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: Unbearable (gag)
A/N: I think we've all had enough lemonade. However, I can't guarantee I won't make some digs here and there. I feel strongly about the following scene between Dr. Velez and Sara. It was one of the first scenes that my muse played in my head, and it spelled itself out last night, enabling me to write it today. I hope you enjoy – and I love all my reviewers!
Sara was sitting in Dr. Velez's office, knowing quite well what Dr. Velez's first question would be.
Dr. Velez didn't disappoint, asking, "Have you found something to do as an outlet yet?"
Sara frowned, somewhat sheepishly, and said, "No…"
Three months ago, when Sara shared her idea to take a course at the university to learn a new language, Dr. Velez had agreed it was a good idea. Sara had figured she could then work at various charities or shelters that needed someone that was bilingual. Dr. Velez agreed to that as well, but felt that Sara needed to find something else to do in the meantime, something to serve as an outlet for her empathy.
Sara had heard the words "outlet for your empathy" so many times now; she was beginning to wonder if she was a lamp.
As for Dr. Velez herself, Sara had warmed up to her rather quickly. It took a few sessions, but she found that having someone unbiased to talk to really helped. She wound up spilling out all sorts of details about her past, and Dr. Velez was there to provide the support Sara needed. Somehow they had crossed the strict doctor-patient conversation line into one that was more casual. Sara was pleased that she had chosen this particular psychologist.
Dr. Velez's voice became stern, forcing Sara to focus on her.
"Sara, I want you to explain some things to me."
"Okay."
"Let's review. You work at a crime lab, where you examine either dead or seriously injured people, as well as the places where the crimes occurred, looking for clues."
"Evidence, yes."
"And you love this work."
Sara's face shown with pride as she said, "Yes, I do."
"Can you tell me why?"
"Because I get to solve the puzzle. Help the vic. Put the perp behind bars."
"But sometimes, doesn't this 'perp'… doesn't he or she go free? Irregardless of what happened to the victim?"
"Yeah, sometimes that happens."
Sara remembered many cases where there just wasn't enough evidence to convict, however she knew their suspect had committed the crime. It upset her, the injustice of it all.
"I'm wondering how you feel that you have helped your victim in these cases where the suspect goes free."
Sara's voice grew tense. "It's so frustrating. I've gotten upset about it a few times. I know the guy did it, I just can't prove it."
"Has it ever occurred to you that your job doesn't provide you with the ability to help the victims at all?"
"What do you mean?"
Sara grew defensive, but Dr. Velez kept her voice calm while she spoke.
"Sara, you see your victims after the crime has happened, not before. You cannot prevent what happened to them after the fact. It is completely out of your control. You can help their families, their friends, by providing closure, and you most certainly can ensure that justice is served, but you aren't protecting the victims themselves."
Sara's face was puzzled as she mulled over Dr. Velez's words. Of course I help the victims! I bring the people who hurt them to justice!
"Sara, your needs are split. I feel this is who you are, and you shouldn't try to change it. However, you should consider what I have to say. I'll try to word this so that you can relate."
"Think of your personality as a circle, or a pie, or even better, a scale."
"Half of your personality derives satisfaction from using your mind. Solving the puzzle, uncovering the evidence. This is your logical side, your analytical side."
"But the other half of your personality, your emotional side, wants to help, to heal. To protect others. I'm sure if you think about it, you react emotionally in some way to every case you have. You identify with the victim, and for those victims whose histories are similar to yours, the feeling is stronger. And your control over your emotions when dealing with these victims is going to be much, much less. You've already shown a history of that."
Sara nodded, following what Dr. Velez was saying, but unsure where she was going.
"My point in why you need to find an outlet for your empathy is that you are only getting half of your needs fulfilled by your current job, the analytical half. And unfortunately, your emotional half is constantly getting squashed by the nature of your business. The scale is unbalanced, heavily in favor of the analytical side."
"When you repress your emotional side, upsetting the balance, it is much easier for you to lose control, particularly when your empathy for your victims is strong. You cannot repress your emotions; they need to have a place to go. Your job directly prohibits you from expressing this part of yourself."
Sara's voice grew pensive. "Do you mean I should quit my job?"
"Not at all," Dr. Velez replied. "But your job only fulfills half of what you need. This is why you need another outlet."
"But," Sara rationalized, "Having empathy towards my victims helps me do my job better. It helps me stay focused. I feel that they deserve the best I have to offer."
"Sara, this isn't about them. This is about you. You shouldn't have to sacrifice yourself to try to help others who are… well, beyond help by the time they make it to you. It's a fruitless effort."
Sara shook her head, disagreeing.
"I don't know."
"Why don't you think on it for a while," Dr. Velez stated calmly. "Nothing needs to change. You said last week that you were feeling better about your job, are things still going well?"
"Yeah, for the most part…" And Sara went on to discuss her week, the back of her mind disconnected, analyzing Dr. Velez's words.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Three nights later, Sara was still focused on her session with Dr. Velez. On Tuesday night, Sara began looking into old case files, examining photos of those victims that were "personal" to her. She had to sneak peeks at them; the lab was very busy, and she knew it wasn't right to go poking into old case files. But BE's and all the other fluff cases on her plate were so incredibly boring, and the need to prove Dr. Velez wrong was driving her forward.
