Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: Ahh! I can't believe I've gotten so far with this story. So, I'm still trying to update every day, but I'm no longer ahead of what I'm posting, and I'm hesitant to post anything before I can proof-read it well. I don't worry so much about that with my other stories, but Destiny is my baby, right now. Hehe. Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to keep up with it, but if it take a day or two sometimes, that's why.
Oh, and I promise that even though this is a lot of episode-following right now, I plan to have chapters in-between episodes... at least one, but sometimes two or three, depending... especially because, from what I can tell, there isn't necessarily a set amount of time between episodes. Sometimes it's a day, sometimes it's a week, sometimes they don't tell you but then all of a sudden it's Halloween... :) So I'm kinda playing it by ear as I rewatch episodes.
Okay! Thanks for all the reviews, they really and truly do mean the world to me. Let me know what you think!
Part Three: Las Vegas
Chapter 1: Fathering a Lab
I called Sara to let her know I'd cleared it with her supervisor—and possibly sold my soul in the process… he talked about her like she was the best CSI he had, despite the fact that she had just become a level three the previous summer. Well, if she worked a scene as well as she could think through one, it was probably true. …and then I had to talk to the team. My team, now.
Nick, as usual, was all too willing to help in whatever capacity—Catherine was demanding, but then, I could see the guilt in her eyes over Holly's shooting. She had convinced her to stay… so she told me to fire her if I wanted to keep her off the case, and she knew I wouldn't. Of course she knew that. …But it was kind of like Warrick needing to get the guy with the toenail, the night before… he had needed validation. Catherine needed absolution.
…Then again, Holly had ended up dead because I had indulged in Warrick's need for validation.
Warrick wasn't happy that I was keeping him on paid leave, but then I don't know exactly what he'd expected. I knew that we had a much better relationship than he'd ever had with Brass, but I still had to think about the lab, and the team, and Holly, first. …Besides, if I knew Sara—and I prided myself on thinking that I knew at least the essence of who she was, if not the details of the road she'd taken in life—Warrick needed to get his story straight… she would not go easy on the man simply because I cared for him.
I didn't want her to.
I had called her in part because I had just needed to hear her voice, but mostly because I knew that she would be fair, and precise, and detailed… she would seek the truth, unconcerned about who she was protecting… except, perhaps, for me. I don't know how I knew this for certain, but I was somehow the exception to every one of Sara's rules… sometimes, though, that just wasn't enough.
The entire time I was at the scene with Nick, I kept looking over my shoulder—surreptitiously scanning the crowd for her dark, chocolate curls. And as Nick threw the "Norman" dummies over the roof of the Hotel Monaco, I knew she was there. I scanned the crowd of people who cheered while watching imitation-people thrown to their deaths, thinking how silly it was that a crowd would gather for nearly anything… and though I didn't see her, I knew she was present.
I took the pictures as needed, commenting on each to myself, my whole self waiting… and there she was, her voice coming from behind me in that teasing, over-confident way she had, a smile audible in her words.
"Norman fell."
"Wouldn't you, if you were married to Mrs. Roper?" It doesn't occur to me to wonder how she knows the actor, or who Mr. Roper was—she must have be younger than ten when "Three's Company" had been on. It doesn't even occur to me to consider these things—I simply react, when Sara is around.
"I don't even have to turn around;" I didn't. I had known she was here. "Sara Sidle."
But I do turn, and she's as beautiful as I remember, maybe even more so. I can tell that she didn't blow dry her hair today, and that she had only put on as much make up as she had time for… because she'd been rushing out of the house, for me. I like her curls like that—down and tightly spun and even a little wild. It reminds me of nights spent in passion and mornings spent in sleepy affection.
"It's me!" She says, her voice lilting, just slightly, before teasing me about the dummies—we had had this argument many times, as she favored computer simulations, but I reiterate my side anyway, and she nods, stating a truth about me she already knows well; "You're old-school."
She asks about Holly—of course, that's the reason she's here—and looks genuinely sad when I tell her that she isn't doing well. Without thinking, I slip into old habits—I speak the way I would speak to the Sara who was my lover and friend, not the way I would speak to a self-assured but distant Sara.
"God, Sara, I have so many unanswered whys…"
"There's only one why that matters now…" She meets my eyes again, but her voice is brisk, like she isn't exactly certain how to respond to the hint of vulnerability in my mine. "Why did Warrick Brown leave that scene?"
I draw in a deep breath, and quickly give her the details of the night as I remember them—the argument with Jim, Warrick going to the judge, shadowing Holly as a punishment rather than a department procedure… When I make this distinction, she raises an eyebrow and I realize she thinks I'm being biased in favor of my CSI… and I am, in truth, but I can't help it. That's why she's doing the investigation…
I had last seen Warrick at the lab, so that is where I send her to find him—and Catherine, who is working Holly's case—though I'm not exactly certain whether he'll still be there, as he's on leave… Chances are, though, that he'll stick close to the lab—he wants to know what's going on. She leaves, taking a bit of me with her, and I feel slightly less competent, slightly less energized, with her gone.
Sara was fast though—fast and thorough. Before we had arrested the dead jackpot winner's girlfriend, the report had been placed on my desk inside a manila envelope. It was clear and concise—Warrick Brown had not followed the proper procedure for clearing a scene, and directly violated his supervisor's instructions. He did not give a justifiable reason for leaving Holly alone at the scene, nor did he notify dispatch that he was leaving.
On a sticky note, however—meant only for me—she wrote that when she suggested he had left in order to lay a bet, he had not affirmed nor denied it. She didn't include this information mostly because it was speculation… the rest of the report was direct and strictly factual. But I knew there was a part of her that had wanted me to know the truth… and still allow me the freedom to make a decision about my CSI. An informed decision, but without pressure from my superiors.
Cavallo wanted me to fire Warrick—and I believed, in truth, that I would have to… but when it came down to it, I found myself admitting my own fault in the entire situation—Warrick had stood with me for ten minutes while the suspect was taken into custody… I had thought of Holly as an afterthought… we had gone back to the lab, together. He hadn't believed he'd done anything wrong, until after it was done… and I hadn't either. I was as much at fault, if not more…
I didn't fire him.
We all stand outside PD waiting for Jerrod Cooper to be taken to a prison, until a judge could set or deny bail… because we all need to see that Holly's death isn't going unpunished… we need to know that we did the best we could for her… and we need to ease our own guilt over what happened, and what role we each played, and what we could have done differently, to have prevented this…
Sara is standing close beside me, but she doesn't speak—she looks at me evenly, unblinkingly, and there is no bravado in her gaze. She looks like she's searching, and I turn to face her, to try to determine what she's looking for, but after a moment she averts her eyes. The only thing I could think of… is that Warrick is here, standing with us, badge and gun in tow. He's still a member of the team.
For a moment, I second-guess myself… wonder if I should have been strict about protocol and procedure and adherence to orders. …But I'm unwilling to give up one of the best CSIs I'd ever worked with for a mistake which hadn't been obvious, even to me… I don't want to lose any one else. The grateful look he gave me when I returned his badge and service weapon… the fervor in his voice when he said he wouldn't let me down… It made me feel paternal, all over again--every bit the father of the lab I had wanted to be, when I could be father of nothing else.
And yet, once again, I found myself a father who had lost a child. Holly had died, far too young, far too soon.
Apparently, that was the story of my life.
