INADMISSIBLE EVIDENCE

Written by: Sunrays and Moonbeams

Beta'd by: Moonbeams

Spoilers: Nesting Dolls

Part 1: What Worries You

In his years as a coroner and a CSI, Gil Grissom had witnessed people breaking down upon being told of the death of a loved one. He'd seen the tearful reunions that came when missing person's cases ended happily. It was important in his position to maintain a professional distance in front of people as they went through "the best of times, the worst of times." He was good at it. He'd put up good, strong walls to protect himself from all that emotion. They worked well.

Sara Sidle was good at it, too, most of the time. Occasionally, when she was particularly invested in the outcome of a case, or if she'd pulled too many doubles and exhaustion had all her emotions closer to the surface than she'd admit, a few tears would fall. She'd look aside, embarrassed by them, and discreetly wipe them away.

Grissom had seen her cry tears before, but this wasn't just the shedding of a few tears, gone and forgotten after taking a moment to collect herself. He'd never seen anyone sob so pitifully. Seeing Sara like this, his carefully constructed walls threatened to collapse. In the back of his mind, he recalled the description of a high intensity earthquake on the Mercalli scale: "structures destroyed."

He found it difficult to breathe. He felt the emotion building in his throat so thick he didn't dare speak; she would surely hear the depth of emotion in his voice. He couldn't let that happen. It was the last thing she needed.

At the same time, he felt foolish and childlike. What this woman did need was comforting; she did need someone to do more than sit silently across from her while she wept. All he'd been able to do was take her hand. Grissom knew he'd mentally note the moment as another reason why he shouldn't ever take their relationship past a professional level.

Another item on the list, he thought in dismay. That list is as long as my arm now.

He'd stared at her for the longest time until she somehow pulled herself together, yanking her hand free of his to wipe her tearstained face.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, blinking back the last of the tears. Her eyes were red and puffy, her lips trembling ever so slightly.

"Don't apologize," he'd managed. He watched her get up without another word, and she headed down the hall. He heard the click of a door closing and the sound of water running. He concluded she'd gone into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Finding himself unexpectedly alone in her living room, he wasn't sure whether he ought to leave now or stay.

She took off for the bathroom pretty quickly. She might not want to see anyone – see me – after her…episode. But if I go, it'd be like abandoning her. Should I really leave her alone, given the state she's in?

Grissom's eyes fell to the coffee table, and he absently picked up a card from the deck: the nine of clubs. He placed it on the ten of hearts, adding to the game of solitaire that Sara had left unfinished before he'd arrived.

You're doing it again, Grissom thought sadly. She needs you, and you're sitting here playing games.

He stood slowly, looking around the room. Glancing towards the door Sara had disappeared into, he wondered if he should knock and ask her if she was all right, if she wanted him to stay or go. He got within three feet of the door but stopped, instead turning and walking over to the window to stare outside. The sun had long since set. Before he'd arrived, the sky had been lit in hues of yellow and orange; now everything was swathed in deep sapphire blue, without any sign of stars.

He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch. His shift started in less than an hour; he'd have to go soon, whether he wanted to or not.

Sara shouldn't be alone right now, he reasoned, smoothing his sleeve back down over his watch again. Maybe I should call in sick.

His eyes wandered the apartment, momentarily drinking in the warm colors of everything around him as he realized how much her world contrasted with his. He glanced down at her desk. It seemed she'd been drafting a letter of resignation and that she'd been having a hard time of it: several of the paragraphs were scored out and rewritten, then scored out again.

I won't let her resign over this, he promised himself. The lab needs her. I need her. He'd spoken or thought those two sentences many times before. Something felt different about them tonight.

His eyes caught a pile of photographs jutting out of a brightly colored yellow packet, and without thinking he picked the packet up. He removed the photos carefully, making sure not to leave any smudges on the glossy finish.

The photos didn't seem recent. He recognized the lab's break room. There was a birthday cake, icing letters proclaiming "Happy 30th Nick."

These are from four years ago, Grissom thought as he continued to flip through the photos. He found himself envying the happy looks on his co-workers faces, in spite of himself. Catherine's lipstick was all over Nick's cheek, and Greg had icing on his face.

Grissom noted straight away that he himself wasn't in a single photo, and couldn't remember having attended this small staff party at all. They must have done this on my day off, Grissom decided, feeling somewhat crestfallen. He couldn't even remember having been told about it.

He felt a pang of jealousy that he hadn't been invited. Not that he'd have attended anyway, but it was the principle. How did they even manage to have this party without me ever finding out about it?

As he continued to flip through the photographs, he imagined the conversation Greg was having with Warrick, the joke Nick must have told that had Catherine laughing so hard tears were running down her cheeks. All of them were similar; all of them told the story of a tight-knit group, one he was part of, but only on the fringes. He was almost through the stack of photos when he came to one that had him mesmerized.

It was a picture of Sara: laughing, her hair in careless waves, her eyes sparkling and full of life. She looked alive and happy, more vibrant than he remembered ever having seen her before. Everything about her exuded beauty, confidence and verve.

The emotion he'd been feeling earlier returned to haunt him right then, starting from the pit of his stomach and working it's way up to his throat where he had to swallow it back. He had not seen her look this happy in a very long time, and a sense of guilt washed over him just to look at the photo now.

Look at her. When was the last time she was this happy? When was the last time she laughed that way?

