It's about time Ann! Gil Grissle. :lol: Bar Bill from ever flying again! The voice! The gas! Poor Sara for getting all the wackos. I hope there's more.
(this is from QTR, because her internet is out to get her! Enjoy!) Title: The Life & Times of Sara Sidle Rating: T Summary: (You all know by now) Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters! A/N: I continue to thank you all IMMENSELY for your patience with my updates. Life has been a bit hectic lately, so I appreciate it April 1, 2000- 11:39 am- Hotel Monaco- Las Vegas, Nevada There was nothing quite like the smell of cigarette smoke and liquor in the early morning that got the senses going, Sara always liked to say. In her line of work you were never always guaranteed a fresh pot of coffee waiting for you when you got to work, and very rarely when you arrived at a crime-scene, that was, of course, unless a citizen- usually a neighbor or friend of the victim- decided to provide the nourishment for local law enforcement as a preemptive ‘I didn’t do it’. But the second Sara stepped out of her Tahoe she knew right away that she was going to have to get used to this smell. The Vegas air reeked of it; it reeked of the stale smell of cash, alcohol, and stomped-out Marlboros. The smell of Sin City. After slinging her bag over her shoulder Sara started to walk through the over-crowded parking lot of the hotel Monaco in order to find Grissom who, as he said in his early-morning phone call, was currently here with one of his CSIs to gather evidence on a new case. Sara felt butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, and she had to assure herself that the only reason she felt this way was because of the thought of a new case; it always got the adrenaline pumping. But she knew that wasn’t the only reason… Finally making her way through the maze of cars, Sara found herself in the front of the hotel, a smile tucking at the corners of her mouth as she noticed the yellow crime-scene tape hung up around a portion of the parking lot nearest the front. A large crowd of cheering people made her raise an eyebrow as she took a rather hesitant step forward; was this another Vegas side-show or just another display of the world’s uncanny obsession with violence? “Yes, yes.” Wait. That voice… she knew that voice. That was his voice. Sara finally couldn’t deny the smile that overtook her as she made her way through the crowd of people, feeling high as a kite on her own two feet. Finally stopping just in front of the crime-scene tape, she just watched him for a moment as he snapped photos with his camera of the fallen test-dummies that seemed to be falling from the sky. Now her smile turned into a sly grin; test-dummies. Sara couldn’t remember the last time she used test-dummies. “Norman “fell”,” Grissom finished as he took the last pictures of the third and final test-dummy. Before Sara could even stop herself, her mouth opened and she started talking. “Wouldn’t you if you were married to Mrs. Roper?” she asked, biting back a girlish giggle as she forced herself to maintain just a smile, nothing else. “I don’t even have to turn around,” Grissom suddenly said, turning his body maybe not even 30 degrees to the right. “Sara Sidle.” She felt her heart skip a beat when he said her name. “That’s me,” she grinned, pulling her sunglasses off of her face just the slightest bit so she could see him normally without the brown tint of her lenses. She could’ve sworn he looked the exact same way he did that day at Harvard. He wasn’t looking at her now with a camera in his hands, he was looking at her now with his tarantula Jeffrey she remembered his name being, sitting in his hands. “Still tossing simulation dummies?” she couldn’t resist teasing him. “There are other ways to tell, you know?” she asked, already knowing what he was going to say. “How? Computer simulation?” he almost scoffed. “No thanks. I’m a scientist, I like to see it. Newton dropped the apple, I drop dummies.” Sara didn’t think he dropped dummies. She thought he dropped hearts, in particular her heart. “You’re old school,” Sara smiled, shaking her head a bit. “Exactly, and this guy was pushed,” he replied. Suddenly Sara reminded herself that this was not a time to catch up with old friends… this was about a more serious matter, in particular the shooting of one of Grissom’s own CSIs. It wasn’t like he called her to Vegas to catch up… he called her here to help with the investigation, and now it was time for her to do her job. “How’s the girl?” she asked, almost having to restrain herself from using her first name. She hated using such terms to refer to the victims. “She’s still in surgery,” Grissom told her, his eyes narrowing just a bit as he looked down at the ground. “She’s not doing very well.” “That’s too bad,” Sara immediately replied with almost a sigh, following his gaze to the same patch of pavement to stare at. For a moment or two there was only silence. “God, Sara, I have so many unanswered “whys”,” Grissom sighed, finally averting his gaze from the ground back to her. She had to hide her smile as she heard him say her name. “There’s only one why that matters now,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Why did Warrick Brown leave that crime-scene?” Grissom stared at her intently for a minute, maybe