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 readyIf 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.