A/N: Our story is about to take a few interesting turns! We hope you enjoy it.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 407, "Invisible Evidence."
November 2015
"What have we got?" Sara asks as she joins Catherine at the crime scene for which she was summoned away from her husband.
"Early indications are murder-suicide," Catherine replies. "It appears that the wife killed her husband then herself."
Sara grimaces. "Sounds pretty easy. Why do you need me?"
"Because we may be wrong."
Sara arches an eyebrow.
"Their son found them," Catherine explains. "From what Vartann has been able to get out of him, he's more angry than sorrowful. Seems a bit suspicious, you know?"
"Yeah," Sara agrees. "Where is he?"
"With Vartann."
Sara follows Catherine's pointing finger with her eyes and sees Detective Vartann talking to a teenager. The anger Catherine described is obvious on his face.
"Can I talk to him?" she asks.
"Be my guest. I'll be processing inside the house."
Sara nods and leaves Catherine. Vartann hears her approaching and turns to greet her.
"Hey, Sara," he says.
"Hi," she replies. She turns to the teenager. Now that she's closer, she can see that he's a very young teenager – fourteen at most. "Hi," she says. "I'm Sara Sidle. I work with the crime lab."
"Good for you," he mutters.
Vartann opens his mouth to reprimand the child, but Sara silences him with a look. "What's your name?" she asks.
"Jake," he replies.
"Jake," she repeats. "You live here?"
"Wow, are you a genius?"
"Not quite," she replies. "I missed qualifying by a few points."
"Too bad for you. Your parents must have been disappointed."
"How about we talk about your parents?" Sara suggests.
"What's the point?" he asks, his tone becoming more defiant. "They're dead."
Sara looks at him closely as he talks and feels her heart break. "That doesn't mean we can't talk about them," she says quietly. "In my job, I talk about dead people a lot."
"Yeah? Well, that makes you a freak. Only freaks talk about dead people."
"I don't know about that," Sara says, maintaining her even tone and eye contact to the best of her ability.
"You know, Jake, I think you need to cut Ms. Sidle some slack," Vartann cuts in. "She's just trying to do her job. She doesn't need to deal with you being rude to her."
"I act how I want to act," he says. "If she can't deal with it, oh, well."
Sara looks at Vartann. "You know, I think I've got this."
He frowns. "You're sure?"
"Yeah."
Shrugging, he walks away.
Sara turns to face the young man again. "Now, where were we?"
"I think we were at the part where you pump me for information about my parents."
"Are you ready to talk about them?"
He considers her for a moment. "No."
"Did you see what happened?"
"I already told you, I don't want to talk about it."
"Yeah," Sara says. "I can understand that, believe me. But, it'll help you to talk about it."
"I thought you were a cop, not a shrink."
"I'm neither, actually."
His eyes narrow. "So, what are you?"
"A scientist."
"Scientists don't just show up at murder scenes."
"Some do. I do. I work with the crime lab. We collect and analyze evidence related to crimes."
Something like interest flashes in his eyes, but it is quickly masked with defiance once again. "Is this supposed to make me want to talk to you?"
"Is it?"
"No."
"Then, no, it's not."
"Hi, Sara."
They both turn as Melinda, one of the social workers Sara sees far too often, approaches.
"Hi," Sara replies.
"This must be Jake Tanner."
"Yes," Sara says.
"Hi," Melinda says. "I'm Melinda. I'm with Social Services."
A bit of panic sneaks into Jake's eyes. "Why are you here?"
"I'm going to take you with me," she says. "You need a place to stay."
"No," he says, the panic intensifying. "No, this is my home. I want to stay here."
"Jake, you can't. There are cops and CSIs all over your house right now. And, even once they go home, you can't stay here alone."
"I can't leave," he insists. "I can't leave my mom! Please, don't make me leave my mom!" He turns to Sara. "Don't let her take me! Please!"
Sara's heart breaks again, and tears press against the backs of her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jake, but she's right. You have to go with her."
"No! No, don't make me!"
