No, they are not my property and I am not making any money out of this.

This story is told from Grissom's POV

Spoilers:  Burden of Proof, Early Rollout

UNDER THE INFLUENCE

His phone call came at 9:00 in the morning, just as I was driving home.  He didn't identify himself, but I would recognize that voice anywhere.  It was Officer Fromanski.

"One of your people's in trouble." He said curtly

"Who?  What's wrong?"

"Be here, now" he replied, giving me an address and hanging up. 

I hesitated.  Fromanski was a free man thanks to CSI but I didn't think he was the grateful kind. I wasn't going to trust him so easily. I put my gun in my pocket and drove fast, wondering what the hell he wanted.

**

An ambulance was pulling away by the time I arrived and I felt a sudden dread.  I had not taken his words seriously enough.  He said one of my people was in trouble and maybe he was telling the truth.

Fromanski was leaning on his squad car wiping his dark glasses.  His bland expression didn't change when I approached him. 

"What happened?" I asked, "Is someone in that ambulance?"

"Nah, she wasn't badly hurt." Fromanski said, and then tilted his head towards his car, "She was DUI and had a minor accident. Car had to be towed away.  No victims, except that tree." He pointed, but I kept my eyes on the passenger inside the car.  Sara.  She briefly looked up and then hurriedly away.

"She didn't want me to call you," Fromanski explained, "but I thought you should deal with it.  It was either you or Court."

"Thank you" I said and opened the door to see what shape she was in. She had a bruise on her forehead and a bandaged hand, but other than that, she looked OK.

"Sara?"

She ignored me; she opened the door on her side of the car and got out.  I turned to Fromanski.

"She needs a good talkin' to." He said,  "Next time she might not be so lucky and wind up killing someone or doing-"

"I know."  I interrupted, "Thank you for calling me."

"We're even." he retorted, putting on his glasses. He got in his car and drove away. 

I turned to Sara, who was standing on the sidewalk, still refusing to look at me.  I wanted to ask her why the hell she had done this, but anger would lead me nowhere.  I took a deep breath.

"Let's go"  I said,  "I'll take you home"

She turned and started walking unsteadily to the car.

"You really are drunk" I frowned "Do you need any help?"

"I don't" she retorted.  I opened the door for her and placed my hand over her head to prevent her from hurting herself, but she shook me off.  "I'm not a perp" she protested and entered the car by herself.

I got in and waited for some explanation from her, but she just stared ahead.

"Do you need any medical attention?"

"The EMT cleared me" she replied, slightly slurring her words.  She gulped "Please, just… drop me at my place"

I drove, glancing at her now and then, thinking of the right way to approach this situation.  If it had been one of the guys I would have known what to say, but with Sara I'm usually tongue-tied and today it was worse.

"Were you at a party?" I ventured and her glare was eloquent enough.  "All right, you were not.  You left CSI and you managed to get this drunk in what, three hours?" I stopped at a red light and a thought came to me "You were already drinking at the lab?"

"No!" she quickly replied "I wouldn't.  Not there."

The light changed and I continued driving.

"Why did you do it, Sara? You've processed dozens of dead bodies, you know what drinking and driving can do." I glanced at her.

"Next time I won't drive" she replied, and she actually smiled.  A sarcastic, lopsided smile that marred her face and made me shiver. 

"It's not funny, Sara." I glared, "You could have died back there. You could have killed someone"

She didn't comment and we remained silent during the rest of the drive.  When we arrived at her building I turned to her to talk, but she hurriedly opened the door.

"Sorry," she muttered, getting out.  I got out too.

"Sara, wait.  We need to talk"

"Nothing to talk about." she said, without turning, "I drank too much and I shouldn't have.  I won't do it again.  I promise."

"Wait," I said, following her.  I gently grasped her arm. "We need to-"

"Leave me alone," she protested, pulling her arm away.

"I'll walk you upstairs." I insisted, "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

To my surprise, she began to laugh. 

"You…" she gulped, and her words punctuated her chuckles, "YOU… don't …want… ME… to get hurt! …"  Her laughter was becoming hysterical and I grabbed her arm.

"Enough!" I hissed.  My anger surprised her so much that she didn't protest when I dragged her to her building. 

The man at the desk frowned when he saw us.

"Party." I shrugged, and the guy winked conspiratorially.  My God, he didn't really care that I was practically manhandling this girl up to her place!  It reminded me of all those cases of date rape that I'd processed in my career and the possibility that Sara might be hurt like this pained me.  I released her arm then.  She crossed her arms against herself and walked as far away from me as she could. 

