Disclaimer: All right everyone, sing along… "I don't own CSI, its characters, or anything associated with the show. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is the sole property of CBS and Alliance Atlantis." This document was written purely based on the fact that my muse will not stop nagging me. For the entertainment of you folks only.
Spoiler: Nesting Dolls, and for this chapter, Mea Culpa.
A/N: This chapter goes out to taramis and djkittycat who noticed the minor errors within it. I couldn't let them stay, and I found even more (how awful is that?), so this is Rev 2. of Chapter 2. Thank You All Reviewers!
Greg was sitting behind the CODIS computer, watching it scan a print found on the convenience store counter.
Sophia was rooting through a pile of garbage collected from the trash cans outside the store. Most of the table was covered with the junk.
Sophia had already disposed of all the half-eaten food items. What remained was a collection of newspapers, used napkins, empty mustard and ketchup packets, empty plastic salad containers, plastic knives, those strange utensils that were both a spoon and a fork, and those paper oval-shaped cups that are used to hold hot dogs.
The important items were Styrofoam coffee cups, soda cups with straws, and there was at least one plastic water bottle. These were the items that Sophia was picking out of the garbage and putting in a separate pile. They could be used for DNA collection, if required.
Both she and Greg were silent and appeared quite focused as Grissom walked into the room.
"So?" Grissom asked them. "Do we have anything yet?"
Sophia looked up at him and said, "We have miscellaneous odiferous garbage, some potential candidates for DNA, one solid print, a few partials, and a very angry convenience store owner. He wants us to hurry up and find the guy so he can get his money back."
"Typical," Grissom replied. "You know, you can use the plastic silverware to check for DNA as well as cups and straws."
"You're right, I will." And she began picking them out of the garbage.
Grissom still wasn't sure how to handle Sophia.
She seemed quite competent and professional, yet there was something about her that reminded him of Faberge eggs and porcelain dolls. Pretty, but empty and for display purposes only.
Sophia's resemblance to Teri Miller was not missed by Grissom in the slightest. But Teri was much more vibrant and sensual, whereas Sophia seemed more flat and hollow.
Teri also was a perfectionist. He couldn't think of her without feeling a small sense of inadequacy, but he felt that what happened between them was due to her, and not to him.
Now, both Sara and Catherine were full of spirit and vitality. Sara especially so. God, that woman couldn't walk into a room without radiating her presence. And her eyes….
But Sophia, although attractive, was somewhat plain to him. Grissom still wondered what her role would be with his team.
Grissom also didn't forget about his newest CSI, Greg, who was quietly ignoring him and looking very interested in his computer.
He couldn't help but like the kid, as Greg was so exuberant and alive. However, Grissom hadn't forgotten Greg's crush on Sara, and he had seen the two of them together on cases since Greg left the lab.
Sara was calm and relaxed around Greg, and enjoyed his company. She clearly cared for him and had taken him under her wing. Grissom often heard them laughing quietly together, and conversation flew easily between them.
Memories of a time not so long ago showed Grissom playing Sara's role, and Sara as the eager student, ready to learn.
Seeing Sara with Greg now left a bitter taste in his mouth. He resented Greg for his ability to interact with Sara in a way that was permanently lost to him.
He looked over at Greg, who was clearly wishing he was invisible, and asked, "Everything okay, Greg?"
Greg turned his chair away from the computer to face Grissom and said, "Workin' hard, boss. Looking for matches to those prints."
And then he quickly turned back to watching the computer. Not once did he meet Grissom's gaze.
Hmm. Had Greg spoken with Sara yet? Did he know something? What had she said to him? Grissom wanted to find out what Greg knew.
Luckily for him, fate intervened. Sophia's cell phone began singing some polyphonic tune that resembled the hip-hop crap Greg was always listening to. Perhaps he is having an influence on her, as well.
She stood up with a quiet, "Excuse me," and looked at Grissom and asked "May I take this call?"
"Go ahead. I just stopped by to see if either of you needed anything".
