Author's Note: I'd like to thank csipal and mystery for their recommendations at YTDAW. Also, I just want to say that I appreciate the feedback from everyone so far. I'm very glad you're still with me.
An Exercise in Futility: Chapter seven
Las Vegas, Nevada
Present Day
It was nearing the end of her second shift by the time Catherine returned to the lab. She spotted the shards of light under Grissom's door and spent several seconds arguing with herself before she strode forward and knocked.
"Hey", she offered in greeting, as he lifted his head from his desk. He looked as if she had interrupted him in the midst of deep thought and she gave him a moment to give her his full attention, closing the door behind her.
"Catherine", he replied, cautiously. She had known, if it came down to it, that she would be the one to have to rebuild their bridges. She might have been too proud, but he was too closed-off to attempt to approach her about their recent aloofness. And no matter what denial she might attempt to put across to the others, she knew it was her own fault that things had gone this way.
She cleared her throat, sliding into the chair opposite him, a position that had once been second nature to her in all of her visits to his inner sanctum. She perched uncomfortably on the edge of her chair, and Grissom blinked back at her, waiting for her to speak.
She decided subtlety was her best tactic. "How did your questioning go with Davies?"
He shrugged, sliding a ballpoint idly between his fingers. "We found nothing incriminating. He maintains his earlier statement that he knows nothing about Veronique's murder. He says that he didn't want us to know about their involvement because of how it looked, just like Sara said".
Catherine nodded, hesitantly, deciding to use his statement as encouragement to go on. "Right. About, um, that. Sara. I know this latest case… is personal for her—"
"If you're saying that her involvement is going to compromise our investigation—"
"No. I know we've already been through that and I trust your judgement".
He looked slightly sceptical at her last remark, and she felt hurt that he thought she had so little respect for him. They were on even ground now, but he had always stood by her when she made mistakes in the past. She wasn't going to forget something like that.
"It's not this investigation", she went on delicately. She was confident in her knowledge that he knew something he wasn't telling them. It drove her on. "This goes back before now. There's something… going on with her."
Grissom's expression remained blank. "Really?"
She rolled her eyes, clutching the edge of her armrests impatiently. "Yes, really. I don't think you're that clueless. Things haven't been right with her for a long time now. And I know that whatever personal stuff was going on between the two of you last year might have had something to do with it then… but it doesn't now. This is something else. I think you know what it is".
Grissom didn't waver. "If I did, it would have nothing to do with you".
She was taken aback by his cool reaction. "I'm just worried, Gil. We all are—"
"How can I not help wondering you're more worried about the investigation than her? You haven't been mildly supportive of her since you've known each other. Who was it that wanted me to fire her earlier this year? You weren't particularly worried then. If you were, you would trust me to handle it the way I am handling it now."
Catherine blinked at him, surprised by the passion in his voice. "That's not true", she said softly.
Grissom stared back at her, and she realised she didn't know him anymore at all. They were best friends turned strangers, and she had never mourned for any relationship more. Her platonic friendship with him transcended any physical intimacy with other men. He was her avid supporter, her confidante and mentor. Her job meant nothing to her without him.
"Isn't it?" he said, quietly, and she read the implication behind the statement. Sara was the one true threat she had ever had to their relationship. Sara had the ability to steal his heart, and with it, all of his attention. She could admit to herself that was the reason she had reacted so strongly against Sara on her first arrival. But she had become one of them, part of their dysfunctional family unit, and Grissom was far too close to her to help her the way she needed it. Catherine understood Sara on the most fundamental level, because something in her knew they had suffered the same way. They both struggled to escape the hold of their pasts.
And if Grissom wouldn't give her his forgiveness, then maybe she could earn it another way.
"She's slipping, Grissom," she said quietly.
Grissom's gaze was focused on something over her shoulder, and she knew, he was no longer listening to her. "I have work to get on with, Catherine. So if you wouldn't mind…?"
Resigned by his dismissal, Catherine rose to her feet, smoothing out the creases in her slacks as she glanced down at him carefully. "I know that things aren't right between us, Gil. And I'll be the first to admit that it's probably my fault. But I'm offering you my help here. Maybe you should think about that before you shut me out again".
Grissom was still for a moment, taking in her final attempt at reconciliation. He didn't bother glancing up from his desk when he spoke again. "Close the door behind you, Catherine".
Catherine felt a hollow void open up in her chest, and blinked at him several more times before backing quietly away, and doing just as he said.
00000000000
Sara settled on the breakroom sofa, stirring her mug of coffee in one hand as she scanned the Hollander telephone records in the other. Nothing terribly groundbreaking stood out at her. The Senator had received two calls on his private line the night Veronique died; one from his secretary and one from his campaign manager. Veronique had received no calls, but that was of little surprise. She would have used her cell phone if she was out, which posed another new problem for them. It had not been recovered at the murder scene. Either the killer intentionally disposed of it, or it was missing somewhere on the Hollander ranch.
Sara barely glanced up as Catherine strode slowly into the room, pausing only to pour herself a mug of the Blue Hawaiian Sara had managed to acquire from Greg's hidden stash. "Hey Cath", she said carefully.
