Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: CSI does not in any way shape or form belong to me more's the pity.
Authors notes: This is a piece exploring Sara's backstory in the form of a letter to a psychologist. I was inspired by Sara's bio on the official CSI site and this was the result.
Many thanks to my beta-reader Sara's Shaddow - you are a star!
Time to Stop
Part One
I'm tired, so very tired. My bones feel as if they have turned to heavy metal and my limbs ache and scream when I move them. I have to keep going, keep moving because I'm afraid of what might happen, what I might see and what I might do if I were to actually stop. Perpetual motion is my saviour, its what keeps me sane. The nightmares I have when I finally fall asleep on my bed, my couch or even sometimes at my dinner table give me a glimpse into what I might experience if I did stop. Its bad enough in my sleeping hours, I can't imagine what it would be like if they invaded my waking hours, my reality. The images sometimes change, the scenarios are different and the people different but the outcome always the same. Despite the different players, its a rehash of the same horrifc experience, over and over and over without respite. An experience I've tried so hard to forget but my brain does not cooperate. I'm tough though, I have survived this far and I can carry on suriving and existing. However, herein lies the rub: existing is not the same as living and this is fundamentally where I have gone wrong. As much as I try to convince myself that this has not affected me I have to face up to the fact that it has. I have to fix it before it takes over me and I burn out. I want a life not an illusion of one.
I can already feel my grip loosening. Its like I'm a spectator looking in from the outside. I see myself do things in the third person. Sara Sidle is slowly slipping away and a stranger is taking her place. A person who is aloof, prickly, distant, guarded and cagey, someone who isn't on anyone's Christmas card list. However, I am lucky in that I have someone to turn to who I believe could actually turn out to be my knight in shining armour, someone who might be able to pull me back from the brink and catch me before I tumble into the abyss. I can feel myself teetering but I have faith he won't let me fall. I just need to let him in but that is easier said than done.
He sat down on my couch earlier this evening and pulled me down beside him taking both of my hands in his and asked me to look at him. I took one look into his eyes and knew he was telling the truth when he said that he would be there whenever I was ready to talk. He told me he could see I was close to breaking down and that he loved me too much to watch me crumble before his eyes. He said that he could be strong enough for the both of us, that he would be my anchor and my safe haven. All I needed to do was trust him. I do trust him though but I am still afraid that when I finally tell him the details of my dreams and the event which precipitated them he will no longer look at me the same way, that his love will falter. Rationally I know that he is better than that but... well I'm sure you understand what I am trying to say. There is always that niggling doubt even when someone tells you that they love you more than life itself, that they would climb a thousand Everests and dive to the bottom of the deepest ocean for just for one of your smiles. Or perhaps thats just me.
The same person once told me that I needed a 'diversion' and that I deserved a life. Although I wouldn't accept it at the time he was right. I remember retorting that 'I don't like anything'. That was a lie. I do like some things, well I used to anyway. Swimming was one of my major hobbies when I was young. I loved the feel of the water through my fingers, the taste of the ocean and the peace and quiet. You'll probably have no problem believing me when I say that I was never a one for team sports. At sunrise in the summertime I used to go down to the ocean and swim until I was in danger of cramping, savouring the natural beauty around me. In retrospect I was silly really but like many young people, I was so confident in my abilities and oblivious to mortality that it didn't occur to me that I could have been risking my life. One of the problems with Las Vegas is that it is miles away from the ocean, I miss it. When I was a teenager I also had some friends. I certainly wasn't popular and I was bullied mercilessly for being a science 'geek' . I committed social suicide on my first day of High School by being moved up to the advanced physics and math classes. I could have pretended to have been average but mediocrity has never been something I've ever aspired to. Okay, maybe thats a little bit of an understatement. My work colleagues would be holding their sides by now if they read that line. The friends I did have accepted me for who I am and I actually had fun on more than one occasion. Contrary to popular belief, I have also been to some parties in my time. Maybe not in high school, I don't think I would have been allowed over the threshold of some of them but during my undergraduate years at Harvard. I loved Harvard back then. For the first time in my short life I felt I belonged. For once eyes didn't glaze over with boredom and incomprehension when I tried to initiate conversation. At school if you weren't conversant with the merits of smoky grey eye pencil over black or the latest band you could just forget about it. I met people there who were my equals in intelligence and people who were way to the right of the bell curve. It was the perfect environment for me, it was where I could thrive. I loved going to lectures and seminars and debating the minutae of complex theories. I had my first proper kiss at Harvard and met my first boyfriend there too. I still remember his name even though we only lasted about two months. Tom Neumann. My undergrad years I can honestly say were the best years of my life. A total cliche I'll grant you but its true. Things all changed when I went to graduate school and 'it' happened three months into the academic year. I left soon after and went back home to Mom and Dad where I knew I would be safe. I moved into the area of criminalistics shortly after and the rest as they say is history.
