TITLE:    Chronicles 1 - Changing Places
          AUTHOR:   Melissa Rivers
EMAIL:    missy@lexicon.net
          WEBSITE:  http://www.geocities.com/missyliannem
CATEGORY: Tag to Pilot/Cool Change episodes
RATING:   PG13
          SUMMARY:  Just some journal writings of one particular
          CSI.
STATUS:   Complete (Wow, that's a rarity for me.)
ARCHIVING: CSI Fanfic Archive; CSI Grissom/Sara
Archive. Otherwise, not without permission.
DISCLAIMER:
CSI:Crime Scene Investigation and its characters are the
property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis & CBS
Production Company.  I have written this story for
entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever
has exchanged hands.  No copyright infringement is
intended.  
AUTHOR NOTES:
This may be a series that I will write over time.  I would
like to do one for each eppy but with time constraints, I
know that probably will never happen.  However, I will
endeavour to complete quite a few.
I also must thank Scribe for allowing me to copy the
format of this story from her Daniel's Diaries series for
Stargate SG1... go have a look and you'll be entertained
for weeks.  The URL is http://www.btinternet.com/~clark/
Finally, the members of the GrissomandSara list for
educating me in American pop. culture references. :)
FEEDBACK: On or off-list is fine, but please let me know
what you think.   Constructive criticism and even flames
accepted, because I believe every persons views must
have a valid point at some stage... if not, I have my trusty
flame destroyer at the ready  If there are any
glaring errors, please let me know as I'd like to correct
any before it is put on my website.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF SARA SIDLE

The telephone call came unexpectedly, his soft-spoken
voice a welcome retreat in the kaleidoscopic  events that
were currently my life.  His request to come down and
handle an internal investigation had been a godsend,
although a surprising one.  

Even investigating a possible internal infidelity by an
officer in Grissom's employ was more inviting that the
glacial relations currently experienced by the crime
investigation unit from the police.  Forget the fact that we
are both fighting on the same side, when it came down to
it, CSI only had evidence to rely on and the evidence in
this case spoke loud and clear.  However, the police had
a silent code of ethics that stuck through thick and thin,
despite all logic and reason to the contrary.   

This visit to Vegas would only be a temporary reprieve. 
I'd have to come back eventually, but the small, Grissom-
induced holiday would be a momentary retreat, one where
I could regroup and come back to this job rejuvenated. 
I'd also have a chance to work with someone I found an
easy rapport with, someone I admired and
respected...someone that I...  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CSI BUILDING
7.03 A.M.

Sara sighed as she typed the last words of her report.  Hitting
save on the keyboard, she leaned back in the ergonomic
chair, her back protesting at the sudden movement after hours
before the computer.  She rubbed at her neck, easing the
muscles that were contracting tightly.  

The heat pervading the Vegas streets had settled over her like
a heavy, damp blanket, her naturally curly hair tightly springing
in response to the humid air.  San Francisco had been going
through a cold snap when she left, despite it being Summer,
and she was finding the heat oppressive.  It wasn't helped by
the nature of her inquiry.  Her interactions with Grissom's staff
had been limited to those involved in her investigation; those
whom she had met and interviewed were naturally defensive. 
 Sara had been glad for the background work she'd done on
Warrick Brown before interviewing him.  It had cut the chase
and given her insight into the truth.  

Her stomach protested loudly.  The last few days she had
survived on the bare minimum sleep and food.  Coffee laden
with sugar had occasionally served as a meal and now that
she had completed her report, Sara was reminded of the
breakfast appointment with her temporary supervisor.  

Sara hesitated a moment before sending the report to the
printer.  The result was not what Grissom had been hoping
for.   In his initial call inviting her to Vegas, she had noted the
special relationship he had with Warrick.   A pang of jealousy
hit her; there had been a time when she had heard that special
tone in his voice for her.  It had been a long time ago.

