Author's Note: Many thanks to CSIFreak for the beta and to everyone who has reviewed so far. Seriously, do not stop now. I need all the encouragement I can get.
Cause and Effect: Chapter eight
San Francisco, 1994
Sara slid her key tiredly in the lock, and Grissom hovered uncertainly in the threshold behind her as she entered her apartment, throwing her belongings offhandedly in a fruit bowl near the door.
She glanced back at him, sighing impatiently, as both of them recognised the inappropriateness of this situation. He was her teacher, technically, and if Grissom could condemn Alex for this sort of behavior, he could hardly do it himself with being hypocritical.
On the other hand, his concern for Sara was bothering him, and despite her earlier silence in the car ride there, he got the feeling she wanted to explain things now.
She swallowed, meeting his eyes evenly. She was hesitant, sweeping her forefinger absently over her table. "You can come in, Grissom", she said softly.
He thought she seemed vaguely hurt that he wouldn't trust her enough to enter, and he sighed, quickly closing the door behind him. He was unqualified in these social situations. He briefly wished Catherine were here to tell him what to do, before quickly dismissing the thought.
He glanced around, momentarily taking in her surroundings, as if it would somehow allow him some further insight the woman who was Sara Sidle. Her apartment was painted in intimate, earthly tones, warm reds and browns, but there was an underlying femininity that was very much apparent in her personality. The living room was a modest room adjoining the small kitchenette, and he reminded himself that she was only twenty-three, and could hardly afford anything more spacious. Thick, wooden bamboo blinds covered the windows, and various weathered books scattered the furniture. There were several, photographs lining the walls and mantelpiece, but he noticed almost casually that none of them appeared to picture family members.
He cleared his throat, gaze drifting over the bright young woman before him, silently allowing his brief appraisal. She was an intricacy all of her own. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she did something completely surprising and unexpected.
"My car… broke down again a few days ago", she started without preamble, voice suddenly thick and hoarse. She paused, tracing the wood grain pattern idly with her thumb. "I met Alex at your seminar and he offered me a ride home".
He felt his heart seize apprehensively, as he eyed her uncomfortably. Alex was a charming man. Despite his regular influx of casual relationships, all the women he pursued generally knew of his notorious reputation. Sara obviously didn'tbecause he knew she didn't appreciate womanizersif her relationship with her boss was evidence enough.
She shrugged. "It was stupid I guess, right? When I got out of the car, he came onto me, and he… wouldn't let me go. I guess things got a little out of hand because, uh, I sort of hit him."
Grissom remembered the faint scratch along the side of Alex's car, and swallowed nervously. Unfortunately, he could all too clearly see how the situation would escalate that way.
Alex didn't take to rejection well. He rarely had to deal with it, but Grissom had no doubt he wouldn't. He just hadn't imagined the man could get violent.
"Sara, did he…?"
She frowned deeply, obviously incredibly uncomfortable to be discussing this with him. Her posture was stiff and standoffish, and the table stood between them as a tangible barrier.
"No! God no. Believe me, I… I would have reported something like that. I'm a CSI, Grissom, I know enough about my job to…" She sighed impatiently. "Look, he… he makes me nervous", she admitted, and she immediately bit her lip, obviously not intending to share that with him.
Grissom's brows furrowed intently. She wondered what he was thinking. He looked genuinely concerned, but why did he have any reason to believe her? The answer truly eluded her. Alex was his colleague, his friend, and she was sure this wasn't the first time a student had made such an allegation against a teacher in a bid to get attention. She didn't want attention. That was the last thing she wanted.
She had been raised around physical and emotional abuse, and she knew what the aftermath of its effects were when other people got involved. But Alex had assaulted her. It wasn't as if he had done anything seriously criminal, but she couldn't help thinking that if she hadn't known how to defend herself… he might have.
It was that which made her nervous. The way he looked at her, the few times they had incidentally crossed paths on the campus grounds or in the seminar. That was why she avoided the place. She didn't want to cause any trouble by reporting anything when nothing really had happened, but she knew it went against all of her inner moral scruples to do nothing.