even for a few minutes, Sara didn’t know exactly how long. All she knew was that his eyes were beautiful, absolutely beautiful; she got lost in his gaze every time he looked at her. Damn it, she thought, damn it. She didn’t mean for this to happen. She had promised herself this wouldn’t happen when she had gotten out of bed early in order to make herself look nice. She had promised herself she wasn’t going to get lost in that blue enigma when she had sprayed her favorite perfume on. But right now his eyes were more than just an enigma… they were a whole sea; a whole sea of emotion, and Sara felt like she was out in the middle of it all in a small boat without a paddle. But she didn’t ever want to be found. “How’d you sleep?” His voice startled her as she came back to shore, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to process his question. “I’m sorry to have called you on such short notice.” “Don’t worry about it,” Sara told him, smiling a little as she noticed the look in his eyes. Was that a hint of concern? Even the slightest bit? No, she reminded herself, of course not. Gil Grissom did not show emotion. But damn it, his eyes did. But deciding not to mention the towel boy at the hotel who had flirted with her and before her mind could wander any further, she stopped herself. “Where do you need me?” she then asked, looking around the crime-scene. “Well seeing how Norman doesn’t exactly have anything to do with the shooting I’d like you to go back to the lab,” Grissom told her with the slightest hint of a smile. “I want you to talk to Catherine Willows. Right now she’s the lead on the case,” he explained. “See what she’s come up with.” “Alright,” Sara said. And then it was back to business. Almost without saying goodbye Sara turned and walked off, heading back toward her Tahoe. “Sara.” She quickly turned around, once again startled by his voice. “…You forgot your bag,” he said, shooting her a small shy and apologetic smile as he leaned down to pick it up. “Oh,” Sara said, trying to control the flush red color of her cheeks. “Thanks,” she told him, taking it back and slinging it over her shoulder. Quickly turning around so he wouldn’t notice, she abruptly walked back to her car, once again making her way through the maze of cars in the crowded parking lot. He watched her go with a smile. Once in her car making her way toward the lab using the directions the people at the hotel she stayed at the night before had given her, Sara felt like she was driving around in a completely different universe. She felt… unnerved in a sense, almost uncomfortable in her own skin. She wasn’t used to seeing strippers and hookers on every street corner, and she felt like they were all looking at her. She was pretty sure that her California license plates screamed tourist. But this wasn’t a battle of the stereotypes, so Sara turned back to the real task at hand looking back through the windshield only to discover that she was already at the lab and had managed with her body on auto-pilot to parallel park right in front of the building. Shaking it off, though, she got out of the car once she had killed the engine and stepped outside, feeling the warm sun beating down on her back. And for once in her life Sara welcomed the feeling of its warm rays; finally, something she was familiar with. Once again slinging her bag over her shoulder, Sara closed up her car and headed up the long walkway toward the large building in front of her. It looked almost like a doctor’s office; the walls and windows were sleek and professional-looking and the shrubs and vegetation outside the building provided a sense of humanism, almost. In bold black letters the Las Vegas Crime Lab was depicted, and she noticed a golden plaque proudly positioned just to the left of the front doors leading inside. She read the text engraved- Conrad Ecklie, Lab Supervisor. Sara couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. With a name like that Sara could already visualize the man in her mind; crisp, clean suit, short-cut hair, maybe even no hair, and the most arrogant of expressions upon his face. Finally opening the door, Sara headed inside and was greeted by the a/c unit blowing steadily just over her head. The floors were smooth tiled and almost looked like a fine stone such as granite from afar. The building looked much larger than it had from the outside and Sara smiled as familiar sounds and smells began to come back to her. She was once again surrounded by science, and that made her feel at ease. After talking briefly to the receptionist named Judy judging by the nametag on her blouse, Sara headed down the hallways of the lab slowly, almost like she were taking a tour of the place like a true tourist would tour Vegas itself. The labs looked big and spacious and the tools and gadgets inside looked like pure gold to Sara’s eyes. Suddenly a door opened and a smoking figure came out, waving smoke out of their face as they coughed violently. Sara took a step back so that the person wouldn’t actually hit her in the face with their flailing hands, and she just watched them for a minute as they wiped their face off with their sleeve. “Never mind, it didn’t work!” they coughed to no one in particular. And then they caught a glimpse of Sara and Sara caught a glimpse