15
Rating: Teen because I'm paraniod
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any characters.
I would like to give credit to http/faculty. for the police codes
This takes place after Grave Danger, and After the team Gets Back Together A Blast from the Past By Mallory Avery "How was your weekend, Cath?" "Pretty good. Spent a lot of time with Lindsey. How was yours?" "Boring, as usual. Spent the whole time listening to my police scanner and reading forensic journals from weeks ago." This was a normal conversation over coffee at the beginning of Monday shift. As Catherine and Sara talked about the latest forensic breakthrough in DNA, Nick, Warrick, and Greg were talking about the latest PSP (Play Station Portable) game on the market. Really Greg and Warrick were talking about graphics, and Nick was looking very confused. After 5 minutes Grissom came in. He was looking very tired and pretty cranky. He stood in the doorway for a moment before walking across the room to get a cup of coffee. Everyone noticed him then and they stopped talking. "All right", Grissom said after he sipped his coffee, "Cath, Warrick, and Nick, you've got a DB. Bring a raincoat, rain boots, and a rain hat. It isn't nice in there. I will help you out there after I get Greg set up for his experiment. Sara, you've got a DB out at Lake Mead." After he gave everyone their information slips, they dispersed into their different locations. Before Sara could leave, Catherine walked up to her and asked," Do you know what Grissom means by bring rain equipment?" "Do you remember the case with the sports fanatic in the bath tub?" "Yeah." "Well, I guess the downstairs will look pretty similar." "Ugh!" As they turned to go out to their different locations, she couldn't help but think," I wish she had her case." She had checked out her slip and noticed it was at a foster care home. "Great", she thought to herself," I really want to do this case." During the hour it takes to get out to Lake Mead she listened to her police scanner. An ADW, 10-0. "An assault with a deadly weapon, use caution," she said as she deciphered the codes the cops used. A code 10 J. "A bomb threat with a juvenile involved." She did this all the way out to Lake Mead. Once she got there she dreaded going into the house. People were swarming the place, asking her questions as she moved through the cluster of people. Once inside she moved over to Detective Erin Conroy. "What can you tell me?" Sara asked. "George Thomson. 14. Has been in this home for 6 months. There is 19 other kids registered to this home. We have 5 alive and accounted for. They are over there talking to the rookie." "What can you tell me about the parents?" "Amy and Eric Anderson. Have lived here for 20 years. They have been foster parenting for 15 of those 20 years. They have no children of their own.""Thank you, uh, where's David?" "He just called. Got caught up in traffic on route 420." "Oh yeah, I saw that from the bridge." Sara said as she moved towards the body. She couldn't touch the body until David did his prelim on him, but he looked terrible. He was on his back, face turned to the side, covered head to toe in bruises. "That's George. To bad, he was the sweetest of them all. He would play tag with me and pick me up after school," said a young female voice behind her." But it smells like sht, so can you hurry up and get it out of here. It smells like the attic, only a hundred times better." Sara turned around and saw a little girl, about nine, with curly red hair, pale skin, and many freckles. She had a clotted cut above her right eye and a round purplish bruise on her left cheek. "And what might your name be, little girl," Sara asked as she squatted down to be at her level. "My name is Lydia." "Lydia what?" Sara asked. "I don't remember. I've been to so many different foster homes I can't remember what my real last name is!" "O.K. My name is Sara Sidle. What were you talking about the attic smelling bad?" "Oh, the attic smells horrendous. It is just probably Bob putting dead skunks in the crawl space in the wall. He has a thing with dead skunks, I swear!" Lydia said, and a small smile lit up her face. "He did it recently too! I saw new boards on it." "May I see it?" "Sure, but you need to bring a hammer, and I suggest a big one." "I can do 1 better. Wait here for a minute," Sara said as she walked to Detective Conroy's truck, where she stood talking to the rookie. When he left, Sara asked, "Can I borrow your battering ram?" "Uh, if you didn't notice, the door is open," Detective Conroy said with a smile. "May I borrow it?" Sara asked impatiently. "You're not aloud to run into anyone with it, you know?" "My guess is that anyone I might run into will be dead." "What ever you say Sara. It's in the trunk." "Thanks Erin," Sara said as she dragged the battering ram out of the trunk of the car and up the front stairs. "All right, Lydia, where is this crawlspace that smells bad?" "Oh, it's in the attic," Lydia replied as she started bounding up the stairs. She dragged the battering ram up the first set of stairs and asked, "Where do you guys sleep?" "Oh, we sleep up in the attic." "Who stays in the other part of the house?" "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson," she replied matter-of-factly. "Oh," Sara murmured. They were again covered in a silent spell as they made their way up the last flight of stairs to the attic. When Lydia opened the attic door, an extremely unpleasant smell struck her with such force she felt the bile rising in her throat. She agreed with the girl that is smelled like the crime scene downstairs but 100 times worse. She knew that smell well. "Yeah, after 2 weeks of pukin' every night, you get used to it. Um, you might want to walk around the outside of the room," Lydia said, gesturing towards the middle of the room. In the middle of the room were 20 roll-out-mats covered haphazardly by pillows and blankets. They skirted around the edge of the cluster and the smell got progressively worse. Once they got to the boarded up crawlspace Lydia said, "I'm going downstairs." "All right. Go down to the group downstairs," Sara said. She waited for the girl to walk down the stairs to pick up the battering ram and run into the boards. When the boards broke, the smell that wafted out was so horrible she was hit by a wave of nausea and forced the bile back down into her throat. She looked in and saw dead bodies. 