for canyon_lady as part of jennyo's women gen challenge
some cold woman in this desert land
missi
sara sidle
csi:
notes: for lj user equals canyon_lady as part of lj user equals jennyo's women gen challenge. prompt: sara sidle + music. the first movie i ever saw in the theatre, according to my parents, was pink floyd: the wall (parker, 1982). blame them for this, and thanks to you, floyd. title, description, and headers courtesy the wall (pink floyd, 1979).
on the thin ice of modern life,
dragging behind you the silent reproach of a million tear-stained eyes.
On her first shift at her first job, Sara Sidle remembers the first time she saw Pink Floyd: The Wall. She had been twelve at the time, and she and her (possibly too much) older boyfriend had snuck into the theatre through a side door. Even when Dan had made faces and turned his head away, she'd remained fascinated, engrossed in the rock opera about Pink and his lonely alienation and his metaphorical wall. While her father had done a great many things wrong by her, Sara's music tastes hadn't suffered at his hands; he'd taught her to love the progression of Motown to the Beatles to the Who, and Pink Floyd had emerged the victor in her heart. The Wall had been somewhat life determining, and she takes it now wherever she goes, relates it to the moments she can't change and thusly change her.
She doesn't make friends easily at her first assignment or at her second; her co-workers think she gets too involved in her cases, and the one time they invited her out for a drink after shift, they found that she favors Miller Lite and silence to conversation, and her eyes seemed faraway yet sharply observant the whole time. They don't invite her out again. That one evening, Sara goes home and thinks about the victim and listens to "The Thin Ice" on repeat.
It's the first case she can't solve, where the evidence just doesn't add up.
waiting to clean up the city, waiting to follow the worms, waiting to put on a black shirt.
The Vegas placement comes as a happy surprise three months after she requests the transfer. Sara never expected to be hired on in Vegas; she's experienced but minimally when compared to their current staff. She'd applied anyway, everyone knows that the Vegas lab is even better than Langley in Virginia, and one of their lead CSIs keeps being written up in journals and reports across the country and world. She wants to work with Gil Grissom, she wants to work in Las Vegas. Sara wants to work among the best.
She turns on "Waiting for the Worms" in her car and heads in for the first day at the Vegas lab. Upon her arrival, she finds she's been hired to replace a grass-green rookie killed on the job. For the first week or so, she feels as though her presence is unwanted, even resented. But despite that, the being pushed away (which feels forced and contrived), Vegas is the first place, the first CSI team where she feels like she might belong.
They're like her, here. They're like her and Pink. They've all got their own walls of psychological isolation, from the lack of human interaction to various addictions.
hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all.
together we stand, divided we fall.
During the search for the Strip Strangler, Sara puts herself in danger to find him, and the tactic fails miserably. She doesn't have to wonder why she did it; it's defiance, she's defying Grissom and herself and the way she feels and the way he doesn't. The Feds grab the wrong guy, and everyone knows it, and then they do it again, and no one wants to think so.
Grissom's got no politic as far as, well, anything goes, and it was bound to happen, so it does. He defies the upper echelon of the LVPD and tells the truth (because that is the only thing he cares about) about the catching of a serial killer or, more correctly, the lack thereof, and finds himself suspended. Despite Catherine's want of a supervisory position and Greg's continuous desire to become CSI, as well as all three in-betweens' need to move up in the rank, the entire team bands around him to solve the case and save his ass.
In the lab, Sara turns on "Hey You" and loses herself in the evidence. She won't let them both fail, she can't.
all alone, or in twos, the ones who really love you walk up and down outside the wall.
So Sara's EMT boyfriend cheats on her, and that's not even it -- he's not even cheating on her. He's cheating on his actual girlfriend with her. When she sees his picture in the girl's apartment, her stomach clenches, and it feels like a punch to the gut. And she'd know.
It hurts, and she's not sure exactly why. She likes Hank, genuinely does, but she knows he's not the one for her, and they're not ones for a future. And she should be used to it, being hurt, being let down, but she doesn't think she'll ever get used to that. Besides, it's in the lack of that sort of interest in Grissom's eyes every shift she's on.
It's just that she's always alone, always been alone. Her fault for preferring other people who prefer to be alone, she guesses. In the car, after, Catherine asks her out for a beer. Sara fiddles with the dial and finds "Outside the Wall" to carry them out of the lot.
what shall we use to fill the empty spaces where we used to talk?
how should i complete the wall?
Sara doesn't talk about her past or her family, not to anyone in Vegas and not to the friends outside of work that she doesn't have, but bits and pieces make their way to the surface over time. Her too-strong connection to victims who have been sexually assaulted reads like personal experience, and when she falls for her supervisor, she's got 'Daddy issues' written all over her face. Her association with Grissom has always been ... different, different from any friendship or working relationship she has with anyone else in Vegas, or anywhere.
She goes home the day she confronts him with it, it being the thing coming to a boil for ages now and everyone had been waiting, and listens to "Empty Spaces" and looks at the bottle of Jack (Mother's favorite nip) that solely constitutes her wet bar. Grissom's expression of consumed confusion floats where her face would be in the bathroom mirror as she washes her hands compulsively, and she pours the glass in time with the guitar before she sits down.
