TITLE: The Visit
AUTHOR: Anansay
DATE: July 29, 2003
SUMMARY: Sara needs answers. Grissom won't give them to her. She decides to visit the other source.
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Up to Lady Heather's Box
DISCLAIMERS: These characters are owned by CSI and its affiliates. No money is being made from this story. I merely borrow the characters for my own personal pleasure... :)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I always wondered how the "two ladies in Grissom's life" might interact should they find themselves in a room by themselves. What better way than to have fiesty Sara pay the "other woman" a visit.

The Visit

by Anansay
July 29, 2003

Sara stood in front of the massive doors and experienced the first twinge of doubt. Once again, her mind had created a scenario and her feet had followed it. She needed answers and this seemed the only way to get them. Questioning Grissom directly wouldn't work, his perfection in the art of obtuse answers had shown itself many times over the years to ensure it was a quality that he wasn't ready to relinquish any time soon. So she decided to go to the next available source for information.
Taking deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked loudly.
Nothing happened immediately and she was about to knock again when the door suddenly moved inward. It opened onto an opulent foyer easily the size of half her own apartment. The muted orange lighting lent it a rich and luxurious atmosphere. And in the doorway stood the means to the answers Sara suddenly thought she might not want to know.
The woman known as Lady Heather stood gazing expectantly at her, a small smile bordering on patronizing seemed permanently etched on her face and her eyes – blue like Grissom's – regarded her in a slow methodical manner from her head to her feet and back up again before she took a step back and waved her arm welcoming Sara into her abode. "Welcome, to Lady Heather's Domain," she said with an air of self-importance.
Sara gulped. This woman took her breath away. Her dark brown hair coming down flat to her shoulders to frame her face beneath bangs, reminiscent of a gothic portrait of dark civility. Her attire left not much to the imagination as her bare shoulders kept the tight fitting black silk dress from actually touching the floor and beneath that peeked out a set of stiletto heels that made Sara wince at the mere thought of having to walk in such a contraption. Lady Heather was the epitome of a sexual woman. No wonder Grissom had become smitten with her. What chance could plain old Sara have against this?
Lady Heather was patiently waiting for her guest to become accustomed to the place and the noises that inevitably filtered from the stairs and various closed doors. "Let me guess, your work requires that you put on a strong front of feminine strength in an atmosphere dominated by males," Lady Heather began. "You'd like to give in sometimes? Rest your strength?"
"What?" Sara blinked and asked.
Lady Heather smiled, a knowing smile meant to assuage certain fears that naturally arose with the idea of submission in such a individualistic society. There were few places – besides the solitary home – where one could feel free to release themselves. "Come with me and we'll talk. Find something that might allow you to feel the freedom we all so crave." Lady Heather turned and began climbing the stairs. Sara watched her until the woman turned and gave her "what are you waiting for?" look. Swallowing again, Sara followed her.
The woman intimidated Sara. Her self-assurance wasn't something Sara was used to seeing in women. It was refreshing on one hand to know such women still existed and yet to interrogate – er, converse – with one on such a delicate topic as Sara had in mind it was positively nerve wracking. This woman could very easily overpower her with her keen deductions of observation.
Lady Heather's office was no less extravagant than the rest of the house. A mantled fireplace with artifacts depicting various sexual appetites. The walls were dark paneled wood stained a luscious crimson. A deep carpet cushioned their steps and made Sara feel as though she were walking on air. A massive oak desk dominated the room with its antique banker's lamp on it. Neatly organized piles of papers and folders lay on one corner and a computer screen sat on the other corner.
But Lady Heather did not sit at her desk. Instead, she stood by a black leather couch, a hand resting on an armrest, a clear invitation for a sit-down chat. Sara regarded the scantily clad woman and the overly stuffed couch with concern but decided her questions warranted such uncertain proximity. She stood by the couch, looking from it to Lady Heather and they both sat down at the same time.
"So, what kind of entertainment brings to you my little hideaway from the world, Ms?"
"Sidle. Sara Sidle."
"Sara" Lady Heather said her name as though trying it out, testing it. "Hmm"
Sara stared at the woman, uncomprehending the sudden interest.
"So, what are you looking for, Ms. Sidle?"
Sara looked at the woman before her, her intelligent blue eyes asking more than the words coming from her lips. She felt like she were under a microscope being examined ruthlessly like an insect. She wondered how Grissom could have felt comfortable under such a stare. "Actually, I'm here for some answers."
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly and there was the minutest shift in perspective. "Answers," she repeated the word. "What kind of answers?"
