Title: All I Ever Wanted to Do
Author: Maggienhawk
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, or "The Vagina Monologues." It's a shame really…
Summary: Sara reluctantly follows through with a yearly tradition and is surprised with who shows up to help her enjoy it. Post-ND. GSR.
A/N: This story was inspired by the V-Day College Campaign, a program that schools participate in to increase awareness and hopefully prevention of domestic abuse and violence against women, through a production of "The Vagina Monologues," a play written by Eve Ensler. I've seen it every year for the past three years at my school, and thoroughly recommend anyone to go see it, both men and women. Tonight while I was waiting for the show to begin, and still all giddy about last night's back story revelation during Nesting Dolls, I thought that Sara would support this cause, and this is the result. It is kind of graphic, as that is the nature of the play, but please read and review to let me know if you liked it.
She walked into the auditorium alone, gripping the program in her hand, and found a seat toward the far end of a row, leaving one empty seat at the end. The room was already half full of college students, chatting excitedly, waiting for the show to begin. She couldn't remember a time where she had done that, even when she was in college, finally free of the social workers and the foster parents. She was a quiet student early on, and it wasn't until years later that she came into her shell as an outspoken, hard edged woman.
Fifteen minutes passed as she observed the people around her. One of the occupational hazards of being a CSI, but it could pass the time perfectly. The lights began to dim, signaling the beginning of the show, and she sat stiffly in her chair, debating whether or not she wanted to get up and leave. Within seconds, however, she realized she was stuck there as the girls strode down the middle aisle of the auditorium and made their way to the reserved seats at the front of the room.
She began shifting nervously in her chair, not completely comfortable with the situation she had put herself in. She knew exactly what the show entailed; she had first seen it in 1999, at UC Berkeley, and had come to UNLV to see it for the past three years that they had participated in the campaign. This time was different though, this time she felt like a victim instead of a supporter like she had in the past.
Barely even a month ago, she had revealed her secret family history to Grissom, and had begun counseling sessions voluntarily. They were helping her cope with the pain of keeping a secret bottled up, but she knew that she had a long way to go. When she told her counselor that she felt like skipping this year's performance, the woman told her that it was her decision, but that the event promoted prevention of exactly what had been at the cusp of all of her problems in life; it promoted the end of domestic violence and abuse towards women, something she had always been passionate about, once she realized that it wasn't 'normal.'
It didn't make it easier to be there though, knowing she was helping to prevent some wife out there from getting her jaw broken, or some college coed from getting raped by a criminal who will never be caught. She didn't feel like a supporter tonight, she felt like a sufferer, and it was more painful than she ever imagined. Taking a glance around at the people around her, she realized that they were ignorant of the fact that they were sitting next to a bona fide victim of domestic abuse, and she was saddened by this revelation.
She shifted again in her seat as the director of the Women against Violence student organization welcomed the audience. She barely registered the speech, or the random stragglers making their way into the auditorium as she gave it. She noticed that someone had sat in the empty seat next to her, but it never occurred to her to acknowledge the person. Until that person reached over and took her hand.
Startled, she whipped her head to face the figure next to her, and was shocked to see Grissom sitting there, staring intently at the stage as three girls preformed the introduction. She was momentarily stunned, but soon recovered and squeezed his hand to get his attention. She gave him a questioning look as his blue eyes locked with hers. He merely nodded his head back to the stage, where a new girl was making her way to center stage to introduce the first monologue, and he turned is attention back to the show. She imitated him, and began to watch the show, her emotions shifting between confusion and delight that he was there.
She was calmed immensely just by his presence, and began to enjoy the show as she had the past four times she had seen it.
She laughed and groaned along with the crowd as the women on stage described what women had said about their vaginas, regarding what they would wear or what they would say.
She smiled bitter sweetly as she listened to a women's story about her first orgasm in the car with a boy, and never being with a man after that.
She nodded absently as the whole cast yelled that the clitoris has more nerve endings than any other body part, male or female, and twice as more as the penis.
She remembered her first period as four girls recounted many women's experiences.
She felt her hand being clasped tighter during a 'Not-So-Happy-Fact" that the United States only has a fraction of rape victims, and that many women are victims of female genitalia mutilation.
She felt him release her hand and place it around the back of her seat, his fingers gently rubbing the back of her neck as another monologue described a woman's painful memory of being gang raped during wartime.
She absently placed her hand on his thigh as a woman told the story of a young woman, sexually abused at a young age, who discovered that she would never need a man to give her pleasure.
She smirked as he got a slightly defensive look on his face at the repetition of a offensive word, as another "Reclaimed Cunt,"
She stood with applause as one woman walked off the stage after successfully imitating the moans that are made by women during sex, thinking that it would take a lot of courage to get up in front of a room full of people and do such a thing.
And finally she felt her hand being grasped during the last monologue, a woman watching another give birth, and barely felt it being lifted to his lips, or the soft brush of them on the back of it. But she did feel it.
She stared at him intently as she reflexively slapped her thigh to applaud, as one hand was occupied, during the closing speech from the producer of the show. Their eyes bore into each other, until she felt she was ready to speak.
"What are you doing here?"
He smiled and stood up, never releasing her hand, and gently pulling to coerce her to stand with him. "I knew you were nervous about coming, and I thought I'd come and keep you company. Be a friend if you needed it."
She thanked every deity she could think of that the room was still somewhat dark as the tears began to pool in her eyes. He never failed to surprise her. And the past month had been full of surprises. He had not shown pity to her, but took responsibility for her actions. He had tried his damnedest to be more 'emotionally available' to her, and though she knew of his long term intentions, he refused to be in a romantic relationship with her until she was completely ready for it. And then there was tonight.
Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, she smiled up at him and stood. "Thank you; I really did need a friend to enjoy this. And I'm glad it was you."
He gave her a small grin, and wiped another saline drop from her other cheek. "I'm glad it was me too."
They waked hand in hand out to the lobby, and she slowed down to look at the various VDay merchandise. She stopped to finger a rubber bracelet, lifting it up to read "Until the Violence Stops" stamped into the red wristband, and sighing lightly. He picked up an identical one, and releasing her hand, he handed the young man sitting by the cash box six dollars. Reclaiming her hand, he guided her to an empty spot, and pulled her to face him, keeping her right hand firmly encased in his left.
He worked the bracelet onto her wrist as he softly spoke, "Honey, until the violence stops, we'll work our hardest every night to ease the pain of the abuse."
Knowing that he meant the statement in both the professional and personal capacity, she gently grabbed his right wrist and worked the second bracelet on to him. "That's all I've ever wanted to do."