A/N: I started writing this just before 'Moonves Massacre' hit the fan, so it stood half-finished on my computer drive for some time. I finally got around to finishing it. As it's shown in season five, Sara was seeing some kind of a counselor, therapist, a professional to help her resolve her problems after her DUI incident. This is my version of what might have happened during those sessions. There will probably be a sequel to this, so watch out.
CATEGORY: Angst/Drama, OC POV, Implied G/S
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: Butterflied, Bloodlines and pre-Viva Las Vegas.
DISCLAIMER: All the characters are owned by Anthony E. Zuiker, the CBS Worldwide Inc. & Alliance Atlantis Corp. The purpose of the story is purely for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.
SUMMARY: What happens when a professional tries to delve deeper into the mystery package that is Sara Sidle?
----
"You won't hurt yourself."
"Do you really think I'm that desperate?" Sara narrowed her eyes at the blonde sitting across from her.
'I really hope not.' The blonde thought.
The woman sighed. "Are you?"
Sara sighed in frustration and looked down at her nervously clenched fists.
"You know what?" She locked eyes with the woman, wanting to speak up but suddenly changed her mind. "Nothing. Never mind."
'She appears very indecisive.' The woman thought.
"Please. Go on." The woman pressed gently.
"It's nothing." She said determinately.
"Sara, if nothing was bothering you, then you wouldn't be here in the first place. Besides I can't really help you if you don't help me understand." she retorted.
Sara looked around the sparsely lit room and grinned. "You know, I didn't expect it to look like this. Where's the comfy brown couch and what about those blob pictures you show to people?"
'She's avoiding the subject.' she concluded.
The blonde smiled at her. "You can say I have a more liberating approach with my clients. I don't believe that making people more comfortable or showing them blobs as you put it, would make them feel any better. Now tell me, what's exactly bothering you?"
"Blobs." Sara smirked, unintentionally changing the subject. "Not very scientific of me, huh?" her expression quickly turned serious as she muttered, "But then again I don't feel very scientific right now."
"Sara", she started, "in order to receive any kind of help, you have to be truly wanting it and that means paying more attention." she pointed out.
Sara sighed again. "I know," she nodded," but sometimes I wonder if it's really worth it."
"What is? Tell me." she prodded.
Sara waived her hands in the air to make a point. "All this! Me! I don't know what to do anymore."
'Could it be a problem involving stress? Emotional breakdown? Depression?' The woman pondered in thought.
"And how does that make you feel?" she asked.
Sara shook her head and smiled bitterly. "I can't even recognize the person in the mirror anymore. I have initially screwed up by coming here in the first place. I should have just listened to that little voice of reason and refused his offer. But no, I was a masochist. I just loved being sucked in by him and then later be spit out like some lowest trash on this planet."
'So, someone else is involved.'
"Tell me about him." she asked.
"I thought we were here to talk about me?" Sara asked.
'She's avoiding the subject again.'
"We are but if I'm not mistaken, he seems to be at least one cause of your problems. Perhaps maybe a catalyst for your depression?"
"I'm not depressed!" Her head rose suddenly to meet the woman's curious gaze.
Sara closed her eyes and sighed for the billionth time. "Well, okay maybe I am a little. It's...I-I'm just fed up with everything."
'Lost confidence, perhaps?' the woman added that possibility to her mental list.
"You are giving up? Just like that?" she asked.
"Yes. And it's not like I haven't tried anything. And maybe this is for the best. Maybe...this was a sign. I should just leave." she said, resigned.
'She's doesn't appear like someone who gives up so easily.'
"You're not giving yourself enough credit." she concluded.
"What?" Sara gave her a confused look.
"It sounds to me that you're low on self-esteem. All these failures that you came across have made you stop believing in yourself, in your capabilities."
The woman leaned forward in her leather chair and took her notebook, scribbling something in it and then placing it back on the nearby table. She crossed her fingers and gave Sara a serious look.
"I gotta ask, what's with the notebook? I thought you used tape recorders." Sara asked, to lighten the mood a little.
"You could say I'm old-fashioned. If I use a tape recorder then I'll have to listen to it continuously to get what you meant. This way, I got all the facts, right away."
"Isn't that more complicated? Why not use a computer?"
The blonde smiled at her and muttered in a fake southern accent, "Don't like 'em."
Sara laughed and said, "You and Grissom would get along just fine."
After a few moments and realizing what she said, her expression fell again.
' Him again. He must be involved somehow.' The woman thought.
Noticing that the name caused the sudden change in her behavior, she decided to question her about it.
"Grissom is your boss?" she questioned.
"Yes," the blonde nodded, while she continued, "my supervisor."
"He was the one who asked for your help four years ago?"
"Yes."
The woman nodded in understanding. They were finally getting somewhere. The mystery package that is Sara Sidle was slowly unfolding before her eyes.
She decided to take a different approach. "How did he take your 'encounter' with the police?" she asked.
She smiled a little. "He took it remarkably well. Let's just say it wasn't what I expected."
"You thought he was going to be mad at you?"
"Yeah, something like that. Grissom is not exactly an open book and he has trouble expressing himself. Although I pretty much expected him to lecture me about being reckless, about how it might affect my job and all..." she trailed off.
"But he didn't?"
"No. It was like some other person was in his body."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he was a completely different person that night."
"What happened that made you think that?"
"He was the one who picked me up at the station."
'Interesting.' the woman thought.
"Oh? How did that make you feel?"
"Guilty, exposed, vulnerable...ashamed. God, I was so embarrassed." She shook her head at the memory.