I can't put a date on the beginning of my descent into the situation I find myself in today. I don't think its a simple case of cause and effect. The cases of Kaye Shelton, Pamela Adler and the countless Jane Does that I have seen pass through the morgue who have been beaten, raped, murdered and abused have all taken something away from me and left me with a growing feeling of helplessness and despair. The nightmares seem to get worse after a case like that. I didn't think it would be possible but it is. I have lost count of the times I have woken up terrified with sweat beading on my forehead and my heart beating so hard against my chest I thought for sure it would explode. Cases like that bring everything back to the forefront and I not only relive my horrors but theirs' as well. I went into criminalistics to help make a difference, to put the bad guys away but as soon as one piece of scum gets put away, another seems to come to take his place. There is no end. I used to see the good in people but now I only seem to look for the bad. I want to make the world safe but my one woman crusade is not enough and it never has been, I accept that now. Its difficult to reach out and ask for help. I am stubborn and proud. I looked at myself in the mirror the other day and I didn't recognise myself. When did I get so thin? Surely it can not be healthy? My skin is so pale and my expression so drawn. I don't know what happened to the California girl who went bare foot and practically lived on the beach. She's still in here somewhere, inside of me. She's just well hidden. Maybe now I've begun to confront my problems and my past maybe she'll come out every now and again, who knows.
Anyway I've been babbling long enough. It feels strange to be writing this down. It looks much simpler on paper than it does in my head. Thats probably the whole point of this exercise isn't it? Clever. Very clever. I've come to my decision. I'm going to tell him. I love him too much not too and its tearing us apart. If I lost Gil now it would probably kill me. The thing is how do you tell someone you love with all your heart something like that? I mean you can't just blurt out casually over breakfast 'Hey Griss, that thing thats been bugging me. Well its like this, I was attacked while I was in grad school and I didn't report it because I was too much of a coward, I was too scared. Nice pancakes by the way'. As much as it hurts me I know it will also hurt him too. It will break his heart to think that I was hurt that badly, that 'his Sara' was raped by a piece of shit who was supposed to be my tutor. A man who instead of nuturing my talent, broke me. I think he already suspects that I am going to tell him something like that, he sees how those certain cases affect me and I know he has his theories. No matter how much he thinks he's prepared for it I don't know how he will handle it. All I do know is that he loves me. We haven't been seeing each other for that long, maybe a few weeks but we have known each other for years, ever since that seminar on forensic entemology I was sent on by the lab back in San Francisco. God, that has to be almost ten years ago now. I still remember the first time I saw him. It was only a couple of months after I left Harvard but it was the first time I met a man whom I knew right away was a good one. Someone whose intelligence was as vast as he was gentle. Thats why I had no compunction about going to dinner with him after the third day of the seminar, we had a connection. So it wasn't a romantic connection back then but it was a meeting of minds.
Its not often you meet someone whom you feel you can talk to for hours, who you can bounce ideas and theories off and someone with whom you can also sit in perfect silence without any awkwardness, forced conversation or uncomfotable pauses. Nick and Warrick have often commented on the 'Geek mind meld' and how much it scares them that two people can be so tuned in to each other. We don't finish off each others sentences yet but it won't be long until we do. We have skipped the getting to know you stage because I couldn't know him any better unless I actually was him. Now thats a scary thought. Our first kiss was the best single moment of my life. It was something that had been building up over the three years since I answered his call and moved to Vegas at the drop of a hat. Ours was a slow burning romance but I knew he felt the same way ever since he told me he had only been interested in beauty since he met me. That is not a line you would say so nonchalantly to a co-worker, a subordinate at that. His touch was so compassionate when he finally plucked up the courage to make his move. It was less than a month ago. We had been working on one of those diffcult cases and I was devasted. The perpetrator had been careful to clean up after himself, leaving no evidence behind and it was eating me up inside. I knew who it was and the bastard was going to get off, free to try and destroy another woman's life and there was nothing we could do about it We were seated in his office and he asked me why I was crying, why I couldn't stop. He traced the outline of my jaw with his hand and wiped away the tear tracks that had stained my face before slowly pressing his soft lips to mine. I never did tell him why though, the moment kind of overtook us.
I'm not going to insult your intelligence any longer, you must know by now why I want to start living again. I actually have something to live for now. Its time to stop and open the proverbial Pandora's box that is my past. After all the evils and horrors escaped that box to terrorize the world, hope emerged from the deep recesses, a shining light in a world full of darkness. I now have hope. Everything might just turn out to be okay.
