Disclaimer: These CSI characters do not belong to me. Wish they were but regrettably no.

Pairing: Grissom/Sara.

Rating: T

Spoilers: 8x01 – Dead Doll

Summary: GSR, Sara-centric. Post Dead Doll. Sara comes to term with her mortality as she wanders the desert.

A/N: In honor of Jorja's superb performance last Thursday. Enjoy and comments are always welcome! Thanks for reading! Peace… :)

A/N#2: Edited to Add -- If you haven't done so, please go to www dot dollarforsense dot com and join the campaign to save Jorja Fox whose character has inspired a lot of wonderful fanfictions out there! If you enjoyed this story (or not, but a Sara fan), please go send your support so my muse will have more materials to write:)

Epiphany

Author: litbuff

The old cliché went something to the effect that your whole life would flash before your eyes when you knew that you were about to die. For Sara Sidle, that old cliché was fast becoming a reality.

Moses wandered the desert for forty years in search of the Promised Land and Sara definitely did not have forty years to spare. In fact, she didn't think she would last neither forty days out here nor the next forty hours for that matter. Come to think of it, if they didn't find her in the next forty minutes...

Don't think about dying... keep going Sidle... stay focus...

Sara climbed drudgingly to the top of a sand dune and stared in hopelessness at the expanse of heated sand, stretching for miles in three hundred and sixty degrees around her. Even though the sun was beating down on her with hundred degree plus heat, the realization that she was in the middle of nowhere and the slim chance of being rescued sent a chilling shiver down her spine. She took in a lung full of hot air and dragged her legs forward.

"Forty, hmm...that's four times ten." Yeah... good old Moses and the desert... Sara licked her chapped lips slowly to ease the dryness. You're good with numbers Sidle... concentrate on them... keep your mind busy...

Sara gulped in another breath of warm air. "Four times one is four."

She was four years old when she first noticed the dynamic of her dysfunctional family. The mood in the house was always solemn, as if a layer of sadness had perpetuated itself into the very pores of the walls and the cells of the people living there. She could smell fear mingled with alcohol, the stench of verbal attack mixed with physical abuse. As much as a four-year-old wanted to be oblivious to this heavy fog of unhappiness, she was undeniably destined to be a part of this tragedy since the day she was born.

"Four times two is eight."

She broke her left arm for the very first time when she was eight. Sara's right hand instinctively reached out to nurse the injured arm. Technically, she didn't break it but the arm acted involuntarily to shield her head from a very angry whiskey bottle. Needless to say, it was also the year her family moved twice; too many unexplained injuries had brought up a lot of unwanted inquiries from school.

"Four times three..." She momentarily stopped in her trek to let her battered body catch up with her mind. "... is twelve."

The year she became the girl whose father was stabbed to death. Yeah... twelve was a good number... she chuckled sarcastically.

She sighed and commanded her feet to move but instead tripped on a protruding rock and fell headlong to the desert floor. Damn it! Where did that thing come from?? Using her uninjured right arm, she pushed herself up and stared intently at the object that had just caused her to taste sand. There was a herd of them, scattered all over the place. She raised an eyebrow and scanned the horizon one more time. She looked down at the rocks and decided to stack one on top of another... then another... Had never built a snowman in her entire life. Grissom would just have to settle for rockman without arms instead. Sara heaved another sigh and forced herself up.

Now, where was she? "Oh yeah, four times four..." She shook her head at the memory. "... sixteen... sweet sixteen..."

While other girls were worrying about homecoming dances and boys, she was worrying where her next home would be. She had become withdrawn and had spent all her free time sequestered at the local public library and aiming her goal for Harvard. Not a typical teenager but then again, she didn't have a normal childhood neither. By then the loneliness and self-reliance had become second nature to her and had preserved her through some of the roughest moments in her life. Yeah, sixteen was anything but sweet.

Time to make another rockman. At that moment she felt like the Dunkin Donut man, trying groggily to stay awake under the scorching noon heat. She could use some coffee just about now... Stay focus Sidle... build rockman and keep moving... She admired her artwork for a few seconds then threaded on.

"Four times three..." She briefly squinted her eyes shut, concentrating on her last recollection. "...no... done twelve already..." She opened her eyes to find the surrounding a lot brighter than when she closed them just seconds before. "...four times four... sixteen... done with sixteen too... four times five... is... twenty... yeah... twenty..."

...the year she lost her virginity to a biology TA at Harvard. She gave herself a lopsided smirk; she had always had a soft spot for biology majors. Unlike those romance novels where it was earth shattering for the heroine when being deflowered...(do people still use this word nowadays??) ...by the hero, hers was nothing near seismic mentionable. But things did get better. What her previous experiences did not prepare her for was Grissom. No... with Grissom it wasn't earth shattering... it was tsunami in nature. With him, it was always giant waves upon waves that drowned them within themselves... sucking them into an impetuous vortex only to be pushed out at the other end, reborn with new profound understanding of one another. God, she missed him... Stop thinking about him... you are not ready to say goodbye...

