Tortured Reasoning
Authors: Mossley and Burked
Summary: It's a Thanksgiving to remember when an investigation into a brutal serial rapist becomes personal for Sara and Grissom.
A/N: Potential spoilers through the current episode. Thanks to Marlou for her beta services and support. She read too many versions of this chapter, but not the last part. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: We pooled our resources, and we still don't have enough to buy CSI, so we're just going to borrow some of their characters for a bit.
Chapter 2 – I Will Utter Hidden Things
His pulse racing, Grissom stood in the middle of the park, keenly aware that he'd become the center of unwanted attention. Sara was regarding him carefully, an openly inquisitive look on her face. Even Zoe had glanced back at him curiously.
Not surprisingly, Lady Heather's expression was unreadable, but it didn't take a forensic genius to figure out she wouldn't be happy to see him. Even if the circumstances of their reunion had been different, things had ended badly between them.
Pulling himself together, Grissom forced a calm exterior. He needed to stay detached. No matter his discomfort, it couldn't compare to what she and Zoe were experiencing.
The resemblance between Heather and her daughter was strong, and Zoe clearly learned some of her mother's mastery of self-control. She hadn't allowed herself to break down until safely in her mother's arms.
"Heather," he called out, nodding his greetings. "I take it that this is your daughter."
"Yes," Lady Heather answered shortly, twisting around as if shielding Zoe with her body.
The change in position allowed Sara to take in her gossamer-thin black robe over a bustier, shorts and thigh-high boots – all made of black leather.
"Okay, this is getting too weird. Is that who I think it is?" Sara asked softly, shaking her head in bewilderment.
"If you think it's Lady Heather, then yes, it's who you think it is," Grissom murmured, having trouble accepting the fact himself.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Sara tilted her head as she watched Heather gently stroke her daughter's back. She'd heard of the woman – and the rumors surrounding her dealings with Grissom. Those she had chosen to disbelieve, but her other assumptions were already taking a pounding.
"Somehow I'm having a hard time reconciling black leather, whips and chains with motherhood," she admitted in a low voice.
"It's a job. Like any other," Grissom shrugged, moving towards the group that had formed at the perimeter.
Sara mimicked the shoulder roll as she followed. "I bet that made life miserable for Zoe when she was a kid. What do you tell your classmates? 'Oh, my mom is a sadomasochist'."
"They seem close enough to me," he answered uncomfortably. Talking about personal issues was never a task he relished, but Grissom found the idea of discussing Heather with Sara to be especially unpalatable. It wasn't a relationship he wanted to try to explain.
Anyone familiar with Sara knew how much she detested the lifestyle Lady Heather represented. Her reactions to rape and abuse extended to the more … alternative … sexual behaviors. Repeatedly, Sara had stated her distaste of "freaks".
What would she think if she knew that he had been involved, albeit very briefly, with Heather? That question rested uneasily on Grissom.
"Yeah, I imagine Take Your Daughter to Work Day was a real scream. Pun intended," she huffed harshly.
"Sara, enough!" he said forcefully, turning to fix her with a glare. "This is a crime scene. That is the victim. That is the victim's mother. Have some respect."
Sara stood speechless, her mouth slightly agape, a miasma of emotions and thoughts swirling through her head. Foremost was the question of why Grissom was so sensitive to Lady Heather's feelings. The obvious answer gave her no comfort. She nodded slowly, dropping her head slightly.
Immediately, Grissom regretted the severity of his rebuke. He hadn't meant to snap at her like that. While her behavior bordered on tasteless, it really wasn't any different than the gallows humor they often used to cope with their job.
What was different was the victim – more precisely, the victim's mother. It wasn't Sara's fault that he was facing an emotionally difficult situation, but he lashed out at her. Grissom recognized he'd probably lost any ground he made in repairing their friendship that night.
Before he could blunt his earlier response, Sara took a deep breath and raised her head, walking resolutely past Grissom and towards the victim and her mother.
