Pairing: GS
Summary: Grissom and Sara ponder 'the talk' from "Snakes."
Disclaimer: I own no rights to anything regarding CSI. No infringement is intended. I'm certainly not making any money from this. I'm just noodling because TPTB frustrate me. Nyah.
I originally only meant this to be from Grissom's point of view, but thanks to some kind reviews, I thought I'd attempt Sara's take on it also. Thanks for the reviews!
Spoilers: Snakes S5
She had become very adept at compartmentalizing her thoughts. Sure, she had purposely waited until almost the end of shift to speak to Grissom. Still, considering that Grissom was the one topic that used to infallibly break her discipline, she was pleased that she'd managed to finish the shift and get home before she allowed herself time to think about it. One little victory.
Sara allowed herself a terse smile as she entered her apartment, and set about her routine of putting things away, straightening up and fixing herself something to eat. She sat on the couch with her grilled cheese and tomato soup and stared at it.
Comfort food, her brain teased. She frowned.
OK, maybe she hadn't exactly had the conversation with Grissom that the counselor had suggested. She hadn't said a word about her history, and the counselor had been adamant that was her real issue, and that Grissom should be made aware of it. Her history. She hated using that word to describe her past. Like she was a used car with problems, or a house that hadn't quite been kept up, and anyone interacting with her on a more than casual level should be aware. What did normal people have? Just memories, like Hallmark?
The counselor had been a kind, intelligent woman. She was just trying to do her job. When Sara told her about being pulled over for DUI the counselor had brought up the obvious question of burnout. Sara insisted she loved her job, without thinking, she ruefully thought later. If she'd been smart, she just would've played along. She knew the game. But she'd insisted she wasn't burned out, she was just tired, and stressed.
That had led to a host of questions from the counselor aiming to list the stressors she'd had over the last year or two. And that had led to Sara listing Grissom, more emphatically than other things, like cases, politics, or promotions. She kept her description of their relationship as light as she could, but she knew her body language and expression were giving her away.
She just wanted to be able to talk to somebody, anybody, she realized, about him.
The counselor asked a few pointed questions about the status of the relationship and Grissom's reactions. She asked if Sara was in love with him.
"Yes." Sara admitted.
"Has he ever given you any indication that he specifically reciprocates that?" she asked.
Sara glowered at her. I am so stupid, she thought. Why did I think bringing this up would help?
"Not specifically." She muttered.
The counselor leaned back in her chair, looking at Sara with what Sara decided was a careful and much-rehearsed expression of troubled concentration. After a moment she spoke.
"We'll come back to that, ok? It would help me if you could give me an overview of your history, Sara. Family, relationships, that sort of thing."
Sara groaned inwardly. At that point the first session became a long and relentless interrogation that lasted well into the next session.
When Sara balked, she got the usual line.
"I really need to know these things about you, Sara, in order to help you."
She elaborated that if Sara weren't suffering from an obvious problem, like burnout, they would have to explore until they uncovered something that could explain her behavior and feelings.
"I need to know what makes you the person you are now." She explained, gently, but still sounding to Sara like she was speaking to a small child.
God, Sara thought. I have six more of these sessions to go?
She remembered the first counselor she'd ever seen. Her mother had forced her to go, threatening to put her in a girl's home if she didn't comply. Sara had sat brooding in the chair for long minutes before she said a word. The counselor had tried gently to get her to talk.
Finally, he said, "Look, kiddo. Your mom's already paid me for the hour. She's a very, um, dramatic woman, your mother. She's going to ask me what we accomplished in here, and I can make up something to satisfy her. I'm good at that."
"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I know you were forced into coming to see me. I'm not saying you have a problem. I'm saying that if it might help you to just vent for awhile, I'll listen."
She'd looked at him with the eyes of a suspicious animal.
"Why are you here?" he asked her softly.
"I'm here because my mom can't deal with anything." She snapped. "I'm here because my dad died almost a year ago, and my mom has fallen apart. She doesn't take care of anything anymore, except getting high and going out to party. She treats us like we're just a pain in the ass. My brother just lets her rant until he gets grocery money out of her. I guess I'm not as patient. I yell back!"
He'd let her talk the almost the whole hour. Finally, he said,
"Sara, you break my heart. You shouldn't be in here. Your mother should be in here." He looked genuinely sad.
"Well, what should I do?" she asked, exasperated.
He was silent for what seemed like forever.
"Whatever you can do to survive, and know that you are worth it."
She stared at him, utterly speechless.
She was 14.
Thinking back on it, Sara realized the guy hadn't been that bad. He'd been in no position to really help her. Her mom hadn't done anything at that time to give him any legal means to extricate Sara from her nightmare of a home. Actually, he'd been very empathetic. Later counselors had been a lot harder to deal with, and had helped her less.
Sara decided that this woman had at least an air of kindness about her. She didn't trust her, by any means, but Sara figured she could at least talk about some of her past safely, if she filtered it correctly.
So she began to explain, over the next few sessions, as sparsely as she could get away with, all that had happened in the years between her father's death and her eighteenth birthday. Only after scaring the poor woman as to what she would do if the content of her sessions were ever made public, to anyone in the department, of course. She was assured that wouldn't happen.