When we got to her place she had some trouble opening the door but once she did she quickly entered and to my surprise, tried to close the door on my face.   I quickly pushed my shoulder in.

"Sara, we have to-"

"Don't!" she grunted, pushing the door against me. "I'll scream if you don't leave!"

"You won't." I said, secure in the knowledge that she'd never do anything to hurt me.  "I need to see that everything's all right" I said and pushed my way in. 

"Go away!" She cried, trying to push me out but it was too late. 

"Oh, Sara..." I muttered.

Her place was a mess.  Bottles.  Bottles everywhere. Some were empty and dusty, others were half empty...  I looked at her and she was blushing, hesitating between anger and shame.

"Just leave," she said coldly. "Just leave, Grissom. You have no right to do this."

Beer, wine.  Red, white...   My anger dissolved.  I turned to her.  She was trembling, standing in the middle of her ruined home.  I cradled her face with my hands.

"Sara, why?… " I asked softly, "Do you realize what this could do to your work at the lab?"

She jerked away from me, looking as if she couldn't believe what I was saying.

"The lab," she said and then she chuckled softly, too tired to laugh. "Jesus, Grissom, you're a… You, you're a…" she gulped, "I-I can't believe you…you… Oh, God."  she suddenly clamped a hand on her mouth and fled to the kitchen and was violently sick.  She was heaving violently and painfully; sometimes there was a brief pause and then she was throwing up again. 

Eventually she stopped, but she remained hunched over the sink, breathing harshly.

I patted her back, trying to comfort her but she almost jumped in fright.  She hard forgotten I was there.

"Oh, God," she cried, "Grissom, just leave!!" she begged, and she frantically began to wash up the sink.

I grabbed some paper towels and dampened them

"Here." I whispered and started to clean up her face.

"No.  No, no" she said, shaking her head no, avoiding me.

"Honey, let me help you, please." I said as tenderly as I could, "Please."

All fight went from her.  I cleaned her face and then filled a bowl with water to wash the vomit off her hair. 

She was mortified.  She started to cry and I pulled her in my arms.

"Please, leave…" she sobbed, trying to push me away, "I can't stand it"

"Sara, please, let me hold you.  It will be all right.  You'll see. "

I kept my arms around her for a long time and eventually she stopped crying.  We remained like that, though.  It felt good to be able to hold her like this.  I was glad that I could be a source of comfort to her.

"It's so ironic" she said suddenly.

"What is?"

"That I had to puke to get you to touch me"

I held my breath for a moment but she didn't say more and I released her.

She sat on a stool by the kitchen counter.  I sat by her side, wondering what to say.

"Sara," I cleared my throat, "I have a friend who can help."

"I don't need-" 

"Please, Sara.  He's someone you can talk to." I insisted. "You know that this has to stop"

"For the good of the lab." she said bitterly, "Right"

"For your health, too.  Your life.  You're taking some terrible risks here." And I told her about the easy attitude of the guy downstairs.

She stared at the only window in the living room.

"I know it's wrong, it's just..." she shook her head.

"It's just?"  I insisted, but she didn't say anything else. "Will you see this friend?  It isn't AA, but he's someone who'll listen" she didn't say anything and I insisted, "Sara?"

"Let me go" she whispered.

"Go where?" I frowned

"Please, Grissom.  I can't go on like this."

"That's true," I agreed.

"Then let me go." She said, "Sign it this time. Please"

Suddenly, I understood.  The Leave of Absence form that I had refused to sign years ago was still in her possession.  I tried not to panic.

"Sara, no..." 

"Please.  There's nothing for me here." Her lips trembled, "I don't even like my job anymore." she sighed "And you... you're bad for my self-esteem."

I pretended not to understand and forced myself to meet her gaze.  She took a deep breath.

"It's not your fault," she said, looking away.

"Sara, I'm sorry if-"

"I know." she interrupted, "I gave you my life without asking if you wanted it.  You didn't." she looked back at me, "I've come to terms with it and now I want my life back."

"Sara…"  I hesitated.  "Look, we can work this out." I said quietly

"I won't drink anymore-"

"Good.  You'll need some help though.  This is what we're going to do:  You'll go to bed right now and I'll call my friend for an appointment; I'll come back at noon, bring something light to eat and then we'll talk.  All right?"

She looked at me sadly.

"You didn't even listen to me"

"I did. But right now you need to sleep.  All right?"  I took her hand.  It was cold and damp. "You'll feel better after you rest.  Do you have any aspirin?  You'll need some fluids too"

"I'm exhausted, Grissom" she whispered.

"I know, honey.  Do you have any aspirin?" I insisted.