of them. The man in question was a quirky-looking labtech with spiky hair (actually spiky was a huge understatement). His white teeth were almost shocking as they rebelled against the black exhaust that covered his face. Sara noticed that almost his entire face lit up as he noticed her standing there. The man couldn’t have been older than her; actually he looked like he could’ve been in his early-late twenties. “Well you must be Sara,” he said, bowing slightly as he continued to try and clean off his face, almost frantically now. “…Yeah,” Sara managed to say, “Sara… Sidle,” she said, shaking her head to compose herself. He reminded her so much of the people back in San Francisco, just so… free-spirited, so… fun. “I’m Greg Sanders,” he greeted with a smile, holding his hand out. Sara looked down at it hesitantly, shooting him a knowing smile when she saw the stuff on his hands. “Oh, right,” he said, clearing his throat as he shot her another smile. “So you’re Grissom’s lady-friend?” Sara once again tried to control the flushing of her cheeks as she looked away, throwing a momentary glance to the floor. The floor had been neglected, that’s all, she wasn’t shy, and she definitely wasn’t embarrassed. After a few more moments of flirting, Mr. Sanders finally let Sara go a bit reluctantly. Sara couldn’t shake the goofy smile from her face as she headed down the hallway. Grissom had said Greg would be a character. Finally spotting a room at the end of the hallway, Sara decided why not since her search for Catherine Willows had at this point come up empty. Turning the knob, she poked her head inside the rather dark room, spotting the familiar eerie glowing light coming from a computer monitor. She felt a bit relieved when she saw someone sitting at the computer. “Do you know where I can find Catherine Willows?” The woman’s eyes narrowed and Sara immediately got the ‘back-off’ vibe she had gotten so many times in her life. Without even looking up, the woman said, “She’s out in the field.” There was the reluctance, and then there was the certainty that this woman was the one she was looking for. Looking down at the small notepad in her hand, Sara threw another almost cautious glance at the other woman before returning her gaze to the paper in her hand. “Let me guess…” she said, as if finally acknowledging Sara’s presence. “Sara Sidle?” “I know who I am, I think you’re a little confused,” Sara said, offering a smile to try and lighten the tension in the room. “If you think you’re taking my case… forget it,” Ms. Willows immediately hissed, obviously not amused at Sara’s fetal attempt at lightening the mood. Sara mentally sighed, looking up at the ceiling, as if telling herself not to shoot back a smart remark. She had dealt with people like this before and she would do it again. “Look, we can sit here and argue, or… we can get out there and find out who did this to Holly Gribbs,” Sara said simply, keeping her tone calm and steady. “Two sharp women are better than one.” After the other woman considered this for a moment, Sara’s efforts were rewarded when she noticed her grabbing one of the clear evidence bags from off the desk in front of her. Maybe she had actually made a friend. “Pager,” she explained, taking it out of the bag with her gloved hand. “Found at the crime-scene.” Sara went back into full CSI-mode, walking over to the desk and standing behind Catherine’s shoulder to look at what she was working on. “Where’d you get the pager next?” she asked with a slight smile. “Grissom. He won it on e-bay.” Of course, Sara thought with a smile. “They’re great for tracing if you can rely on the suspect’s honesty,” Sara said, looking at the computer monitor. “Uh…” Catherine sighed a bit. “Desmond Tutu.” “See what I mean?” Sara asked. “Don’t feel bad,” she then said, “My last four traces came back Eminem, so…” She laughed a little. “Look, you seem to have everything under control here,” she then added. Catherine Willows liked to be in control of her cases, from what Sara could see, and she couldn’t blame her. She was the same way. “Where can I find Warrick Brown?” “Try one of the casinos on Blue Diamond Road,” the other woman replied almost without any hesitation at all. Sara just nodded and headed toward the door, but the other woman’s voice stopped her. “Oh, I’ll page you with any information,” she told her. Sara just smiled as she headed out of the room, both at the thought of making a friend and the irony of the woman’s statement. But as soon as she got outside the room her smile turned into a frown as she thought of what she was going to have to do next. Now it was time to interview Warrick Brown, and that was something Sara was not looking forward to, to say the least. At the moment, Warrick Brown was a suspect, and Sara never liked having to interview suspects. But he wasn’t only a suspect, he was a CSI. After heading outside Sara got in her car and drove off, actually praying that she even knew where Blue Diamond Road was. But to her surprise, and relief, it wasn’t far and definitely wasn’t hard to find off the Strip. Finding a parking space, Sara actually wasn’t so sure she had ever seen so many casinos in one place in her entire life. Picking the one her car was parked closest to, Sara once again slung her bag around her