Maybe she can actually give me some constructive advice, Sara thought. And maybe if she gets my damn history, she'll let me talk about what I really want to talk about later.
The counselor wasn't as helpful as Sara had hoped. She listened to all Sara had to say, and although she brought up some valid points, it was all textbook. Stuff like,
"You know, none of this is your fault."
"You have to learn to let this go, and if you can't forgive the people involved, at least take charge of your own life from this point on and not let the damage that's been done to you damage your future."
"I'm not obsessing over this stuff." Sara retorted. "If anything, I've thought about more during these sessions than I have in the last ten years."
"It obviously still bothers you. It's affecting your work and your decisions."
"I don't think it's wrong for me to feel strongly for certain victims." Sara retorted.
"It's about more than that, Sara." She insisted. "It's about how you view yourself."
Sara refused to go there.
"So what do I do about Grissom?" she challenged. "You said we could talk about that eventually."
The counselor sighed heavily.
"I'm not so sure your feelings for him are healthy, Sara." She said carefully. "You're looking for validation in others when you need to find it in yourself. Perhaps Grissom sees that too…that could explain his reactions to you."
She paused and almost flinched, like she was expecting Sara to throw something. But Sara didn't think it was worth the trouble.
She realized she'd been really stupid to bring Grissom up. After all, he was her supervisor, and the department paid this counselor. She wasn't going to condone a supervisor/subordinate relationship in any form or fashion.
"You should have a conversation with Grissom." The counselor went on. "But it should be to inform him of our sessions. You don't need to go in depth with him, of course, but I think it would be a wise idea to impart a little bit of your history to him so he can understand you a little better. As your supervisor, he is responsible for you to some extent, and he should be aware of what motivates you, to a degree."
Sara shut up, and thanked whatever powers might be that it was the last session. When it was over, she escaped the counselor's office as quickly as possible.
She tried to think about the sessions as little as possible afterwards, throwing herself back into work. She watched numbly as Ecklie broke up the team. Grissom looked lost and defeated. She knew she really should go talk to him, if for no other reason than to let him know about Ecklie's attempt to pry information about her sessions out of her.
She went into Grissom's office determined to just let him know about the confrontation with Ecklie, so Grissom could document it as their obligatory meeting and cover himself. She'd get it over with quickly and get the hell out of there before she did anything stupid.
When he apologized for her having to cover for him, her boss, he just looked so hopeless.
"You've always been a little more than a boss to me. Why do you think I moved to Vegas?" Oh crap, she thought. Where did that come from?
Grissom's eyes clouded up in that unique confused way he only seemed to exhibit when she was talking to him.
"Look, I know our relationship has been complicated. It's probably my fault. It's probably definitely my fault." Better, she thought. He can go back and hide now.
"You completed your counseling, right?" Grissom asked, attempting to formalize the conversation, as she expected.
"Yeah. Yes." She said quickly.
"And?"
"Let's just say that…sometimes I look for validation in inappropriate places." Sara rushed the words out, feeling like she was betraying her very soul doing so. But that's what the counselor said, and she was determined to at least attempt to follow the foggy 'rules' in this, somehow.
He just sat there, stunned, for a few seconds. She thought she actually saw pain in his eyes. But how could that be, she wondered. Haven't I just given him what he needs to escape? Surely he can see that's counselor talk, and not me, and therefore safe.
She felt worse than if she hadn't spewed the counselor's verbiage at him at all.
Grissom stammered. "Look…let's…ummm…"
Sara couldn't stand it anymore, wondering if he was trying to say something she wanted to hear, or if he was just trying to figure out how to get the hell away from her. "It's okay…okay." She said. "You know what, we did our session. Don't forget to document this for Ecklie."
Grissom looked relieved. "Right." He agreed.
"Thanks." Sara said, and got the hell out of there.
She didn't see Grissom's troubled, longing look following her.
Sara sat in her apartment, eating her comfort food. She tried not to berate herself too much about the conversation. At least she'd accomplished the mission of covering Grissom's butt where Ecklie was concerned. She tried desperately to put the image of Grissom's pained look out of her mind. Once upon a time she would have interpreted a look like that as one of a conflicted man who'd been hurt, badly, and would have forged ahead to convince him there was a chance. Not anymore. Great going, Sidle, she mused. He sees any personal interaction with you with complete repugnance.
She wondered what, if any, benefit there had been to the sessions. She was tired of the duality – of the person she'd been before the lab explosion, the person she'd been since the DUI, and the gray area in between. She missed who she used to be. But, rather than the counselor's advice making her feel like she could regain that, she couldn't help but feel that following that path made her even less sure of herself.
The counselor had been adamant that she spend considerable time thinking about the past she so wanted to forget. Analyze the events and her reactions to further understanding of who she was now. Sara found this frustrating. She knew she was even more on edge at work lately, thinking about it so much. How could that be helping? It was distracting. It made her uneasy and aggressive.
Well, she thought, at least it will keep me from thinking about Grissom.
Then she realized she was, once again, thinking about Grissom.