"That drawer" she pointed.  I rummaged through it and found a bottle.  I opened her fridge and found some apple juice.  And more wine and beer.  I handed her the juice and the aspirin, "Take two pills and drink the juice slowly."  She quietly obeyed. "You'll feel better afterwards" I said brightly.  "Now, go to sleep."

She nodded slowly and, clutching her bottle, she hesitatingly walked down the aisle to her room.

"Do you need help?" I offered but she shook her head.  Of course she didn't.  She had been through enough embarrassments already, and she didn't want to be treated as an invalid. 

I only hoped that she didn't have booze in her bedroom too.

I sighed.  I couldn't believe this was happening.  Sara, one of the strongest women I had ever met shouldn't be having this kind of trouble. Yes, she had looked a bit fragile to me a few weeks ago, but I never suspected this!  I just thought she was working too hard.  Now that I saw the mess she had been sinking into, I felt sad for her. 

Oh, Sara. Always taking her cases so personally… My Sara, so lonely.  So unlucky too,  falling for the wrong men.  First me, then that idiot who cheated on her… But I was the worst, wasn't I?  After all, she had given her life to me….

Suddenly I needed to get busy:  I took the empty bottles and piled them by the door and I emptied the rest in the sink; I washed the sink and cleaned the fridge; I checked the kitchen and the living room for more booze and found nothing, but I kept looking, just in case.  A whirl of activity to drown out the memories of what she had said to me.  But even if I didn't want to remember her words, I couldn't forget the way she had looked at me, so weary and sad. 

And once I stopped cleaning and washing, her words came to my mind.

"I can't go on like this"

'She is just a little sick,' I said to myself, 'She only needs a little rest and then she'll come around. She's just ashamed and she thinks I'm disappointed, but we'll get over this.  Things will go back to normal as soon as she gets a little help.'

I looked around, glad that at least I had cleaned up her home.  I was sure that by the time she woke up she'd feel better and by then I'd have an appointment for her.  I'd take her to my friend's office, she'd have someone to talk to, he'd devise a plan of recovery, and in a matter of days she'd be back to normal. 

"You didn't even listen to me"

I sighed. She was wrong.  I listened to every single word, but it was easier to pretend she hadn't said anything.

I wanted to stay busy, so I started to make a mental list of things to do:  Make phone calls, buy her some groceries… some flowers too, to brighten up her place... 

'No, not flowers,' I corrected myself; 'A plant' 

Déjà vu.  And that's when I saw it.  On a high shelf, all by itself; a thriving orchid in a red ceramic pot. The plant I'd given her some time ago as a peace offering. 

I approached it to examine it closely. It was healthy, lovely, and strong, just as she had been just a few months ago, and the thought was inevitable:  She taken better care of a plant than of herself.

I touched the velvety leaves and suddenly I could see Sara, drinking beer for breakfast but carefully watering her little plant.  Nurturing it.

I looked at this plant that I had given her as a consolation prize; a little crumb of the love I felt for her but could never give her. I remembered how glad I was that Sara had accepted my gift; so relieved, too that she had forgiven me for not having the guts to deliver it in person.  She must have told herself that it was a start, that some day I'd come around and tell her that I loved her. 

Now I realized that this hope had chained her to me and to a job that she said she didn't like anymore. 

I realized too that instead of giving her this plant I should have talked to her and explain that even though I loved her, my fears were stronger.  That I couldn't start a relationship with her because I was afraid that one day she'd leave me and get on with her life, while I remained behind, more lonely than ever, incapable of moving on. 

But I didn't tell her any of this, I simply ignored her…

What I hadn't anticipated was that she'd suffer like this. That I was bad for her self-esteem.

"Sara… I'm so sorry" I whispered, horrified by my discovery. Up until that day I hadn't realized I had this destructive influence on anybody.  I swear I didn't know.

I looked at the darkened hallway and after a few minutes, I went to her bedroom.  It was dark, but I could see her lying on her side, her arms wrapped around herself.  She was so thin; a shadow of the Sara that came to Vegas years ago.

I made my decision, then.  If she wanted to leave, I'd let her go.  It was the least I could do after all she had lost because of me.   

But if she still wanted me... I'd say yes.  Not because I thought I was the right man for her, God knows I wasn't.  But if she still needed me, I'd be there and love her; love her until she needed to move on.  I wouldn't let my fears hurt her anymore.  

I kneeled by her bed and prayed.

"Get well, Sara, please.  I'll do anything.  I'll say yes to anything you ask me. Just, please, get well.  Please, please…"

TBC?