Melinda takes his arm. "I'm sorry, Sara."
Sara shakes her head. "You have to do your job."
"Come on, Jake. Come with me."
His tough exterior is shattered as he tearfully follows Melinda to her waiting car. Sara watches as he climbs into the car and Melinda drives him away.
"He'll be fine," she says to herself. "He'll be fine."
Even so, she can't stop the tear that slides down her cheek.
November 2003
"I'm sorry, Griss."
"You have nothing to be sorry about," Grissom replied. "It's not your fault the arresting officer didn't secure a warrant. When we're called in to search for evidence, we assume everything has been handled."
Warrick shook his head and opened the crime lab door for his supervisor. "Yeah, well, now I understand why my grandmother repeated that 'when you assume' thing so often."
Grissom smiled slightly. "There is a lot of truth in that."
"Yeah, so I've learned."
"Warrick, we're not out of this yet," Grissom said. "We've got twenty-four hours, and a lot of evidence that still has to be processed. We can still nail this guy – just not using the murder weapon."
Warrick nodded. "You're right."
"Grissom."
Grissom and Warrick stopped short at the sight of the sheriff in the lab.
"Sheriff," Grissom replied.
"We need to talk about him," Atwater said, waving his hand in Warrick's direction.
"Nice to finally meet you, too, Sheriff," Warrick said.
Grissom turned to Warrick. "Why don't you go ahead and start the briefing? I'll be in in a minute."
"Yeah," Warrick agreed, walking away from them and to the break room, where Catherine had gathered the rest of the team.
"Where to?" Atwater asked.
"Right this way," Grissom replied, leading him to his office.
"Very good."
They stepped into the office; Atwater was immediately intrigued by everything on Grissom's shelves.
"Warrick Brown followed protocol," Grissom said. "You cannot pin this mess on him."
"Warrick Brown was on the stand. He's the face of the case. It's all about perception. If Fife walks, the public only hears one thing – 'evidence against a killer was thrown out of court because CSI conducted an improper search.'"
"You think I don't know that?" Grissom asked.
Atwater stared at Grissom's fetal pig for a moment. "What the hell is this?"
"It's an irradiated fetal pig," Grissom explained. "I used the tissue to determine the effects of radiation –"
"Look, Grissom, you and your team have done exemplary work," Atwater interrupted. "Thanks to the crime lab, some very difficult cases have gone our way. You've elevated the status of the whole bureau."
"Uh-huh," Grissom said. "Then, why are you here?"
"I'm holding a press conference in an hour where I'll be telling the media that this case is under your purview."
Grissom chuckled with dawning understanding. "Oh, it is about perception, isn't it?"
"Glad we understand each other," Atwater replied.
After offering Grissom dinner, Atwater took his leave. Grissom stared after him for a long minute.
He trusted his team. He knew they were very bit as exemplary as the sheriff had said. And, he knew that, in many ways, he and his team were on trial every single day. Their work stood as testimony to the truth. Their ability to do their work, and to do it well, was life changing for so many people. To Grissom, that was the end result: telling the truth they discovered and finding justice for those who could not seek it for themselves. The actual jury trial, the charges filed … those were not his responsibility, although he often played a part in them. They were not the reason he did his job.
Yet, Sheriff Atwater had just changed that for him. He had made him the one responsible for the outcome of the trial. For the first time, Grissom felt the uncomfortable weight of his job.
Shaking his head, he got up from his chair. Sitting in his office wasn't going to help, particularly when they were up against a ticking clock. He had to get to the meeting.
When Grissom walked into the break room, Catherine and Warrick were briefing the team on what had happened. The case had been Catherine's from the beginning; she had been assigned to investigate the rape and murder of the nineteen-year-old girl. Warrick had become part of the investigation when he had been called to search Michael Fife's car on an unrelated charge and found the bloody knife that Greg had linked back to Catherine's case.
Grissom walked into the room as Catherine was explaining that her evidence had become a low priority upon Warrick's discover of the knife, which was certainly enough evidence for the prelim. Grissom looked around at his team, certain that they would pull together to help Warrick.