She thinks about the fine red powder used sparingly for the hardest-to-find prints and the coarse black ink used for the hands when presented, and how very different they are.
missi
sara sidle
csi:
notes: for lj user equals canyon_lady as part of lj user equals jennyo's women gen challenge. prompt: sara sidle + music. the first movie i ever saw in the theatre, according to my parents, was pink floyd: the wall (parker, 1982). blame them for this, and thanks to you, floyd. title, description, and headers courtesy the wall (pink floyd, 1979).
on the thin ice of modern life,
dragging behind you the silent reproach of a million tear-stained eyes.
On her first shift at her first job, Sara Sidle remembers the first time she saw Pink Floyd: The Wall. She had been twelve at the time, and she and her (possibly too much) older boyfriend had snuck into the theatre through a side door. Even when Dan had made faces and turned his head away, she'd remained fascinated, engrossed in the rock opera about Pink and his lonely alienation and his metaphorical wall. While her father had done a great many things wrong by her, Sara's music tastes hadn't suffered at his hands; he'd taught her to love the progression of Motown to the Beatles to the Who, and Pink Floyd had emerged the victor in her heart. The Wall had been somewhat life determining, and she takes it now wherever she goes, relates it to the moments she can't change and thusly change her.
She doesn't make friends easily at her first assignment or at her second; her co-workers think she gets too involved in her cases, and the one time they invited her out for a drink after shift, they found that she favors Miller Lite and silence to conversation, and her eyes seemed faraway yet sharply observant the whole time. They don't invite her out again. That one evening, Sara goes home and thinks about the victim and listens to "The Thin Ice" on repeat.
It's the first case she can't solve, where the evidence just doesn't add up.
waiting to clean up the city, waiting to follow the worms, waiting to put on a black shirt.
The Vegas placement comes as a happy surprise three months after she requests the transfer. Sara never expected to be hired on in Vegas; she's experienced but minimally when compared to their current staff. She'd applied anyway, everyone knows that the Vegas lab is even better than Langley in Virginia, and one of their lead CSIs keeps being written up in journals and reports across the country and world. She wants to work with Gil Grissom, she wants to work in Las Vegas. Sara wants to work among the best.
She turns on "Waiting for the Worms" in her car and heads in for the first day at the Vegas lab. Upon her arrival, she finds she's been hired to replace a grass-green rookie killed on the job. For the first week or so, she feels as though her presence is unwanted, even resented. But despite that, the being pushed away (which feels forced and contrived), Vegas is the first place, the first CSI team where she feels like she might belong.
They're like her, here. They're like her and Pink. They've all got their own walls of psychological isolation, from the lack of human interaction to various addictions.
hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all.
together we stand, divided we fall.
During the search for the Strip Strangler, Sara puts herself in danger to find him, and the tactic fails miserably. She doesn't have to wonder why she did it; it's defiance, she's defying Grissom and herself and the way she feels and the way he doesn't. The Feds grab the wrong guy, and everyone knows it, and then they do it again, and no one wants to think so.
Grissom's got no politic as far as, well, anything goes, and it was bound to happen, so it does. He defies the upper echelon of the LVPD and tells the truth (because that is the only thing he cares about) about the catching of a serial killer or, more correctly, the lack thereof, and finds himself suspended. Despite Catherine's want of a supervisory position and Greg's continuous desire to become CSI, as well as all three in-betweens' need to move up in the rank, the entire team bands around him to solve the case and save his ass.
In the lab, Sara turns on "Hey You" and loses herself in the evidence. She won't let them both fail, she can't.
all alone, or in twos, the ones who really love you walk up and down outside the wall.
So Sara's EMT boyfriend cheats on her, and that's not even it -- he's not even cheating on her. He's cheating on his actual girlfriend with her. When she sees his picture in the girl's apartment, her stomach clenches, and it feels like a punch to the gut. And she'd know.
It hurts, and she's not sure exactly why. She likes Hank, genuinely does, but she knows he's not the one for her, and they're not ones for a future. And she should be used to it, being hurt, being let down, but she doesn't think she'll ever get used to that. Besides, it's in the lack of that sort of interest in Grissom's eyes every shift she's on.
It's just that she's always alone, always been alone. Her fault for preferring other people who prefer to be alone, she guesses. In the car, after, Catherine asks her out for a beer. Sara fiddles with the dial and finds "Outside the Wall" to carry them out of the lot.
what shall we use to fill the empty spaces where we used to talk?
how should i complete the wall?
Sara doesn't talk about her past or her family, not to anyone in Vegas and not to the friends outside of work that she doesn't have, but bits and pieces make their way to the surface over time. Her too-strong connection to victims who have been sexually assaulted reads like personal experience, and when she falls for her supervisor, she's got 'Daddy issues' written all over her face. Her association with Grissom has always been ... different, different from any friendship or working relationship she has with anyone else in Vegas, or anywhere.
She goes home the day she confronts him with it, it being the thing coming to a boil for ages now and everyone had been waiting, and listens to "Empty Spaces" and looks at the bottle of Jack (Mother's favorite nip) that solely constitutes her wet bar. Grissom's expression of consumed confusion floats where her face would be in the bathroom mirror as she washes her hands compulsively, and she pours the glass in time with the guitar before she sits down.
She thinks about the fine red powder used sparingly for the hardest-to-find prints and the coarse black ink used for the hands when presented, and how very different they are.