| Title: Burning Author: Jess [email protected] Rating: G AN: A fic that's about Sara and how she perceives her job. Confusing, sure, whatever. Feedback is really sweet. Disclaimer: CSI doesn't belong to me. No money made. She drags her finger lightly across the wet rim of her glass. It makes a blunt squeaky sound. She sleepily blinks and tries not to yawn. It's impolite to do that, especially when you're on a date. "So, what's it like, working as a CSI, Sara?" She had met Peter when she walked into a Starbucks to get a coffee for her and Nick on a trip to the morgue. She had been exhausted and Nick had said he'd treat, as long as she lined up to pay while he parked the Tahoe. Peter was behind her in line and had stared at her as she bought two coffees and then asked her for a phone number if "her boyfriend didn't mind". Nick had strode in at that very moment. She found it had been amusing to see Peter's face grow red when Nick had walked up to Sara and taken the coffee for himself. Busted. Peter had a way of blushing. He looked like a tomato. Peter recovered and apologized to Nick for, "hitting on his girlfriend". Nick had raised his eyebrows and denied the fact. She decided to give him the number to her pager. Maybe he would turn red if she brushed her fingers against his. He did blush; the tints of red just washing across his face from the base of his neck. She and Nick had snickered about it all the way to the morgue and back. "My job's boring, tell me about your job," she said, answering his question. Peter grinned, "No, I'm just an actuary, that's not fun." He was a math nerd. A good-looking math nerd, but a math nerd nevertheless. She liked math, after all, she did have a BA for physics at Harvard. "Mmmm, an actuary? You must have some interesting stories to tell about insurance policies." Yawn. She really didn't want to be here. Peter didn't know how to choose first-date restaurants. This one was an overly gaudy, quiet place that was too personal. The food was wonderful, but it was too personal. She felt trapped. She had only accepted the date because he had called the pager and she had thought it was Grissom so she had returned the call. She hadn't even remembered who he was. Nick was beside her when she had uttered the word, "date". He had taken the phone from her hands and told Peter that she would accept the date. Before she could scream at Nick, he had looked at her and told her that she needed to go out more. She couldn't scream at him because he was looking at her in "that way". But it didn't mean she couldn't be mad at him for putting her in this position. In this really dull conversation with a man who didn't really know how to carry a conversation, despite the fact that he was educated. She'd rather talk to Greg about bodybuilding then talk to Peter about the meaning of life. That's how shallow Peter was. Actuaries shouldn't be this incapable of carrying deep conversations. "Nah, that would be divulging some deep, company secrets that could get me hunted down by the Feds." "I hate the Feds," she says. She really does, only, she mostly does because Grissom does. "Really?" Peter asks, his blue eyes widening just a tad bit. "Ummm." That's her way of saying, 'yes'. "How come?" He asks. "They pull rank, they always pull rank." She says this with a tinge of bitterness in her voice. Peter tactfully changes the subject, but not really. "Is it hard? Working with dead people." It's hardest working with the ones that are still breathing. She's never been good with people. She's been good with books, but never with people. She's witty and she has charm, but she doesn't like people. Sometimes, she watches Nick and wonders how he can do it. That's why she said yes to Grissom's proposal. Dealing with the dead is easier then dealing with normal human beings. She didn't really miss human contact. Much. "It's hard. Sure, it is." But it's only hard when she realizes what they went through before they died. Sometimes they were better off dead. Most times she's happy when she sees the offenders shipped off to jail. It's like a drug. "When's it hardest?" he asks her. "It's always hard. It's hardest around battered women," she says simply. She can never control herself with cases that revolve around battered women. She can't. "It's awful how men treat women sometimes." "Yeah." She looks at him across the table, he looks like he's trying to think of something to talk about. "Tell me about the people you work with." This is something she can talk about. Maybe. "Our Supervisor is Gil Grissom. He's an entomologist." He also was brilliant beyond brilliant and had blue eyes that made her shiver. She remembers dragging her fingers against his rough skin, watching his blue eyes flicker just a bit. "Really, bugs, what a...fascinating subject," Peter says, trying to keep the conversation going. "Uh-huh," she says, "Catherine is the second in command. She's divorced and has a daughter. She's a good CSI." She's also is the type of women she's always wanted to be; cool, and confident. Brash, when needed. She sees the way men look at Catherine. She sees the way their eyes travel down her long legs and electric blue eyes. She was never was a magnet. "That's always important," Peter says with a laugh. He's trying to be funny, she doesn't think he's succeeding. "Of course," she says with a tight-lipped smile. "Nick is like a little boy. He's a people person." She has never understood how Nick could embrace people. How he could stand them. Sometimes, he looks at her in concern, and she figured that he'll be a good husband and father someday. "You need those on a team. Always," Peter comments. He's trying to act like he knows what he's talking about. "Greg is our lab boy." He also has a crush on her. She pretends not to notice. Relationships are better outside of work. "Mmmm," Peter just says. You haven't give him enough. "Warrick works on the team too. He's a strong individual." She knows that he's working to overcome the addiction. "I admire those kinds of people," Peter says. "I do too," she says. There's a moment of awkward silence. She's not contributing too much to the conversation, it's his job to do that. "Why are you a CSI?" He's acting like a psychologist. She hates psychologists. She doesn't know why she's a CSI. "I like science." She also likes goldfish crackers and Snapple, but she doesn't say that. "But besides that, why are you a CSI?" He persists. Peter has a weird way of saying 'why'. His inner lip stretches just a big and the blood doesn't reach the middle of his lip. There's a big white glob that stains his bright red lips. "I don't know why I'm a CSI." She really doesn't. She's asked the question to herself almost everyday. Why does she sleep during the day to get up to a life filled with so much darkness and pain? Why does she live to see the blood and the gore? Why does she live to watch the mutilated bodies? She doesn't really know. "You must know." "To bring justice," she says. That answer sounds good enough. It always sounds good enough. She thinks that justice is Nick's reason. But she knows it's not her reason. "That's the reason a lot of you guys give," Peter says with a lopsided smile. Justice. It's not like her work really gives any justice. Justice was false. There was no such thing as justice really. Justice was just a word that lawyers through around to punch up their closing statements. "I guess." She doesn't guess, she knows. She knows that once you're not a rookie anymore, you know that it's hard for justice to prevail. She's a CSI because she needs to be. She needs to learn. She needs to discover. It's a passion that burns inside her. She doesn't know where it comes from. She just knows the fire burns. The passion burns from within. "It's difficult to be a CSI," Peter comments, out of the blue. Yes it is. And sometimes she thinks she can't do it anymore. But the passion keeps burning. END |