"This is a rush case," he said. "Everyone's in the pool for twenty-four hours. Warrick, you need to see Robbins. Have him walk you through his notes on the autopsy. Nick, Sara, the judge issued a warrant for Fife's vehicle. Detail is towing it back to our garage."
"Hold on," Nick said. "Warrick's already searched the car, and the knife's been excluded. What exactly are we hoping to find?"
"I don't know," Grissom replied. "But, the knife and the towel are invisible evidence. The jury will never see them. So, we have to find something that's visible."
Sara shifted in her seat. "Uh, listen, I recognize the importance of this, but I'm in the middle of my own homicide investigation." She looked at Grissom, obviously certain that he would dismiss her from helping Nick so she could finish her case.
"I'll talk to your detective. Explain the deal," Grissom assured her.
Sara blinked. She had not expected to hear that. "Well, it's not about the detective. It's about my own responsibility."
Grissom stared at her. Was she challenging him? In front of the team? "I'm handing out assignments, Sara. It's not a negotiation."
Sara stared at him in shock. They held each other's eyes even as Catherine spoke of going back to the crime scene. Finally, Sara broke eye contact and looked away. She had lost, and she knew it.
"Deadline's four PM," Grissom said. "Tomorrow. 'Once more into the breach.'"
The team stood as one unit, and all brushed past Grissom as they left the break room. Sara caught his eye as she walked past; he could easily see the hurt and anger his words had caused her. Yet, he did not feel any regret for what he had said to her. They had discussed this: personal on their own time, and work at work. They were in the lab, working a rush case. His professional reputation was on the line. He needed his team to fall in line and rally around him and Warrick, not to selfishly demand to work their own cases. She had acted immaturely, and, if Grissom were honest, he was disappointed in her. He thought that the team meant more to her – that he meant more to her – than her attitude suggested.
Shaking his head, he followed the team out. They were up against a deadline. He needed to get to work.
November 2015
"So, it looks like our initial theory was right," Catherine says, coming into the bedroom that Sara is processing. "Mandy just called and said that all the prints on the gun came back to Mrs. Tanner. Murder-suicide."
"Hm," Sara murmurs, obviously distracted.
"Sara? Are you hearing me? We're done here."
Sara's head snaps up. "What? I'm sorry, Cat."
"Are you okay?" Catherine asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Well, you don't seem fine. Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine," Sara says. "Really. I just … I keep thinking about Jake."
"Jake? The son?"
"Yeah. The poor kid. This is a lot to process."
"I know," Catherine says. She looks at Sara closely. "Sara … don't get too attached, okay? Go home, hug your daughter, kiss your husband … Do something to get rid of today."
Sara nods, thinking of the number of times Grissom has given her similar advice. "Yeah," she agrees. "I will."
"Good." Catherine looks at her watch. "Go ahead and cut out a couple hours early. Grissom just got back; I know you want to see him."
Sara smiles. "Am I getting special treatment because of him?"
"Maybe," Catherine replies with a smile of her own. "Don't get used to it, though."
"I won't."
Still smiling, Sara packs up her things before Catherine has time to change her mind. If she hurries, she can be home before Anna leaves for school.
November 2003
"We've been waiting forever," Sara said, leaning back against the fence outside the garage. "Where are those guys with this car?"
"I don't know," Nick replied. "I'll call and see."
Sara nodded as he walked away, pulling out his cell phone. Without Nick to distract her, she felt her anger mounting again over the way Grissom had treated her. She couldn't believe he had spoken to her like that in front of their entire team. She wasn't an errant child; she didn't deserve to be reprimanded in front of everyone. And, she hadn't done anything wrong. The only thing that made Warrick's case more important than hers was that a uniform had screwed up and made them look bad to the press. Why should it be her job to do damage control?
She had worked herself into a state of nearly extreme anger by the time Nick rejoined her.
"There's a traffic jam on Flamingo," he said. "Tow truck should be here any second."
