Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them; most of the others are mine, and if you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
Spoilers: through "No Humans Involved".
Note: Yet more angst-I did say I was indulging myself. However, take heart. There's a bend in the tunnel, but the light's around here somewhere... And yes, the quote is LM Bujold. (grin)
Another note: Thank you so much for all the feedback (esp. Jpsets, who always says such wonderful things)! I love it when you tell me what you think (and occasionally this generates further stories). But thank Cincoflex too, because if not for her, this wouldn't have reached fruition.
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Sara hesitated outside the Assistant Supervisor's door. She was still so conflicted about this-
Conflicted, hell. I don't want to leave. But the truth is I need to.
The tension between herself and Grissom hadn't lessened, and it was bad for the team. And hanging around him was bad for her. I just can't stop wanting him, no matter how mad I get. What does that say about me?
Well, if there was one thing she didn't want to be, it was a doormat. She knocked on the door, and opened it at the acknowledgment from within.
"Ah, Sara, have a seat." Ecklie waved her distractedly to a chair, signed the paper in front of him, and looked up, and Sara had the distinct feeling that he'd just gone through a pattern designed to illustrate both how busy he was and how generous he was being with his time. Then he leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk, the picture of supervisory attention. It made Sara's stomach turn. "What can I do for you?"
Eschewing words, she slid the piece of paper across his desk. He picked it up and scanned it quickly, and Sara expected him to ask why she hadn't gone through proper channels and given it to Grissom.
Instead, he frowned, and if she didn't know better she would have sworn there was a hint of panic there. Then he blinked, and smiled, and her hackles went up.
"Sara...please. There's no need for this. I'm sure we can work things out in an acceptable manner."
The anger that was still simmering began to swell. "'Work things out'?" The situation was so far beyond tolerable for her that she couldn't believe he was suggesting a compromise. "That's not possible."
"Of course it is." Ecklie dropped her resignation on his desk and leaned back in his chair, looking conciliatory. "The rules about fraternization aren't hard and fast, they can be worked around if both parties are willing to compromise."
Sara just stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Fraternization?"
He sighed theatrically. "You two need to work on your communication skills, Sara. Gil was already in here for just this reason."
Her jaw dropped slightly, but he was continuing, this time with a tinge of hollow embarrassment. "Of course, I thought he was referring to Sofia Curtis, and I called his bluff. But you're a different matter entirely. The lab can't afford to lose you both."
Her ears were ringing faintly with something she recognized as a rage so profound it had only come over her a few times in her life. "Work this out," Ecklie said, pushing the paper back across the desk. "Tell Gil I'll reconsider. This is a little over-dramatic, though, Sara, don't think you can get away with it again."
Her hands were clenched so tightly on the armrests that Sara was vaguely surprised that her fingers hadn't splintered the wood. She opened her mouth, but before she could say any of the incendiary things bouncing around inside her skull, Ecklie's beeper went off.
He glanced at it and rose hastily, still smiling that nasty smile. "Sorry to run off like this, Sara. Let yourself out."
As the door shut behind him, Sara stared at the paper still lying crosswise on his blotter, and seethed. Grissom threatened to quit so he could be with Sofia?
All the injustices of the last few years seemed to be balanced right behind her eyes, threatening to tumble over and bury her. With an effort, Sara stepped outside her fury, containing it, and picked up the resignation. I don't have to take this from Ecklie.
She'd go over his head.
Replacing the paper in the folder she used to keep it from creasing, she left the office, closing the door carefully behind her. Let's see how fast I can get an appointment with Atwater.
A tiny, chilly smile graced her lips as she headed out of the building. If nothing else, the Sheriff wouldn't be pleased to find out that the CSI supervisor had treated her so cavalierly...or that he'd jumped to that particular conclusion.
Luckily for her, Atwater was in. Sara half-expected that she'd have to make an appointment, but the Sheriff's receptionist gave her one glance and made a quiet phone call, and a few minutes later Atwater stuck his head out of his office door. "CSI Sidle? Come on in."
He was rounding his desk when she entered, and he waved her to a chair. "I can give you about five minutes. How are you doing?" And if the look he bent on her was impersonal, it was also kind. Sara handed him her resignation, and sat down.
Atwater's eyes flicked down the paper, and his brows went up. "Well. I'm sorry to see this, CSI Sidle, but why are you giving it to me instead of to Supervisor Ecklie?"
Sara crossed her legs, still furious but riding it instead of letting it ride her. "I did. He dismissed my concerns and misinterpreted my reasons for resigning, and gave it back to me."
