Quiet Desperation
Summary: When a girl goes missing, the case threatens to complicate matters between Grissom and Sara.
A/N: Thanks to Ann for the beta. While writing the first chapter, I changed the name of the OC, but didn’t catch one occurrence of the old name. Sorry for the confusion, and I’ve fixed that mistake. I’d blame my beta, but she scares me.
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 2

Greg entered the lab room with a cautious air, giving Sara a half-wave when she looked up from the racks of vials in front of her. Grabbing a stool, he sat opposite of her, licking his lips.

“Just for the record, I didn’t rat you out,” he stated kindly, leaning forward over the lab bench.

“And just for the record, I didn’t think you had,” she replied, pausing in her work long enough to fix him with a sharp gaze. “If I had, you’d have known about it.”

“That’s true. I don’t have any extra orifices.”

A hint of a smile formed as Sara set down a vial and moved to the next one, carefully copying the information from its label to her log. While occasionally immature, Greg never left her guessing how he felt, or if there were any hidden meanings to his statements. The openness was a welcome change in her life, and it was a friendship she valued.

“Keep your orifices to yourself,” she chided good-naturedly.

Greg grinned and tapped his fingers on the table top until she glared at him. “So, did you get in much trouble?”

Sara glanced at him and frowned. He sounded genuinely concerned. At first, she didn’t understand why, but then she remembered that the nature of her ‘past’ with Grissom was a subject of open speculation in the lab. Nothing happened between them without someone trying to read some sort of meaning into it.

“I didn’t get in any trouble. Grissom told me to drop it and work on this instead,” she answered, waving a hand over the evidence surrounding her.

“And you’re not pissed about getting pulled from a case?”

“I never said that,” Sara replied, her smile doing little to mute her ire as she resumed work. For the past two hours, she’d been methodically adding reagents to the evidence vials in front of her, dutifully noting all reactions. The work was tedious – typical of their job – and while she concentrated on her task, Sara’s mind still dwelled on the fate of Rachel Mathers.

In her professional opinion, the case had been dismissed too quickly. Rachel’s disappearance was too abrupt. There were leads that could have been followed, people to interview. On top of that, Vartan acted unprofessionally, insulting the girl’s appearance in front of her anxious family.

Personally, Grissom’s refusal to trust her instincts gnawed at her. He’d never make supervisor of the year in any universe, but he’d given more leeway to the others in the past. His reasoning for pulling her out of the field and into the lab eluded her.

Lifting an eyebrow automatically, she silently corrected herself. He thought she was becoming personally involved in the case, that she identified too closely to the missing young woman. While his concern was nice, it angered her that he doubted her ability to remain objective.

Letting out a long breath, she put away the vial she held in her hand. Grissom wanted evidence, but she didn’t have any to support her position. She didn’t have that evidence because he hadn’t let her collect it. He was an enigma, and as much as she loved mysteries, Sara was coming to the conclusion this was one that she’d never solve.

Sara moved to the next vial, giving her head a shake to clear it. Reaching for her pen, she found it missing. She looked up and saw Greg was still there, fiddling with the instrument nervously.

“What’s bothering you, Greg?” Sara asked as she retrieved her pen and proceeded with her work.

“I don’t get why you stayed on the case.”

“Questioning my judgment?” she asked, but with a trace of humor.

“No! I don’t understand why you did it. It’s not like this chick hasn’t pulled stunts like this before,” he noted.

Sara let her shoulders roll slightly as she straightened up, working the kinks from her muscles. Focusing on the far wall, she considered how to answer his question. By nature, she was a scientist, a creature of logic, but her hesitance to let this case go came from a more primal response. It didn’t feel right. After drilling the need to follow the evidence into Greg, she wondered how to explain her instincts.

“You’re right. Rachel did leave home several times in the past, but in each of those cases there was an outside event that triggered it. Something was going wrong at school, or in her personal life. She always left a note for her foster family to let them know how sorry she was. This time, Rachel just vanished. Her behavior isn’t consistent.”

“Yeah, but were not exactly talking about Ms. Mental Lee Stable here. Look at her childhood. That is one screwed up kid,” Greg said, giving a small shrug when Sara slowly turned to stare at him. “Let’s face it; she’s carrying a lot of baggage. What could have screwed up her life more?”