"You know what pisses me off?" Sara asked, rather than responding to what he had said.
"Lots of things," Nick replied.
Sara ignored his teasing. "Victims aren't equal. High profile cases get priority."
"A ticking clock gets priority," Nick said.
"Every case is a ticking clock. The only difference between a cold case and a hot case is time."
"I don't care if you're working on the hottest case of your career," Nick said. "If your supervisor tells you to leave a scene to go wash his car, you do it."
Sara stared at him in shock.
"You don't have a career without a job," Nick said simply.
Sara was saved from responding by the arrival of the tow truck. She and Nick both stared at the pancaked car in shock.
"Paperwork mix up," Nick muttered as the car was unloaded. He looked at the street clothes both he and Sara were wearing. "Well, we'd better get changed."
"Yeah," she agreed. "We've got a car to re-inflate."
November 2015
Sara wanders through her quiet house, searching for something she can't identify. She sighs, knowing that she hasn't felt this unsettled in a long, long time.
She did exactly as she promised Catherine. She came home, hugged Anna, took her to school, came home again, and had breakfast with her husband. They had even found time to finish what Catherine had interrupted by calling Sara to her scene. And, for those few hours, Sara felt at peace again.
But, now Anna is still at school and Grissom is at the university, leaving Sara alone with her thoughts. Try as she might to forget, she keeps thinking of Jake.
The look in his eyes as he pleaded with her not to let Melinda take him away from his mother haunts Sara. The pain, the fear, the sorrow … Sara knows exactly how he feels.
She shakes her head, trying to banish the thoughts of her own night from hell. But, no matter how hard she tries, she can't stop thinking of the social worker who took her from the scene of her own father's murder. She, too, had wanted to stay with her mother. But, unlike Jake, she had been too afraid to even ask for what she wanted.
She shakes her head again, and, realizing that she can't fight it anymore, picks up her phone and calls Melinda.
"Melinda Grey," she says as she answers the call.
"Hi, Melinda, it's Sara Sidle," Sara says.
"Sara, hi," Melinda replies. "What can I do for you?"
"I was hoping you'd be able to give me some information about Jake Tanner," Sara says, knowing that to beat around the bush would be a waste of everyone's time.
"Jake," Melinda says with a sigh. "That poor kid. I couldn't get him to talk much, but from the little he said, I have a feeling he may have seen some of what happened."
"Oh, God," Sara nearly moans. "That poor kid."
"Yeah. I've got him in a group home right now; he'll have to stay there until I can find an available placement with a foster family."
"He doesn't have any family he can stay with?"
"No-o," Melinda says slowly. "Both parents were only children, and three grandparents are deceased, and the surviving grandmother lives in assisted living in Florida. Alzheimer's."
"Oh, no," Sara sighs.
"I'm sorry, Sara," Melinda says. "I wish I had better news." She pauses. "Listen, from what I can gather, you were the first person to be truly kind to Jake after everything happened. So, he got a little clingy with you at the scene. I know you, and I know that's got to be eating you up. Just … you've got to keep perspective, okay? The kid is going through hell, and searching for a connection point. If you're not used to that, it can take a toll."
"I'm fine," Sara says. "I know exactly what you mean."
"Good." She pauses. "Listen, Sara, I've got another call. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay," Sara agrees. "Thanks, Melinda."
"Anytime."
Sara hangs up the phone and stares at it for a long minute.
"I shouldn't have called," she whispers. "I was better off not knowing."
November 2003
Grissom sat in his office, attempting to read Catherine's newest notes from the scene. His concentration was nearly zero, which was a dangerous thing on such a time-sensitive case.
He sighed and took off his reading glasses. He knew exactly what was bothering him – he just didn't want to acknowledge it.
Sara.
Her attitude had certainly taken a turn for the better. The challenge of re-inflating the car before searching it had distracted her enough that she was willing to pitch in and do her part to help with the case. Even so, Grissom couldn't shake her initial outburst from her mind.
"What's going on here? Does anyone even care?"