There it was, the plunge. Just jump. "A few months ago, there were a couple of murders that were related to your business. Before that a woman who worked here was found murdered. And there was a man who came to investigate them. His name was Gil Grissom."
Lady Heather smiled and leaned back. She looked at Sara with a renewed sense of interest and curiosity. "Yes, I do remember him. A very enigmatic man Mr. Grissom. You know him?"
"I work with him."
"Ahh, I see."
Sara raised an eyebrow; an interesting response. "What do you see?"
"That there's more there than just a working relationship."
Sara sat back. "What do you mean?"
Lady Heather eyed Sara up and down, letting her eyes roam leisurely over her body as though admiring it. "Ms. Sidle, why are you here?"
Sara pursed her lips. It was here, the moment of truth and she suddenly felt very ashamed form coming here and demanding such personal information from this woman. If Grissom had that was his choice.
"Ms. Sidle?"
"Did you sleep with him?" There, it was out.
Lady Heather's smile faded from her face and behind it came a sort of sadness, a reminiscing on good times that would never happen come again. And then the smile came back, but it was different, it was cunning. "What do you think?"
"I'd like to think he didn't. Grissom wouldn't do that, sleep with a suspect."
"Then why are you here?"
Sara looked away. It had seemed so simple back in her apartment, in her familiar surrounding. Here, in this place, where Grissom might have sat, it now seemed preposterous that she should be here. "I need to know."
"Why?"
Her directness was refreshing yet intimidating. There was no hiding, no subtle rebuffs, or bending of the truth.
Sara shook her head. There wasn't really a coherent answer. It was a need that had been growing inside her since she'd heard the rumors. "I don't know."
"Really?"
She turned her head. "Yes."
"Hmm" Lady Heather rose, walked to the mantle and picked up a black mask with a long pointed nose. Turning, she caught Sara's stare. "Do you know what this is?"
"A mask."
Lady Heather smiled. "Yes, a mask. This is one that we can put on and take off and people know when we're wearing it." She placed it in front her face for a moment and then pulled it aside, smiling. "See? It's like black and white."
Sara watched the demonstration and a feeling began to grow in her. She stood up, wanting to be level with the woman. "What's your point?"
"This is a mask that people have made in order to become someone else. The thing is, with this mask, those around know what the person is trying to do and they accept it. But everyone that we meet wears masks, we just don't see them. Or maybe we do but we play the game because we – ourselves – are wearing masks. To call another on it would be to draw attention to ourselves. That would be bad."
"And?" Sara crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on a foot.
Lady Heather sighed and replaced the mask. "Your friend, Mr. Grissom, had picked up that particular mask when he was here."
He'd been here, in this room. Sara's eyes scanned the room, seeing it as something different now knowing that he'd been here. And what had they done? With the mask? She stopped the thought from going further and shook her head. "I don't understand."
Lady Heather walked to the middle of the room. "In this place, we have masks that people can wear to hide who they are. But these masks also allow their true selves to come out. Because one mask hides the other."
Sara's stomach was beginning to feel funny.
"In this place, we help people to come out from behind their masks, to accept themselves for who they are," Lady Heather continued, her voice low and deliberate as though teaching a young child about life. "Your friend Grissom, he wears masks. All the time. Everybody around him wears masks. After a while, wearing the mask becomes hard and wearisome, its weight drags the person down. They long to take it off, but doing so only at home defeats the purpose. No one is there to appreciate the real person. When Mr. Grissom was here with me, his mask came off. I helped him to take it off. He didn't like it." She looked away. "Maybe he didn't like what he saw"
"What do you mean?" all these words with their obscure meanings were beginning to wear thin on Sara who was accustomed to coming right out and speaking her mind directly. This woman could be both forward and direct as well as noncommittal and ambiguous. It was confusing. Having to decipher their meanings was something that she did with Grissom and now this one too.
"The first time he came here, we had tea. I had laid out a nice lace cloth on the table outside and we had a proper tea in the afternoon. It was very nice. Just what Mr. Grissom liked. All the refinery of the english aristocrats, which he so longs to be. From his work as an entomologist digging in the earth and around bodies, he hides his self behind a mask of propriety. I gave him what he wanted that time and he allowed me to see into himself, even if he didn't really mean to."
Sara squinted at the woman, her mind working around the dubious meanings to one which might make sense.
"The second time Mr. Grissom visited it was different."
"How so?" Sara was surprised her voice worked. Hearing this woman talk about Grissom in such personal tones was beginning to make her feel almost ashamed to have come here.
