Disclaimer- Everybody do the 'I don't own CSI' mambo! If I don't own it, you almost certainly don't! And if you do, I don't like you!
Notes- This chapter is set right before the end of 'Nesting Dolls', and contains spoilers and dialogue from the same episode, and also from the season two ep. 'Overload'.Walking down the corridor towards the DNA lab, Catherine was lost in her own thoughts. So lost in fact, that it took her entering the lab in question and seeing Mia Dickerson in there to make her remember that Greg Sanders was a CSI now, and off duty, therefore unlikely to be at his old station.
She about turned, mumbling an apology to a very confused looking Mia, and waited until she was out of the lab and in her office before allowing herself the luxury of thumping her head onto the desk. This hadn't been a good week for the crime lab.
Why did Sara have to blow her top like that? Why couldn't she have just held it in for a few lousy minutes? Why did Ecklie suddenly decide to make such a humiliating example of her after all the hard work she'd put into the mail order bride case (as it was now becoming commonly known)?
None of it made any sense. If Ecklie wanted to take his anger out on someone, why Sara? What had she done? More to the point, why ask Grissom to fire her? He must have known that Grissom would sooner swallow his own insect collection than fire Sara Sidle. And, Catherine suddenly wondered, why not jump all over Gil for breaking that skull embedded in the tar? Catherine hadn't mentioned the incident to anyone, let alone her new (a small shiver) boss, but Ecklie seemed to have a way of finding things out...
Naturally, Catherine had gone to see Ecklie regarding her and Sara's shouting match. She had claimed responsibility, saying she had provoked Sara, who was under a lot of stress, having already done exemplary work on what should have been a swing-shift case, etc. Ecklie's only response had been a brief "Duly noted" and an order to get back to work. Catherine had felt a sudden, surprisingly strong urge to kick him in the balls hard enough to propel him through his office window, but had complied with his order.
There was another riddle. Sara's work was usually exemplary, but on this case it had been almost frenzied! She had leafed through the hospital records inside an hour, had found a suspect (who had, in fact, been their killer) within another two hours, and the facial reconstruction would have made Teri Miller green with envy. This process usually took at least sixteen hours, and Sara had done it in a total of five!
What was so vital about this particular case? Catherine had accused Sara of losing it every time a domestic abuse case popped up, but to be fair, Catherine couldn't remember night shift (the old night shift) handling too many of those tragic little delights. No, that had been spur-of-the-moment on her part, and a shot in the dark.
However, in this case she was right. Sara was firing on all cylinders, revving every engine she had, and had been in serious danger of burnout long before the case was over. Why?
A horrific thought occurred to Catherine. She had seen a CSI act like this once before, confronting suspects before the evidence was processed...
"...flying solo, cutting me out...What's going on?"
"OK...There are some people you're supposed to be able to trust, you know ...I was nine, and she was a last minute babysitter...I've never told anyone before..."
"...I'm sorry..."
Nick had flown off the handle on the Dylan Buckley case because he'd thought Dr. Sapian was molesting the poor kid, when it had all been down to some half-assed 'therapy' that had gone wrong. Was this what was happening now?
Was there some hideous ghost in Sara's past? Did she see some parallel between herself and the victim? With a groan of mixed sympathy and guilt, Catherine sank her head into her hands. That had to be what was going on! And now Ecklie was gunning for her...but that still didn't explain why he was going after Sara, of all people...
With an effort, Catherine shoved the thought aside. For once, why wasn't important. She had to find Sara and make things right between them. But how was she going to do that, she wondered, without tearing open old wounds? She knew Grissom had gone to visit her at her home, but she held out little hope that the King of Diplomacy would be able to help Sara very much...
Greg might know what to do...With a sudden, sickening flash, she remembered her callous words to Greg regarding Sara's suspension. What must he think of her now? She had been getting so paranoid since she became a supervisor. She had been afraid that saying anything else would get her, Sara, or Greg in trouble if Ecklie found out...
If, If, IF! She had to get a hold of herself here! Ecklie wasn't omniscient! She knew what to do now. Find Greg and explain why she'd acted like she had, ask him if there was anything he knew about Sara that she should, then head over to Sara's house and make her apologies, being careful not to tread on any emotional landmines on the way.
Catherine swallowed a deep breath of air (and her pride), and walked into the break room. Greg was there, looking as if he'd swallowed a pair of lemons. His fist was held to his forehead, and his face was scrunched up like a paper bag. When Catherine walked into the room, his expression cleared. Probably still looking for a way to get Sara's suspension revoked, thought Catherine wonderingly. Greg was loyal as an old sheepdog.
"Greg, hi. Listen I'm really sorry for what I..."
"Whatever it is, I forgive you. Now listen carefully." Greg jumped up and began talking very fast, walking towards a surprised Catherine. "In about five minutes Ecklie is going to come to your office and ask you whether or not you think Sara should be disciplined for her actions. If you care about Sara, if you care about her career, her freedom, her entire life, then for the love of God, tell him yes! Tell him she should be disciplined, but don't suggest a punishment!"
Catherine was stunned. "Greg what the hell..."
"There's no time! You're the only person I can trust with this and Ecklie's coming to your office in minutes! Get over there!"
Catherine was about to stay, to demand to know what was happening, but one look at the urgency in Greg's normally cheery face and the fear in his eyes told her to get her ass in gear. She headed for her office. Once again, she knew what to do.
She would have to figure out what the hell it all meant later on.
Ecklie approached Cath's office at the same time she did. "Willows. I need to have a word with you."
Catherine felt an insane but mercifully brief urge to say "I know. Greg told me." Somehow she managed to force an "Oh?" of surprise, followed by "What about?"
"Why don't we talk in your office?" Ecklie held the door open and smiled what on a normal person would be a charming smile. Catherine was strongly reminded of a wolf in Granny's clothing. Keeping a hand near the butt of her gun, she followed him in.
"What's up, Ecklie?"
"Sidle's recent behaviour has become a cause for concern in this lab. I personally feel that enough is enough, but as Assistant Director I do have responsibilities, and the Sheriff insists that further action be taken in this matter."
You shitty little liar, thought Catherine but held her tongue.
"As you yourself are the aggrieved party here, I would like to have your opinion on the subject. Do you think that Sara Sidle should be disciplined further?"
If Catherine could have chosen to stop time at any one point in her life, it would have been then. She would have gone back to Greg and beaten an explanation out of him if necessary before answering that question. If she answered no, Ecklie couldn't take any further action without consulting the Sheriff, who Cath knew wouldn't fire a valued employee over something so trivial. Sure, Ecklie would hate her, but that was fine with her, the feeling was very much mutual.
Something stopped her just as she was about to say "No." Greg's face as he told her what he wanted her to do. Greg telling her she was the only one he could trust. Greg's eyes, begging her, pleading with her to say "Yes."
Feeling every inch like a certain twelfth disciple at a certain important evening meal, Catherine did as Greg had asked.