Grissom's head snapped up at the sound of screaming from the reception area. He jumped up and ran to his office door in time to see Nick approaching Rita Lyford, the sister of the young woman whose case they were working.
"Ms. Lyford, I'm Nick Stokes," he said. "I'm also a criminalist here in the lab, and I want you to know that I understand. I understand your frustration. This is not an easy thing to deal with, but I can assure you that this entire lab is on your sister's case. Okay? I can't make any promises, but we're doing everything possible to keep this suspect behind bars, where he belongs."
"Thank you," Rita said, her voice oddly controlled, as though she was struggling not to burst into tears. "That's all I needed to hear."
"Okay," Nick said, giving her a slight smile. "Okay."
"Thank you," Rita said to Judy, who looked stunned.
"Hang in there," Nick said as she walked away.
"Hey," Grissom said as Nick walked past him. "What is going on around here?"
"Rita Lyford … she just needed a little reassurance," Nick said.
"Yeah, I can see that. Did she just come in here screaming?"
"No," Nick said. He looked away.
"Nick, tell me what happened."
"She – She wanted to talk to Warrick," he admitted.
Grissom nodded with dawning understanding. "He didn't handle it well."
"He's under a lot of pressure," Nick said.
"Yeah," Grissom acknowledged. "We all are."
Nick nodded.
Grissom grabbed his shoulder and shook it. "You did good, Nicky."
Nick smiled an embarrassed smile. "I just told the truth."
Grissom nodded. That was what Nick did – he told the truth. He fought for the victims and for justice every bit as hard as Grissom did, but he did it in a very different way. Grissom had always thought that Nick strove too hard to empathize with the victims, but, after watching him with Rita, he finally understood what a positive impact Nick's big heart had on the case.
"I'm going to find Warrick," Nick said.
Grissom nodded again, and Nick walked away. His words, however, resonated with Grissom.
He, too, was under a lot of pressure. He, too, had handled a situation badly. And, he needed to apologize for what he had said.
He walked off in search of Sara.
November 2015
"Hey," Grissom says as he walks into the living room. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Sara says looking up at him. "Why?"
"You're staring at the TV, but it's turned off."
"Oh," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"Can you sit with me a minute?"
Grissom nods and sits down on the couch with her. "What's up?"
"My case last night … the one Catherine called me in for … was a murder-suicide."
"Pretty straightforward."
"Yeah. The wife killed her husband and herself."
Grissom nods.
"Their fourteen-year-old son saw it."
Grissom grabs her hand. "Oh, honey."
Sara looks at him with teary eyes. "I talked to him, Griss. He was so defiant … rude, actually. Vartann tried to correct him, but … I just let him go. He needed to get all that out, you know?"
"Yeah."
"But, then, Melinda came – you know Melinda Grey from Social Services, right?"
"Yes." He searches her eyes, looking for the signs that he missed so many years ago, wanting to know that she can deal with this, that the memories won't be too painful for her.
"When she went to take him away, he just turned into this lost little boy." A tear slides down her cheek. "He begged me not to let her take him away from his mom."
"Oh, Sara, honey …" Grissom's heart breaks for her.
"I've been there," Sara says. "I know how he feels."
"Honey," Grissom says again, terrified that he's losing her, "he'll be fine. Melinda will take good care of him."
"I called her," she says. "She put him in a group home. She's trying to find a foster family for him. He doesn't have any family to take him."
"Like you," he says quietly.
"Like me," she agrees. "Grissom … I don't want that for Jake."
"His name is Jake?"
She nods silently.
"Honey, I understand that you're upset. I understand that you want to help him. But, Sara, what can you do? This is out of your hands."
"I've been thinking about that," Sara says. "The thing is, it's not out of my hands."
Grissom looks at her closely. "What are you saying, Sara?"
She looks at him, holding his eyes. "I want us to take him."
Grissom blinks. "To take him? As a foster child?"
"Yes."
"I don't know, Sara …"
"Gil, come on. You can't say we don't have the space. We have two guest rooms."