Atwater pursed his lips, looking a little grim. "I can understand his unwillingness to lose someone as qualified as yourself, but that seems a little extreme." He read the paper again. "You want to leave immediately?"
Sara nodded. "I realize that this will leave the night shift one CSI short, but-"
Atwater was shaking his head. "Ms. Sidle. It'll leave us two short if we can't talk Dr. Grissom into staying before his notice is up. Look, can I..." He trailed off at the look on her face. "How about this then-stay for two weeks, and if we can't straighten things out for you, I'll make sure you have a generous severance package and a glowing letter of recommendation."
Sara hesitated. She didn't really need the money, and she wanted very badly to be out of the lab orbit, especially with the news Ecklie had dropped on her. But in a sense she did owe two weeks' notice, and she could hardly ask Grissom for a letter of recommendation now.
I've lived through the past month. How bad can it be for two more weeks?
She nodded, reluctantly.
Atwater smiled. "Very good. We don't want to lose you, CSI Sidle. You're a large part of the reason for the lab's high solve rate. What-"
His phone rang. With an apologetic look, he answered it; the exchange was brief, but he sighed as he hung up. "I am sorry, I have to go. Look, make an appointment with my secretary on the way out, and we'll talk about what we can do to make the lab a better place for you." He rose, and Sara stood as well. "Maybe tonight? I'll be here late."
Tonight was her night off, and she wasn't about to come in on her night off right now. "What about Supervisor Ecklie?" she asked, keeping her tone sweet.
Atwater frowned again. "I'll have a word with him."
As the Sheriff herded her politely out, Sara wondered cynically if that word would actually involve any censure.
xxxx
Grissom walked slowly up and down the aisles of the supermarket, eyes scanning the shelves while his brain worked the problem of Ecklie. The man had made all kinds of vague insinuations when Grissom had handed in his resignation, and then had had the gall to tell Grissom he wouldn't accept it.
Well, it didn't matter whether he accepted it or not. Grissom planned to clean out his office in two weeks no matter what.
He paused and added two jars of jelly to his cart. He wasn't quite sure where he was going to go, though he had no doubt that he could find a job at almost any crime lab big enough to hire an entomologist. Maybe I ought to take a break for a while. Consult, perhaps.
The truth was, he didn't want to go. He might have lost half his team, but he did love his job, and it would be bitter to leave it. But you owe it to Sara, he told himself sternly. She can't be comfortable around you, and it's your fault.
He'd screwed with her life too much already. Best to simply take himself out of it, and let her get on with things.
Maybe they'll make her supervisor.
"Hello, Gil."
Grissom's head came up and his eyes narrowed at the familiar, irritating voice. "Conrad," he acknowledged coolly, turning. All his gratitude towards Ecklie for his compassion in the ICU had vanished when the supervisor had treated Grissom's resignation as an annoying folly.
The smile on the man's face was ugly. "I'm surprised. I would have thought you'd have one of your ladies with you." The emphasis he put on "ladies" implied exactly the opposite, and Grissom bristled.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Conrad."
"Of course you do." Ecklie smirked. "You know, you really had me going. I thought you were quitting so you could go after Curtis, when it turns out you've been doing Sidle all along."
Ice filled Grissom's veins. "What did you say?" he asked quietly.
If Ecklie heard the warning in Grissom's tone, he ignored it. "You two sure got your wires crossed. Sidle came to me this morning and tried to resign on the spot. Looks like neither of you figured out that the rules are a joke."
Grissom stood frozen as the horrid realization bloomed in his head, and the rage grew underneath it. "Sara resigned?"
"I turned her down." Ecklie shrugged. "Can't afford to lose her. Seriously, Gil, it's not like the two of you shacking up is going to be that big of a problem, as long as you keep it discreet." His laugh made Grissom's skin crawl. "Of course, it took me a minute to figure out what was going on."
Grissom very rarely resorted to physicality, but he could move quickly enough when provoked. He ignored the cereal boxes falling off the shelves as he pinned Ecklie up against them. "What did you tell her?"
The man's eyes were all but popping out. "Nothing!" he managed. "Just that I thought you were talking about Curtis, that's all."
Grissom's mind spat forth a series of words that it generally kept for desperate situations, but he didn't let them pass his lips. He'd rather that Sara had heard he'd quit work to pursue sheep rather than Sofia. She'd know better than to believe that.
