All standard disclaimers apply. See chapter one for specifics.
I'd like to thank Giwu for signing on a beta for this fic as well as my other story, Mountains. Thanks. You are wonderful.
Chapter 4: Pledging Mr. Johnson
Sara arrived home late the afternoon Nick and she put James Johnson's case to bed. The entire situation frustrated her. The concept of anyone going through any sort of ritual, malignant or benign to belong to a group made no sense to her. If you couldn't belong because of who you were, why would anyone want to belong to that group in the first place? It sickened her and for the first time since arriving in Las Vegas, her compass was not functioning. She could feel her equilibrium slipping away rapidly.
When Sara opened the door to the sparsely furnished townhouse she shared with Grissom she found her long-time friend and mentor sitting at his kitchen island playing Solitaire.
"Wow," Sara said in surprise as she tucked her field kit away next to his. "This is quite a switch. Usually you're halfway through the New York Times crossword puzzle by now."
He turned over his three cards and placed a six of diamonds under the seven of spades. "I'm trying something new," he replied.
"How's it working for you?" she asked taking a seat on a stool across from him.
"I'm bored, frustrated, and feel like I'm about to have stroke," he replied moving his recently unearthed ace of hearts to the top of his board.
"Please don't do that," she said half jokingly. "Seriously Grissom, did someone steal your paper or what? What's behind this?"
Grissom shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it."
Sara nodded. She understood that about Grissom. They were both introverted people with strict privacy principles, but lately both of them had laid those aside at home with each other. Still, at any time either of them could decide to revoke that and this was obviously one of those times.
"That's okay. It's your choice. You just seem very upset."
"I had a rough day," he admitted. "I'm the way I am for my own reasons and those are not and should not be open for debate or comment by anyone."
"I agree," Sara replied. If she listened to him, supported him and validated his comments she could probably get him to put it into context for her. "We all have our secrets, our defenses. We need them to survive."
"Exactly," Grissom sighed. "We have our patterns, too. There are things we do as part of a cycle, a ritual that provides comfort in its existence. I don't see what's wrong with that."
Again she supported him, "There isn't anything wrong with what you are saying. The rituals and habits that are part of our personalities make us who we are, make us special in a world where so many things are exactly alike. But when those rituals are forced upon others, where our very acceptance is threatened for not measuring up that there is a problem."
Grissom slipped off his stool, "I read about your case. It's always hard when someone so young dies for no apparent good reason. Are you handling it okay?" he asked.
"It frustrated me earlier, but I'm fine now. We are talking about you," Sara replied not allowing his him to slip into protector mode and begin taking care of her. He needed that from her this time and she was going to provide it.
"We shouldn't have to. I'm just…Why…" He sat down heavily on the sofa, his breathing irregularly fast. Out of habit, he raised two fingers to his neck recording his pulse rate. "Eighty two," he sighed.
Sara crossed the room and sat beside him one hand tentatively lying on his thigh, "You're angry. You need to relax," she said.
"I know," he admitted. "I know. The thing is I'm not sure if I'm angrier about the comment Catherine made or my reaction to it."
At the mention of Catherine's name Sara got angry. It would be one thing if Grissom was upset because of a comment made by a suspect or a grieving family member but this was a woman who was supposed to be his friend, that made Sara's protective instincts for Grissom come out full force, "What did she say?" she asked the hand on his thigh moving slightly, meant to soothe.
He shook his head, "I got after her for bringing her personal feeling with her on a case. She allowed her own hurt feelings into an investigation. That could have at the very least cost us a suspect, instead an innocent man is dead, killed by the scorned spouse because he believe believed his wife's lover was also her murderer," he said.
"Wendy Barger played with fire," Sara said. "Still…That piece of the investigation would have come out eventually, the affairs always do."
Grissom acknowledged that to be true, "Yes, but by then both suspects would have been cleared and maybe Winston Barger would have been able to think more rationally. Regardless, the affair we uncovered never should have been revealed. We could have kept the husband informed like I had promised without letting him in on that part of things. It turned out it had nothing to do with how she died," he said softly.
"It did, even inadvertently, have something to do with why," Sara said gently.
"We don't deal with why," he sighed. "We are not supposed to deal with the why. You ask yourself why, this job will destroy you. We need to have a motive; we don't need to know how it got there."
Sara chose to only nod this time. She didn't want to comment and upset Grissom's momentum. He didn't continue though, just put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands as if it weighed a thousand pounds. "You feel any better?" Sara asked softly after another minute of quiet.
"I'm getting a headache," he murmured in his hands. "Could you close the drapes and switch off the light please?"
Sara did as Grissom asked making the room as dark as the Nevada sun allowed. While she was doing this, Grissom shifted positions so he was lying face down on the couch.
Sara returned to his side and knelt beside him, "Do you want anything for your headache?" she asked.
"No, I'll just rest a moment, then go to sleep," he whispered into the leather material of the couch seat. "I'm just so mad at myself."
"Please tell me why," she prodded. "Get it off your mind. Then you can rest."
"Because I know Catherine was wrong in what she did today and I know as a supervisor and colleague I was right to correct her actions. Still, she was right about something. I have no way of knowing how I would have reacted in her position. I have never let anything or anyone get close enough to influence my decisions on a case before now and I'm starting to worry how I would react if a case did hit a little close to home," Grissom explained.
"You would react professionally," Sara replied. "Because that would be the right thing to do."
"We're all human," Grissom countered. "Although it seems the tide of public opinion of late has me as being less than human. True, I have antisocial habits, I have a personal life, too, but it stays personal."
Sara moved her arm so it lay across Grissom's shoulders. "Of course you do. We all don't leave them hanging out for all to see like some but we all have our skeletons, our demons that creep into our jobs. It is whether or not we expose them to victims and suspects that matters. Don't for one minute punish or question yourself for someone else's lack of control," she insisted.
Grissom managed a slow nod, "If that's true, why did the words hurt so badly?"
Sara played gently with the wisps of hair at the back of his neck, "Why do you think it hurt?" she asked.
He was quiet, "Because it hurts even someone like me to realize that I am really alone."
Sara kept up her gentle touch, "You're not alone, Griss. I'll always be here. You know that, don't you?"
One of Grissom's hands, the one he'd left dangling off the couch made contact with the floor and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. As he moved upright, Sara's face and his own nearly collided. With their lips inches apart Grissom's mouth suddenly went dry. It was there, it was right there, the promised end of years of desire, love, need, and loneliness, but still he knew it wasn't right, not for her. He sat up and rose, leaving Sara stunned and a bit hurt that he did not answer her question. He slowly and painfully moved to his bedroom for much needed sleep and time to think.
"Goodnight, Grissom," Sara said softly when he was about halfway to his room.
He stopped at her voice and turned, "Goodnight, Sara," he replied, then appeared around the corner. "And Sara?"
"Yeah?" she sighed pulling herself up from the floor to started for her own room.
"I know."