asked.
Catherine poured the last dregs of coffee into a cup and shrugged. "I think he's dug himself a hole. He wants to look good for the elections, and then he gets an officer-involved shooting. And it's not a police officer in some nice cut and dried case. And then an over-zealous IA officer goes through all our files and discovers all the things that Grissom just sort of... glossed over." She half-collapsed into a chair beside Warrick.
"So... what? Is Griss in trouble now too?"
"Oh, who knows. The Sheriff's trying to dig his way out of the hole as best he can. I think he'd like to keep it all quiet and forget it ever happened, but now IA's involved and the press has gotten hold of the shooting."
"What are they saying?" Greg asked.
"Oh, it's not so bad - do you not read the papers or anything, Greg? Just that an unidentified man was shot and killed last night by an on-duty CSI when he threatened another CSI. And that the man's gun was empty. They didn't mention Sara's name or anything."
"So will she be in trouble? I mean, she was only trying - " Greg was cut off as Grissom strode into the room.
"Right," said Grissom, briskly. "We've got a busy night tonight. Warrick and Greg, you get Nick and Sara's case. Did you run the DNA from Sara's dead man?"
Greg nodded.
"Good. Compare it to the semen found in the rape victim. Catherine, you keep working the case you were doing with Warrick. I've got a 419 in Henderson." Grissom looked round at them all. "I don't know when Nick and Sara are going to be back on board. Day shift can't spare anyone, or at least Ecklie says they can't. Greg, I'm pulling you totally out of the lab until they get back, or we get more staff."
Greg grinned. "No complaints."
"I think it's going to be a long few days, guys. Just keep your heads down, work hard, and avoid the press if you can." Grissom watched them all file out, sighed, and followed them. It was going to be a long night.
Nick closed Kim's door behind him and leant back against the wall for a moment. He felt emotionly drained, as he always did after a counselling session, but better for it. He'd talked about the man with the gun, but mostly about Sara. It felt weird, knowing that Kim already had Sara's point of view, and that she wasn't going to tell him.
He didn't want to go home to an empty house.
Without much hope, Nick reached into his pocket for his cellphone and switched it on. One missed call flashed onto the screen. He dialled voicemail.
"Hey. It's me. Um... Nicky, I'm sorry. I hope you're okay. Um, I'm at home, if you want to... yeah. Okay. Hey, you, uh, know I love you, right? Uh, okay. Bye."
Despite himself, Nick smiled. He only knew one person who was capable of leaving of message like that. He pushed the phone back into his pocket, and set off for Sara's.
TBC...