He released Ecklie abruptly, feeling dirtied by contact with the man. Ecklie settled back onto his feet, huffing and straightening his jacket. "Are you insane?" he hissed at Grissom.
A few people further down the aisle were staring at them, but they were of no consequence to Grissom. She'll believe him. He wiped his hands down the sides of his pants. She has no reason not to.
"You could lose your job for this," Ecklie went on, his face red. "I'll see to it that-"
"I quit, remember?" Grissom snapped, and strode towards the exit, abandoning his cart.
I have to talk to her. Before it's too late.
He had his cellphone open before he was out of the supermarket, but all he got was her voice mail, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave a message that might foul things up even further. It's six-thirty. She'd be up by now. Why isn't she answering?
The realization was as unpleasant as Ecklie's revelation. Because it's my number showing up on the ID.
Grissom closed his phone slowly, trying to figure out what to do. If Sara really had quit point-blank-he didn't think Ecklie's refusal would stop her any more than it was stopping him-there was no telling where she'd be. If she had given notice, she might be getting ready for work right then, or she might be already there. This is not a conversation I want to have in the lab.
He stared down at the phone in his hand, and the light dawned with the recollection of her voice. "A square of nine dots..."
Of course. Think outside the box.
Grissom started as a horn beeped behind him, and he realized he was standing still in the middle of the supermarket parking lot. Pocketing his phone, he hurried towards his car. This is Vegas. All the casinos have pay phones.
Not only that, but the high-end ones had privacy booths. It took Grissom about forty-five minutes, all told, to get to the Tropicana, park, and find the phones; on some level he was aware of the wildness of this particular goose chase, but he wasn't about to give it up.
And for once it paid off. He slid onto the small bench, punched in the number, and listened to it ring twice before it was answered with a businesslike "Sidle."
He sucked in a breath. "Sara, don't hang up."
For an awful three seconds, he thought she would. Then she spoke again. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."
Her voice scared him. It wasn't cold, or angry; it was devoid of emotion, as though she were speaking to a machine.
"Because Ecklie was wrong. He couldn't be more wrong."
"Oh. You're not quitting?"
He heard noises in the background, but couldn't make them out, and he didn't want to ask her where she was; he couldn't risk her hanging up.
"No, I am. But not because of Sofia." He bit his lip, struggling for words; they seemed to come a little easier without her standing before him, eyes accusing. "Sara, I quit because of you."
Not easily enough, apparently. Her tone was strained as she answered, though he didn't know what emotion drove it. "You can't be around me any longer, is that it?"
"No. I mean-I resigned because of you, but-"
"Save it." And now he knew. She was angry, deep in that elemental fury that was an awesome thing to behold, from a safe distance. Grissom was out of her sight, but he began to think that the distance wasn't enough to be safe. "I don't know what your problem is, Grissom, but you are done screwing with me. I am leaving the lab, I am leaving Las Vegas, I am done. You can stay or go, whatever you like, but it has nothing to do with me, got it?"
To his surprise, Grissom found he was caught between despair at the thought of her leaving, and his own anger. "Yes, it does, Sara! I'm trying to do the right thing here!"
She made a strangled noise, and her voice rose. "The right thing? Since when do you care about the right thing? The right thing would have been not calling me to come here in the first place. The right thing would have been not flirting with me and leading me on. You don't care about the right thing, Grissom, you just care about your stupid job!"
The fact that she was right on most counts deepened his shame, which in turn fueled his rage. "I'm giving it all up, Sara! All of it! My job is my life and I'm giving it up so you can stay! So you don't have to deal with me any more-"
He choked on the mixture of anger and pain. Sara's breath came heavy over the phone, and there was a little silence as Grissom fought to get his emotions under control.
"You're leaving so I won't have to, is that what you're saying?" She sounded less furious, more puzzled.
Grissom swallowed. "Yes. I can't make up for hurting you. But if I go away, you...don't have to hurt any more."
Another silence, and when she spoke again, he felt the familiar ache across his chest, because the anger in her voice had been replaced by pain. "You're willing to do this now, but you couldn't give anything up to be with me?"
He opened his mouth, but he had no words.
"Grissom..." He knew that timbre, he'd heard it in his own thoughts. It was the cracked note of a broken heart.
"I'm sorry," he said helplessly.
"I know. You couldn't do it." The pain hardened back to anger. "Do you even see how screwed up this is? You're trying to fix something that can't be fixed, Grissom. You're breaking your own life to try to fix mine, but it doesn't work like that."