Having worked with him in the past, she knew that he looked
for the best in his staff and expected them to perform to their
optimum.  She had found the truth behind the circumstances
leading to Holly Gribbs' death, circumstances which might
have prevented the loss of her life.  Warrick Brown had not
followed policy and procedures for clearing the scene.  Even
if he had, it may not have changed what had happened.  The
problem was that Sheriff Mobley was looking for scapegoats. 
Apparently, he'd already caught Detective Brass in his web,
resulting in Grissom's sudden promotion - a position he had
readily admitted to not wanting. 

Sara found it hard to feel sorry for Warrick, though.  If he had
cleared the scene to go for coffee as he had indicated initially,
she would have understood.  But to clear out of a case,
without following procedure, leaving behind a rookie to lay a
bet, that was wrong.

Resting her elbows on the bench top, she waited for the
printer to complete its job. Sara massaged the pressure points
on both sides of her temple, closing her eyes as she
concentrated on easing the gentle throbbing that was often a
prelude to a full-blown headache.   

"Sara?"  Grissom's voice broke through her thoughts.

Sara slowly opened her eyes to look up at him, leaning against
the door jam.  She dropped her hands to allow them to cross
casually on the bench top in front of her.

"Hey, Grissom."

"Are you okay?" His eyebrows raised slightly, placing a
personal, silent accent on the question.

"I've finished the report," Sara answered, changing the
subject.  She hated anyone being concerned about her well-
being, her independent streak automatically coming to the
fore.

"We'll discuss it at breakfast.  Not here.  Ready to go?"

"Yeah.  Last page is printing now."  Sara stapled together the
sheets of her report.  Normally, she would have re-read the
report after it was printed, but Grissom's arrival had put that
standard practice out the window.   She logged out of the
computer.  Her access on the system had been limited due to
her temporary guest status.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

S&J's COFFEE SHOP

Grissom and Sara sat down at the formica table set into a
corner of the busy coffee shop. The marbled table top was
still damp from its recent clean and a faint smell of pine filled
the air.   Noting the damp surface, Sara placed her report on
the seat beside her.

"We'll eat first."  Grissom indicated to the waitress that they
were ready to order.  She greeted him warmly and Sara
realised that Grissom must frequent the coffee shop fairly
regularly.  He raised his hand slightly in her direction, signalling
for Sara to place her order.

"Scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, rye toast and guava juice."

"Same for me with OJ in lieu of guava juice."

The waitress quickly jotted down the orders before leaving
them.

"Glad to see that you still have a good appetite." Grissom
commented lightly, a smile teasing at his lips.

Sara looked up at him, surprised by the comment at first and
noticing his smile, gave him a broad grin. "Contrary to the
rumour, I always eat well when I get the chance... sometimes
you don't know when you'll next get the opportunity to eat."

"How're you doing, Sara?  The San Francisco investigation
must be tough."

Sara shrugged.  "Five cops beating down on a single black
guy.  No evidence of a weapon.  Massive internal injuries
leading to his death.  As you can imagine, it's been in the
media; anti-discrimination campaigns and citizens against
police brutality.  You name it, we've had it.  It hasn't helped
that the evidence is going in one direction.  I was grateful for
your request."

"I'm sorry that it had to be another internal investigation."

"Don't be.  At least I don't know your people.  It makes it
very easy to be impartial," Sara responded, her voice
changing tone, becoming soft and troubled.  "In San Fran, I
couldn't believe that these people I had worked with had the
capacity to beat down on a single person like that; they lost
control and became animals.  Grissom, they were people the
public trusted... people I trusted."  

Grissom saw the haunted, lost look in Sara's eyes as she
looked down at her tightly clasped hands, the right thumb
rubbing her left before alternating.  It was a Sara so different
to three days earlier when she had quipped a pop culture
reference at his experiment, falling easily back into the
comfortable rapport with each other.  "You can trust me." 

Her head came up slowly and her eyes met his steady gaze. 
A glimmer of a smile touched her lips.  Before anything more
could be said, their breakfast was served.

They ate in silence and were only halfway through their meal
when Grissom's cell phone rang.  Placing his cutlery down, he
wiped his mouth before answering the phone.  "Grissom."