She supposed telling Grissom was a compromise. He was a member of the university community, but he wasn't on the actual faculty, and she sensed that she could trust him. That was, perhaps the most significant reason of all.
"I don't know how to handle this", Grissom admitted, in an uncharacteristic sign of powerlessness.
Sara shook her head slowly; brunette locks slipping back over her shoulders. "You don't have to handle anything, Grissom. I just… Just promise me you'll remember that he isn't the man you think he is."
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Las Vegas, 2005
"Okay", Catherine said levelly, glancing around the layout room table at Nick, Sofia, and Greg, who had offered to take them through their initial findings of the crime, since Grissom was now gone, and Sara was suddenly MIA.
"So what've we got?"
Greg sighed, appearing slightly nervous to have the floor over the three other more experienced CSIs, but he hid it in his usual stride.
"Well, we don't have a lot", he admitted, gesturing vaguely at the crime scene photos. "Prints on the nightstand came up as unknown, and they could be from anyone who stayed in that room at any time." He shrugged, and Catherine was briefly proud to see him taking control like this.
"Okay", she said, considering. "What about the hairs found on the bed? Anything probative?"
He slowly shook his head. "All of them came back as either Audrey Fraser, or Alex Townsend. The killer, whoever he was, cleaned every square inch of that motel room after he was finished. We checked the vacuum bags, but they'd been cleaned. He left no trace of himself behind."
Nick frowned. "Sounds like he would have needed a lot of time to do all that. Didn't Townsend have a lecture at twelve o'clock?"
Greg nodded. "Yeah, and her time of death was at eleven. We talked to the hotel reception staff at the Palms, and they say they don't remember seeing him come back to the hotel earlier it was so busy, so that was a bust. It's a twenty-minute drive to UNLV from the crime scene, so we were thinking its possible he just went straight to his lecture".
Catherine slanted an eyebrow doubtfully. "It still takes a lot of time to clean up a crime scene that thoroughly."
"And it seems doubtful he would go to the university with evidence all over him", Sofia put in.
Greg shrugged. "Well, in his interrogation he mentioned arriving at the university at eleven thirty to speak with one of the professors. Uh, Fred Turpin?"
"Have you confirmed this yet?" Catherine asked.
He shifted. "Well, it was… on the agenda, until all of this crazy stuff started to happen. Then it kind of just got put on the backburner…"
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Great. So to me, it's sounding more and more likely that we may be able to eliminate our only suspect." She sighed deeply. "Okay. Nick, go back to the Palms and ask for their security tapes from ten-thirty to twelve o'clock on the day of the murder. I want to know if he's telling us the truth. Sofia, go back to the crime scene, check garbage cans, dumpsters, anywhere this guy could have dumped any evidence. I'm going to go talk to this professor guy, see if he can confirm Townsend's visit."
"It still doesn't give him an alibi", Nick piped up. "He could have done everything in time and still gotten to his lecture".
Catherine gave him a look, inwardly amazed at how much evidence Grissom and Sara had clearly overlooked. Greg looked uncomfortable too, like she was going to blame the rookie for their slip-ups. She hated to admit it, but Ecklie had obviously made the correct decision in taking them off this case. They were letting their prejudices blind them to other leads, and she just hoped their careers wouldn't suffer for it.
"Yeah, Nicky", she said calmly. "But it gives him reasonable doubt, and right now, that's going to have to be enough".
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Grissom's front door stood tall and imposingly before her, and to add to her already growing lack of dignity, it had started to rain.
Her brown locks began to curl soggily around her face as the skies opened and she ducked hurriedly under the small shelter serving as his front porch, barely able to give herself the courage bolster she needed before lowering her forefinger to the bell.
The horizon had barely started to lighten with the sudden, unexpected influx of storm clouds over the barren city, and despite the earliness of the hour, Sara knew he would still be awake. For all intents and purposes, he was still on the clock, and it would be several hours before he felt the need to sleep.
It only took several moments for Sara to perceive the dull sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, and then the click of the latch as Grissom opened the door.