She didn't have any recent files, because Grissom absolutely refused to give her a domestic abuse or rape case. He handed those to Warrick or did them himself. Sara wasn't impressed by that either, but her desire to avoid any conversation with Grissom kept her from speaking her mind.
Each time she saw a photo of a bruise or a cut, or saw her notes documenting the scene or the body, her heart cried out with familiar pain. But as she looked at them longer, she realized that Dr. Velez might have been right. I couldn't stop what happened to them.
Something was shifting in Sara's perception, but she didn't notice it. All she felt was a need to examine the victims, the photos, anything, to prove to herself that she was helping others in her job.
At the "assignment meeting" in the common room, Grissom sent Sara off with Greg, again to work a fluff case, some two-bit homicide down in the ghetto. Warrick was assigned the case of a woman found beaten to death behind a strip mall.
Sara rarely talked in these meetings, but when Grissom recited his traditional "Any questions" line, Sara spoke up.
"The woman, in Warrick's case, is she in the morgue?"
Grissom's eyes narrowed at her. "She isn't your case, Sara."
Okay, so that means she is in the morgue. Otherwise he would have said 'No'.
"I was just curious."
Both Greg and Warrick looked at her questioningly, both with 'Why the hell do you care?' expressions on their faces.
Grissom's gaze was stony. Ever since Sophia resigned, Grissom's calm demeanor had slowly broken down into one of bitterness and resentment.
Grissom had tried to talk to Sara a couple of times, but she was having none of it. They never finished their last three "sessions", and Sara didn't really care. As far as she was concerned, he had shown to her and the entire lab which CSI he preferred.
Eventually, Grissom gave up and left her alone, interacting with her only professionally. He was quiet and reserved for a while, but lately he was growing ill-tempered and sullen. Everyone at the lab noticed it, and it was assumed Grissom was finally cracking under the strain of the job. Sara and Greg suspected that he was cranky because Sophia dumped him soon after she left the lab. Long-distance relationships do NOT work.
Sara left the common room, making her way towards her locker, and Greg followed.
"Greg, I need to check on something for a bit," Sara said casually to him. "Will you hang out for about fifteen minutes or so?"
"You're going to look at that woman in the lab," Greg eyed her warily. "Why?"
"I just want to see something."
"Okay," Greg shrugged. "I don't know when you went all morbid on me, but hey, whatever floats your boat."
"Don't tell anyone where I am – I won't be there long."
"Be careful," Greg called quietly as Sara walked towards the morgue. "You don't want Grissom to catch you."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Sara stared at the young woman lying on the cold metal slab in the morgue. Tears filled her eyes, as the familiar pain of seeing abuse first hand slashed across her soul.
"I'm sorry," Sara said quietly, lightly touching a deep bruise on the woman's cheek. This woman had been beaten severely, and it looked like cause of death was strangulation.
Al Robbins walked into the morgue from his office in the back, lowering his glasses to peer at Sara.
"Well, hello."
Sara lifted her eyes and stared at the older man.
"I couldn't help her."
"You could help her by finding her killer," Al replied, pushing his glasses to their proper position with his index finger.
"Yes, but that doesn't take away what happened to her."
"No, it doesn't."
"I couldn't prevent it."
"No, you couldn't."
Sara stared at Al, and then looked at the woman's body again. She saw the small cuts, the bruises, the indentations where the perp's fingernails had cut into the woman's throat. She saw all the analytical details, the evidence, the steps the woman's body would go through playing quietly in her mind.
She will be processed, all evidence sent to the lab. Then she will get her autopsy, and if needed, they will run more tests on what they find. And once they feel they have all the evidence they need, she will be returned her family.
She stared at the deep bruise on the woman's cheek again, noticing the pattern of the broken blood vessels, touching her again to trace the outline of the wound. Her mind started its familiar routine of analysis of evidence. She was hit by an object. A human fist did not make this bruise.
She stepped back, looking at the woman again, and the shift in her perception that started three days ago clicked into place.
Dr. Velez was right. As much as I hate to admit it, she was right. I cannot help this woman. I can only process her. I can't help any of them here. I can only process them. I need to help them beforehand, so that they don't wind up here.
Sara felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, freeing her of her self-imposed responsibility to help her victims. She knew now why Dr. Velez wanted her to volunteer. That's where I can help.
Sara's mind was clear, like a thick veil had been removed. Sara had assumed that entering into criminal justice would help her protect others, so that they wouldn't have to suffer through what she had. "Serve and Protect", right? But when she entered into criminalistics, the science of it fascinating her, she hadn't realized that criminalists did not protect. They only served.
She became almost giddy with the realization, and Doc Robbins was watching the emotional scenes play across her face.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently.
"I am," Sara replied, smiling. "I really am."
Delight in her newfound realization screeched to a halt as she heard the morgue door slam against the wall. The force behind its movement was standing in the doorway, and was very, very angry.
Grissom had caught her.
"Sara. I will see you in my office. NOW."