shoulder, closing her car door as she walked around her car to the sidewalk. Entering through the door, Sara actually felt a bit disoriented. Cigarette smoke clouded the air and the bright lights and colors were all foreign to her, and she once again felt like an outsider. But she was, she then thought. Sara had gone to a casino for her eighteenth birthday, but that casino was nothing like this casino. This was Vegas alright. Finally realizing how big the building was after a few minutes of aimless walking, Sara sighed to herself, wondering how she was actually going to find Warrick when she saw him. She didn’t think she could pick out just one person in a crowd this big- there were simply too many people to be able to do so. About to turn around and head back to the entrance to try the next casino, Sara spotted someone sitting at a blackjack table that she soon identified as the man she was looking for. Taking a step toward him, she just watched for a minute as he sat slumped-back in his chair, cards in-hand. ”You’re up 11 G’s. Hit or stay?” the dealer asked him. Before Warrick could reply, Sara beat him to it. “Stay. I want to talk to you.” Warrick immediately looked over at Sara, actually looking a bit shocked to see her there. From there Sara drove both herself and a very reluctant Warrick Brown to a coffee shop near the casino. She didn’t want to talk to him in the casino because it was too loud and distracting, and she suspected that if she had let him continue playing the cards he would have completely ignored her altogether. This way, he couldn’t just get back into the game. He had to pay attention to her. But before they were able to even sit down, Sara’s pager went off. Looking down at it, she shook her head, looking back down at the ground as she put it down. Gribbs didn’t make it. Once they were sitting down, Sara watched as he held a cup of coffee almost gingerly between his hands, looking down at the counter in… something- shame, or… embarrassment, or…shyness. She couldn’t tell. “You were playing $100 on every spot. You have a system?” Sara finally asked to break the silence. “I’m counting cards,” he finally spoke. “Isn’t that illegal?” Sara retorted. “Not if you do the math in your head,” he said in almost a mumble. Sara now realized that she was going to have a bit of trouble getting along with this man. She had been told before by many people that she had a stubborn quality about her, something that was both a gift and a curse. She now noticed that Warrick Brown had the exact same quality, and two people with the same sense of stubbornness didn’t mix. It was like oil and water. “You play anything else?” Sara asked. “I bet sports from time to time,” he admitted. “So… let me get this straight,” Sara started, reaching into her bag for her notepad. She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head as she turned away. “You were assigned by Brass to shadow a trainee, a robbery comes up on MLK and you go for coffee.” Sara knew that every word she said was digging into the man like daggers. “An officer was there,” he said firmly. ”So you felt safe to leave? Do you know the policies and procedures for clearing a scene?” Sara asked. “Yes,” he said, almost snapped. “Then why’d you leave? I mean what was so important that you had to rush out of there?” Sara persisted. “I told you,” he said, “I went for coffee.” “Was that before or after you made your bets?” Sara finally asked. That got his attention. “Sunday… Vegas… NFL football… guy like you… come on, you trying to tell me that you didn’t make a little pit stop?” He remained silent. “Look at me,” Sara demanded, “Did you log on… tell dispatch where you were going?” “Do you know how many times I’ve been left alone at a crime-scene when I was a rookie?” Warrick finally snapped, turning around and looking at her. “Yeah, well this time is different,” Sara said. “Yeah, why’s that?” he scoffed. “Holly Gribbs died on the operating table twenty minutes ago.” And then there was silence.
Hehe, thankies Zan. And thanks for commenting, melbel! I think from here on I'm just going to base chapters off of all the main, emotional Sara-centric episodes in CSI from season one-on. And of course, what you DIDN'T see after the screen went black
It's been a longgg time since I last came here! Back in July. Great work Ann, as always. That chapter took me back to Sara's very first appearance. Her pretty, curly hair. ^_^ I remember this is the very first fic I read when I first signed up here, almost a year ago. This and CMI's Baby On The Way. Excellent writing Ann. Don't you stop writing, you've got great talent.
hi Ann, just wanted to let you know how great this fic is again, I must have read it about 5 times by now, lol. I'm sure one day you'll be a famous writer who is going to sell millions. Keep up this and your other great stories. ~hank
Thank you so much You guys really have no idea how much your support means to me. You guys make me feel like some sort of writing god :lol: Thanks so much, guys
Youre very talented Ann, you know that. Ive always said that and I'd gladly say it again. This fic blew me away. And I literally got blown off planet earth when i found out about your age. The writing didnt match the age I thought. :lol: Now, go grab your writing cap and cook more stories up.