"I'm Sara Sidle, from the Las Vegas Crime Lab," she stated as professionally as she could, though there was a slight waver to her voice.
"I'm Zoe's mother," Lady Heather stated simply.
"So I gathered. You're known as Lady Heather, correct?"
The dominatrix ran her eyes over her appraisingly. Sara resisted the urge to draw back from the intrusion, instead staring straightforwardly at Heather. After a moment, she returned the gaze, her head tilting slightly before answering. "That's correct."
"Is that how you want me to address you?" Sara asked.
"Lady Heather. Heather. Doesn't matter to me," she replied.
Sara gave a brief nod of her head, unable to shake the feeling that she was exposed before the older woman. "Um, okay. Heather, we need to get Zoe to the hospital, but she refuses to go."
"I'm fine, Mom. I don't need to go to the hospital. Just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing to get all excited about," the girl said beseechingly.
"If that's what you want," Heather said soothingly, smiling wanly at her daughter.
"You could have internal injuries," Sara said forcefully.
"If anything turns up, we'll call Dr. Tomlinson and he'll come by to take care of you," Heather assured the girl.
"You have a doctor that makes house calls?" Sara couldn't help but ask.
"He's on retainer. My business carries a certain amount of risk," Heather answered evenly.
"Yeah ... uh ... I guess it does," Sara acknowledged uncomfortably.
"Heather, we need a Sexual Assault Evidence examination performed. The evidence we could get will be critical for identifying and prosecuting the man who perpetrated this crime on Zoe," Grissom said hopefully.
"Mom, I just want to put this behind me," Zoe countered. "They took skin samples from under my nails. What else do they need? I don't want this to drag on for years, having to relive it over and over. What's done is done. Move on," she said with conviction.
"You heard my daughter," Heather said, feigning helplessness.
"That's fine, if that's what you want to do," Sara began tentatively. "But the next woman he abducts and assaults might not feel that way. If we catch him now, there won't be a next time."
Zoe shook her head, giving Sara a sad shrug. "I'm not responsible for what he does or doesn't do. That's his karma."
"And how does it help your karma to let him get away with it?" Sara countered, feeling her temper rise when Zoe's mother raised a perceptive eyebrow.
"No one gets away with anything, Ms. Sidle. What goes around comes around," Heather interjected ominously. She turned to the young man who had driven her there, speaking to him in a commanding, yet familiar, tone, "Andre, take Zoe to the car. I'll be along momentarily."
The young man nodded and slipped a protective arm around Zoe's shoulders, leading her back to the black Mercedes sedan.
"Nice car," Sara said, when Heather didn't speak.
"Andre seems to like it. I gave it to him for his twenty-fifth birthday."
"You gave an employee a Mercedes?" Sara asked incredulously.
"Andre is more than an employee," Lady Heather answered, her voice as smooth and thick as honey.
"Oh," Sara said, making her own assumptions.
"He's like a son to me. Came to work for me four years ago. Didn't have a home or a family. He fit so well into ours that it seemed like destiny."
"Oh," Sara repeated, but this time a little chagrined.
Grissom shifted his weight, watching as Andre hunched down by the open car door, clearly comforting Zoe. He'd jumped to the same conclusion as Sara, and it only added to the awkwardness of the situation.
He took a moment to dart his eyes in Sara's direction. The tension was more pronounced in her posture, and once again he found himself wishing he had assigned this case to someone else. The crime itself was horrific enough, but he knew Sara would be frustrated by Zoe's unwillingness to help.
And so far, he hadn't been very helpful. Taking a step forward, he waited until Lady Heather turned to resolutely glare to him.
"Heather, we really need the evidence from Zoe to catch this guy," he said.
"Mr. Grissom ..." she began with a cool, formal edge to her voice. "It seems like any time I try to help you, I end up the focus of the investigation. Now, unless you intend to charge me with this assault, we have no further business with you."
"Heather, Zoe may feel differently after she's not in shock, and then it'll be too late. Most victims get a sense of closure once the perpetrator is convicted," Sara offered.