Catherine's head whipped up, and her eyes briefly flashed as they passed over Sara. "Sara", she said, slowly. "I didn't see you there".
Sara lifted an eyebrow, indicating the droplets of coffee Catherine had managed to splash on herself in her surprise. She wondered what she had done to deserve the blonde's strange behaviour this time. "I gathered".
Catherine glanced down at herself, face twisting tiredly as she wiped at her sweater. "Are those the telephone records?"
"Yeah. Don't get excited. There's nothing useable. How did it go at the ranch?"
"We recovered some fibres no doubt belonging to the killer. Warrick's in trace now, checking them out with Hodges. We think they might have released the horses to cover up their tracks. They did a pretty good job, too. Apart from these fibres, we have nothing to directly link to our killer. No murder weapon, no trace evidence on the body. We're hitting a dead end. The Sheriff is not going to be very happy."
Sara took in Catherine's haggard appearance, realising that she must be on the end of her second shift and going into her third. Some of the political pressure Grissom was so averse to was obviously making its presence known. As lead on the case, Catherine was probably being coerced to make a solve as soon as possible.
"Nick tells me the death threats are from two different sources."
"Yeah. They were also handwritten by two different people, which leads me to believe they're fakes".
"Which means?"
"Well, I'm starting to think they're irrelevant to our investigation. Someone trying to mess with Veronique. An old boyfriend maybe, or someone from her college."
Catherine nodded vaguely. "It makes sense. It sounds like she wasn't universally well-liked."
"Well, Veronique had several male admirers. If we wanted a suspect, I'd start with those she met on the party circuit."
Catherine looked thoughtful. "We haven't interviewed any of her friends yet. Her parents didn't know any of their names. Maybe we should go back to their house, find a day planner or address book?"
Sara nodded in agreement. It frustrated her to know that she wasn't allowed to handle anything more concrete on their case. She remembered being told as a rookie that even the smallest information could break a case open, and she had been able to appreciate her contribution. But now it just didn't feel like enough. Not when Myles' guilt or innocence hung in the balance.
Catherine, as if sensing her frustration, lifted an eyebrow. "I know you want to clear Myles. I understand. We all felt the same thing when Nick was implicated for Kristy Hopkins' murder. You feel like you have to do something yourself".
"Yeah", she muttered, gaze focusing on the documents in her lap.
"You can't always know someone, Sara", Catherine said seriously.
Sara blinked, glancing up at her. "He didn't do it".
"Did he tell you that?"
"Yes".
"And what makes you think you can believe him? How long has it been since you've seen each other?"
Sara pressed her lips in a hard, firm line, refusing to answer the question. Catherine eyed her shrewdly. "He was your first, wasn't he? Your first love. You don't forget that".
"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to say, but…"
"You have to remember that people don't stay the same way we left them. You were seventeen. You were still just a kid, Sara. And it sounds to me like Myles was involved in something deep, even back then".
Sara rose abruptly to her feet, clutching the papers to her chest. "I am not discussing this."
"Why not? Are you afraid I'm right?"
"I'm afraid that you're going to disrupt your investigation by making me a character witness. I am not going to help you implicate him."
"But it's all right for us to use your word to prove his innocence?" Catherine prompted. Sara frowned at her. Catherine went on, lowering her voice. "You know, if it was anyone else, Grissom would have pulled them off the case by now."
Sara stared back at her, taken aback by the abrupt shift in conversation. "What does that mean?"
"Don't play stupid, Sara. You know exactly what it means. Grissom has a soft spot for you, and you exploit it."
Sara's mouth opened in surprise. "I exploit…?" She scoffed, shaking her head slowly. "You know what-- forget it. I am not getting into this conversation with you." They were heading into very dangerous territory. She was not prepared to get into another argument with Catherine. Not when Ecklie could be lurking in the corridor.
"I'm trying to prove a point here, Sara".
Sara couldn't help herself. She glared at Catherine defiantly. All of her frustrations from the last couple of days were coming to the fore, and the situation with Catherine was only the very tip of the iceberg. "Are you sure you're not trying to justify yourself here? Grissom finally grew tired of your behaviour, and you're trying to find someone to blame. Guess I just came to mind, right?"
"No. I'm trying to help you because your personal problems are getting so out of control they're affecting everyone around you, including him."
"My personal problems are none of your concern".
"Really? It sure seems like it to me."
"HEY!"
Their eyes darted to the door, each flinching at the sharp tone in Grissom's voice as he entered the room, Warrick trailing hesitantly behind him. Both men were staring at them, as if they had overheard more of their argument than they had wanted to.
Grissom frowned at them disbelievingly, eyes drawn first to Catherine, and then resting on Sara. "Unless you want another reprimand from Ecklie, both of you will stop this, right now. I realise both of you have personal issues with each other, but this is not the place."
Catherine pursed her lips, looking away from Sara, and the brunette folded her arms, avoiding Grissom's glare. The cold authority in his voice was unmistakable, and she knew they had crossed some unspoken of line.