"I know that. I'm not worried about the space. I'm worried about everything else."
"We're parents, Gil. We can handle a child."
"A child, yes. Our child, yes. But, Sara, this isn't our child. This isn't even a child, really. He's a teenager. A teenager who has just been through a terrible ordeal, one who needs special attention and guidance. I'm not sure we're ready or able to do that for him."
Sara looks at him with eyes full of unshed tears. "I was that child. All I needed was someone to care. It took several foster families before I found that. And, let me tell you, the time between my father's death and finally moving in with the Andersons was not a pretty time. I wouldn't wish that on anyone – certainly not on Jake."
"I don't know, Sara …"
Sara pulls her hand away from his. "Stop saying that! Why are you so opposed to this?"
"I don't want to do this to Anna!" he finally exclaims. "Sara, we have spent more than five years shielding her from what you do – from what I did. We've stressed over and over that you're a scientist. We've kept her away from everything related to crime, to murder, to the seedy side of life. And, now, you're asking me to allow you to bring all of that into our home – into her life. I'm sorry, but I can't be totally willing to accept that as quickly as you are!"
"He's a child, Gil," Sara says, her voice shaking with quiet anger. "A child just like I was. A child who did not come from the best of families, and who has seen things that I would never wish on anyone, let alone my own daughter. But, rejecting him like this … it's punishing him for the way he grew up. That's something he can't control any more than Anna can." She stands up. "I've been punished for the sins of my parents. I don't want that for him."
She walks out of the room, leaving a stunned Grissom behind her.
November 2003
Grissom finally found Sara in the layout room. She had pinned the bloody sheet Grissom had processed to the wall, and was standing in front of it, studying it. Grissom stepped into the room, wondering what was going through her mind.
"Checking my work?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm just looking around."
He stood next to her, hoping she could shed some new light onto the case. "What are you thinking?"
"Well, her body left this void behind," Sara said, starting with the obvious. She stepped to the sheet, and indicated the void. "The attacker was on top. He held her down by her wrists."
"Which would explain the transfer of wax from him to her," Grissom said as she turned to look at him.
"Yes," Sara nodded.
Grissom nodded, glad they were at least on the same page again. Really, from the way she was talking to him, it was as if the episode in the break room had never happened. Perhaps no apology was necessary.
"Pin me down," Sara said.
Grissom stepped forward and grabbed the wrists she held up on either side of her head. She struggled against his grip, and he tightened it.
"She would have struggled," she explained. "Then, she gave up. Afterward, when he got up, he put his hands on the sheet for leverage."
Grissom held her eyes for a moment, then released her wrists and slid his hands down to her waist, where he stopped them on either side of her body, only a whisper away from touching her.
"Like this," he said quietly.
Sara, following the path of his hands with her eyes, nodded.
"Which explains who the wax got from him to the sheets," Grissom said.
Sara brought her eyes and head around to look into his eyes. "Yes."
For a moment, they were caught in each other's eyes. Memories of their recent reunion, of their interrupted moments, of Sara's initial shyness with him flooded both of their minds …
"Grissom, um, I, um, wanted to talk to you about something," Sara said, breaking the silence and the moment as she stepped out from between his arms.
"Go ahead," Grissom said, turning to face her as she fought to put some space between them.
"Well, you know, I applied for the promotion for the key position."
Grissom nodded. "Your application is on my desk."
"About that … I, um … I needed to know …" She paused. "I – I wanted to make sure, rather, that anything that happened … or didn't happen between us won't be a factor."
Grissom stared at her, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. Sara, realizing that he had no idea what she meant, flushed with embarrassment.
"Never mind. I – I shouldn't have said anything."
Grissom stared at her, slowly realizing what she was saying. How could she think that – any of it? They had agreed that their personal life would never interfere with their professional life, and he fully intended to keep his word.
"I, um … I'm always over-talking around you," Sara said, smiling valiantly through her humiliation.
She turned and left quickly, leaving a stunned Grissom behind her.