Quiet Desperation
Summary: When a young woman goes missing, the case threatens to complicate matters for Grissom and Sara.
A/N: Thanks to Ann for the quick beta. I thought I'd leave a short teaser for my next story up before I went off on vacation.
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: Yes, I really do own CSI. To maintain my evil reputation, I will not allow the characters to get involved. Bwhahahaha.
Chapter 1
Standing in the police station hallway, Gil Grissom ignored the milling crowds passing him. Instead, his gaze bore through the glass wall of the sitting area, and an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu came over him. Sara Sidle sat in one of the chairs, her fingers interlaced tightly as she grimly stared forward.
Taking his glasses off, Grissom watched silently. He'd come as soon as he received the call from Detective Vartan, but he was hesitant to proceed. Unlike their previous rendezvous, she wasn't alone this time. A middle-aged woman paced the room in front of her, pausing occasionally to make angry hand gestures in Sara's direction.
Grissom shifted uncomfortably. He preferred to stay out of the personal lives of his staff, but as supervisor some things fell under his jurisdiction. And this wasn't just any member of his team. Sara held a special place for him, even if he was unable to act upon his feelings. He needed to step in, now, before things became worse.
"Sara," he called out as he leaned into the room. "Can I see you?"
"I'm a little busy right now. Can it wait?"
"No." His voice was firm, but not unfriendly. Grissom knew he was entering an emotional minefield, and he hoped to keep the damage to a minimum. Their relationship was in a nebulous state, and he wanted desperately to avoid causing any more damage to it.
"I'll be right back Mrs. Kenyon," Sara said before walking to the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
Cocking her head, she frowned at his insistent tone. "I'm talking to a victim's mother, trying to get some more information."
"Sara, no you're not."
She raised an eyebrow challengingly as her arms crossed her chest. "Excuse me?"
Wincing at the first emotional shrapnel, Grissom let out a small huff. "I've read the police report. There's no crime."
"The report's wrong."
"Do you have any proof to back that up?" he said, deliberately keeping his tone even to counter the heat of her voice.
With an embarrassed shrug, Sara looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Kenyon. The woman had stopped her pacing and was watching them with a mix of anger and fear. Grissom followed her eyes, and his expression softened.
In many ways, the life of Rachel Mathers mimicked Sara's. A brilliant student, the girl came from an exceedingly violent home. Until she entered foster care, she had witnessed a litany of abuse. The Kenyon family had taken Rachel in at the age of twelve. But unlike Sara, the girl never really recovered from her horrible early life, despite a foster family that clearly loved her.
"Rachel ran away all the time, Sara. There's nothing to indicate this time is any different," Grissom whispered softly. "She's nineteen now. It's not a crime for her to leave home. There's nothing we can do."
"It doesn't make sense." Sara turned back to him, her earlier anger muted to frustration. "Grissom, she'd gotten her life together. She was off drugs. She was an honor student at UNLV. Hell, she had a serious boyfriend. There's no reason for her to run off now."
"People are rarely logical. Who knows what demons she was battling?"
She turned her back to him, and he closed his eyes briefly. If anyone had an idea, it was Sara. Watching her reflection in the glass, a warmth enveloped him. Despite her own background, Sara had accomplished so much. She had all the reason in the world to be bitter and hateful, but she channeled her energy into work, making an effort to help others instead.
Her own pain fueled her empathy, and that had served Sara well over her career. But Grissom was concerned that it now clouded her judgment.
"Sara, let it go," he urged softly. "You can't help her. It's not up to you to save her. Rachel has to want to be helped."
She let out a sigh and regarded him coolly over her shoulder. "You think I'm identifying with the victim."
Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to escalate this, but he had to put an end to it. "She's not a victim. At least not now. Not of a crime."
Sara looked at him calmly. "I'm not being a martyr. I don't think I'm rescuing her. I'm telling you, Grissom. This case doesn't add up. Every instinct I have screams this is wrong. Rachel did not run away."
"Until there's evidence to support that, you have to let it go," he stated with finality. "We have too many other cases. Swing shift is backed up. I need you to help them."
"You're going to pull me off this case so …" she started, biting back the rest of her response. Her shoulders dropped in resignation, and she took a deep breath before nodding. "Fine. You're the boss. What do you suggest I say to Mrs. Kenyon? No one in Rachel's family believes she ran away this time, Grissom, and they are used to her doing it."
"I'll handle it." With what he hoped was a kind smile, he escorted her back into the waiting room. Mrs. Kenyon eyed him suspiciously.
"You're another prick who doesn't care about Rachel," she stated angrily.
Both CSIs started at the verbal attack, but the woman continued. "To you, Rachel is just another 'big and ugly' girl. I heard the comments that detective made when he was looking at her photos."
Grissom frowned, but he kept his ire in check. "Mrs. Kenyon? I've never even seen a picture of Rachel. What she looks like has no bearing on my decision. I understand you are upset…"
"Spare me the platitudes."
"Mrs. Kenyon," Sara said calmly. "Please."
"You're the only one in this place who has the courtesy to at least pretend to be interested about Rachel."
"Mrs. Kenyon," Grissom said forcefully. "There is no evidence that anything happened to your foster daughter. She has a history of running away."
"Don't you think I know that? Look, I know that Rachel wasn't an angel. There were days – a lot of days – when we wondered if we were in over our head with Rachel. But she's a good girl at heart. It's not her fault what happened to her when she was younger. It has messed up her life; she's moving beyond that. I'm telling you, as her mother, she didn't run away this time."
"Unfortunately, we have to rely on the evidence," Grissom noted.
"What evidence? She went to work that day. She went to a class she hated. If she was going to run away, why do that first?" Kenyon demanded. "Where's the note? She always – each and every time before – left a note."
"I can't explain why her actions are different this time. But our resources are limited. If any evidence comes up, we'll leave no stone unturned."
"If any evidence? Like what? Her body? A ransom note? Finding her in the emergency room? If you want to help, do something now, while there's still time to help her."
"It's out of my hands," Grissom finally stated. "Legally, Rachel is an adult. She's competent. We can't help you. I'm sorry."
Sara followed Kenyon into the hallway, but Grissom didn't watch their exchange. While he still had lingering doubts about Sara's attachment to the case, he was also beginning to wonder if she was right. Missing person cases usually weren't given a high priority, and it did sound like Vartan hadn't done his best on the case. Her instincts were usually accurate, too.
"What case am I working?" Sara asked evenly when she returned.
"Why don't you get some sleep? Shift doesn't start for another…"
"If it was so important you pulled me off this case, then I think I should start now."
"Sara," he growled, his irritation finally making an appearance. "There's no evidence of foul play."
"And this is totally out of character for Rachel."
"No crime happened."
Sara shook her head sadly before giving him a semi-contrite shrug. "I just hope you're right," she said, not waiting for a response before heading down the hallway.
Grissom leaned against the wall, frowning as Sara disappeared from his view. "So do I," he finally sighed.
TBC