He blinked at her, and she couldn't blame him. She couldn't remember the last time she had been to his townhouse. In fact, on a social basis, she didn't think she ever had. She stared at him, eyes widening slightly, and she licked her lips, blurting out her sentence before she could even properly formulate the words.
"I am so sorry, Grissom".
A deep frown overtook his features, and he stared at her for a long, tense moment, before he seemed to realise that she was standing in the middle of an increasingly heavy downpour, and hastily moved past to let her inside. "Sara, get inside before you catch a cold".
She shivered, complying with his order, and the warmth of his dimly lit living room immediately encompassed her.
She had only been there once, and her eyes unconsciously drifted around to take everything in. The vast room seemed too large for one person, and contained a sparse amount of furniture, cluttered with copies of forensic journals and books on entomology. Plastered on his walls were the delicate, beautiful butterfly specimens she remembered, the only burst of life in the otherwise characterless room, despite the fact that they were dead.
It felt like a poor imitation of his office, and a place where he existed in limbo, rather than a home. On the other hand, it was how people initially observed Grissom; cold, emotionless and empty. It was only few who knew the brilliant man underneath the outer façade, and even fewer who truly understood the complexities of his character.
She liked to think that she had once been on her way to becoming one of those people, but years of feigned civility and strained friendship had snuffed that dream.
If he noticed her brief appraisal, he didn't say anything, and mutely closed the door, circling around her to stand a safe distance away beside his tall kitchen counter.
Sara swallowed, feeling incredibly pitiful with her damp, messy hair and her clothes plastered to her sides, and allowed her eyes to drift up to his slowly. "Look, I'm sorry I'm bothering you, when I'm probably the last person you want to see right now", she said softly. "But I just wanted to apologise. You didn't deserve to be suspended."
He eyed her impassively. "You didn't do anything, Sara", he said tiredly. "It was my decision to hide our connection".
She glanced down, frowning a little. "Grissom… it's my fault you had to hide it in the first place", she said quietly. "If I didn't make that mistake…"
"He tried to attack you", he said, with a sudden burst of annoyance.
She glanced up at him, taken aback. "I know, but I didn't exactly discourage him…"
"Sara…" He sighed in deep exasperation, searching for words. "Alex isn't used to women rejecting him. I saw the scratch in the side of his car. I knew it would happen sooner or later, I just never thought… it would be someone I… knew."
Sara said nothing, dripping in the middle of his carpet, and felt a deep shiver run through her frame.
He noticed her tremble, and straightened from the bench. "Wait here", he said, sighing, and disappeared down the hall.
Sara frowned, perplexed as he left, and he returned a moment later with a soft, blue towel held out before him.
She accepted it in surprise, touched by his thoughtfulness, immediately wrapping it over her shoulders and huddling against its warmth. "Thanks…"
He nodded mutely, watching her with an odd, unreadable expression on his face. She swallowed, distinctly uncomfortable under his sudden scrutiny, aware of the fact that the distance between them was much shorter than before.
"Catherine's taking over the investigation", she spoke up nervously, as a way to fill the silence if nothing else. "Warrick's covering our shift".
A sudden, pained expression overtook Grissom's features, and he eyed her with worry. "Sara… there's something I didn't tell you that I… I should have", he started hesitantly. "But we were distracted by the case".
She folded her arms, clutching the towel tightly around her frame. "Okay…"
He hesitated. "Catherine's going on leave in a few weeks. Ecklie wanted you to take over as supervisor of her shift."
Sara's mouth fell open in surprise, and she stared at him disbelievingly. "Are you… kidding?"
"No, actually, I'm not".
Sara frowned at him, shrewdly picking up on the fact that he was standing uncomfortably. He possessed a level of outer comfort in his home that was noticeably absent around the lab, but her presence and this rapid shift in conversation were obviously putting him ill at ease. There was a reason. "Why do I think that's not really the end of it?" she asked evenly.
Grissom released a heavy sigh. "After today… Ecklie retracted his request", he admitted slowly.