Disclaimer: CSI does not in any way shape or form belong to me more's the pity.
Authors notes: This is a piece exploring Sara's backstory in the form of a letter to a psychologist. I was inspired by Sara's bio on the official CSI site and this was the result.
Many thanks to my beta-reader Sara's Shaddow - you are a star!
Time to Stop
Part One
I'm tired, so very tired. My bones feel as if they have turned to heavy metal and my limbs ache and scream when I move them. I have to keep going, keep moving because I'm afraid of what might happen, what I might see and what I might do if I were to actually stop. Perpetual motion is my saviour, its what keeps me sane. The nightmares I have when I finally fall asleep on my bed, my couch or even sometimes at my dinner table give me a glimpse into what I might experience if I did stop. Its bad enough in my sleeping hours, I can't imagine what it would be like if they invaded my waking hours, my reality. The images sometimes change, the scenarios are different and the people different but the outcome always the same. Despite the different players, its a rehash of the same horrifc experience, over and over and over without respite. An experience I've tried so hard to forget but my brain does not cooperate. I'm tough though, I have survived this far and I can carry on suriving and existing. However, herein lies the rub: existing is not the same as living and this is fundamentally where I have gone wrong. As much as I try to convince myself that this has not affected me I have to face up to the fact that it has. I have to fix it before it takes over me and I burn out. I want a life not an illusion of one.
I can already feel my grip loosening. Its like I'm a spectator looking in from the outside. I see myself do things in the third person. Sara Sidle is slowly slipping away and a stranger is taking her place. A person who is aloof, prickly, distant, guarded and cagey, someone who isn't on anyone's Christmas card list. However, I am lucky in that I have someone to turn to who I believe could actually turn out to be my knight in shining armour, someone who might be able to pull me back from the brink and catch me before I tumble into the abyss. I can feel myself teetering but I have faith he won't let me fall. I just need to let him in but that is easier said than done.
He sat down on my couch earlier this evening and pulled me down beside him taking both of my hands in his and asked me to look at him. I took one look into his eyes and knew he was telling the truth when he said that he would be there whenever I was ready to talk. He told me he could see I was close to breaking down and that he loved me too much to watch me crumble before his eyes. He said that he could be strong enough for the both of us, that he would be my anchor and my safe haven. All I needed to do was trust him. I do trust him though but I am still afraid that when I finally tell him the details of my dreams and the event which precipitated them he will no longer look at me the same way, that his love will falter. Rationally I know that he is better than that but... well I'm sure you understand what I am trying to say. There is always that niggling doubt even when someone tells you that they love you more than life itself, that they would climb a thousand Everests and dive to the bottom of the deepest ocean for just for one of your smiles. Or perhaps thats just me.
The same person once told me that I needed a 'diversion' and that I deserved a life. Although I wouldn't accept it at the time he was right. I remember retorting that 'I don't like anything'. That was a lie. I do like some things, well I used to anyway. Swimming was one of my major hobbies when I was young. I loved the feel of the water through my fingers, the taste of the ocean and the peace and quiet. You'll probably have no problem believing me when I say that I was never a one for team sports. At sunrise in the summertime I used to go down to the ocean and swim until I was in danger of cramping, savouring the natural beauty around me. In retrospect I was silly really but like many young people, I was so confident in my abilities and oblivious to mortality that it didn't occur to me that I could have been risking my life. One of the problems with Las Vegas is that it is miles away from the ocean, I miss it. When I was a teenager I also had some friends. I certainly wasn't popular and I was bullied mercilessly for being a science 'geek' . I committed social suicide on my first day of High School by being moved up to the advanced physics and math classes. I could have pretended to have been average but mediocrity has never been something I've ever aspired to. Okay, maybe thats a little bit of an understatement. My work colleagues would be holding their sides by now if they read that line. The friends I did have accepted me for who I am and I actually had fun on more than one occasion. Contrary to popular belief, I have also been to some parties in my time. Maybe not in high school, I don't think I would have been allowed over the threshold of some of them but during my undergraduate years at Harvard. I loved Harvard back then. For the first time in my short life I felt I belonged. For once eyes didn't glaze over with boredom and incomprehension when I tried to initiate conversation. At school if you weren't conversant with the merits of smoky grey eye pencil over black or the latest band you could just forget about it. I met people there who were my equals in intelligence and people who were way to the right of the bell curve. It was the perfect environment for me, it was where I could thrive. I loved going to lectures and seminars and debating the minutae of complex theories. I had my first proper kiss at Harvard and met my first boyfriend there too. I still remember his name even though we only lasted about two months. Tom Neumann. My undergrad years I can honestly say were the best years of my life. A total cliche I'll grant you but its true. Things all changed when I went to graduate school and 'it' happened three months into the academic year. I left soon after and went back home to Mom and Dad where I knew I would be safe. I moved into the area of criminalistics shortly after and the rest as they say is history.