Grissom glanced back at Warrick, an obvious indication that he should speak, and the other CSI nodded mutely before clearing his throat. "Uh, there's something you should know".
Both women turned their attention to the black CSI, who looked vaguely uncomfortable under their scrutiny. "The fibre that we found… matches the clothing of one of the Hollander employees that was collected the day of Veronique's murder."
He didn't need to say it, but Grissom spoke up anyway. He met Sara's gaze, holding it pointedly. "The Sheriff believes we have enough circumstantial evidence to hold our suspect.
"He just had Myles arrested for murder".
00000000000000
San Francisco, California
1988
"I'm fine. I don't need you to take care of me".
Even as she said the words, she stumbled in her stride, and Myles grabbed hold of her upper arm, steadying her as he led her from his car. "You really want to go back to your house and let Paul see you like this? Do you have any idea what he could do to you?"
"I can take care… of myself", she muttered through clenched teeth, feeling the bile rise vaguely in her throat.
"I'm sure you can. Just like you can walk in a straight line right now."
Myles' righteousness was vaguely irritating, and she allowed herself to be led inside his decrepit house before pulling away from him, resting her forehead against the plaster wall.
The perspiration was slick on her forehead, and she closed her eyes against the cool surface, willing the room to stop spinning.
She felt a gentle touch on her elbow, and Myles's voice was soft against her ear. "Do you want some water?"
She nodded, mutely, blinking against the sudden intensity of the lights as he led her into the living room. She slumped on his sofa, leaning her head back against the headrest to stop her nausea. She felt so ill she could barely move, let alone take in his living space and have the flurry of questions she had about him finally answered.
She had imagined being taken to his house hundreds of times since she met him, but never quite in this scenario. She realised, much to her displeasure, that she had developed some kind of idealistic crush on him, when he treated her like nothing more than a younger sister. He treated her like an equal, and she read more into it than she knew was there. Unlike most people his age, he made an effort to talk to her, and didn't belittle or taunt her about her past. He was nice to her because he felt sorry for her. That was all. And as much as she resented his pity, it was better than having nothing from him at all.
The next thing she knew, a tall, cold glass was pressed against her cheek, and she revelled in its comfort before reluctantly opening her eyes and accepting the offering.
Myles sat back on the cluttered coffee table, studying her silently. She sipped the water down, feeling self-conscious when she realised he was looking at her.
"What?" she snapped defensively.
"What were you doing back there, Sunshine?" he asked quietly.
His nickname for her was filled with such disappointment that she had to look away. "Trying to forget for a while", she muttered dispassionately.
He sighed heavily, linking his hands on his knees. She curled back on his dusty old sofa, knowing that this time her unsettled stomach had nothing to do with the alcohol in her system.
"You're so much better than that, you know", he said, seriously, looking tired. This time, in an effort to avoid his gaze, she glanced around his living room, taking in adjoined kitchen with its cluttered, dirty dishes and pots and pans. The sofa looked like it was on its last legs, and the solidary plant in the corner was badly in need of some nourishment. The crusty, peeling walls and messy, dusty furniture could have been from her own childhood home, and again she acknowledged the parallels between their pitiful lives.
"No, I'm not", she said softly, feeling tears tug loosely at her throat. She didn't think she could take it, knowing that he judged her. She wasn't proud of herself, of what she reduced herself to in order to forget.
Myles narrowed his eyes, sliding onto the floor so he was kneeling in front of her, forcing her to look up at him by tugging her chin between his thumb and forefinger. He looked irritated, with her, himself, or the world in general, she wasn't sure.
"Yes, you are", he persisted darkly. She swallowed, suddenly overcome by the intensity in his eyes, the dizziness in her head, and the ache pressing interminably in the base of her stomach. She couldn't understand why he was so intrigued by her, little Sara Sidle with no future, past or present, who was neither beautiful nor smart enough to pull herself out of this life.
Myles dark brown gaze held hers, eyes that brimmed with the same loss, the same heavy weight she herself was burdened with. Slowly, he traced the side of her face, and she resisted closing her eyes against the sensation, staring at him in confusion.
He, unlike her, had escaped from their world, even if it was merely a fleeting escape. She didn't understand why he had returned at all. She didn't understand why he was looking at her like he actually cared, like he actually wanted her.
His strong, warm frame brushed against her knees as he leant upward, and she could taste the lingering alcohol in her mouth even as he met her lips with his own. Unlike the anonymous man in the bar, he was soft and tender, tasting her lips in a sweet, chaste kiss unlike anything she had ever felt.
Since their first meeting, she had felt a common bond between them, but there was strength in their kiss she couldn't quite understand and she realised rather startlingly that she had completely misread Myles' feelings for her.
And for a moment, at least, she had found another way to forget.
00000000000
Author's Note: So, what are we thinking right now? Are you frightened? Because, you know, it occurs to me that Grissom and Sara have not actually had many scenes together in this fic. Weird, yeah? I promise, I really do, that I have some excellent scenes planned between them. You know, if they work like I want them to. If all goes to plan, the next chap will contain yobling and some actual GSR.