Here's the last chapter, guys I'm going to make another story continuing called 'The Vegas Years' just to keep things less cluttered and more organized Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and of course for reading and sticking with me this far along ---- Las Vegas was known as the town that could bring out the darker side of people, the devil within, the… malicious intent hidden deep within our souls. Sara now knew that saying to be true. Vegas was turning out to be quite a task, from adapting herself to her new surroundings to shrugging off the remarks of her new coworkers. The crimes she had dealt with back in San Francisco were nothing compared to the crimes she dealt with in Vegas. Shortly after the Holly Gribbs investigation Sara had made amends with Catherine and Warrick and they quickly became friends. Nick had let down his walls and accepted her into the group and Greg was still falling all over himself to impress her. They were different than most people she knew, but she liked that. Finally, people were starting to accept Sara Sidle for who she was. Grissom was keeping an eye on her from time to time to make sure she was okay and didn’t get lost in Vegas. Catherine had invited her to dinner quite a few nights followed by Nick and Warrick taking her out for drinks after shift. They were all great people and Sara had to admit they were bringing out the best in her. Every time she smiled, every time she laughed, every time she cried, they were there to acknowledge it. They were there to laugh with her, to smile with her, to help her back on her feet when she fell. And within herself Sara was so proud that she was able to accomplish this all. She was able to open herself up to these people and be accepted into the group. She knew the first time she came to Vegas they all thought she was just new meat, that woman Grissom had brought in from California. Now she was a member of the team. Sara liked to think she was a part of something… something important to everyone. There were still the days she went home and cried, there were still those days she opened the six-pack in her fridge she had promised herself she wouldn’t touch but bought out of spite. But when she went home to her empty apartment at night and curled up between her blankets in her bed, she didn’t feel so alone. The emptiness wasn’t there anymore. And she thought… perhaps it was because she knew all she had to do was pick up the phone and call Catherine or Nick and ask them if they wanted to do something. They always agreed. And that reassurance itself made her feel warm. She also felt as though she had crossed the line between being an interrupted girl that came from a broken family to becoming a well-respected professional of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Bureau. She was the only one in her family to make something of herself. The only one. For a while her mother had been working at a bank at a teller, but that never went anywhere. Laura Sidle had quit her job to ‘spend more time with her children’ and Sara knew exactly how that went. Sara, even as a child, was afraid of becoming her mother. She was young but mature enough to know what was going on in her home, and whenever her mother had picked up that brown bottle in the kitchen she had made a promise to herself to never become that way. She was going to make something of herself and she was going to live a life outside the liquor store. Her father wasn’t any better, there weren’t any words needed to describe the way he was. She wasn’t an alcoholic. She wasn’t a murderer. She wasn’t crazy. She had been abused. She had been beaten. She had been raped. But she was a survivor, and among that all that was what was the most important of all. “Hey girl, how are you doing?” Warrick’s voice brought her back to her senses as she blinked a few times and realized she was sitting in the locker room at the lab. “You doin’ okay?” She couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto her face. He was concerned. “Yeah, just thinking,” She told him, “What’s up?” “I had that bastard’s ass, you know that?” he asked her, putting his jacket away in his locker. “I hate lawyers. Defense attorneys, trial lawyers, judges—“ “Oh, give it a rest, Warrick,” Nick said, appearing through the doorway. “Let it go, man,” he told him, opening up his own locker. “I had his ass, Nick!” Warrick said in protest, “And that… that lawyer… Crocker? He claims the arrest Brass made was in violation of the suspect’s constitutional rights.” “What?” Sara blinked, “The arrest was made outside, right?” “Yeah!” Warrick said, eyes wide, “And now we’ve got to deal with the DA.” “You’ll get him,” Catherine said, walking into the locker room, “You always do.” “But—“ Warrick was about to protest when Catherine but in. “You guys want to go get some drinks?” she asked, “Lindsey’s at my mothers’, I’m sure they’re having a blast,” everyone could sense the hint of sarcasm in her voice, “I’m buying.” “I’m in,” Nick said, closing his locker. “I could use one.” “You know I’m in,” Warrick said, “After hearing that lawyer talk all day it’s giving me a headache.” They all turned and looked at Sara. “Sara? You coming?” Catherine asked. Sara just smiled brightly, nodding her head as she closed her locker, getting to her feet. “I’m in.” The End
*claps* Way to go, Ann. You should be proud of yourself. That was a beautifully written story. I agree with Hank, you're going places. Congratulations. Too bad it's over now. Keep writting. I love reading it. If only I could live up to your standards. You're amazing.