"I didn't raise a victim, Ms. Sidle. That's what you don't understand. Life is full of suffering. You either succumb to it and become a victim, or you learn the lessons that pain has to teach you."
"What about justice?" Sara asked, almost desperately. The I-15 Rapist was brutal; every law enforcement personnel in the region was on the lookout for him. If Zoe would let them help her, there was a chance they could catch him before he ruined another life.
No one else would have to live with the unrelenting pain.
Lady Heather's eyes bore into Sara's for a moment that seemed interminable.
"Ms. Sidle, you cannot find the justice you're seeking through my daughter. Whatever pain it is that you bear, it's not her pain, and she can't do anything to make it go away."
Grissom snapped his head up. What was she talking about? Sara was empathic to victims; she hated injustice. This wasn't a vendetta for her. It wasn't personal.
Sara huffed, looking quickly over to Grissom, then back at Lady Heather.
"I ... I don't know what you're talking about. I'm trying to find justice for Zoe."
His head tilted in confusion, Grissom flexed his hands. Heather had to be wrong. This wasn't personal for Sara.
So why was she flustered?
"Let Zoe find her own peace. That's her choice. No matter how many bad people you put away, it won't cure the wound inside you."
"This isn't about me!" Sara barked, aware that Grissom was slowly moving closer to her.
Heather regarded her professionally. "Of course it is. Look at you. You're wound up so tightly that you could explode any second. You just barely hold it all together. It's a constant battle. Exhausting, isn't it? The pain is an adversary that you can never seem to vanquish."
Grissom tried to keep his breathing even as he saw the muscles in Sara's body tighten. Her hands were clenching her arms painfully as she stared over her shoulder at the empty playground. She was upset, fighting to retain her self-control. Everything Heather was implying.
Everything.
What had Lady Heather seen that he never noticed? Or didn't want to admit. Sara's drive was intense, but he'd never considered it as more than simple dedication to a job. Had he been wrong about her burnout; did it run deeper than that? What type of suffering had she endured, what could compel her to have such a strong reaction to cases?
Cases of domestic abuse and rape.
He gave himself a mental kick, pushing aside images of Sara living in the pain Heather was suggesting. That couldn't be right. Of course she would be upset. A brutal serial rapist may get away because the latest victim was unable to help. It was understandable that Sara would be troubled.
There wasn't more to it than that.
God, no, there couldn't be more to it.
"Sara, let's go," Grissom interjected, taking her by the arm, his anxiety increasing when she shrugged off his hand.
Lady Heather watched the exchange impassively, turning to face Sara head-on.
"Pain isn't the master, but it is the teacher. And it'll never leave you until you learn its lesson," Heather counseled as she spun smartly, her robes swirling an about-face, following her like an army of dark specters.
Sara stood there for a long moment, taking slow, deep breaths as she processed the turn of events. She was private by nature; she didn't willingly talk about herself, so becoming the focus at a crime scene was unsettling. No one had ever said anything like that before.
No one had ever seen through her defenses before.
With a grunt, she picked up her kit and began examining the area around the bushes. Lady Heather was had made a lucky guess. There was no way she knew anything about her past.
Grissom, his thoughts still in a jumble, did a double take at Sara's sudden departure. He had to jog to catch up with her energetic strides.
"Sara …" he began diffidently, not willing to give voice to his concerns.
"There's still physical evidence," she stated shortly. "Even if Zoe won't testify, there's DNA from the other victims."
Sara dodged his restraining hand quickly, but not fast enough to prevent him from seeing the haunted look in her eyes. Grissom swallowed, running his hand through his hair, suspicions racing beyond his ability to follow.
Had Lady Heather been correct? She claimed to be able to read people, and she had understood him immediately. But she also didn't recognize that one of her employees had slipped into psychosis, becoming capable of killing a client's wife. Was she right now?
Sara was on edge; that much he could tell. Maybe he'd pushed her too soon. Greg still needed a mentor.
