Illusions
Author: Jess
A/N: Thanks so much to Rouchie and CSI4nsicAce for beta-ing this thing. You two are the best.
Disclaimer: I do not own them and I really couldn't afford them either.
Chapter Twenty-Six
"Omelet with all the fixings minus the ham," Warrick said, placing one plate on the table.
"Mine!" Greg yelled and quickly grabbed the plate.
"Omelet with cheese, onions, and peppers for Catherine. Omelet with cheese and peppers for Sara," he continued handing off the plates. "And an omelet with all the fixings for Grissom."
"You're lucky, Grissom," Nick said between bites. "Greg was going to try using a couple chocolate covered grasshoppers in your omelet."
"Sara wouldn't let me," the younger man pouted.
"Touch his bugs and see what happens," Sara replied, cutting a section off and devouring it.
"Be thankful she stopped you, young grasshopper," Nick continued, sprinkling salt.
A casual roll of the eyes was the only answer he received and the conversation became minimal as everyone began eating.
Taking a bite of the slightly burnt creation, Sara looked around at the group gathered around the table. She could've kiss Greg and Nick for their antics in the kitchen and hug Warrick for teasing her as they watched their friends cook. Catherine, well, at least the suspicious looks had ceased. And Grissom… 'There are a lot of things I would like to do to Grissom,' she thought, trying to keep the smirk off of her features.
It had never been like this.
Every time she had told her friends about her past or they had found out about it, they became distant. Phone calls and gatherings dwindled into nothing. When she would bump into them on the street the conversations would be short and they would quickly make an exit. It never ended with omelets and laughter.
A feeling of calmness was slowly beginning to course through her veins, allowing her to truly relax. She should have known that it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped and her emotions went through a tumultuous spin cycle again. As she looked back at Catherine, she could almost hear the breaking of the tranquility she was experiencing.
Sara shrugged, pushing away those thoughts, intent on enjoying this meal with everyone. She listened to Greg and Nick's awful jokes and their attempts to get Warrick to tell about any current dates he'd gone on. Eventually everyone had finished eating and Sara offered to do the dishes, despite all their protests.
She walked into the kitchen carrying an armful of dishes, which she promptly placed in the sink. Looking up she watched as the swing shift supervisor entered the room with another armful of dishes. She smiled at her, greatful for some help.
Catherine made eye contact with the brunette. Seizing her opportunity, "Why didn't you ever tell us?" she suddenly asked, effectively destroying the mood.
Sara looked away, closing her eyes as she tried to rein in her emotions and the sudden urge to hurl a glass at the woman. Answering cool-headedly would be the most appropriate action and cause the least disturbance, but she didn't care. "Why should I have?" she countered, raising her eyes to the other woman's in a silent challenge.
"Sara," Catherine started.
"Don't," Sara growled, shaking her head in annoyance at the woman's placating tone. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child."
"Don't act like one then," the other woman answered.
"Catherine," Grissom warned, glaring at her, his mouth tight with frustration. He walked past her and placed the last of the dishes into the sink.
"No, Grissom," Catherine said, turning her attention back to Sara. "You should have told us."
"Again, Catherine," she said angrily, clenching her hands into fists. "Why should I have?"
"Because, as your friends--"
Sara couldn't help it, she laughed. "Friends?" she asked looking at her with bewilderment. "Where was this so called friendship after Ecklie suspended me, Catherine? Grissom came over. Greg and Nick came over during the week. Warrick even called me. I never heard a word from you. So, excuse me if I don't believe this friendship routine."
"Fine," Catherine replied, leaning against the counter and folding her arms at her chest. "As your colleagues we should have known. There are cases you shouldn't be working on--"
"Like you shouldn't have worked on a case involving your ex-husband being charged for rape?" she countered, her frustration level rising. "What happened when I was younger has no bearing on the work I do."
"That isn't how a defense attorney will see it," Catherine reciprocated, ignoring the look Grissom gave her. "They'll paint you as a vigilante CSI who uses the evidence to help those victims who remind you of your childhood. That you empathize with them because of your parents."
"Suddenly you can see into the future now?" Sara asked, her knuckles becoming white with the pressure she was exuding. "And who exactly am I empathizing with? Those who remind me of my crazy mother who stabbed my father twenty-seven times or my abusive father who thought that I'd make a good ashtray for his cigars?"
Silence was her only answer. Breathing deeply, she tried to calm herself, to get her emotions in check. "Screw this," she said. Losing her inner battle, she walked swiftly to the guest room, closing the door behind her.
She collapsed to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and closed her eyes, not caring about the commotion that was now occurring in the living room.
"What the hell, Catherine," Nick said, trying to keep his voice from rising. He looked at his supervisor, wondering what had happened to the sympathetic woman he had told his past to. Where was the compassion he had been shown?
"Do you really think that was the best course of action to take?" Warrick asked, his voice low, disappointment evident as he spoke.
"I think she needed to see the reality of the situation and not be coddled, which seems to be the approach you were all taking," Catherine answered, defending her actions.
