A/N: My apologies that it's been forever since I've updated any of my work. I have been dealing with some health stuff and it's been a tough road. While at times I feel broken, like the title of this chapter says, I know I'm still beautiful. The writing of this chapter was cathartic for me and I have to thank 3 talented writers who have shown their support during this crazy time: Tess84, Windbound and Zygon24. Thanks gals, this one's for you! Oh and this story is inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song "Broken and Beautiful".
Fuck! I mentally curse in my head as a kick my locker door closed. Who does Catherine think she is? And don't get me started on that sniveling weasel Ecklie.
Ecklie thinks he's God's gift to the Las Vegas Crime Lab but the man literally doesn't know his ass from his elbow. Maybe that's because it's hard to tell the difference when you can't see. I mean when your head is always so far up your superiors' asses it's hard to see much of anything isn't it?
And Catherine? Well she's changed since she became the Swing Shift Supervisor. It's no secret that Catherine and I were never 'besties' but really she's let this promotion go to her head and frankly it's clouding her judgment. She preaches about feminism and how hard we have to work in a male dominated field and yet she's often throwing herself at the next available man to cross her path. She also makes her life more complicated than it has to be.
Catherine has a father. She may not have known for sure who it was until a couple of years ago but at least she has one. One that while far from perfect wasn't beating her and her mom every chance he got. She can sit and judge me but she has no idea what I've been through. She wants to know how I know that the SOB is guilty. It's because I've seen it with my own eyes. The controlling manipulating behavior. Treating his wife like he's her property. I often wonder if my mom was always sick or if one too many blows to the head is what did her in. Really doesn't matter now but on days like this the thought often resurfaces.
I don't hate Catherine, and truly I respect how far she has come. It's not everyday an exotic dancer becomes the Swing Shift Supervisor in the number two crime lab in the country. I just wish she didn't always think she knew it all. I would never tell her or anyone else about my past but sometimes I just want to scream that I know because well I just know. Blinded by my sympathy for the victims is what they all say. What everyone doesn't know is that it isn't sympathy, it's empathy. I've been there. I'm not ashamed of my background and I am proud of what I have accomplished in spite of it but I still wish people had a different opinion of me sometimes.
I'll never forget the night I overheard Catherine in the locker room. She was bitching about our suspect saying he was just another trust fund baby who went to an ivy league school (Yale), and how all Ivy League grads were a bunch of entitled assholes. I know people know very little about my past and that is my own fault for not telling them. But my work ethnic should speak for itself. I don't ask for freebies. I do my share and then some. Coming in early and staying late is my religion.
I never held my hand out and asked for something free
I got pride I could roll out for miles in front of me
I don't need your help, and I don't need sympathy
I throw my keys into a bowl by the door as I close my front door with a little too much force. I need to blow off some steam. I want to drown my sorrows in a bottle but that's a coward's way out and Sara Sidle is no coward. Maybe I'll just let the steady stream of late night infomercials dull my mind until I'm finally able to relax. Relaxing probably won't happen. Instead I'll wind up ordering some all-in-one kitchen tool that promises to not only save my cooking but my life and all for the low, low price of $9.99. Oh and if I call in the next 3 minutes they'll double my order. I'm sure Greg would love to have one of these. I'm about to put this plan into action when there's a knock on my door. Instinctively I know who it is without opening the door. Of all the times I'd dreamt about him showing up at my door unannounced this scenario surely wasn't one of them.
I try to be evasive hoping he'll just leave. He never likes talking about anything having to do with emotions and I'm sure talking about my outburst is one the last things he'd like to be doing at the moment. I try to stall, delay, divert his attention off the main issue because I can see the questions burning in his eyes. I know Grissom is a world class poker player. Brass once mentioned Grissom could have been a pro if he wanted to. I always wondered how that was possible when he always says so much with his eyes. One look and I am able to hear so much of what he can and cannot say.
Unfortunately the jig is up and there's no getting rid of him. I realize I must do the one thing I have dreaded doing. I must tell him about my past. I've only ever told one person, well besides shrinks I was forced to see, and that was the biggest mistake of my life. At first I thought it was fine, until I got to school the next day and the whole school couldn't stop talking about how I was going to be the next Lizzie Borden, "Watch out or Sara Sidle will take an ax and give you forty whacks." Thankfully I graduated early and was able to convince Harvard to let me start classes in the summer rather than waiting till the fall so I escaped that nightmare rather quickly.
Well here goes nothing. It was nice knowing you Dr. Grissom because I can assure you that after this conversation you're going to be running out my door as fast as you can. It's ok though because Sara Sidle is a survivor. I have survived much worse. What's a little extra heartache and an unemployment check added to the mix?
I don't need you to lower the bar for me
I know I'm Superwoman, I know I'm strong
I know I've got this 'cause I've had it all along
I'm phenomenal and I'm enough
I don't need you to tell me who to be
Can someone just hold me?
So I asked him if he believed there was such a thing as a murder gene. Of course his answer was as Grissom as they get. Maybe I was hoping he'd say yes and then the years of rejection would have made sense because of course he sensed that Sara Sidle wasn't normal. That she didn't grow up in a 3 bedroom house with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. There was no dog named Fido greeting me at the door everyday from school. There weren't lavish family holidays and certainly no family reunions. Not when your parents are the black sheep of their families.
