I have no idea why I'm starting another story, while I have so many unfinished fanfics running. I guess it's because I can't stop it - once a new idea for a story pops into my head, I have to write it out. So here you go, my new fic. It'll be a Sara story, but there'll be some Sandle too (because I just can't help myself...). I'll be using parts of the song 'Fall Away' by The Fray for the chapter titles. So I don't own those lyrics, neither do I own Sara, Greg or anyone else at the Las Vegas Crime Lab.
For now, enjoy (I hope). Eva Fall Away Chapter One // Maybe You Should Run
She stared at the white envelope in her hands. It had been lying in her locker for almost a week now and still she hadn't found the courage to open it. Everyday when she finished working, she would open her locker and see the envelope lying there. She would pick it up, stare at it for a few minutes, wondering why she had received this and what could be written in the letter inside of it. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to know it.
For nearly her entire life she had tried to leave this behind. And even though the memories were still hiding somewhere in the back of her head, they didn't come out to haunt her as often as they used to. She had closed a door to that part of her life; a door with a crack here and there, but it was thick enough to keep the cold wind outside. So she was terrified that opening this letter would mean that the door seperating her from her past was opened as well. And she could only imagine what the consequences of that were…
She slowly moved her finger over the dreaded, but familiar stamp in the left corner of the envelope. Part of her was screaming out of crave to get to know what the letter was telling her, while the other part told her to rip it to pieces, to burn it to ashes, to destroy it and never think about it again. This internal conflict with herself drove her mad; she needed someone to decide for her. She couldn't decide it herself, with the two parties screaming through each other.
Open it. Don't. Open it, it might be important. Don't, just forget it. OPEN IT.
She was about to throw it away - not because she had agreed with the don't-open-it party, but just out of frustration for not knowing what to do - as she heard someone enter the locker room.
"Sara?"
She recognised that voice immediately. It sounded slightly worried, but yet warm and symphatically. The kind of the voice she needed at the moment. She straightened her shoulders, not until now realising that she had been sitting with her forehead pressed against her locker. Quickly, she brushed a hand through her messy hair.
"Oh… hey Greg…" She curled her lips into a brave attempt to a smile.
"Are you… okay?" he asked. There was slight concern visible in his usually sparkling and happy brown eyes.
She was about to give a quick nod and an assurement that she was "just tired of working so hard", but for some reason she couldn't lie to Greg. She knew his concern wasn't just out of curiosity or politeness, but because he really cared about her being okay. So she shrugged her shoulders and sighed.
"Not really."
He inched closer and sunk down next to her on the bench. His eyes caught sight of the letter she had dropped on the floor. He pointed at it, with a questioning look at his face.
"What…?"
She picked up the envelope and stared at it for a second, before handing it to Greg. He took it from her and his eyes read the adress and automatically got drawn towards the stamp in the left corner. But instead of giving her a strange look for this, he looked at her gently and said: "What's going on?"
She dropped her glance and he immediately added: "Only if you want to talk about it, of course. No pressure."
His voice made her feel safe. She knew she could trust him. Fully trust him. But how was she going to explain this to him? She'd have to start from the beginning. A beginning she didn't want to start from, ever again.
"I guess it's gonna be a long story," she mumbled, sounding braver than she felt.
He smiled. "We have time."
She took a deep breath, grasping for the courage she was soon going to need desperately. Then, softly, she began to speak. "Well… you're probably wondering why I get a letter from jail."
As there came no confirmation from Greg, she assumed he didn't want to interrupt her. She was glad he didn't.
"Well, the thing is…" She cleared her throat, hoping to win time. As if she was trying to push the moment she'd have to say the words away from her as long as possible. But if she realised she couldn't keep on running around it. "… My mum… she's there."
She kept looking down at her feet, but she could somehow feel the moment of shock in Greg's face when he heard what she said. But once again, he stayed silent. She remembered her once told her he 'was a good listener'; well, now she could fully agree with him in that.
"And now you're probably wondering why she's in there. It's… something happened… long ago…" She closed her eyes for a slight second, then she continued. "When I was little, my dad… he had bad tempers. He would come home and you never knew what his mood could be… I mean, when he was in a good mood, he was very nice, but when he wasn't…"
She realised her hands holding the letter were shaking. Greg apparently noticed this too, because all of a sudden he moved his hand to hers, covered it and squeezed it tightly. From under her eyelashes, Sara glanced at him. His eyes were filled with worry.
"Well, when he wasn't, he'd… go after us. My mum, usually. But my older brother and I couldn't stand to watch him when he…" Her voice broke down. She swallowed a few times, trying hard to hold back the tears that badly wanted to leave her eyes. "Well, when he did that to my mum. So we'd try to help her, but that always made him go even crazier…"
For the first time in the conversation, Greg spoke up. "Did he… hurt you too? Your brother and… and you?"
She didn't respond, but hung down her head even lower. She knew he had understood that the answer to his question was a confirmation, though. He tightened the grip to her hand even more and she sighed, going on from where she had stopped. Because, did she realise miserably, the hardest part of her hard story was yet to come.
"So that's… how we lived. To strangers we looked like a happy family, but they didn't see what… what happened back at the house."
"And you never told anyone? None ever found out?"
Now Sara laughed; a short, miserable laugh that sounded more like a sob. She remembered the oh so familiar 'bumped-into-a-cabinet', 'fallen-off-the-stairs', and 'walked-into-a-door' lies her mother made up for the nurses and doctors that took care of them after her father had had one of his 'moods'. Each of them so ridiculous that she was surprised the hospital staff fell for them, everytime again.
"No. My mum knew enough lies to cover every injury when we were at the hospital," she said, once again wondering how her words could come out this brave, when in fact she felt so scared. "But one night when I was around twelve…"
She didn't finish her sentence. There was such a silence that she wondered if they both were still breathing. Greg moved closer to her, and said: "What happened that night?"
"I was already asleep, but I woke up because I heard my mum scream. So got out of bed and went to the hallway… and there…"
Now she was shaking uncontrollably. She saw the image of that night in front of her like it were yesterday. As if she were actually twelve years old, walking out of her bedroom, barefoot, in her pyjamas. The scream of shock that left her mouth when she saw what had happened.
"My mother… had killed my father."
She heard Greg's faint gasp after she had spoken those words. The lump in her throat was aching; she knew she couldn't fight the tears much longer. But she was not going to cry. She had already lost it when she told her story to Grissom. It was not going to happen again.
Suddenly she felt Greg's hand on her back, then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She swallowed hard, then turned to look at him. "I'm so sorry, Sara…" he said softly.
She nodded, as a sign of gratitude. They sat there for a very long time. When Sara had calmed down a little, she sat straight up again (as she did this she felt a wave of embarrassment realising that she had been hanging onto Greg all the time), brushing her hair out of her face. She picked up the envelope that had fallen out of her lap.
"I received this last week, but I… I haven't dared to open it yet…" she mumbled.
"No, I can imagine." He gave her an understanding smile.
"But I'm not sure if I want to know what it says."
"That's only going to stop once you know what it says."
She looked up at him, he shrugged. "I mean… that makes sense right?"
Sara laughed. "I guess it does."
"Do you want me to leave while you open it?"
She shook her head quickly. "I'd rather… you stay here."
"Alright, then I stay here." He smiled, then nodded at the envelope.
Sara looked at it. Her eyes went from the adress back to the prison stamp. Then she firmly ripped open the envelope and pulled a small letter out of it.
There. The first part. Hope you liked it. Let me know your opinion. :) Thanks for reading!