"He was more confident. But there was something else. It took me awhile but I got it."
Sara's head was beginning to feel light and fuzzy as she listened to this woman's words, it was like listening to Grissom's wife talking when all she wanted to do was jump the man's bones. It was a sickening feeling, made even more so because she wanted to know. "Why you? What did you do to make him open up? I've been working with him for three years and I still know so little about him?"
"I can't answer that."
Sara stared at the woman, her face showing plainly her disbelief.
"In my profession Ms. Sidle, I've learned how to read people as soon as they walk through my door. It's a necessity so that I can provide for them what they need with prompt attention. Mr. Grissom was no different than any other man or woman who walked through those doors. I merely watched and listened and sized him up."
"You make him sound like any jo-blo from the street."
"Anybody who comes here is looking for something. I need to know what it is, even if they don't."
"He was investigating a murder." Sara tried to reason.
"A part of him was, yes. But another part of him was looking for something as well. He just didn't know it."
"So you go into their heads and"
"I help them to understand themselves. In most cases, I work with their sexual selves."
"Did you work with Grissom's sexual self?" Sara knew it was a low shot but the words came anyway. And to her surprise, Lady Heather took it well.
"In a way, I guess I did. But not in the way you're thinking. For one thing, there is no sex that happens here so it would be unethical of me to do that with Mr. Grissom." And then she sighed. "I won't lie to you, Sara Sidle. Mr. Grissom is an attractive man. It wouldn't have taken much to sleep with him." Lady Heather looked back at Sara, her stare direct and unforgiving. "Mr. Grissom stayed the night -" Sara flinched. "- and we talked."
A breath Sara didn't she was holding came out in a short loud exhale.
"That's not to say that we didn't come close."
It was like being punched over and over again with barely enough time to recuperate in between blows.
"But, it never happened. He didn't pursue it."
"Grissom was more to you than just another person walking through that door?" Sara ventured. There was something in Lady Heather's voice that caused Sara to look at her carefully and she saw what she could only guess was a mirror image of her own tortured soul. Grissom had pulled away from her at the last minute like he'd done with Sara.
"So we talked and then we had tea the next morning and then he"
"He what?"
"He called for the warrant." Her voice had changed; it was colder with an edge of pain.
Sara understood. He'd betrayed her.
"I'm sorry," Sara offered.
Lady Heather looked back up. "For what?"
"That he hurt you."
She smiled. "It was inevitable, Ms. Sidle. It wasn't meant to be. Besides, I got the distinct impression he was running away. And I'm not one to readily accept those who are running, who choose not to face their demons. This is a place where people come to discover themselves, not hide from themselves. He didn't belong here."
"He was running?"
There was that smile again, the one that said much more than the words spoken around it. "Yes running."
"From what?"
"Need you ask?" Lady Heather walked toward her, swaying her hips in a suggestive manner.
Sara watched her approach and stood her ground. "Yeah, I do."
Lady Heather stood directly in front of Sara and her eyes searched hers. Sara could smell the scent of her perfume, a light musky odour. It was warm and inviting. "Hmm, first Mr. Grissom comes here and Now you." Her eyes were like being examined by a curious creature of the night seeing something completely new. Sara regarded her in the same fashion. "You come here seeking answers but something tells me you had to force yourself here. Tell me Ms. Sidle if you are so close to Mr. Grissom why haven't you asked him yourself?"
Sara took a step back. "We're not close."
"Then why do you want to know? Does it really matter then what happened here?"
"It matters."
"Why?"
"Because it does."
Lady Heather backed away, as though up close and personal had gotten boring. "I was right, wasn't I?"
"What do you mean?"
"There's more than a working relationship with you two?"
"We work together that's it."
"That may be, but that's not all you want, is it? You come here asking questions that Mr. Grissom could very well answer for himself. And yet you don't ask him, you come to me. Maybe it's not just those answers you're looking for. Maybe it's something else."
Sara stood her ground and kept her gaze on the woman. That feeling in her stomach – the feeling of being under a microscope – was growing and she didn't like where it was going.
"Why couldn't you ask him yourself?"
Sara couldn't answer.
"Why do you want to know?"
Sara could merely stare at the woman. Those questions weren't something that Sara was willing to answer at the moment. Their answers held answers that she wasn't ready to face just yet.
Lady Heather's face changed to one of bitter understanding. "Mr. Grissom doesn't let many people in, Ms. Sidle. He didn't let me in. But I went in anyway. I was rather surprised he came back, for one so accustomed to keeping his mask so intact. He came because he was running. I was a diversion. I made him forget."
