TITLE: ... like china cups
AUTHOR: coolbyrne
RATING: PG for two bad words
DISCLAIMER: Oh, what I'd be doing if they were mine. Alas, they are not.
FEEDBACK: Compliments/constructive criticisms are always welcome. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Send any combination of the above to:
SUMMARY: To move forward, Sara discovers you have to take the first step.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A bit of frustration on my part, regarding the 'ship, the season and the slow decimation of the character of Sara Sidle. I probably shouldn't write anything while listening to Annie Lennox or the Eurythmics, either, I suppose. Edited Jan 20th- Changed Vartan's first name; didn't realize Michael Vartan is also the name of the actor from Alias. Serves me right for not watching Alias, I guess. So instead, I changed it in honour of the actor who plays Vartan- Alex Carter.

---

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
-Robert Frost

The language of love, Slips from my lover's tongue
Cooler than ice cream, and warmer than the sun
Dumb hearts get broken, Just like china cups
The language of love, has left me broken on the rocks

-"Who's that Girl?" by the Eurythmics

---

The realization hit her out of the blue and she was literally winded by it. 'That's why they call it an epiphany, Sidle,' she sneered at herself as she stumbled down the hallway of the police station. She reached out to steady herself, some semblance of balance restored as her fingertips dragged along the rough concrete wall and occasional public service poster. The hallway seemed to go forever, the florescent bulb flickering like a neon sign to the exit her only goal.

Light at the end of the tunnel.

If asked, she would've been unable to pinpoint the exact moment she'd fallen in love with him, just as sure as she couldn't define the moment when she realized that loving him wasn't enough.

Two thick glass doors signaled her escape from the station's pressing claustrophobia and as she pushed through she was grateful to feel the cool night air on her face. She saw her black Denali across the parking lot but thought better of it. She'd do Vegas a favour and not get behind the wheel just yet. Not in this state. Instead, she sat on the steps, her arms wrapped around her knees. A few familiar faces she couldn't place smiled at her as they entered the building but, for the most part, she was left to enjoy the stillness of the early hour.

Stillness. To not move; either forward, backward, left or right. Boy, she knew something about stillness. Oh, the last five years were filled with ups and downs –too many to count -but it all seemed to come back to... stillness. The true lack of movement. To work so hard only to end up where she'd started from. To run and run and run only to find the finish line not one inch closer. She wondered when she'd hit the glass ceiling, and wondered when she'd allowed it to box her in.

Someone jogged lightly down the steps and it wasn't until he reached the bottom did Sara realize it was Detective Vartan. It must have taken him an extra second for her identity to register as well, because it was only at the bottom when he turned.

"Hey," he said, pointing at her, "good job on that McKenzie case tonight, Sidle."

She acknowledged him with a weak smile and he turned to leave, then paused. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

Vartan scratched his temple as if giving something serious thought then he snapped his fingers. "I know what you need. You need more protein in your diet. Nothing that a nice juicy steak wouldn't cure."

Sara was about to take the bait when she saw a gleam in his eye and the faint trace of a smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed. "How did you know I'm a vegetarian?"

"Brass told me," he shrugged. "When I first started this shift he gave me the rundown on you CSIs. You –vegetarian. Grissom –bug man."

She laughed, despite herself. "I don't even want to know the rest."

A few moments of silence passed before Vartan slipped his hands into his pockets and pulled out his keys. Absently, he lightly jingled them.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, his brow slightly furrowed, his eyes concerned.

A breath caught in Sara's throat. "Yeah. Uh, I don't know. No." She buried her face in her knees for a second then looked up. "Forget me."

An emotion she couldn't quite name crossed his face. He held up his keys and pointed towards the parking lot with his chin. "Let's go for a drink."

She shook her head. "I don't drink."

"It doesn't have to be alcohol. Coffee, water, a root beer float."

"A root beer float, huh?"

"I know the best place. C'mon."

--

She scooped up the last remnants of her drink then sighed and set it down in front of the bench. Looking over at Vartan she admitted, "That was the best root beer float I have ever had."

Vartan smiled as he polished off his banana split. "Who would have thought you'd find the best ice cream in the world in the middle of the desert?" He stood up, gathered their containers and tossed them into a nearby garbage can. When he returned, he reclined back on the bench and stared off into the night. "So, you wanna tell me about you and the bug man?"

Sara's head swiveled. "Are you always this direct, Detective Vartan?"

"Yep," he said unabashedly. "Comes with the territory. Can't just turn off bein' a cop. My ex-wife hated it."

