CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Equanimity
Genre(s): Angst, Introspective
Rating: T
Character(s): Sara Sidle
Pairing(s): Grissom/Sara
Spoilers: 5.13 Nesting Dolls
Summary: During her suspension, Sara contemplates her life and how to change it-- if she can.
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"I don't need to be forgiven..."
Sara closed her eyes as the music trailed from her stereo system, lying back across the couch where, just a short time ago, he had been sitting as she poured out her memories in an explanation. Her feet dangled down to the floor, knees bent over the edge, and she turned her face into the angle of the seat. It was still warm; she could smell a faint trace of his masculine scent, and she inhaled deeply.God.
She hadn't talked about her family for years, though she'd thought often of her childhood when dealing with the domestic abuse cases. In a strange way, what she had done in talking to Grissom about her past had been more cathartic than any of her PEAP sessions.
That's because you trust him, her mind replied.
Do I trust him? Professionally, yes, but personally?
Nestling deeper into the couch, she frowned in deep thought, chewing on her lower lip. It had been a long time since she'd felt she could tell him anything, and that realisation saddened her. Her feelings for Grissom and his behaviour toward her had complicated everything for them.
I don't know when I crossed that line, but I wish I knew how to get back. The painful pressure rose in her chest again, and she swallowed hard to push down the surge of emotion.
But now I've probably lost my job into the deal, so it's all moot.
The images of the battered women she'd been looking over when she'd searched for Svetlana's information began replaying themselves behind her eyelids, scenes forming and changing to familiar faces as she remembered. Deliberately she forced her eyes to open, to focus on the room around her, but the purple walls just served as a backdrop for the flickering reel of memory, and she could barely even hear her music over her pounding heart and the yelling in her mind.
Stop it! As quickly as she could, she slid upright and off the couch, pacing rapidly back and forth across her living area.
"Shit!" she cursed out loud, angry at her inability to get rid of the things she didn't want to recall. Grabbing up the beer bottle she'd been drinking from when Grissom had arrived at her home, she grit her teeth and picked up her keys. Even in the grip of pain she knew enough to hold her temper until she'd made it out of her apartment. This wasn't the place to break glass, because she'd just have to clean it up and would probably end up having to repaint the walls.
Well, it would be a diversion, she thought ironically, making her way down to the dumpster behind her apartment building. A bare brick wall was behind it. She took a deep breath, clutching the cool (but still intact) glass in her fist, raised her arm and hurled it hard against the bricks. The shattering sound released something in her, and Sara sank to a crouch with a stifled, dry sob, almost heaving with the stress of holding back a scream.
Minutes had passed before she regained a measure of her control, long arms wrapped around her knees and her forehead pressed against her slacks. She breathed deeply, willing herself calm. Don't hyperventilate. You don't want to end up a DFO and have dayshift come to process your scene, do you? She almost laughed, harshly, at the thought of Ecklie's former team finding her. She nearly let herself think that it would have been his fault, anyway; knowing that it wasn't the whole truth, she inhaled and exhaled, slowly, and got to her feet.
Gotta get back upstairs. She'd left her cell phone in her apartment, and although she didn't really want the confirmation that she'd been fired, she knew she needed to be there to answer if and when Grissom called again; judging by the morning's performance, though, he might be more likely to come over in person and tell her.
Trudging up the stairs-- she never took the lift if she could help it-- she let the trace of a smile curl the corner of her mouth. Ironic that this is the time when he decides to start being a friend to me again. She remembered the touch of his hand when he'd reached out to hold hers as she cried: a gentle and firm grip from a warm, roughened palm. She couldn't remember the last time he'd held her hand, or if he ever had, but it had helped, even if only in the smallest way.
I still love him, and I don't think I can change that. I just wish I knew when it started. She shook her head with a small sigh, glancing at the clock as she pushed her self-locking door closed and dropped her keys on the table. Twelve noon. It had been over an hour since Grissom had left. Normally she would have been in bed by now, but being on suspension had already begun to play havoc with her sleeping patterns and she would be damned if she'd lie trying to sleep and replaying her whole life behind her eyes today. She stood still, wondering what she should do next.
Her landline shrilled, and she jumped, hesitating for a moment before stretching out her hand to answer it. Plucking the cordless from its black cradle, she brought it to her ear.
"Sidle."
"Sar, it's me," Nick said, sounding subdued. "You okay?"
She laughed shortly. "What do you think? No, don't answer that. I'm sorry. I'm fine, Nick. Aside from being suspended and worrying that I'm probably going to lose my job for being insubordinate to Catherine and insulting Ecklie," she added, rolling her eyes even though he couldn't see her.
"Hey listen, I'm sorry. You wanna meet for lunch? I just finished at the lab, and Warrick and I were gonna grab a beer or something." Nick sounded genuinely penitent.
Sara sighed. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm... not really in the mood for company. Some other time?"
"Sure," he acquiesced. "You take care of yourself, you hear?"
"Nick, I'm fine."
"Well, okay." He sounded sceptical, but she wasn't about to continue the discussion. "See you soon."
"Uh-huh."
They exchanged goodbyes, and she heard the phone click off before she let the receiver fall from her ear, her hand holding it down by her side.
'I'm fine.' Am I really?
-- unfinished.