"Why don't you go back to the lab? I'll finish this up," he finally offered.
Pausing only for a second, she shook her head. "We'll get this done faster if we both work on it. My guess is he drove off in Zoe's car, since it isn't here. Maybe the cops can find him before he dumps it."
Grissom eased closer, careful not to make any sudden movements. Sara noted his action, giving him a pointed stare before returning to work. He observed her for a moment. Her actions were crisp and competent, but he was still discomforted.
"You don't have to prove anything, Sara."
"I'm not trying to," she answered tightly, closing her eyes for a second.
Grissom let out a long breath. "If this case is too … difficult for you…"
Sara twisted around, fixing him with an annoyed look. "What is wrong with you?"
"Me? Nothing. Can you tell me the same?"
"God, Grissom," she swore under her breath. "Don't tell me you actually fell for that? No one can get a handle on someone that quickly. She was 'protecting' her daughter."
He watched her intently. In his heart, he wanted to believe Sara with an urgency that staggered him. But he couldn't deny what the evidence suggested.
"Therapists can often reach a conclusion about their patients based on limited observations," he noted. "It's what makes them successful. Lady Heather uses the same skills."
"You actually think what she does is therapeutic? Damn, I heard of whipping someone into shape before, but I think she takes it too literally."
"Sara…"
She stood upright, planting her hands on her hips. "No! Grissom, don't you get it? What she does – it's a parlor trick. Every con artist and fake card reader in the world knows it. You keep tossing out vague statements until the person reacts, and you follow up on that."
"She managed to get a reaction out of you," he pointed out painfully, his eyes darkening with emotion.
Sara froze, trying unsuccessfully to prevent the shudder running through her body. The case was already dredging up memories she'd desperately wanted to escape, that she'd been trying to flee for years. Now, thanks to that woman, Grissom was pressing her for details.
This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with him. Not under these circumstances, and she sure as hell didn't want it because of some mumbo-jumbo from Lady Heather.
The ease with which he accepted the dominatrix's unsubstantiated claims angered Sara. It lent credence to the rumors that they had been involved, if only briefly. She hadn't wanted to believe that – it was far too galling.
She was the first to admit that Grissom's concerns about having a relationship with an employee had some basis in fact, but he had left absolutely no line uncrossed by sleeping with a murder suspect. That he was willing to risk his job for someone like Lady Heather, but treated her like an unacceptable danger, pained Sara deeply.
It also made her question his apparent concern now. As much as she wanted have someone she could trust with her burdens, Grissom wasn't that man. He actively avoided any emotional connection with other people, especially her. She held no delusions about how fast he'd retreat if he knew the truth.
"This isn't about me," she finally stated, turning to look at Grissom imploringly.
Sara's response should have been reassuring. It was calmly delivered, but the ache in her eyes was impossible to miss. Grissom pursed his lips as he looked down at the ground; he harbored no doubts that he caused some of that pain.
"I think it would be best if you didn't work this case," Grissom replied, stepping back when she suddenly turned on him, marching over and leaning until she was mere inches from his face.
"You are not taking me off this case."
He tried to offer a friendly look. "If this is too…"
"What about you? I think you're the one with a personal attachment to this case – or the family, I should say."
His jaw dropping, Grissom was unable to contain his shock. He never dreamt that Sara – that anyone – was aware of his past with Lady Heather. He thought his brief affair had been carried out discreetly, but that obviously wasn't the case. Grissom's hand reached up to rub over his beard as he broke off eye contact, trying to grasp the implications of Sara knowing about his indiscretion.
Her breath came in heavy gulps as she turned around, fighting down her embarrassment. Heather had her upset. This wasn't good. Grissom was already treating her like she was fragile; he was going to overreact.
And his continued silence only confirmed her suspicions about his relationship with the dominatrix.
"See, I told you it was a good parlor trick," Sara said.
He blinked, letting out an irritated grunt. "I never admitted to anything."
"Are you denying it?" she asked, glancing up at him. When he turned away, Sara gave a half-hearted shrug. "Guess I should thank you for not lying about it."
