Disclaimer: To get this over with. CSI and its characters do not belong to me. The fiction is in no way related to anything the writers had or will have in mind. This is a slash fic so if it disturbs your sensibilities, then please don't read. I am not profitting from the fiction, so there is no point in suing me. Please R&R.If there is anyinconsistency in plot or any misuse of forensic/medical/legal procedures, then please bring it to my notice. Otherwise, hope you guys enjoy this.
I once had a professor in Harvard, Arthur Fitch. He taught Personality Psychology. It started off with a good long study of dear old Freud. I hated it and never quite understood the hullabaloo for that man. So, therefore, I took whatever my professor and the text had to quote with a pinch of salt. But now, more than seventeen years later, what he said took on a special significance.
"Do you know why we all fear the unknown?" Fitch had questioned, while walking up and down the lecture podium. No one replied, even amongst those who were awake.
"We fear the unknown because it has the potential of giving us all that we want. And like anything else that we want, it comes at a price. It gives you pain. And deep down inside, we want to avoid pain at any cost. We can give up pleasure but never take in pain." A pause "See you on Wednesday, everyone."
The students stared blankly at the professor for a full thirty seconds before realizing that they couldn't afford to lose precious time before rushing towards their next class.
I had given it all but a little thought until this moment. I had never realized how true the statement held for me until I got an opportunity to be the scientist on my own psyche. Few people get the chance to step away and examine their lives in an objective fashion. I did. I got to hear Sara Sidle's story as if it was someone else. I laughed at her. I criticized her. I questioned her. But most importantly, I got to live her life minus all the barriers and shields she had established.
We all want control of our lives. For some people, that desire for control pretty much controls them. Some would say I belong in that category. I have yet to understand the reason for this hypothesis. I have always done things that left me stranded without any direction. I ran away from home. I exposed myself in front of the biggest losers in the opposite sex. I married a man whose interest in me never went beyond monetary and sexual. My dating history has been long but disastrous at best. Where is the control?
Maybe that made me really wary of developing personal relationships. I came close to having something with Mr. Nice-eyes Warrick Brown. But for reasons best known to him, he never pursued it. He is now married, apparently happy and I'm once again alone.
I don't think I'll fall in love again. After all, I'm not getting any younger. If not for my prior knowledge of his hideous techniques, I would have been tempted to pay a visit to Dr. Malaga. Now I'm at a point in my life where my daughter is all that matters to me. She is growing and she needs a stable structure in her life, not a mother who brings in a new man every night.
But then, things once again spiral out of control. Long dormant feelings awaken. A long rested heart begins to beat again. For those who said that hatred is in fact the first step towards love weren't way off.