Grissom pensively ran a finger across the photo, caressing the image of Sara's face. She used to smile for me like this, once upon a time. Before everything went to pieces.

He swallowed again, forcing back the emotion. Even then, she was dealing with the same kinds of cases. She didn't break down under the strain. He traced the lips on the photo. Why now? What got to her after so long?

That was the answer: things building up over time. How many suspects had he interviewed who told the same story? "It was one little thing after another. It finally got to the point I couldn't take it any more."

Still trying to put it into perspective, he thought back. They'd done performance reviews regularly but she'd never said anything. Not that she'd have told the whole story during an evaluation, he thought. Maybe she thought it would be unprofessional, but under the circumstances, I might have been able to do something for the good of the lab…

"For the good of the lab?"He could hardly believe that thought had crossed his mind. And he shouldn't have had to wait for her to tell him she had a problem. As a supervisor, he should have been able to see what cases provoked extreme reactions from her. As a human being, he should have been able to see someone in pain and tried to do something to help. Her words rang in his ears; he suddenly realized why she wouldn't have said anything, especially not to him.

"I choose men who're emotionally unavailable."

At the time, the words hadn't sunk in although Grissom had heard them. They registered just enough for him to push them aside for later. She said it and gestured to me. She meant me. I'm emotionally unavailable. I'm part of the problem.

Grissom shook his head, a disgusted look on his face.

If I were more emotionally available, I'd have comforted her the way Nick or Greg or Warrick would have. I'd have held her, stroked her hair, and told her I'd do whatever I could to make her pain go away. But I didn't. I took her hand. That was all I could do. I am emotionally unavailable. That's all I'll ever be.

He heard the door to the bathroom door lock click. Sara, who'd just taken him into her confidence as no one ever had, was about to discover him violating her privacy. Without even thinking, he slipped the photo of Sara into the inside pocket of his jacket, returned the other photographs to the packet and placed it on the desk where he'd found it.

Grissom moved away from the desk just as Sara returned to the living room, her eyes still puffy, but her face free of tearstains. She'd pulled her hair back and damp tendrils curled around her face.

"Sara, I…" Grissom began; he wanted to ask about the letter of resignation she'd been planning to write.

"Yeah…?" Sara asked, her voice weak. She looked and sounded like a different person. Tears and splashes of water had cleared whatever makeup she'd been wearing away. Grissom had always suspected Sara might look several years younger without makeup, but right now she looked so much older than she was. She was barely a shadow of the real Sara Sidle, and it broke Grissom's heart.

Grissom hesitated for a moment, trying to properly formulate the question. Finally, he managed to speak. "Is there anything you want to tell me about?"

There. I've given her a chance to bring up the subject of her resignation. I've given her an opening to say anything she wants now. I just hope it won't open up a whole new can of worms.

She looked at him, standing near the desk; he could see the change in her expression as it dawned on her what he meant. Sara moved over to the desk slowly, shaking her head as she went. She said nothing as she tore the piece of paper from the notepad, crumpled it up in both hands and tossed it into the waste paper basket under the desk.

He was almost relieved to see the emphatic way she'd disposed of the letter. Not that it meant she wouldn't start another. Doesn't matter, he thought. If she tries to hand me her resignation I won't accept it. I can't let her quit; she's worked too hard to go out this way.

"I have to go to work, Sara," Grissom stated quietly.

"I know." Sara gave a nod; she was looking at the floor. Somehow she couldn't meet his eyes anymore, but he could still see the worry etched into her face. Now that the anger had all been unleashed, now that the tears had fallen, the weight of everything that had happened the previous night was bearing down on her.

Grissom wanted to ask her if she'd be all right after he left, but he couldn't work up the courage; he didn't want her to think he didn't trust her not to make any stupid decisions after he'd gone. As often happened, an appropriate quote came to mind. He licked his lips then spoke softly.

"Sara, what worries you masters you."

Sara gave an ironic half-smile, her eyes averted from his. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's fired."

"I said Ecklie wants me to fire you."

"Yeah…" Sara nodded.

Grissom forced a smile. "I didn't say I would. Ecklie already split the team up once. I'm not about to lose any more CSIs."

Sara raised her eyes to his finally, the concern still etched on her face. "What will you tell him?"

Grissom gave a shrug. "I'll think of something. Maybe I'll blame it all on my bad management skills. It makes him feel superior when I admit I'm in the wrong." He smiled a little at the thought.

Sara frowned a little, "He'll fire you instead."

"He might go so far as to threaten to. I doubt he'd go through with it." Grissom smiled wryly and he glanced at his watch again. "I'm afraid I must leave now."

Sara led him to the front door and opened it for him, watching as he stepped outside. "Grissom…"

Grissom turned and looked at her, standing just outside the door. His eyes met hers and he held her gaze.

"You're a good supervisor."

Grissom managed a little smile. "A supervisor is only as good as the team he has behind him, Sara. And he has to stand behind them as well," he added, hoping she'd realize he wasn't just acknowledging the good work she'd done over the years.

Sara didn't respond; she looked away again, standing at the door.

"Take care, Sara. Use the week well," Grissom said, trying his best to sound sincere but fearing it would come across as forced. He didn't wait for her to say goodbye to him; he simply left.

He knew he'd be late to work, but he didn't care. He spent a good five minutes in his car, staring at the photo he'd taken from her apartment.

And as he missed her, he realised his worries were beginning to master him.