Grissom watched guiltily as she resumed her examination of the crime scene. The emotion surprised him; he and Sara had never been together. It wasn't like he had cheated on her. That fact hadn't prevented him from being upset by Sara's dating, Grissom admitted to himself. What had she said? Everyone has a jealousy gene.
He never considered it would bother her. At the time, he had been overwhelmed with his troubles. His hearing was failing. By all appearances, Sara had moved on and was happy with that paramedic.
Heather had been someone from whom he couldn't hide. The release of not having to put on the show had been indescribable. Even if he hadn't had her arrested, Grissom doubted their relationship would have lasted any length of time, but how did it look to Sara?
Obviously, it was a source of contention. When she turned back to stare at him, the depth of her sorrow was clear.
"We have a case to work," Sara said sadly. "Are you going to help me or not?"
Grissom nodded silently, dejectedly moving to examine the area where the rapist had fled, pausing to watch Sara. He did want to help her and with more than the case, but he wondered if she'd ever trust him enough to accept the offer.
The sun was peeking over the horizon by the time they returned to the lab. The drive back had been quiet. Grissom seemed unwilling to broach a topic, and that had suited Sara. She wasn't in the mood to talk.
Instead, she headed straight for an empty lab, beginning the painstaking task of examining each piece of evidence they had uncovered in the park. She was examining fibers found in the bushes when someone walked up behind her. Initially, she was ready for another confrontation but relaxed when he spoke.
"Sara," Greg mock-whined, "what are you doing to me? I'm stuck in the lab because DNA is swamped. I figured you'd help me escape, but no! You give me more samples! Marked 'rush' in huge-ass red letters, I might add."
"Greg, have you heard of the I-15 Rapist?" she asked coolly, moving the next sample under the microscope.
"Yeah, it's been in all of the dispatch … shit. This isn't?"
She looked up long enough to nod. "Looks that way. MO is the same."
"Is she going to be okay? I mean, what he did to those other women was sick."
"I hate to say she was lucky, but a kid walking a dog interrupted him. He assaulted her, but he didn't get a chance to disfigure her," Sara replied, a brief smirk forming. "And the dog took a bite out of his ass."
"That's one lineup I don't need to see. I hope someone bought Fido a steak dinner after that."
"Actually, I imagine any treat Pixy gets is going to be leather," she said dryly.
Greg gave her a puzzled look, hopping up on her work desk. "So, where's the SAE kit?"
Sara grabbed the next slide forcefully. "Thanks to Lady Heather, we didn't get one."
"Lady Heather?" Greg asked incredulously, mimicking a whip-cracking motion.
"The one and only."
He let out a long whistle. "So this guy attacked one of Heather's girls? How brainless can you get?"
"Greg, last time I checked, slavery was still illegal. They aren't her 'girls'," she said, squeezing her pen in an effort to keep her anger in check. "And it was her daughter, Zoe."
"Ouch! Even worse. God, can you imagine what she'd do to that rapist if she ever got her hands on him? Not that he doesn't deserve it, but man, what a way to go."
Sara closed her eyes as the images of what happened within Lady Heather's domain flashed through her mind. She didn't want to know what went on there. The willing infliction of pain was hard enough to comprehend, but the thought that someone was deriving pleasure from it made her sick to her stomach.
The only thing worse was charging people to take part in the humiliating spectacle.
"So, what do you have for me?" Greg asked softly, nudging her arm gently.
"There are scrapings from under her nails and a swab from the dog's mouth. Hopefully, we'll get some usable DNA from it."
"Okay," he said, drawing out the last syllable. "Uh, want some coffee? I can break out my secret stash."
Sara's lips twitched in wry amusement. Greg was outgoing, even boisterous, but definitely not a smooth operator. "I'd really like some DNA results," she answered, flashing him a friendly grin.
"Coffee would take less time," he sighed dramatically as he slid off of the desk. "I'll get started on it right away."