"We were not coddling her!" Greg yelled, his voice echoing through the room. His face was reddening, his nostrils flaring in anger. "We were being friends. Do you even know the meaning of that word?"
"We just found out about her past, Catherine," Nick said, motioning towards where Sara had gone. "What she needed was to be shown that we care about her. She didn't need you going off at her about any legality."
"She was eventually going to need to deal with that," the woman countered.
"Oh and having her deal with it after the traumatic way her past was revealed to us was the best way to go about it," Greg said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
Nick gave Greg a hard look, not wanting this conversation to escalate to a yelling match. He looked over at his old supervisor, surprised that the man had been silent since Sara had left the room. 'Oh crap,' he thought as he took in the other man's appearance.
Grissom's eyes were narrowed, his line of vision focusing on Catherine as anger radiated from them. The rage that was begging to be released was transferred into the force he used to clench his knuckles.
Nick watched the nightshift supervisor open his mouth and readied himself for a loud, vocal response. He raised an eyebrow, amazed at how low and quiet the man's voice could be.
"Get out."
All eyes turned to Grissom. "Excuse me?" Catherine asked.
"Get out," he repeated, a little louder than the first time.
"Gil," she started her voice pacifying.
"I want you out of my house, Catherine," Grissom interrupted, his voice low and even. When she didn't move, a fist slammed down onto the table. "Now!" he yelled and walked across the room, swiftly shutting off the music.
She looked at him, horrified at his response, before standing. "Fine," she said, grabbing her purse. "But you know I'm right, Gil. Sara's going to have to deal with how her past can affect her credibility as a CSI."
"Get out, Catherine," he growled, refusing to look at her.
She made an exasperated sound and headed for the door, leaving the others to deal with Grissom.
"I'll go calm Catherine down," Warrick informed the others. "You guys need to get him to calm down. Give Sar my love."
Nick and Greg nodded and then looked warily at one another. Nick looked back at the older man, watching as he unconsciously clenched and unclenched his fists. Anger radiated off of him in waves, his body tense and rigid. Slowly, Nick walked over to him, stopping a few feet away, his eyes focusing on the small trashcan. "Grissom," he started, looking back at the man.
"What?" he snapped, fixing a wrathful gaze on the young man.
"You need to calm down," the younger CSI said. "Sara seeing you like this isn't going to help."
Grissom closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he tried to control his breathing. After a few seconds he opened them, the anger lessened considerably. "I'm going for a walk," he informed the two men and started towards the door. He stopped and turned back to them.
"We'll stay with Sara," Greg answered the unspoken question.
He nodded and then turned and continued his trek.
Once they heard the door close, Nick and Greg let out a collective sigh before turning to look at the hallway and wondering if they would be able to do any good.
Open and clench. Open and clench. He walked down the sidewalk repeating the movement with his hands, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses as the Nevada sun beat down on him. He could feel the sweat already begin to form on his neck, a small trickle of it sliding down his back. The overwhelming emotions that he was experiencing forced him to continue walking. He was enraged at Catherine for the way she had behaved. He was furious at himself for not stopping her and for the way he had acted after Sara had escaped the confrontation. Shame also filled him because Nick had been the one to see that he needed to calm down and get out of the house.
Quickly, an overwhelming sense of apprehension was filling him at the thought of returning to his townhouse. As much as he disliked what Catherine had brought up, it would need to be dealt with. At least, he would need to discuss with Sara the possible ramifications that news of her past could have on her career.
The oncoming corner made Grissom stop, compelling him to make a decision. He could either cross the street and continue his course, moving further and further from his townhouse and delaying the inevitable discussion he needed to have with Sara, or turn around and deal with the situation. He sighed, unsure which would be the best course of action. Would it be better for Sara to put off the discussion or to tend to the matter as soon as possible?
Frowning, he wiped the sweat forming on his forehead. 'This is why I am reluctant to form personal relationships,' he thought, looking back towards his townhouse. 'I'm never sure what action I should take.'
On some level, she was aware of Nick and Greg's voices on the other side of the door. Through a misty haze she could hear their urgent, soft pleas for her to open the door and talk with them, but she couldn't. At some point she had moved from her spot on the floor by the door to the bed, curling on top of the covers, closing her eyes in a desperate attempt to fend off the onslaught of memories. If she had any tears left to cry they would have been cascading down her face, but for the moment, there were none left to cry.
She saw her father's face. His eyes locked on hers as he crawled towards her, screaming for her to help him as her mother plunged the knife over and over into his back. She could see herself, pressed against the living room wall, silent screams erupting from her mouth, pulling her knees as close as she could to her body.
Sara relived the mixed feelings that she had had at that moment, fear for her father and of what her mother was doing and a sense of relief that he wouldn't be able to hurt them anymore. She clung to the pillow, shutting her eyes as tight as she could, mirroring her younger self, silent screams causing her adult body to shake.