This bit of information surprised her. "I didn't know you were married."

"Why would you?" he asked not unkindly. "Been and gone. Three years ago. Couldn't leave the job at work, if that makes sense."

"More than you know," she said.

He shifted to look at her. "Yeah, I guess you would. I don't think anyone who doesn't do what we do gets it. You see the things we see every day, you can't just turn that shit off."

"No. No, you can't."

"My ex would tell me I should have married another cop. But then I figure, there's only room in a marriage for one basket case."

He said it in such seriousness that she couldn't stop her response. What started as a small smile grew into a chuckle and then into full blown laughter. She put her hand over her stomach and tried to calm down. "Ow. My stomach. Stop it."

Vartan held his hands up. "Hey, I didn't do anything."

It took her a few more seconds to get herself under control before she finally said, "You made me laugh. Thank you."

He brushed back a dark strand of her hair and replied softly, "You should do it more often. It suits you." When his fingertips touched her forehead, she pulled back and he did the same. "Sorry. That was out of place. My fault."

"No. I mean..." she faltered. "I don't know what I mean."

"Grissom."

She stood up abruptly. "Is it written on my fucking forehead or something?" she snapped. Just as quickly, she held up her hand as if to soothe the blow. "Sorry." He didn't say anything and she appreciated the gentle rebuff. She sat down beside him again and sighed.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," she admitted.

"All good stories start at the beginning."

"That's just it," she tried to explain, "I don't remember where the beginning is. I just remember that one day I realized... I loved him." She stole a glance at Vartan and was surprised to find his expression a thoughtful one.

"And he feels the same for you?"

She covered her face with her hands, then crossed her arms. There was a time when she wasn't sure, but now, her answer was a firm one. "Yes."

Vartan was quiet for a moment then theorized, "That's gotta be tougher than if you knew he didn't." When she didn't answer, he went on. "So in the face of everything –the age, the politics, the risk –you wait for a moment that may never come. And you wait and you wait."

Amazed at how quickly he could pin down the root of all her grief, she could only nod.

He pressed his lips together and nodded in reply. "You're a very brave woman, Sara Sidle."

The floodgates opened and the tears fell.

"Does this look... look like the face of... of a brave woman?" she hiccuped. She took the napkins he offered and wiped her eyes. Looking up to the sky, she asked, "When did I become this person I hardly recognize in the mirror? When did I lose my backbone? When did I lose my voice? What happened to the person who said she'd never let another man hurt her again?" She stopped hastily, not willing to go down that road. More lightly, she added, "And how did I become this person who blurts everything out to a cop?"

He smiled and went along. "Never underestimate the lure of the root beer float." More seriously, he said, "You know, you can't always prevent hurt from happening. But you can prevent hurt from continuing. These are the choice we make every day. Look at that woman in the mirror, recognize that she's partly to blame, and decide what the next choice should be. Then live with it."

"Just like that, huh?"

"No, of course not. That's the paradox about life; it's incredibly difficult and amazingly simple at the same time. In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

She sniffled. "Wow. I'm ashamed of every stereotype I had about cops."

"Don't be," he grinned, "I stole that from a greeting card." When her laughter faded, he said, "But it's true, you know? Life will go on, with or without you. It's up to you."

"Yeah."

"Do you think you could say that with a little more conviction?"

She smiled and repeated, "Yeah."

"Better." He pulled out a business card from his pocket and scribbled a set of numbers on the back. "Now I'm going to make a choice," he told her as he handed her the card. "That's my home phone number. Cell phone's on the front. Give me a call sometime." He saw the look on her face and stopped her before she could speak. "Not tomorrow or this weekend. Maybe not even this month. Just... when you're ready, okay?" She looked down at the card. "And if you don't call me..." he shrugged, "well, life does go on." He bent his head to look into her eyes. "It just won't be as nice. C'mon. The sugar's wearing off and I need to go to bed." This got her head to snap up and he laughed. "That's not what I meant," then he shrugged again. "I mean, unless that's a choice you want to make."

She threw the napkins at his chest. "The root beer float wasn't that good." She tempered her jab with a small smile. Standing up, she said, "Come on, Detective Vartan, I'll let you drive me back to the police station."

"Like I'd let you walk," he scoffed and stood up. She got a few steps ahead when he called out softly. "Hey, Sara?" She turned to his voice. "Do you think maybe... you could call me Alex?"

Some choices were easier to make than others and in the days ahead, she would realize this as being the easiest one.

"Sure. Alex."