“Watching her mother kill her father?” Sara asked softly, her voice almost in a whisper.

“Yeah, okay, that would definitely have sent her into loco land,” he said, his humor dying at the harsh look directed his way. Bobbing his head from side to side, he held out his hands in surrender. “I know. I know. Not everyone that comes from abusive families ends up as maniacs, but come on. Do you really think someone from that type of background can ever completely get over what happened to them?”

“No. Probably not.”

Sara saw Greg scratching his head in confusion, and she let out a sigh. Pity was the last thing she wanted, especially when it was self-inflicted. Her early life had been terrible, but dwelling on it served no purpose. Before he could ask any more questions, she shrugged at him.

“You stay on the job any length of time, you develop instincts. Things will jump out at you that don’t fit.”

“And you think that’s what is going on here,” he stated, not mentioning that no one else agreed with her.

“Exactly. Even if I am the only one who thinks so,” she replied, an eyebrow raised in wry amusement. “Bit of advice, Greg. Stay away from the poker tables. You’re too easy to read.”

He rolled his head in a bashful way, and then started to fill her in on the latest office gossip before shift started. At the sound of footsteps, they both turned to the door. Grissom strolled into the lab quickly, handing the younger CSI a slip of paper with a flourish.

“A trick roll at the Monaco with your name on it.”

“All by myself?” he asked in exaggerated excitement.

“I think you’re ready,” Grissom deadpanned.

Sara’s mood lightened at Greg’s animation. She grinned at him, cocking her head proudly. “My little CSI is growing up.”

“Not so little,” he corrected, waggling his eyebrows salaciously.

Sara’s grin slid into a gutter-dwelling smirk. “Sorry, Greggo, but I have seen you.”

“And I’ll remind you that the water in that Hazmat shower was very cold,” he claimed dramatically, pointing his finger at her.

“No,” she said with an amused head shake, “it wasn’t that cold.”

Greg backed up, holding his hands to his chest in mock-pain. “Cruel, Sara. You’re a cruel, cruel woman.”

“Nope, just honest!”

Grissom swung his head between his two employees, puzzlement written on his features. He’d long since learned the truth about why the two of them had showered together, so the teasing about that didn’t surprise him. But a twinge of jealousy still reared in his heart. Not that he felt threatened romantically; Greg and Sara were too different for him to believe they’d ever become involved. His envy came from the fact that they could so easily joke together.

Even before he pulled Sara off of the missing girl’s case, things had been unsettled between them. He wasn’t able to take the risks necessary to have a relationship with her, and in keeping his distance, he had hurt her. Learning about her childhood forced Grissom to take a hard look at his behavior. At the time, he didn’t understand the full impact of his actions, but he couldn’t ignore the resulting damage now.

And he didn’t know how to repair it. Nothing had changed; a relationship with her could still destroy his career. For too many years, his job was all that he’d had, and Grissom had focused all his energy into it. His self-worth was measured in terms of his professional reputation, and he was reluctant to throw it all away.

In a dark recess of his mind, Grissom grudgingly acknowledged the fear that also factored into his decisions. If he ever let her in, he’d never want to let her go. And if she left on her own, he didn’t know how he’d recover. Considering his lack of personal skills, he had serious doubts about his ability to hold onto her. It was too risky, on too many levels.

Especially now that it seemed like she had finally given up on him. Turning back to Sara, Grissom’s concerns were strengthened when her previous grin morphed into a forced smile. Clearly, her anger at being taken off the non-case remained.

“What do you have for me?” she asked politely.

“Nothing. It’s a very slow night,” Grissom said, giving a half-apologetic shrug when she raised an eyebrow heatedly at him. “Consider it the calm before the storm.”

“Right.”

“I’m stuck in here, too.”

His tone must have carried some meaning, because she gave him a semi-contrite smile. Grissom’s eyebrow rose as he tried to gauge her reaction.

“You and I are on standby if anything else comes in, but we need to get through as much as this backlog as possible. Day and swing shifts have cases piling up waiting on their results. Three of the lab techs from those two shifts just quit,” he explained.

