Disclaimer: The Author does not, nor does she claim to, own the television show CSI. All characters, affiliated symbols and recognizable content belong to the rightful creators and the television networks that they are contracted to. All "original" characters, locations, events and circumstances are, unless otherwise noted, fictional. Any resemblance to persons: living, dead or otherwise copyrighted, are unintended and by occur only by coincidence. No financial gain from the production or public distribution of this story. The content is for entertainment only and no harm or offence is intended.

Rated M for Mature: Scenes of Graphic Violence and Rape; Adult Situations and Themes; Nudity and Lascivious Behavior; Course Language.

Spoiler Warning: The following story contains information and scenes taken from and alluding to episodes of CSI especially the Season Six Finale, Way To Go If, for whatever reason, you have not seen said episodes and do not wish to be spoiled, discontinue your reading now.

Content Warning: The following story deals with sexual and emotional relationships that are both heterosexual (mf) and homosexual (ff). In other words, there is femeslash ahead. If you are somehow offended by such relationships, please stop reading now.

Warning: Major Character Death and Angst.

Author's Note: This story is not for the feint of heart. It does not highlight the kinder, fuzzier sides of life. It is dark and angsty and that's probably sugar-coating it a wee bit. If you're looking for fluff, sorry, this isn't going to be up your ally. Of course, I'm not exactly known for my romps through fluff-central, am I?

The main story is set in 2012, which is roughly five years from now. Italics will indicate flashbacks, which will be set in 2007. This story is by no means, my usual fare. From pairings to plot, this story is a step outside of the box for me, and I'm excited by it.

To give credit and thanks where they are due: I would like to say that the inspiration for this story comes from El Gringo Loco. While this is not a Challenge Fic, his comments and suggestions played a big role in the creation of this particular plot. So a big heads up and thanks to El Gringo Loco.

As always, a huge thank you goes out to my beta reader, HoneyLynx86 for fixing my many many mistakes.

Surprisingly enough, I'm done here.

Now, sit back and get lost for a bit in the darkest pits of my imagination.

Between Guilt and Innocence

A CSI Tale

By RebelByrdie


They say Justice is blind, and they say it like it's a good thing. All that really means is that it's all the easier to lead her by the hand to a dark ally to be gang raped and sodomized. That is what has become of the American Justice System. It is a broken, bleeding victim feeling its way around, vainly hoping to find the light of day once more. Then again, I may be biased. I would have never said these things, thought these things before. It would have been the worst kind of blasphemy. I didn't just believe in the system, I lived for it.

Five years ago, I had everything. A career I loved, a solid and very satisfying relationship with the man of my dreams, a rent controlled apartment and big dreams. I was at the top of my game, the peak of my life; I was happy, healthy and everything was going to be okay.

I should have known better. My life has never been all chocolates, roses, and happily ever-afters. Even when I was a kid, my life was defined by blood spatter, bruises and broken hearts. It was only a matter of time before things went wrong. Copper in the air, blood on my hands, and a knife on the floor. It was all so familiar - a nightmare come to life - again. It's a nightmare that I've yet to wake up from.

My name is Prisoner S38401S, and I am living the last of my days out in a nine-by-nine solitary cell, accused and convicted of First Degree Murder with a handful of aggravating circumstances. All my appeals have failed and I know when and how I will die. I've got two months to the day until the State of Nevada pumps my veins full of poison. I've chosen my last meal, written my final will and testament, but I'll never really make my peace. You can't find peace if you have no idea what it looks or feels like. That sounds cynical, but I think I'm entitled to a little cynicism at this point in my rapidly dwindling life.

I long ago resigned myself to my fate. Some call it apathy, others call it courage; I call it being a realist. Another inmate, Crazy Daisy, says that innocence is only a frame of mind. She says that only two beings are capable of judging our actions: God and ourselves. So if we know we're innocent and God knows we're innocent nothing else matters. She's very philosophical like that, on the days when she's not convinced that she's a time traveling do-gooder stuck in an inmate's body or the Duchess of York. If you listen to Crazy Daisy, and sometimes I do, it makes you think. It does me at least. When I think about it, I realize I'm not all that innocent after all. I may not have stabbed him in the chest twenty seven times, but I'm no less guilty than the real murderer.

Not that any of it really matters anymore. My name used to be Sara Sidle and they think I killed the man I loved. I am on death row for the murder of Gilbert Grissom.

Author's Note: Now does everyone see why I put a big honking disclaimer on there? Send your reviews, may the be good, bad or outraged, along.