Sara watched his eyes as he listened attentively to the caller. 
Leaning across the table, Grissom pulled her napkin from
beside her plate and quickly jotted down an address before
finishing the call.

"I've gotta go.  A case.  I'll read your report later."

"Grissom?  Can I come with you?"  It was the last
opportunity she had of working with the man she'd admired
for so long.  

Grissom was surprised by the request.  Sara hadn't even
asked what type of case he was working, just asked for the
opportunity to work.  Most people would have taken the
opportunity to have a break from work, particularly since they
had been working all night.  But Sara wasn't most people.

Sara could see the question in his eyes, before he nodded.
They left the coffee shop, Grissom leaving a generous tip for
the waitress.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CRIME SCENE
7.34 A.M.

"We've got a possible suicide, but the evidence is pointing
otherwise.   Vic is John Stevens, 42.  Lives alone.  Neighbour
recalls hearing a sound last night about 9.30 p.m., but thought
it was just a car backfiring," Brass informed Grissom as he
climbed out of the SUV, carrying his silver investigation kit.  


"What alerted them to his death?" Sara asked.

Brass looked at Sara inquisitively.  He had seen her around
the CSI building over the last few days, but had never been
introduced.   His backward career movement to Homicide
had alienated him from the CSI  Curiosity now had him staring
intently at the dark-haired woman, before casting a silent
question at Grissom.

"Oh, sorry.  I assumed that you two must have met.  Jim, this
is Sara Sidle.  Sara, Detective Jim Brass, Homicide." 
Grissom made the introductions quickly, before explaining
further,  "Sara works for the San Francisco crime unit and
came down to give us some assistance while we are short-
staffed."

Sara frowned slightly at the description, initially surprised by
his lack of full disclosure as to the real reason for her stay.  It
didn't take long for her to realise that Grissom would not be
wanting to air out the dirty laundry, despite Brass' previous
involvement with Holly Gribbs.  

Grissom had given her all the relevant background information
for her investigation, resulting in the fact that she did not need
to interview Brass.  His part in the matter had been simple; he
had given Holly the job of fingerprinting a murder scene and
told Warrick to babysit her through the task.  

"The dog barking."

"What time was that?" Grissom looked at the surrounding
street, noting that it was a typical urban residential area. 
Houses were fairly similar, with their neatly trimmed gardens. 
 Mr. Stevens' garden was not attractive with very little
vegetation and quite a lot of car spare parts littering what
constituted as the front lawn together with a broken down old
car with grass growing high around its tyres.

"Six thirty this morning."

"How long's the vic been dead?"  The trio moved around
through to the backyard where the victim was located on the
back porch.

"A while.  Judge it for yourselves."

Grissom gave Brass a hard look.  

"Coroner estimates time of death at between eight and eleven
last night."

As they entered the backyard, a German Shepherd began
barking loudly at their intrusion.  It was held back safely from
the crime scene by a chain connected to a metal post down
the opposite end of the yard.  "The dog didn't bark at the time
the neighbour heard the gunshot cum backfire?"

"Nope.  Although, it is a friendly dog, despite it's attempts to
appear otherwise," Brass informed them.

"It's bark is worse that it's bite."

"You had to say it, didn't you?" Sara commented,
remembering how many of his cryptic words and quotations
had kept her awake at night, trying to decipher the meaning. 
It meant that she had devoured a wide range of literature in
the time she worked with him in an effort to understand him. 

"Well, someone has to keep sight of the facts," Grissom said
lightly.  "Sara, let's process the scene."

Brass watched the two of them as they worked easily side by
side.  Their hands touching every now and again as they
anticipated each other's actions.  It was like watching a
choreographed dance, their movements fluid, never once did
they break their concentration nor hamper the other's work. 
 Brass was surprised at the intimacy between the two without
them actually doing anything to enhance the impression.  He
felt like an intruder on a date, a conversation was taking place
between the two CSIs without any words being said.

"Okay, that's it.  We're finished here."  Grissom looked at
Brass watching them inquisitively, his face pensive.  "Brass,
we're done."

