Sadism of the Devil
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any characters CBS and CSI writers had created.
I started this story to be post Bloodlines (Season 04, E23) which aired on 20 May 2004. Grissom went over to the police department and brought Sara home. I set that date to be 25 May 2004.
Is anyone reading this story? When I check the stats, there are views but it somehow lack response.
Please let me know if you're reading! Be it through a review or PM (really appreciate for spending the time to do it). Thanks. I hope you like the revamp so far!
25 May 2004
Today was one of the worst days of Sara Sidle's life. Sara was utterly humiliated. She had never bowed her head so low before but today was her first.
A traffic cop pulled her over before she made a turn to the highway. When he leaned in, asking for identification, he saw the beer bottle she was holding in a hand. She took the breath analyzer test and her blood alcohol level was way over the legal limit.
She had been sitting in the waiting room, waiting for her supervisor, Gil Grissom, to pick her up. The traffic cop told her they decided not to book her and cut her break because she was working for the legal department.
The wait had been excruciating. She did not know how Grissom would think of her.
Grissom pointed out blankly to her that the reason why he did not recommend her position was he thought that she was too emotional and most importantly, Nick did not care about this promotion.
She had always craved for Grissom's attention, in both professional and personal capacity.
Now she had both. As a friend and mentor, Grissom would want to know why she allowed herself to spiral out of control. As her supervisor, he had to know why she drove under influence.
She felt a lump caught in her throat when she heard the familiar footsteps approaching.
"Well, thank you. I appreciate the courtesy." Grissom said finally, after listening to what the traffic cop had offered.
She wanted to find a hole and bury her head in. She did not want to face Grissom now.
Grissom took the seat beside her and sat down. He placed his palms on hers. His warm permeated to her heart.
"Come on. I'll take you home."
She snapped out and saw concerns in his eyes.
She had thought he would be asking questions and blame her. But, he did not. He just held her hands gently and offered to drive her home.
The entire journey home was in suffocating silence.
Sara wept silently. Her tears slid down without Grissom noticing.
"Why didn't you blame me?" Sara choked, turned to face Grissom.
"It's not your fault," Grissom gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles turned white.
"Then whose fault it is," Sara asked, unable to believe what Grissom just said. It was totally her fault. She should not have drink. But alcohol numbed her. It brought sleep and peace.
"Mine," Grissom sighed dejectedly.
"Yes, it's yours," Sara shrugged and turned her attention back to the passing scenery. It was easier to blame Grissom. One of the reasons why she turned to alcohol for consolation was Grissom. For the past year, he had kept her at an arm length and whenever he felt she was drifting away, he would whirl her back and shower her with some attention to keep her from drifting apart.
He pulled into her parking lot and killed the engine.
"Do you want to talk?" he asked.
"No, I just want to be alone." Sara answered wistfully.
Grissom nodded, and unlocked the SUV's locks.
"Sara," he called her before she hopped off the SUV. "Take care."
"I will." Sara replied. She walked off without a second glance.
Grissom's heart stung when he saw how frail Sara had become. He realized he had not been paying attention to Sara. He kept her around him with a thin thread. He did not acknowledge her works as much as other. He knew how hard she tried to do well in front of him, always eagerly waiting for his compliments. He was stingy with his compliments for her. He just did not want anyone to gossip about them.
He sighed sadly and started the engine. He glanced up to Sara's windows before reversing out of the parking lot. He hoped that she would not break apart.
28 May 2004
It was Sara's first PEAP session at Desert Palm Hospital.
Grissom offered to accompany her but she firmly rejected. She did not want to deal with him after a counseling session. She knew that counseling would be draining. She had her fair share of counseling sessions after her mother killed her father.
Counselors always asked the same set of questions and did the same caring actions. They did not ask questions directly but kept on inferring and asking unrelated questions. They, however, would always get what they wanted. They always managed to pry into her innermost thoughts.
Grissom told her he wanted to help and would not allow her to refute. His clear blue eyes told her he would not back down. And she relented eventually. She never had been able to deny him of any favor. They compromised in the end. Grissom would drive her to Desert Palm and leave after she bade him goodbye.
She watched Grissom drove away and heaved a relief sigh. Grissom had been protecting her since that incident. He stood up against Conrad when he wanted to suspend her without pay for one month. He never breathed a word to anyone regarding her incident.
He assigned her to work cases with him. He wanted to keep a lookout for her, which, she appreciated a lot.
She walked into the building ever slowly, dreading every step.
Perhaps she should have Grissom to accompany her to the counselor's office. But, she knew this was a journey she had to walk alone.
Dr. Vincent Lurie walked along the corridor aimlessly. Everyone avoided him. They scooted away when he was nearby.
The rumors about him killing Debbie Marlin and Michael Clark went rife after the police department invited him over for an interview.
He did not command respect as he did before. His co-workers treated him like plague. If they had to work for him, he could see the contempt and reluctant.
"Dr. Lurie, good afternoon," a cheerful voice greeted him.
He stopped abruptly and stared at the young woman standing in front of him.
She smiled widely and bowed a little before walking off.
Lurie recognized her as freshly hired nurse. He gave some welcome talks to new doctors and nurses. She came forward to talk to him when they were having refreshments. She flirted, and told him that it would be good if they could work together in any surgery. He knew that she was just making use of him.
He saw some shadows of Debbie in her. The way she flipped her hairs and letting her hand brushed past his arms reminded him of Debbie.
Truth be told, he missed Debbie.
Debbie made him feel alive when they first got together.
She encouraged and rejuvenated him. She kept a serious face the whole time when he first confessed about his erectile dysfunctional. She bought him Viagra and told him men his age should not be ashamed of taking pills to enhance their sexual performance.
The little blue pills did wonders. They had some good times before Michael came into the picture.
She became cold and distant.
She refused to go through any foreplay with him. She used to perform oral sex on him to get him into the mood but she refused him flatly and sneered at him for his inability. Their relationship went downhill when he found out she was sleeping with Michael.
He gave her a chance for explanation but she just laughed it off and broke up with him.
He snapped. He thought she would come back to him. After all, he was the head of surgery.
No one had humiliated him as she did. He killed her. He slashed her throat and watched the blood seeped onto the cold hard tiles, forming a huge puddle. He watched how her life ebbed away quickly. His method of killing her was quick and efficient. She would almost feel no pains.
It was different when it came to Michael. He wanted him to suffer every pain. He disemboweled and dissected him. He did not even want to him to die with a full body.
He shut his eyes, savoring the flashing images of Michael and Debbie's dead, lifeless body.
He enjoyed reminiscing his killing. It gave him a sense of satisfaction.
The corners of his mouth tugged upwards eerily. He looked at the signage in front of him and realized he was the psychiatrist level. Perhaps he needed a therapist.
Then he saw her exiting a psychiatrist office.
Paralyzed with shocks, he found himself rooted to the ground.
Debbie was alive. It could not be. He had killed Debbie a few months ago. He watched how she died.
His breath caught in his throat as she walked past him with her head bowed low.
"Sara!" her psychiatrist shouted. She spun around quickly and gave a wry smile.
"Please remember that we will be having a session next week," her psychiatrists reminded.
Sara rolled her eyes dramatically and nodded.
"I will not forget because if I miss a session, Conrad will just fire me." Sara muttered her breath. She did not notice Vincent Lurie who was standing at the far end of the corridor. She just wanted to leave this place as fast as she could.
Hospital was nothing but a painful reminder of her tormented childhood.
"Sara – what a beautiful name," Vincent's mouth twitched into what resembled a smile.