Grissom watched Sophia turn the corner to go take her call in private. Now he could focus on Greg.
"Is there anything you need, Greg?"
Greg turned around again and Grissom could almost see Greg lifting himself up in his chair, making himself appear more confident and responsible.
Grissom tried not to smile, which he knew would make Greg uncomfortable, but he got a kick out of watching Greg bolster himself up in an attempt to gain his respect. Greg already had it, but Grissom liked to watch him squirm a little.
"Did you fire Sara?"
"No, Greg. She is on suspension until next Thursday."
"You won't believe what people are saying. They are saying that you fired her and that Ecklie made you do it. Some are saying she quit and she's leaving to go back to California. Hodges said he overheard Brass saying that Sara had a mental breakdown and checked herself into a looney bin."
Greg's voice took on a tone of defiance when he said, "Sara isn't mental. And she shouldn't have been suspended. I've seen Catherine act worse than Sara did. I asked Catherine about what we were going to do, and she acted like Sara deserved to be suspended and that she didn't care at all. And Nick and Warrick didn't want to talk to me about Sara or what Catherine said, either. They told me to stay out of it. But I'm not going to! Have you even talked to her? I called her twice last night and once already today, and she won't answer her phone."
Greg was rambling, a clear sign that he was getting upset.
Grissom wasn't about to let on that the reason Sara hadn't picked up her phone last night was because he was at her apartment, and he had turned the ringer off so that they wouldn't be disrupted.
He knew Sara wasn't answering her phone today because she had gone to run errands today, and to find a counselor in the Vegas area that specialized in dealing with domestic abuse, and hopefully one that had experience in the death of a parent by violent means.
He had even recommended that she not answer her phone unless someone left a message that it was an emergency. Sara needed some time alone to think about what it was that she wanted to do with her life.
"Sara will be fine, Greg. I'm sure she appreciates that you are concerned about her."
"You didn't answer my question. Have you even spoken to her? What if she thinks she's fired? Does she even know when she can come back?"
Greg was visibly upset now. His eyes were dark and cold, and Grissom got the distinct impression Greg thought he was an insensitive jerk.
"Yes, Greg, I spoke with her. Yes, she knows she isn't fired. And yes, she knows she is to report for work next Thursday."
Greg's eyes calmed and with a softer tone, he said, "Ok. Look, if you hear from her, please let her know that I'm trying to get in touch with her."
"Back to work, Greg. Don't worry about it. She'll be back soon," Grissom said as he left the room.
After that conversation, he felt the need to get some air.
As he walked to his Denali, he grew more and more disheartened.
Was Sara really that alone here? How hadn't he noticed?
Greg sticks up for her, but what about Nick and Warrick? And the others in the lab, the techs, Hodges, Al, David?
Did they all really think that Sara belonged in a mental institution? Did they want her to go back to California? Or was it just the excitement of a new rumor to fuel the mill?
Grissom began to wonder if they saw something that he wasn't seeing. He knew Greg was blind to anything related to Sara, he almost worshipped her. But Nick and Warrick? And Catherine?
They weren't at Sara's apartment, he rationalized. They didn't hear what happened to her. They couldn't possibly understand what she had gone through.
He didn't understand it much either. Although his parents had divorced when he was five, and his relationship with his father had dissipated over the years, his relationship with his mother remained strong to this day.
His own personal demons weren't caused by his parents, so he really couldn't relate to the pain Sara carried with her. All he knew was that she was hurting, and this in turn hurt him.
He opened the door to his SUV, sat inside, and looked out across the parking lot, staring at the parked cars, the lights, and beyond the lot, the general calm that deep night brings.
He loved working the night shift. Things were so much more interesting at night.
And his car, it was a haven. Only those who enjoy solitude can appreciate the wonderful respite of a vehicle.
There were times he liked to drive out into the desert, leaving the chaos of Vegas, just listening to his radio or even the sounds of the tires on the asphalt. He was pleased he could hear them. His mind would wander and he would be at peace. Sometimes he would stop and marvel at the sheer silence of the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the beauty of the sun, the sky and the sand.