“Yeah,” Sara said, swinging around and starting back to work. “A private lab opened outside of Henderson.”

“We have the best lab in the country. Why would anyone want to leave?” he asked, his confusion evident.

“The new lab doesn’t handle court evidence. Less pressure, less overtime, and they have better benefits,” she answered.

Grissom’s brow furrowed deeply. “And you know all of this how?”

Sara rolled her eyes as she picked up another vial. “People have been talking about it around here for weeks – who was applying, who was considering it. You need to hang out more in the break room. You might learn something.”

“You haven’t applied?”

“No. Don’t worry. I don’t have a life.”

Rubbing his beard, Grissom silently digested her comments. She’d spoken lightly, with no hint of reproach, but her words nagged him. He wanted her to have a life outside of work, but he couldn’t provide it. And he didn’t want her to have it with anyone else.

Sara could be the storm that destroyed him, or the shelter that saved him, but discovering which one meant Grissom had to enter an emotional maelstrom that he lacked the ability to navigate. Instead, he skirted the edges, neither able to escape nor move forward, trapped in a growing inner turmoil.

“I’ll be in Layout,” Grissom said after a minute. “I’ll let you know if anything else comes in tonight.”

“Okay.”

Despite his promise, both of them spent the rest of the shift in the lab, making a noticeable dint in the backlog of work. Just as he was packing his briefcase to head home, Ecklie entered his office.

“Conrad, I didn’t think you woke up this early.”

The lab’s assistant director ignored the barb, and closed the door behind him. Grissom’s head went up, and he regarded the other man questioningly.

“You’re under review,” Ecklie said without preamble. “Michael and Elisa Kenyon have filed a formal complaint against the department, alleging their foster daughter’s case was handled improperly.”

Grissom scrunched his face in confusion. His involvement in the case had been minimal at best. He’d only met the woman the previous afternoon, and complaints took time to work through the system. “What did I do?”

“Mrs. Kenyon alleges you were unprofessional.”

“She should talk,” Grissom groused, letting out a disgusted sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he counted to ten. “Their foster daughter left them. They are worried. I can understand that. Let them file whatever they want. The police report ruled out foul play in her disappearance.”

“Yes, well, Detective Vartan is under review as well.”

Grissom shoved the last of his files into his briefcase. “Isn’t this a bit extreme for a pair of upset parents?”

“Considering we’re getting pressure on this, I’d say you managed to piss off a pair of irate parents with some strong political connections. I want a full report of what you did on my desk before I go home tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Grissom stated, rounding the corner of his desk angrily. That explained why the complaint was being processed so quickly, but it didn’t help his mood. Little got under his skin as much as political interference into his work.

“Then it should be a very short report,” Ecklie replied. “Get Catherine to help you.”

“Why would I need to do that?”

“Because they have connections. If you did nothing wrong, then our review will show that. From what I’ve seen of the police report, it looks like Vartan made the right call on this case, but he had to be a prick with the family. He’ll probably be sent to sensitivity training. Again,” Ecklie sighed. “Look. We both know you shoot yourself in the foot every time a case has anything remotely political involved. I’ll leave a message with Catherine to expect to hear from you.”

Grissom left his office without responding, barreling around the corner. A migraine threatened, and he wanted to be home before it started. It was impossible to completely escape the political side of their job, but he did his best to avoid it. He had done nothing worthy of a review. It was insulting that he had to go through the motions.

Seeing Sara exiting a room in front of him, he bitterly noted that this was the job he wanted instead of her. When the new sheriff followed her out of the room, Grissom stopped short. She saw him, and quickly dropped her head, refusing to meet his stare. He could tell she was uncomfortable, and that stroked his own growing unease.

“Thank you, Sara, for your cooperation. Internal investigations are never easy, but I appreciate your candor. We’ll let you know if we have any more questions for you,” the sheriff told her.

She looked up, and their gazes locked. Grissom was unable to read her expression. She broke contact when Ecklie called out her name to join him. Sara paused long enough to look back over her shoulder, this time the sadness was clear in her eyes.

Grissom stood silently as she walked away, and then he resumed his trek to his car, his steps slowed by pain. Any hopes of getting home before his migraine exploded were gone.

Chapter 3