Sara's heart was beating frantically in her chest as her eyes met the open stare with a demanding one of her own, willing the answer to come forth. "Forget what?"
"There's a secret he's hiding. One that scares him, like nothing that ever has. He's trapped. He doesn't know what to do. He's hiding deeper and deeper. And he's pushing people away. But there's someone that he finds very hard to push away. Someone who's in his life on a daily basis." Sara swallowed. "He doesn't like that he has to push them away. But he's a proud man, Ms. Sidle." She walked around Sara to sit on the couch, crossing her long bare legs, the slit in the dress exposing the flesh to the dim light. She looked up at the visitor, having placed herself beneath her. It wasn't lost on Sara who understood the basics of a dominant/submissive relationship. She stood in her spot for a moment, silently acknowledging the gesture and then took a seat beside Lady Heather.
"What's his secret?"
"That would be for him to divulge."
Sara nodded. She understood. And she was pleased that Lady Heather respected him enough to not disclose his secrets. But there was still one "Who's he running from?" she asked quietly, staring at the floor.
There was silence for such a long time that Sara wondered if Lady Heather had even heard her. And then, "Someone who came to him three years ago. Someone who stayed at a mere request from him, asking no questions. Someone who makes him think and feel."
She turns my world upside down. I love working with her but sometimes I wish she were never around, then I could do my job better, keep my head on better. She makes me feel things
And it was like an anvil had just dropped on her head. The stunning effect robbed her of her ability to breath and think. The room suddenly seemed new and her body felt heavy. And then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Oh." It was all she could utter to acknowledge the answer.
"Ms. Sidle, Mr. Grissom is a hard man to get to know. He doesn't let people in easily. He's not like you."
Sara turned her head. "Come again?"
Lady Heather was looking at her. "He feels things as deeply as you do, he just doesn't show it."
Sara was staring at the woman.
"People know what you're feeling, like right now you're confused. You're also intrigued and angry and hurt."
"That's rather obvious."
"It is. But what's not so obvious is the depth that those feelings go. Whereas Mr. Grissom shows nothing, people know that cases affect you they just don't know to what extent or why."
Sara fidgeted on the couch, looking away.
"You come here head held high, chest out, dressed in black. You walk into my home like you belong here. You want people to think that you have everything under control but underneath there are fine cracks growing. You smile and yet it doesn't always reach your eyes."
"I have to be strong."
"Yes, you do. We all do. We also need to be patient. The sun always comes up in time Ms. Sidle, we just have to learn to wait for it."
"You're saying I should wait for Grissom?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sara cringed inside. They'd been speaking in tongues up until then. It had remained in the realm of the obtuse. Now Sara had brought into the light and showed Lady Heather exactly what it was.
Lady Heather only smiled. "Everybody needs patience, Ms. Sidle. Even ourselves. Did you ever wonder what attracted him to entomology?
"No."
"What happens to a bug when you approach it too fast?"
"It runs."
"What do you need to do to catch one?"
Sara thought about it for a moment. "Approach slowly, no sudden moves."
Lady Heather smiled again, but this time it was filled with satisfaction.
Sara stared at her while it seeped into her. "I need to approach Grissom slowly with no sudden moves."
Do you wanna go out for dinner? Sara shut her eyes. She's sprung that on him suddenly. A sigh escaped her lips. No wonder he'd said no. He ran away, emotionally.
"Oh god" Sara groaned.
Lady Heather continued looking at her. "He's like a bug, an insect, driven by instinct and not accustomed to things disrupting his world."
"That's not painting him in a very good light," Sara commented.
"But it is painting him in a truthful light."
Sara sighed. "I guess so God, I can't believe I'm talking to you about this!" She stood up and paced the floor.
Lady Heather remained on the couch, watching. "Why?"
Sara stopped. "Because because"
"Because of what I do? Because he was here too?"
The confusion swirled in Sara. She could only half nod, shaking her head. "I have to go." The urge to be suddenly out of this woman's grasp was too strong to deny further she stated that fact with less then stellar conviction. She stood there, staring into space, the emotions of the meeting offering conflicting theories on any future actions.
"Of course." Lady Heather smiled again, rose and walked to the door, holding it open for Sara. They descended the stairs in silence.
At the entrance door, Sara turned to Lady Heather, her eyes asking one more question that couldn't quite meet her lips.
Another soft sad smile. "First time's free."
Sara hesitated, nodded and stepped out.
The sun was setting on the horizon, work would start soon.

~*~