"Thanks, Greg."
"No problemo."
Later, when she heard footsteps behind her, Sara gave her head a brief shake. "DNA is still better than coffee."
Grissom stopped short, his mouth dropping in confusion. He couldn't figure out how coffee applied to their case. "What? Why?"
When she spun around quickly, he realized she hadn't been expecting him. "You're not Greg," she stated simply.
He shot her an amused glance over the top of his glasses. "A fact that I'm sure pleases him as much as it does me."
"What's up?" she asked evenly, turning back to the microscope.
He walked to the bench, resting his elbow on it as he leaned in close. Seeing her jaw clench, Grissom backed off slightly, giving her space, but still trying to be supportive. It was clear that she was still upset, but he wasn't sure how much of it was due to the case and how much was directed at him.
"Shift ended a few minutes ago," Grissom noted.
"Really?"
He tapped his finger against the tabletop, frowning as she purposely ignored his hint.
"That's very annoying," she sighed, pushing up and staring at him.
"Sorry," he said, intertwining his hands over his belly. "Sara, I don't want you putting undo stress on yourself."
"I'm not."
Grissom let out huff as she grabbed the next slide. She responded by hitting the edge of the work surface lightly with the palm of her hand. "I am almost done. I only have a couple more to do. It would take longer to retrieve all this from the evidence vault tonight and start over," Sara explained with forced patience.
He nodded, dropping his eyes to his hands. So far, his attempts at communicating were falling short. It wasn't an area that he excelled in, but it didn't mean he didn't care. Grissom had no idea if Heather's suspicions were correct or not, but he could tell Sara was in pain, and he didn't know how to help her.
Realizing only one person knew the answer to that quandary, Grissom stood up and rested his hand on the back of her chair. "How can I help?" he asked lowly.
"You can't," she said firmly, a facial muscle flinching before she took a calming breath. "I'm almost done. It won't go any faster with both of us working on it."
"That's not what I meant."
Sara's grasp on her pen became painful, but she forced her voice to remain calm as she resumed her duties. "I don't need any other help."
Grissom closed his eyes in defeat and pulled back. Sara either didn't trust him or didn't believe he was capable of doing anything to assist her. Until either of those criteria was met, he was at a loss.
Opening his eyes, he licked his lips nervously. "How about we go grab some breakfast when you're done here?"
That time Sara actually turned to stare at him in unabashed bewilderment. After what seemed an unbearably long time, she shook her head. "No. No, thanks. I have … uh, somewhere I need to go."
When she turned her back on him to finish the last of her slides, Grissom slowly trudged out of the room. Looking over his shoulder, he wondered how he would ever bridge the distance between them.
"Gil!" Catherine shouted down the hall.
Grissom stopped immediately and spun around, having to hurriedly reach out to protect himself from a collision with a young lab tech who was following too closely behind him. The young lady turned crimson and sputtered profuse apologies, fearing that her internship at the lab might have already been jeopardized by plowing into one of the supervisors.
The tech scurried away as Catherine approached, chuckling. "Is that your new way of meeting women? You gotta work on some smooth lines to go with it. I'd be willing to bet that she won't come within a hundred yards of you for weeks now."
"Who was that?" Grissom asked, his face pinched into a questioning scowl.
"How the hell should I know? She's one of the interns they rotate through here. That's all I know. Cute, isn't she?"
Grissom's face morphed into a punishing glare. "Did you need me for something?"
"No, not really. Just wanted to check on something," Catherine said as the two walked towards Grissom's office.
Once inside, Catherine shut the door and sat down, which Grissom never took to be a good sign.
"What is it, Catherine?" he asked, wanting what he expected to be an ordeal to start so that it could be finished all the sooner.
"I just wanted to see how you are," she said, smiling kindly.
"I'm fine. Is there some reason you ask?"
"This case. Lady Heather. Sara. Do I need to spell it out?"
"It would seem so," Grissom answered stiffly.