She heard the door unlock and the knob turn. She tried to control herself, afraid of Greg and Nick seeing her in this emotional state, but she couldn't stop; she was too far gone. She heard the door close and let out a sob as Grissom's voice filled the room as he gently called her name. The pillow was crushed in her grip as she struggled to escape the emptiness that was chilling her to the bone.
She waited for the sound of the door closing again, sure that Grissom would escape the room and move as far as he could from her broken form, leaving her alone to fight her own demons. Isolation was becoming an ever present companion in the world she was living. Perhaps it was for the best. If she didn't try and create bonds with anyone, she would never be hurt again; she might never experience happiness either, but maybe that was a sacrifice she needed to make in order to survive.
The bed dipped under her and strong arms pulled her back, gently crushing her to his chest. She turned in his arms and buried her face into his shirt, dry, heaving sobs wracking her body.
Like before, he said nothing; he simply held her, allowing her time to release the emotions that she tried to bury.
Silently she cursed herself for ever doubting the man who held her tightly as she slowly began to relax.
Eventually, she pulled away from him, moving to the other side of the bed so that she could look at him. His calming gaze slowly began to melt the cold that swept through her veins, and she almost felt human again. Closing her eyes, a smile formed on her face as she felt Grissom's hand gently grip hers, causing warmth she had never experienced to course through her as she allowed the exhaustion she was feeling to overtake her.
Leaning back against the headboard of the guest bedroom, Grissom was reminded of words Sara had spoken years before. '…when I wake up in a cold sweat under the blanket…' He frowned as he watched her forehead crinkle and her mouth twist as she entertained unpleasant dreams. She needed someone who could give her good dreams, someone who could fill her world with beauty. All he could offer her was death and his own insecurities.
'I can't give her what she needs,' he thought angrily, removing his hand from hers and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He rested his head in his hands, every reason he had for not pursuing a relationship with Sara rushing through at him. He sighed, unsure how he was going to be able to explain any of them to her.
"It's okay," Sara said, her voice sounding very far away.
He turned, surprised that she was awake. Concern enveloped him as he looked at her, watching her drift further and further into herself.
She looked at her hand, the one he had been holding a few minutes earlier, and then smiled sadly at him. "I understand," she whispered. He looked at her questioningly, and she continued, closing her eyes and drawing her hand to her body. "I wouldn't be able to love someone as broken as me either."
His heart broke as he watched her struggle not to cry. He cursed himself and his insecurities. This wasn't about him; this was about her and what she needed. He moved to her side, pulling her body against his, kissing her hair as he murmured words of apology, trying to make her understand what a fool he was, especially when anything concerned her.
"I can't make you happy," he murmured into her hair.
"You already make me happy," Sara refuted, pulling back so he could see her face. "When you held my hand that made me happy."
He raised an eyebrow in doubt.
"I don't expect big flourishing decrees of love, Grissom," she continued. "I wouldn't know what to do with those. I just want you, all of you, baggage, insecurities, all of it."
The apprehension he was feeling hadn't dissipated. "I don't want to hurt you," he said.
"Then don't," she answered.
"It's that easy, is it?" he asked wryly.
She shrugged. "Beginning is easy. Continuing is hard," she informed him. Noticing his perplexed expression she continued, "I got that from a fortune cookie."
"Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time, it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable," he quoted, pressing his lips again to her hair. "Sydney J. Harris."
Silence passed between the two of them as they both struggled with their inner thoughts. "How did he know?" Sara asked, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?" Grissom responded, trying to determine what she meant.
"How did Dr. Doyle know about my past?" she asked, her forehead crinkling in contemplation. "It isn't in any of my files. I'm sure Marin County doesn't give copies of its social work files to just anyone."
"Doyle would have needed authorization," he mused, his mouth twisting in annoyance as he uttered the man's name. He lifted his arm and looked at the time on his watch. "Swing shift should be on."
Sara watched as he removed his cell phone from his pocket, flipped it open, and quickly dialed a number. "Nick," he said as he twirled a piece of her hair with his fingers. "Have you looked at the second car yet?"She watched him listen intently to the other CSI, trying to gauge by his reactions to determine what was occurring.
"Inform Warrick that now is not a good time for she and I to converse," he answered gruffly before closing the phone.
"Catherine was only trying to help, in her own way," she said, surprised that she was defending the other woman's behavior.
He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. Frowning, he answered it.
She watched with piqued interest as his expression turned grave.
"Thanks, Brass," he said and ended the call.
"What did he say?" she asked, trying to decipher his guarded expression.
"They are arraigning Dr. Doyle in an hour," he explained, his eyes moving across her face, attempting to analyze the change he saw. She had tensed considerably, her eyes narrowing as she bit her lip, her gaze far away. "Sara?"
She blinked and looked back at him. "I'm going," she said.
He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and instead nodded in agreement. He watched her rise from the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles that formed in her shirt as she stood. Watching her leave the room, he let out a sigh as he wondered how much longer they would have to endure the mayhem Dr. Doyle enjoyed creating. And how much more Sara would be able to handle.
