TITLE: Addicted
AUTHOR: Devanie Maxwell
RATING: PG, at best.
SUMMARY: Maybe Sara isn't the only one with an addiction.
DISCLAIMER: All these gift cards and I still can't buy the franchise.
NOTES: Thanks to Blaze for the beta. This is based on csipal's challenge at Elements are at the end. This is the first piece of CSI (or otherwise) fiction I've written in a very long time. It's mediocre at best, but I just wanted to get back on the horse, so to speak.
"Someone's credit is shot to Hell."
Grissom leaned over to glance at the envelopes she had shifted back onto the desk. "It's hard to collect from the dead, Sara."
Tilting her head in agreement, she added "One of these is from the IRS. Seems that Mr. Sonowski was three years behind."
"'The only thing certain in life is death and taxes.' Ironic that one relieves you of the other."
Looking around the modest apartment, Sara observed the sparse furnishings and near-lack of electronics. Standing out in the utilitarian décor was an elaborate model train, complete with station and surrounding village. Stepping closer to get a better look, she called back to Grissom.
"Take a look at this. Apparently the vic had a hobby."
Peering over into the set, Grissom whistled in amazement. "The detail here is exquisite." He used his index finger to open a tiny door on one of the bungalows.
Sara glanced at the assortment of paints and glues on a nearby TV tray. "He did this all himself." Nudging a baby cow, she smiled. "Even super-glued the livestock in place."
He nodded in agreement. "This borders on obsessive, and I think that's what just yielded us our first clue. Look."
A bottle cap, covered in rust, was lodged up against one of the small buildings. Behind it, one of the villagers lay broken, bent backwards at the legs.
"Not one speck of dust. Everything is meticulous." As Sara ran a finger along the tray next to them, a small dot of red paint appeared on her glove. "The paint isn't even dry. Does the victim seem like someone who would let something like that linger?"
Impressed at the analysis, Grissom rewarded her with a half-smile. "Exactly."
Bagging the bottle cap, Sara squinted into the light coming through the efficiency's window. "This is what processing your murder would be like."
That one earned a startled cough. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, your place is larger, but it would come down to the same kind of thing. Crooked grasshopper on the wall, maybe."
"'It isn't that I don't like sweet disorder, but it has to be judiciously arranged.' West."
"'In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.' Jung."
Grissom actually snorted. "There's nothing disorderly in your life, Sara. Your work. Your apartment. Nothing out of place. It's part of what makes you a great CSI." He said the last part with a nearly imperceptible look of pride.
"Physical order and emotional order can be two different things. You of all people should know that."
"I don't think you can have one without the other. Negative emotions just create weaknesses in the existing order."
Shaking her head, Sara sighed. "Negative emotions or emotions are negative?"
Grissom looked legitimately confused. "I'm not following."
"Take love. Is that a negative emotion?"
He looked around the room as if pondering the best way to escape and Sara laughed. I'm not coming on to you, Grissom. It's just a question."
Folding his arms across his chest, he responded, "If it keeps you from focusing on more important things, then yes, it can be negative."
They kept processing for several minutes, until Sara broke the silence.
"Tell me how you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Stop loving someone."
"Sara…"
Sara didn't back down. "I'm not asking for myself. I'm asking as a scientist. You're the epitome of order, and I can't imagine that you've never been in love. How do you turn that off?"
"You don't."
Now it was Sara's turn to be confused. "But you just said…"
Making eye contact now, Grissom spoke with confidence. "You don't turn it off. You manage it, much like you manage an addiction. That's something you can relate to, isn't it?"
No matter how hard she had looked, she never found the rules to this game that they were playing. "I'm not sure that's a fair comparison."
"Everyone has their own way of coping, Sara."
Dusting the edge of a windowsill now, she felt as though he had hit her in the stomach with a two-by-four. Their hypothetical had just as well become an admission, and now she had no idea what to do with it. Taking a moment to regroup her thoughts, she spoke again.
"I've gained control over my drinking, but that doesn't mean I'm never going to have another beer."
"There's no twelve step program for love."
She raised an eyebrow at that. "Then what's keeping you from relapsing?"
"If you were to drink a little all the time, would you miss it?"
Nodding in understanding, Sara pinned him with her eyes. "It's only when you're deprived of something completely that the symptoms of addiction set in."
"It's Vegas. Fortunately, there's a liquor store on every corner off the strip."
"I wasn't talking about alcohol."
"I know."
They held each others' gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Grissom cleared his throat. "It's harder when your addiction has free will. It enables itself."
Sara tried to wrap her mind around that one. "Are you saying you'd like me to leave, because I've lost track." She laughed nervously, and Grissom gave her his first real smile of the last several months.
"I'm saying that if you have the urge to drink long enough, eventually you're going to have a sip. Learning, perhaps, that the sip might lead to something that won't consume your life."
Concentrating on a small stain at the base of the table, Sara grinned. "More comfortable with the drinking parable?"
"Yes."
"My PEAP counselor wouldn't approve."
Grissom shrugged and turned back to his own work. "It's coming out of my budget. He can deal."
Smiling at his back, Sara knew the conversation was over. She also knew now the difference between an addiction and a vice. She consumed the latter, the former consumed her. Perhaps Grissom had known that all along.
FIN
Elements:
1000 words
Include this in a G/S conversation:
"Tell me how you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Stop loving someone."
2. A rusty bottle cap
3. Super glue
4. A stack of overdue bills
5. Include this sentence:
'No matter how hard she had looked, she never found the rules to this game that they were playing.'