"Yep.  Right.  Let me know what you find.  We'll be
interviewing family and friends."  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CSI BUILDING
MORGUE

"What've you got for us?" Grissom asked the middle-aged,
bearded man standing over the body of John Stevens.  "Sara
Sidle, meet Dr. Al Robbins.  Al, Sara Side, a CSI on loan to
us from San Francisco.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Robbins greeted.  "Single gunshot
wound.  Entry wound through the roof of the mouth and exit
wound through the top of his scalp.I gather the crime scene
was a mess."

"You could say that," Sara responded, remembering the grisly
find behind the chair the victim had been sitting in.

"The entry wound is consistent with the rifle found at the
scene and the mode is consistent with a suicide attempt."  

Grissom looked closely at the victim's head wound and
peering over the tops of his glasses asked,"his death was
instantaneous?"

"No doubt about it."

"Then the only problem to be solved is how did a dead man's
gun move ten feet from the victim," Grissom pointed out,
straightening back to his full height.

"Not suicide?" Dr. Robbins asked.

"Recoil after he shot himself would not move the rifle that
distance.  We just have to find out what."

"The boys bagged the hands at the scene and your vic's
clothing is in the bag over there."

"Thanks.  Let's test for GSR on the hands and check under
his nails.  There might be something we're missing.  Al, look
for zebras.  Something's not right."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

4.27 P.M.

Grissom found Sara in the break room, pouring herself a cup
of coffee into a polystyrene cup.  "Here, use one of my mugs. 
The coffee tastes terrible in those containers."  He opened
one of the doors to the cabinets and pulled out two mugs.  

Sara jumped and turned to face him.  She hadn't heard him
enter the room, his loafers  making no sound on the linoleum
floor.

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you," Grissom apologised,
pouring coffee into two mug. He added sugar and milk before
handing one to her.

"It's okay.  I was thinking."  Sara responded, leaning back
against the cabinets and rubbing at her neck.  
"About?"

"The case." Sara looked across at him and found him looking
at her, encouraging her to continue.  "We found gunshot
residue on the victim's hands and clothes." 

"Which could have come at the time he was shot."

"Bear with me.  His fingerprints are on the rifle.  There are no
other prints."

"They could have been wiped off," Grissom pointed out.

"Yes, but wouldn't they have also wiped off the victims'
prints."

"Granted.  So..."

"Brass' interviews have all supported the fact that the victim
was depressed, had threatened suicide.  He lost his family last
year in a car accident.  He lost his job only a week ago.  The
only thing that doesn't add up is the rifle.  Grissom, I think we
missed something at the scene."

"Let's go."

"You already knew that, didn't you?"

"It was adding up that way."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CRIME SCENE

It was nearly 5.00 p.m. when they arrived at the crime scene. 
The crime scene tape was still fixed firmly in place, marking
the site of another investigation yet to be finalised.  Slipping
under the tape, Grissom and Sara made their way through to
the backyard, each carrying a field kit into the scene.  

Grissom opened the heavy wooden gate and went through
with Sara close on his heels.  A volley of barking assailed
them as they came through.  Grissom had only taken four
steps inside the gate when a heavy ball of long fur assaulted
him, knocking him off his feet to the ground.  Sara instinctively
reached for her gun - a gun that was not there since she was
interstate and working on an internal investigation.

Her fear for Grissom turned to laughter when she realised that
the dog wasn't mauling but merely licking Grissom to death. 
 The sounds of his discomfort were becoming voluble.

"Sara Sidle!  Quit laughing and get this dog off me!"

Seeing the choker collar around the dog's neck, she slipped
her hand around the end and gave a gently tug with some
words of encouragement to the dog.  

Grissom slowly got to his feet, watching the two of them
warily.  Sara was standing with the dog sitting at her side, it's
tongue lolling out of it's mouth and panting.  It was almost like
the dog was grinning, having a good laugh at his antics along
with Sara.

One strong look in her direction wiped the large grin from her
face, only to be replaced by a smirk.  He shook his head; she
would never let him live this one down.