"Four times five..." Sara's upper teeth bit gently down on her lower lip, her tongue licking it from the inside, making it moist, if only for a second or two... "...already did four times five... four times six... what is four times six?...four times six is...twenty six... no, no... not twenty six... twenty four..."

The year she received her Masters from Berkeley and started her career in forensic science, a rewarding career helping those victims who could not speak for themselves. Sara laughed out loud at the irony of it all... And here she was, wandering aimlessly at high noon in the middle of the Nevada desert, about to become one of those "victims" that she had so fanatically helped. The thought was just too funny and she couldn't stop laughing. Sara temporarily stopped in her track to compose herself. Keep moving Sidle... don't stop... keep moving...

"Four times... what?..." Sara looked down at her feet and saw more rocks. "...time for more rockmen..." Keep going... just keep going... you won't be able to get up once you're on your knees... keep moving... "...four times... six... seven... four times seven... twenty eight..."

She found out for the first time in her life that she was in love. How else could she explain her willingness to drop everything and pack all of her belongings and move to Las Vegas because of one phone call? What she didn't expect was the love was not returned. Yeah, unrequited love sucked but what was that old proverb? Good things come to those who wait? She was young and she had all the time in the world... And yeah, it was worth every frustrating moment... And she was seeing double... of everything in front of her... Focus Sidle... pick up your feet and keep moving!

She heaved a long sigh as she ignored her dry mouth and sun burnt face and double visions. "Four..." She shook her head vigorously, trying to banish the grogginess that was taking over, "...four times... seven... no, not seven... six... ten?..." Sara shook her head again, "... eight... yes... eight... thirty two..."

No... she didn't want to remember thirty two... It was the year Grissom shattered her world into a million painful pieces when he told a murderer that she was not worth the emotional risk. That confession had launched her into one of two darkest periods of her life, the other being her mother stabbed her father to death. Booze could only help dull the pain so much. The work was getting harder to deal with and Grissom was just impossible to face. And counseling was just a joke. She already knew what her weaknesses were going in, it was her heart that she couldn't control. No, thirty two was not a good number at all...

Her eyelids felt like lead. Funny how she was an insomniac before this trip to the desert, now she just couldn't keep her eyes open. "What's next?... nine?... eight?... no... back up... nine... four times nine..." Sara gave a low chuckle, "...thirty six..." She would hope that she would make it to thirty six. No, she had to make it to thirty six. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to him yet... to Grissom... no... to Gilbert... The thought sent a wide grin to her face.

"Call me Gilbert." He had said quietly, without preamble as he pulled her closer to him.

That wasn't something she had expected in a post-coital conversation. After nine years of friendship, false starts, rejections, hope, trust, and eventual intimacy, he had chosen a nondescript moment to request her to call him by his given name. Sara suspected that it had to do with the Lady Heather fiasco and this was his way to prove to her how he felt about her. Not that she was jealous but she had to wonder how many other women had called him Gilbert…

When he saw the unspoken question in her eyes, he had answered softly, "The only other woman in my life that addressed me as such was the person who gave birth to me. You, my dear, gave me life."

Her grin died on her face as she realized that she might not see him again. She was losing focus and now, her entire body felt like it was made out of lead. She needed to keep going if she was to see him again. She was not ready to say goodbye... not like this... Keep moving Sidle...keep moving... back to the numbers...

"Four times ten..." She should be able to get this one. "...four times ten is... forty!" Eureka! Moses came full circle in the desert and still no Promised Land! She was so tired, she stared at her feet, willing them to move but they seemed to have minds of their own, refusing her instructions.

Just start over Sidle... focus on the numbers... keep going... "Just keep going... don't stop..."

"Three times four is... okay, three times four is twelve..." Concentrate Sidle... "...keep walking... keep walk..."

"Four times five is twenty..." Her steps faltered as she tried to focus on the numbers. Why were they so hard to grasp all of a sudden? "...Four times four is... what is it?.. sixteen... sixteen..."

Focus Sidle... "Four times five... four times five... four times five is twenty..." Had she done that one already?

She just couldn't breathe... Take a deep breath... She just wanted to lie down, just to rest... "...keep walking... keep walking..."

"Four times five is..." Her beat-up body had finally succeeded in weighing down her tired mind. Her legs felt like jello as she stumbled forward. "Get up. Get up. Don't sleep... don't sleep..."

"Don't sleep... don't sleep..."

"Stay awake... stay awake..." Griss... Gilbert... I am not ready to say goodbye... not yet...

"I..." ...not ready to say goodbye... "just don't sleep..."

Oh God... what is the number?... what is four times five?...open your eyes Sidle... what is it?... what is four times five?... wake up Sidle... what is... twenty!

She felt pain. Intense pain.

Then she felt her hand being squeezed and the subtle pressure brought her back to full consciousness. Through blurred vision, she could make out the letters... G-R-I-S-S-O-M... and it made her smile.

Moses died before he reached the Promised Land, but for Sara Sidle, the Promised Land was there waiting and was bringing her home.

FIN