He had gotten some of his best ideas while driving around aimlessly on the backroads of the Nevada desert before and after work.
Grissom gave himself a moment to be proud of himself. He had done a lot in the past 36 hours.
He went to Sara's apartment with the intention of finding out what was really going on with her, and he succeeded. It took most of the afternoon to get her to drop her guard and open up to him, but he was glad that he stayed.
He had no idea what he was going to do when he first got there, but when he heard Ecklie had suspended her, he made up his mind to go over there and find out her version of why.
If he had known the truth about her past previously, he could have handled her so much differently at work.
He could have been more available to her as a supervisor, kept her within her limits, protected her from seeing cases she wasn't capable of handling at the time.
He knew the real reason he wasn't available to her before was due to his own personal issues with her, but he knew now that if he wasn't there at all, she would be gone forever. He couldn't lose her. That was out of the question.
It was going to be difficult, but he was going to be there for her as a supervisor. He only wondered how much it was going to tear him apart to be there for her as only her supervisor.
Standing up to Ecklie had been great.
He chuckled quietly. He normally preferred to let all of the emotional chaos at work take its own course, as it tended to work in waves; where at first it was this huge ordeal and then eventually, everyone got over it.
Except for the split. When Ecklie split the team, it was a shock and it hurt to realize that his oversight had caused it. But he couldn't stand up to Ecklie, because he had no case. There was nothing he could say - he had missed the evidence and he had made the mistake. It was his fault.
But tonight, that was different. It was… exhilarating. He felt very alive and confident during the whole thing.
He suspected Ecklie would never fire him, and this conversation proved it. He was too valuable. This gave him a power over Ecklie, but he knew better than to take it for granted or use it profusely. He had an advantage, but it was only a small one.
However, the Catherine factor did bother him.
But again, perhaps in a couple of days, she would calm down and things would return to normal. If not, well, realistically it wasn't like he had to interact with her much. She had her team, and he had his.
Although he still felt that her team was his team. He missed Warrick and Nick quite a bit. They worked well together and as individuals, and he benefited from having them.
Part of him really wanted them all back together, like before. But the rational, logical part said that even considering that as a possibility was foolish, and not to waste time thinking about it. Thinking about it only caused pain.
And Sara was gone until next Thursday. More pain.
He would miss her, both professionally and personally, but he knew it was for the best.
He was unsure whether he would call her early next week or not. Perhaps she wouldn't feel comfortable around him. He was concerned about how they would interact the next time they met.
This afternoon, after she had calmed down, they had sat for a while, just letting time pass. She finally suggested they have something to eat, and she made them both egg salad sandwiches. While eating, he asked her if she liked to play cards.
"Poker!" she replied.
He had found the cards on her coffee table and played Solitaire while waiting for her to get over her stubborn funk and realize that he wasn't leaving. He must have played at least two rounds before she finally broke down and started talking.
He smiled again. He was pleased that he waited and that he stayed afterwards to play a harmless game.
It turned out she had those cheap red, white and blue plastic poker chips to go with the deck of cards. It was obvious she had played before, and she had taught him a few games he hadn't known. She had clearly enjoyed it when she beat him in a particular hand. It was a nice way to transition out of the seriousness of their conversation.
He had left when it was time for him to report to work, and she had been in relatively fair spirits. They had talked during their game about what her next steps were, and when he brought up counseling, she wasn't vehemently opposed. She realized that she needed to talk to someone who would be able to help her learn to deal with her past.
He turned the key to the Denali to check what time it was, and it was almost 6 a.m. Time to go home.
Sure enough, he looked outside and although it was still dark, he could tell that dawn was about a half-hour away. Had he been in his car that long?
He took out the key, got out of his SUV, and went back in to check on the end of the shift and to clock-out. He felt drained. The adrenaline rush from earlier in the day had disappeared, leaving a disconcerting feeling in its wake, and he could use a good meal, a good shower, and some sleep.