"Look at it this way, Grissom.  We now know that Brass was
right; the dog is friendly."

"Very funny, Sara.  Now that you have Fido on a leash, you
can hold him while I check out what evidence hasn't been
destroyed by the dog."

Sara followed Grissom towards the back patio, watching as
he began double-checking their earlier exploration of the
crime scene.  The chair where the victim had been shot had
been moved to the left slightly when the coroner had removed
the body.  A dog's trampoline bed was flush against the edge
of the patio, out of the way.

Her attention was diverted by the dog pawing at her leg.  She
looked down and it had a stick in it's mouth.  Unable to resist
the melting brown eyes, Sara took the stick from the dog and
tossed it away from the crime scene, letting the dog chase it. 
This game continued for several minutes before it caught
Grissom's attention.  

Watching the way the dog managed the stick, Grissom began
searching the backyard for another stick; one a certain size
and weight.  Finding something close to what he was wanting,
he tested the weight in his hand, balancing it.  

"Sara, try this one."

Sara gave him an incredulous look.  "You want me to throw
that for the dog?"

"Just do it.  It's an experiment."

She felt the weight of the stick in her hand, balancing it to
throw when she realised what Grissom had in mind.  Tossing
the stick the dog retrieved it, picking it up several times before
being able to balance it in his mouth.   

The dog brought it back, dropping it willingly back into Sara's
hands.  Grimacing at the thick saliva streaks  staining the stick,
they examined the teeth marks.

"The rifle was pretty old and banged up.  If there were any
marks, you wouldn't have really noticed them."

"We need to go back to the lab.  I'll call Greg and get him to
test for saliva.  Bring that stick with you."  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Heard your murder suspect was a dog.  Nice going,
Grissom," Nick commented, passing Grissom and Sara in the
hall on the way to Grissom's office.

"The dog tampered with the evidence, Nick.  It didn't commit
the crime."

"Whatever."

"See you in the briefing room in fifteen minutes," Grissom
reminded him.

After they entered the office, Grissom closed the door and
invited her to sit down.  

"Thanks for letting me tag along today, Grissom.  It was fun." 
Sara pushed her hair back out of her face.  "You've got my
report - I suppose I'd better book a flight back to San
Francisco."

"I want you to stay," Grissom said the words quickly,
catching her by surprise.

"Excuse me?" Sara looked at him, trying to work out what he
meant.

"I'm short a CSI.  We've had five that didn't make the grade
before Holly.  You're good at your job.  Sara, I want you to
come work for me."

Silence.

"They won't like it," she said, slowly.

"Who?  San Francisco.  No, I don't suppose they'd want to
lose someone like you."

"No, Grissom.  That's not what I meant," Sara shook her
head, amazed and reminding herself that his people skills were
much like hers.  "Your staff.  I did the internal investigation,
remember."

"They don't like a lot of things I do.  Don't worry about them. 
They'll be fine.  They're a good group of people, great at their
jobs," Grissom brushed aside her concern, eager to entice her
to stay with him in Las Vegas.

"You've caught me by surprise..."

"Don't make a decision right now.  Think about it.  You've
been working over twenty-four hours.  Go back to your hotel
and think about it.  But remember, we've got the second best
lab in the country; well on the way to being the best," he said
softly, encouraging her to think seriously about his offer. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My focus has changed in a matter of a few days.  I'd
given up any hope of ever working with Grissom again
after out last investigation together.  But then, Gil
Grissom had always had a way of surprising everyone,
suspects and colleagues alike.  His studious and often,
silent way of dealing with his cases left me in awe.  I
wished to have his control, his ability to look on every
crime scene objectively.  His invitation to stay was
tempting...the situation back in San Francisco made it
even more so.  Was I running away from the problem
back home?  I don't think so.  It wasn't as if Grissom's
team was going to welcome me with open arms.  This was
the chance of a lifetime;  the opportunity to learn from
and be influenced by one of the best in the business that
had me really enarmoured with the prospect.  I only hope
my emotions are up to the ordeal.

     


    Source: geocities.com/missyliannem