"Gil, I know it's got to be uncomfortable for you, seeing her again. People want old flames to stay in the past, not pop up over and over in their lives."
"She wasn't a flame," Grissom replied with frustration. Did everyone know of his indiscretion?
"Whatever. The point is, having her and Sara in the same solar system is dangerous enough. But having them involved in the same case is just begging for trouble."
"Sara's doing fine. She's a professional," Grissom said, knowing he wasn't answering Catherine's question.
"Yeah, well, actually it's you I'm worried about."
His face scrunched in confusion. "Me?"
"Did you ever see that movie about the guy who had to keep living the same day over and over until he got it right?"
"That's a little vague. Do you mean 'A Christmas Carol' by Dickens?"
"No, no, no! Though it's the same premise, I guess. Oh, hell, what's the name of that movie?" she asked rhetorically as she stared at the ceiling.
"What's your point, Catherine?"
She let her head fall back slowly, giving him a meaningful look. "Well, last time you were around Lady Heather, you made a bad choice."
"You are treading dangerously close to my personal life," Grissom warned.
"Oh, shut up, Gil. I've known you forever. Your personal life is hardly the mystery to me that you try to make it to everyone else at the lab."
"If you have a point, could you make it?" Grissom asked tiredly, knowing that there was no other way to deter Catherine once she was on a mission.
"My point is, if you made a decision the last time that didn't work out, don't make the same decision. Be careful not to repeat the same mistake again. I did that with Eddie, and all it did was set me back."
"I have no intentions of becoming involved with Lady Heather," Grissom stated firmly.
"Good. Good. I'm glad to hear it," Catherine said, rising.
Grissom was breathing a sigh of relief when she stopped at the door.
"But since you mentioned it, how is Sara doing?"
"I think that you were the one who initially mentioned it," Grissom countered.
"Fine. I mentioned it first. Now, are you going to answer me?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No, not really."
"What are the chances that you'll accept that it's none of your business and leave me in peace?" he asked with a hint of hopefulness.
"Hmm. I'd say the odds are somewhere in the neighborhood of one in a billion," she replied with a self-satisfied smirk.
Grissom peered peevishly over the top of his glasses as he reached for a file, pausing before opening it. Catherine could be annoying, but in many ways she was a better judge of human interactions than he was. She'd be able to put his doubts about Heather's comments to rest.
"Well, she did make an odd statement to Sara," he began, trying to sound unimpressed. "Heather told Sara that she couldn't find the answer to her pain through other people."
"Oh, I would have loved to have been there for that discussion!"
"You would?" Grissom began slowly, a cold fear settling in his stomach.
"Hell, yeah! That's a catfight you don't see everyday. You be careful," she warned.
"About?"
"Gil, either one of them pissed are more than you can handle. But both at the same time," she said with a cringe and a headshake, "it wouldn't be pretty. Don't do anything stupid."
Grissom turned his attention back to his file. Catherine had neither confirmed nor dismissed Heather's claim, effectively leaving him in the same state of uncertainty as before. He didn't want to push, fearful of starting rumors about Sara's state of mind.
She insisted she was fine. He had no reason to doubt her. No, that wasn't completely true; he had seen Sara's tenseness at the scene, but he had no proof it wasn't strictly related to her recovery.
"I'm not kidding," Catherine repeated.
"You seem to have been put on this Earth to be a thorn in my side," Grissom breathed out.
"I'd say more of a pain in your ass. But if you didn't have me around, this whole place could collapse around you, and you'd never notice it. I'm not just asking because I'm nosy. More than anything, I want to make sure that you're paying attention."
"I'm paying attention," he said firmly, nodding in punctuation.
"Really?" Catherine didn't try to hide the doubt in her voice.
"Really. Now go find someone else to torment. I need some time to sort through all of the case files for the I-15 Rapist. He's never going to stop if we can't get ahead of him."
Catherine nodded her assent and smiled at him as she let herself out.
"I am paying attention," Grissom said aloud as he watched Sara moving through the hall, finally leaving for the day.
TBC