"I can't help it. I have to try." His throat was dry.
"It's my life. I screwed it up. It's my responsibility, not yours." Now she sounded tired. "You don't have to feel guilty."
His anger exploded again. "It's not guilt, Sara!"
"Then what the hell is it?"
"I can't stand to see you in pain." The words were ragged, and they felt like they took all his air with them. He dragged in more. "I can't stand it, all I want to do is...is make the pain go away, but I can't. You won't let me. This is all I can do."
Sara didn't answer, but he hoped she was still listening. "I almost had it, Sara. But I ran out of time. I thought. So I gave up. And then you got hurt, and I..."
Grissom trailed off, struggling, and heard her let out a heavy breath. "You said you were going to leave," he managed.
"When did I say that?" she asked, sounding puzzled again, and he remembered that she didn't know what he'd overheard.
"In the SUV. Your phone...I heard what you and Nick were saying."
"Um." Another breath. "Uh, I don't really remember what I said."
"But it's true, isn't it?" he asked quietly.
"I think it's the right decision."
He felt his shoulders slump, and despair burrowed deeper into his chest. "You said you loved me," he muttered, without hope.
Sara made a choking noise. "Yeah, and look what it's done to me," she finally answered, with asperity. "All that for a guy who-never mind."
"I know," he agreed bitterly. A faint beeping noise reached his ear, and Sara grunted.
"Look, the battery's dying on this thing. Don't give up your job, Grissom. There's no need for both of us to go."
"Sara-" He didn't know what to say, but he had to try. "You can still change your mind. If there's anything I can do-"
Any reply she might have made was lost in a rush of static, and then the connection was cut.
xxxx
It might be "Sin City," but it has its moments.
Sara pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees, staring down at the grid of lights below. The boulder she sat on was cold, and her breath was steaming a little in the chilly air, but she had her cap and her jacket and they were enough.
From her hillside perch, the city looked smaller, cleaner; mostly it was lights, white, red, the occasional burst of color from the bigger casinos. It was a tangle of gems in the blackness of the desert floor. It was...separate, for a while.
Sara sighed and rested her chin on her knees, eyes drifting from the lights to the barely perceptible line of the far mountains against the night sky. Only the absence of stars really told her where the land began.
She'd meant to spend the night putting together résumés for the forensics labs that seemed the most attractive. Letter of recommendation or not, she knew that her credentials and solve rate would at least get attention, if not more. But Grissom's phone call had destroyed that plan, throwing her into a morass of confusion and renewed anger, and eventually driving her out of her apartment to someplace quiet, where she couldn't be interrupted.
She hadn't even brought her cellphone. In fact, she'd stared at it for a long time after it had crapped out on her, realizing what she'd never consciously thought about-that someone had to have retrieved it from the wrecked SUV and put it with her other personal effects at the hospital.
Grissom heard all that. I remember I was pretty pissed, yeah. But did I really say I loved him? It just didn't seem like her-she'd scarcely admitted it to herself, even.
But then, slowly bleeding to death in a puddle was probably a decent extenuating circumstance.
What the hell is up with him, anyway? What did he mean by "almost had it"? Why had he thought he'd run out of time?
And why was he laying all this on her right now? She had thought he'd be relieved, on some level, to have her gone. No more Sara disturbing him. He could chase Sofia in peace.
Or let her chase him. Whatever.
But the thought didn't ring true, after that agonizing phone call. It was a truth she didn't want to face, not now, but between Grissom's actions, and Nick's words, and Catherine's careful avoidance of the subject-
I guess he feels something, anyway.
Oh, who was she kidding? If he was willing to give up his job to make her feel better...
Or was it just that he couldn't let her go?
She growled under her breath. "Dammit, Grissom." She knew she should pack up and go. Forget what she'd told the Sheriff, she should go back to her apartment and throw everything into boxes and go. Make a clean break of it, go somewhere new before Grissom pulled her back into doubt and the murkiness of hope.
But she'd heard his voice crack and waver, and she knew he already had.
A phrase she'd read years before floated through her thoughts. You should have fallen in love with a happy man, if you wanted happiness. But no, you had to fall for the breathtaking beauty of pain.
Her backside was numb. Sara pushed herself to her feet and headed back for her car, waiting patiently for her in the overlook's little gravel lot. The whole point of the counseling sessions was to take control of my life. That's what I'm doing. And not Grissom, nor anybody else, is going to take it from me.
Even if it took all her courage to do it.
See Chapter 8