So I continued to spill my guts and I have to say I was having one of those out of body experiences you see in the movies. You know the one where the protagonist is watching herself from above. It was as if I wasn't in control of what I was saying or doing. Trust me if I was I certainly wouldn't have broken down like that in front of him. Not my finest moment, but perhaps, it was his.
He was holding my hand, just like he held it when he'd picked me up from the police station after my DUI, but then he did something different. He tugged, pulling me forward till I was securely in his arms sobbing into his chest. He didn't patronize me. No murmurings of it's going to be okay or I'm so sorry. He just held me running his hands soothingly down my back while I soaked his shirt. He didn't tell me it was going to be okay, instead he showed me that it was going to be.
When I calmed down enough to gather my wits about me, he kissed me on my forehead before standing up. At this point I was sure he was going to bolt, but he only walked into my kitchen asking me where I kept mugs for tea and made us each a cup.
Don't fix me, don't try to change a thing
Can someone just know me?
'Cause underneath, I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm broken and it's beautiful
He came back to the couch a few minutes later with two steaming cups of chamomile tea. He sat down next to me handing me my cup before he set his down on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and switched it on.
"So what fantastic gadget do you think we'll be able to snag this morning? Just last week on my day off I bought the 'Swiss army knife' of toilet brushes. And because I was one of the first 100 callers they tripled my order for free, well minus the shipping and handling of course. Do you happen to need a new toilet brush?"
His eyes were sparkling as he spoke and swear to God, I fell in love with this man all over again. How could he do that? How did he know that this right here was exactly what I needed. I laughed, because how could I not and he laughed too, before pulling me close and tucking me into his side. We spent the next hour watching one crazy sales pitch after another until I actually felt my eyelids drooping.
We're walking on the ocean, turning water into wine
We bury our emotion and pretend that we're just fine
The only way to live now is to know you're gonna fly
Don't listen to the lying liars and their lies
I know I'm Superwoman, I know I'm strong
I know I've got this 'cause I've had it all along
I'm phenomenal, I'm enough
I don't need you to tell me who to be
Can someone just hold me?
Don't fix me, don't try to change a thing
Can someone just know me?
'Cause underneath, I'm broken and it's beautiful
I quickly tried to suppress a yawn. I wasn't ready for this moment to end. This beautifully simple and mundane moment was the stuff of my dreams. I didn't have mundane everyday moments growing up. It seemed like most of my life was an attempt to survive from one moment to the next. I had gone over twenty years of my life with this huge secret. This elephant strapped to my back that always took over the whole room. I was tired of having to pretend that it didn't matter. That my story didn't matter. For the first time in my life it mattered to someone else and I can't even begin to describe how that feels.
Hey, I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm broken and it's beautiful
Hey, I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm broken and it's beautiful (oh)
I'm tired (oh)
Can I just be tired? (Just be tired)
Without piling on all sad and scared and out of time (oh)
I'm wild (wild)
Can I just be wild? (Just be wild)
Without feeling like I'm failing and I'm losing my mind
Can someone just hold me?
Don't fix me, don't try to change a thing
Oh, someone just know me
'Cause underneath, I'm broken and it's beautiful
When the third yawn escaped, despite my best efforts, he turned to me and told me he thought it best I try and get some sleep. This was it. This is where the fairytale ends. Where the prince sees the coach turn back into a pumpkin and he's horrified when he thinks about who he was actually spending time with. I stiffened and right away he sensed the change in my demeanor. I'd like to say this was where I was first introduced to Grissom 2.0. Now I will tell you that it wouldn't be some fairytale ride off into the sunset, but something in him changed that day. The old Grissom would have noticed my body stiffening and chosen to ignore it. Not this time. He looked me straight in the eyes and said he'd be back after his shift for breakfast. Figured I owed him that much for soaking his shirt. I laughed and told him I'd owe him twice if he attempted to eat my cooking. He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound, before replying that he'd supply breakfast then.
We both rose as I nervously re-fluffed the pillows on my couch. I was in uncharted waters and I didn't know what to do. I brought our mugs into the kitchen as he took out his keys. I opened my front door and thanked him for coming. Of course to save face, in case he really wasn't keen on breakfast and was just being a gentleman, I told him he didn't have to stop by later. He told me that he wouldn't come if I didn't want him there and I quickly replied that this wasn't the case. He seemed to sense my nervousness and quickly realized why I was so nervous.
He cupped my cheek, much like I had done to him years earlier. As he brushed his thumb gently across it I nearly cried out from the tenderness. Looking into his eyes I saw a thousand unspoken thoughts. Of course the overtalker that I am couldn't help but blurt out that I really would be okay if he didn't come. Little ole' broken Sara Sidle was a survivor and she would survive this too. He knew I meant much more than this suspension, that what I really meant was that I would survive this rejection too, just like I had all the others. He simply leaned in to kiss my cheek as he whispered there was no place he'd rather be than eating breakfast with a beautiful woman after shift.
Of course my cheeks were on fire with embarrassment but he just smiled and walked out the door. After I closed it, I fell back against it with a sigh. How was I supposed to sleep now? The last thought that ran through my mind as my head hit the pillow was that I may be broken, but I'm still beautiful.
I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm broken and it's beautiful
I'm
I'm broken and it's beautiful
It's beautiful, it's beautiful (it's beautiful)
It's beautiful, yeah, I'm broken and it's beautiful
It's beautiful, yeah, it's beautiful (it's beautiful)
It's beautiful, yeah, I'm broken and it's beautiful