I can't put a date on the beginning of my descent into the situation I find myself in today. I don't think its a simple case of cause and effect. The cases of Kaye Shelton, Pamela Adler and the countless Jane Does that I have seen pass through the morgue who have been beaten, raped, murdered and abused have all taken something away from me and left me with a growing feeling of helplessness and despair. The nightmares seem to get worse after a case like that. I didn't think it would be possible but it is. I have lost count of the times I have woken up terrified with sweat beading on my forehead and my heart beating so hard against my chest I thought for sure it would explode. Cases like that bring everything back to the forefront and I not only relive my horrors but theirs' as well. I went into criminalistics to help make a difference, to put the bad guys away but as soon as one piece of scum gets put away, another seems to come to take his place. There is no end. I used to see the good in people but now I only seem to look for the bad. I want to make the world safe but my one woman crusade is not enough and it never has been, I accept that now. Its difficult to reach out and ask for help. I am stubborn and proud. I looked at myself in the mirror the other day and I didn't recognise myself. When did I get so thin? Surely it can not be healthy? My skin is so pale and my expression so drawn. I don't know what happened to the California girl who went bare foot and practically lived on the beach. She's still in here somewhere, inside of me. She's just well hidden. Maybe now I've begun to confront my problems and my past maybe she'll come out every now and again, who knows.
Anyway I've been babbling long enough. It feels strange to be writing this down. It looks much simpler on paper than it does in my head. Thats probably the whole point of this exercise isn't it? Clever. Very clever. I've come to my decision. I'm going to tell him. I love him too much not too and its tearing us apart. If I lost Gil now it would probably kill me. The thing is how do you tell someone you love with all your heart something like that? I mean you can't just blurt out casually over breakfast 'Hey Griss, that thing thats been bugging me. Well its like this, I was attacked while I was in grad school and I didn't report it because I was too much of a coward, I was too scared. Nice pancakes by the way'. As much as it hurts me I know it will also hurt him too. It will break his heart to think that I was hurt that badly, that 'his Sara' was raped by a piece of shit who was supposed to be my tutor. A man who instead of nuturing my talent, broke me. I think he already suspects that I am going to tell him something like that, he sees how those certain cases affect me and I know he has his theories. No matter how much he thinks he's prepared for it I don't know how he will handle it. All I do know is that he loves me. We haven't been seeing each other for that long, maybe a few weeks but we have known each other for years, ever since that seminar on forensic entemology I was sent on by the lab back in San Francisco. God, that has to be almost ten years ago now. I still remember the first time I saw him. It was only a couple of months after I left Harvard but it was the first time I met a man whom I knew right away was a good one. Someone whose intelligence was as vast as he was gentle. Thats why I had no compunction about going to dinner with him after the third day of the seminar, we had a connection. So it wasn't a romantic connection back then but it was a meeting of minds.
Its not often you meet someone whom you feel you can talk to for hours, who you can bounce ideas and theories off and someone with whom you can also sit in perfect silence without any awkwardness, forced conversation or uncomfotable pauses. Nick and Warrick have often commented on the 'Geek mind meld' and how much it scares them that two people can be so tuned in to each other. We don't finish off each others sentences yet but it won't be long until we do. We have skipped the getting to know you stage because I couldn't know him any better unless I actually was him. Now thats a scary thought. Our first kiss was the best single moment of my life. It was something that had been building up over the three years since I answered his call and moved to Vegas at the drop of a hat. Ours was a slow burning romance but I knew he felt the same way ever since he told me he had only been interested in beauty since he met me. That is not a line you would say so nonchalantly to a co-worker, a subordinate at that. His touch was so compassionate when he finally plucked up the courage to make his move. It was less than a month ago. We had been working on one of those diffcult cases and I was devasted. The perpetrator had been careful to clean up after himself, leaving no evidence behind and it was eating me up inside. I knew who it was and the bastard was going to get off, free to try and destroy another woman's life and there was nothing we could do about it We were seated in his office and he asked me why I was crying, why I couldn't stop. He traced the outline of my jaw with his hand and wiped away the tear tracks that had stained my face before slowly pressing his soft lips to mine. I never did tell him why though, the moment kind of overtook us.
I'm not going to insult your intelligence any longer, you must know by now why I want to start living again. I actually have something to live for now. Its time to stop and open the proverbial Pandora's box that is my past. After all the evils and horrors escaped that box to terrorize the world, hope emerged from the deep recesses, a shining light in a world full of darkness. I now have hope. Everything might just turn out to be okay.