She clenched her jaw, scoffing disbelievingly as she considered the implications of what he was saying. "It's because of our involvement in the case, isn't it?" she finished flatly.
She had worried their conflict of interest would risk his career; she had just never considered that he would knowingly compromise hers.
She stepped away from him, fierce brown eyes leveling on his with a sudden ferocious defensiveness. "You knew about this when you decided we could stay on the case", she realised. "I told you we couldn't ignore our involvement, but you decided anyway! You… you… God. You know Ecklie is just waiting for me to screw up again, how is this going to look now?"
Grissom looked surprisingly indignant. "I didn't want to tell you because I was worried about his motives, Sara. In case you haven't noticed, they rarely turn out well for anybody except himself."
She laughed, a short, humourless sound, and dragged the towel roughly away from her shoulders, holding it limply in her hands. "Right, so you were trying to protect me, is that it? In case you haven't noticed, I am capable of taking care of myself, Grissom".
He pursed his lips tightly. "Are you?" he muttered flatly.
Sara blinked at him. "Excuse me?" she hissed, shoulders stiffening.
Grissom scowled, but she could see he was ready to back away from this conversation now. "Forget it, Sara…"
"No!" she said, uncharacteristically loudly, glaring at him furiously, feeling an eruption threatening under the surface. "I've got news for you, Grissom. Just because I tell you a little bit about my family does not mean you know me. You know nothing about me, and that's your choice, remember?"
He flinched slightly at her pointed barb, and she scoffed, hurling the towel at his hands. "Stop telling yourself you're protecting me because you can't face up to the truth".
As soon as she said it, she felt oddly liberated. It felt good. It felt really good. She was sick and tired of dancing around the obvious with him. The increasing intensity of their sexual tension was so high now it was affecting the people around them, and their professional relationship, and now, the fate of their jobs.
Grissom looked like she had just slapped him. "What?"
She scoffed, turning to stalk to the door. "Just… figure it out, Grissom".
She was about to pull open the door when his palm rested violently over the wood, slamming it shut again and incidentally blocking her between himself and the door. Sara turned around, heart hammering in her chest as she stared at him, surprised at the sudden, unmasked intensity in his gaze. He knew what she was talking about. They both knew he did.
"What are you doing, Grissom?" she asked, brown eyes fixing uncertainly on his. The distance between them was buzzing with unrestrained tension, and she swallowed, feeling the warmth of his frame.
He looked lost. Almost like she had broken him with her words, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she was vaguely afraid of what he would do.
She had cut to the core of his very self-denial, and it had changed something in him. Something vital.
His eyes flittered unsteadily over hers, and she swallowed convulsively, feeling her back press into the hard wood. His palm remained pressed to the frame of the door, but she didn't move, or attempt to force her way past him.
This new side of him was, admittedly, thrilling, as much as it was worrying. She wondered nowif maybe she had gone too far. If maybe she should have stayed silent, allowed him to maintain his continual fantasy. Allowed him to think that he was acting for her own good, because really, that was all he had, wasn't it?
His fingers slowly lifted, curving around the base of her cheek, and she shivered, surprised as his touch scorched her skin.
"You don't understand me as well as you think you do, Sara", he said softly, focusing on her cheek.
Sara closed her eyes, letting out a ragged breath as he caressed the side of her face. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to prove something, not to her, but to himself. She didn't want to be his guinea pig.
She opened her eyes. "Grissom…"
He shook his head, firmly. "I want you, Sara… I've known that ever since I met you. Do you really think changing things would make our situation better?"
She held her breath, disbelieving that he would admit to something so bluntly.
"It's never mattered what I think", she whispered seriously.
His eyes searched her face, and after a long, drawn out moment, he slowly, painfully pulled away.
Even as she felt relieved by the break of tension, her body moaned in protest. He was staring at her, as if she were to blame for his sudden, brief lapse of control, and she looked away.
The sound of the rain had stopped on the ceiling, and silently, without bothering to look his way, she pulled open the door, and disappeared outside, into the sunrise.
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