The woman went over the facts in her head. 'She seems like a person of strong character and will. Doesn't want people seeing her any less than that. She obviously interpreted this incident as something that will make her look weak and she especially doesn't want him to see her any different than she's acted before.'
"Because you thought he'll find you weak?" she asked.
"Yeah. But then he did something I never thought he would do. He took my hand."
The woman raised her eyebrows in confusion. 'Is she confused about what she feels or confused about what happened? Now I'm confused. I don't think I have the whole picture here.' she sighed internally.
Sara continued, "I know what you're thinking. How can something so ordinary, be so surprising when it involves Grissom? But that's just it. Everything that pertains Grissom is extraordinary. You see, for Grissom to make physical contact with you is like trying to touch an autistic person. He just doesn't like to be touched. And the only time he touches someone is when he's wearing latex gloves and that someone is usually dead..." she trailed off, suddenly lost in thought.
She promised herself not to think about his 'confession' but something would always remind her.
'She is confused. She doubts his intentions and the meaning of this obviously confusing act on his behalf. He seems to be as complex as her.' the woman thought.
"He seems like a complex 'character'?" she asked, intrigued.
"He's an enigma alright."
'So there is something more that she's not telling me. She's connected with him somehow and I don't think it's in an employee/boss sort of way. But is it her boss? Could he be the main problem? Although I could be wrong...' she thought.
"And what is it that makes him more attractive? His mystique' or the fact that he's 'off limits'?"
Sara raised her eyebrows. "And what makes you think I find him attractive?"
'So, that's what this is about! Hmm...let's see...low on self-esteem, lost confidence, trust, vulnerability...this is about emotions, feelings...not about some addiction...certainly not a drinking problem! And it's not all about him . Something serious is bothering her and I still don't have the whole picture. From what I learned she seems to have a problem with some cases at work. Could that be connected with what's bothering her?'
She looked at Sara more closely. Her shoulders were slumped, her face pale and covered with an emotionless mask.
'Good thing she came to me first. This is not some problem for a P.E.A.P. counselor to handle. I need to explore her relationship with him. It seems to be something that's stopping her from moving on. It should be dealt first.' she decided internally.
"Sara, tell me how long how you been coming here?" she finally asked.
"This'll be the fifth time. Why?"
"Because I have just come to a conclusion that every time we changed subjects or you said something, it would go back on him."
"That's not true." she protested.
"Oh?" The woman took her notebook from the table and flipped through some pages, stopping when she found what she was looking for.
'It's in her interest to explain a few things before we go on.' she thought.
"In the beginning of our sessions, I inquired about your childhood. I asked you about your childhood hobbies and you said and I quote—'
I loved doing experiments. I used to take different types of food and mix them together, to try out new flavors. My mom said I'd make a great cook one day. Boy was she wrong. Now I don't do experiments anymore. Don't have time, I guess. Last time I was involved in one was when Griss showed me and Warrick how to turn a pickle into a light bulb.
The woman looked up from her notes and gave her a pointed look.
Sara gave her a surprised look. "You wrote that down?" she leaned toward her, to take a peak at what she wrote. "No offence but your writing looks more unreadable than mine. My friend Nick calls it 'chicken scratch'." she smiled a little at the memory of her 'annoying brother' Nick teasing her about it.
The woman smiled back and replied, "A few other people told me I write fast but I'll take that as a compliment."
Then she added seriously, "So, how do you explain this?"
"It just crossed my mind at the time." She said a bit defensively.
"Alright. And what about this one..." she flipped through some pages, "I asked you if you had friends in college and you said—"
I had one or two but they were from my theoretical physics club. I didn't socialize very much and they didn't ask me out. The only time I actually went out with someone was when I met up with Grissom for a cup of coffee. But that was ages ago.
She looked up and gave her a serious look.
Sara blinked nervously and looked down at her hands again. "I...Ugh...so I mentioned him a couple of times. What does that have to do with anything?"
The blonde ignored her question and flipped through a few more pages and settled on one.
I got my first real break when I worked for the San Francisco Crime Lab. I worked the swing shift back then so I could catch more sleep, I got my own place and could afford it since the pay check was good; not that I ever really cared about money but I put it in a good use for my post-graduate. And I just became CSI level two, when a series of murders hit San Fran. It was not the killer that baffled us; it was more the way he operated. All the victims were young women; early 20's to 30's, most of them with a file for prostitution, no ethnical or racial barriers. But we knew this one was clever, too clever actually. And at that time, ten years ago, there were no real computers, no CODIS to identify his DNA and the women were usually left to rotten for days, months even, before they were found, either skinless or covered with insects. That's when my supervisor asked for an outside help and I had no idea that the expert entomologist in question would be Grissom.
"What? You're saying I'm obsessed with him or something?"
'Quite the contrary, I think it's something much deeper and intimate. No, I can't make those conclusions just yet. I need more strong facts to support it.' she thought.
She shook her head. "No. I'm thinking there's more to it than you've actually told me. I believe that every important event in your life somehow relates to Grissom. It's sort of an 'all paths lead to Rome' theory. It appears he's very important to you somehow and that's why you consciously or subconsciously put him in connection with those important events. And I believe that you should deal with him first."
Sara sighed in resignation. "What do you suggest?" she asked.
'She didn't correct me, then it must be true.'
The blonde smiled reassuringly at her.
'She needs to talk to him, first as her supervisor and then...well she has to decide what to do later and what exactly...how much to reveal.' she concluded.
"Alright. Here's what you should do..."
----
End for now. Sequel is in the works:)
Please tell me what you think. Any comments, suggestions and constructive criticism welcome. Thanks for reading.