8 dead bodies all of different race, and age. They all were male except for 1 girl who looked around 8. Sara turned around and walked to the top of the stairs. She pulled out her cell phone and called Doctor Al Robbins. Doctor Robbins, LVPD morgue. Hi Doc, its Sara. Hello Sara, how can I help you? I need more gurneys and bodybags. I found more dead bodies. How many? 2 or 3? More like 8. Is David there? Uh, I just heard him come through the door. He should have extra bodybags, and he'll just have to reuse the gurney a lot. Thanks a lot Doc, bye. Bye. They then hung up and she went down stairs to see David. "Hey Sara, this one is pretty gruesome. Dead 6 hours. Pretty sure he died of internal bleeding. I'll be able to tell you after the autopsy. I'm done here, so you'll be able to work the scene." "Thanks David," Sara responded in a haze. She really didn't want to work the scene, but she knew she had to. If it gets too bad, Grissom could always assign… No, I won't let that happen. She could handle it. She had decided the minute she walked through the door that she would solve this case, even if she would end up in a thousand pieces. Let Grissom have his speeches. This one was special, and she had to do this on her own. As she worked the scene, she collected every foreign fiber she came across. Hodges will be busy tonight. Well, that will make up for him being a rude jerk all of the time. After she bagged the samples, she headed up to the second floor. She again collected all different samples, hoping to find something that would point directly at the parents. After a few hours David stopped in the room where she was just finishing up. "Uh, Sara? I'm done upstairs. Your turn to work," David said, and turned to go down the stairs. This was the part she was dreading. She closed her eyes and headed up the creaky stairs. Once up there she worked the scene, always glancing over at the closet, dreading that part the most. When she finally finished the room, she headed over to the closet. She collected bloodstains and fingerprints. She took a while, making sure she didn't miss anything. When she finished she decided to talk to the kids. Once downstairs she walked over to where the children sat in a group. Some huddled together. Some sat away from the group. Some cried. Some soothed. Some just sat there silently staring out into space. "Hey kids," Sara said, "can you all come over here for a bit? Great! What we are going to do is you are going to open your mouth, and I am going to put this in, and I am going to take ink, and we will get all messy, and I am going to fingerprint you. O.K.?" Her response was of nods and murmured "O.K."s As she went she asked questions like, "Who of you know what DNA is?" and "What is your favorite subject in school?" After getting all the buccal swabs, she started fingerprinting. Everyone got messy, just the way it should be. This is the funniest time I have had printing anyone! Soon she called to have an ambulance come and bring them to the hospital to get checked up on. She assured herself she would convince Grissom to talk to the foster parents for her. Soon she left and went down to the lab. As she walked in, her beeper went off. COME 2 MOURGE ASAP. She decided she would give Hodges her evidence first. "Are you trying to work me to death?" Hodges asked when she gave him the evidence to be processed. "Its called not missing anything. And don't think you can give it to anyone else because I'm the only one on the case," Sara curtly replied. "What is with you? You're usually not this annoying," Hodges asked as she walked out the door. She didn't even answer but thought I've got to watch myself. I can't get other people thinking I'm upset. On the way down to the morgue, she saw Catherine, Nick, and Warrick walking to the main part of the lab. The guys were arguing if the temperature of the water changed the liver temperature, which is how they determine time of death. After they turned the corner, not realizing Sara had been walking down the hall parallel to them, Catherine yelled, "Stop arguing like 5 year olds…" Sara almost snickered. She was having a rough day too it seemed. When she walked into the morgue, she heard Doc say, "Your DBs are over here Sara." She walked over to the morgue tables set up with dead children of all different races, ages, and sizes. "Well, they're pretty much the same. 8 of them…" "Wait Doc, there is 9 dead bodies." "Well she," he said as he indicated the farthest table, "is the only different one." "I'll take it the difference is more than there not being a Y chromosome." "Yes Sara, but we'll get to her. All of them, including the girl down there, died of internal bleeding…" Sara didn't listen to the rest. She zoned out, thinking of how familiar they seemed to look. That one could have been Miss Julia's son. Miss Julia had been her best friend in Mrs. March's home. Now I'm going crazy. Julia died three years after I left. Abusive boyfriend. I even knew the kid. Annoying pain in the ass. But she knew why it hurt her so much to see anyone like this. I looked like this once. Bruised and battered, almost dead, with a knife through my stomach. "… Hey Sara, seeing that you haven't been paying attention to one word I have said, I'll give you the report to read. Now the girl is different. She was the oldest in there, put in around 6 years ago. She had been sexually assaulted." "Did you send a rape kit to Hodges?" "Yes, but don't expect much. She is older than the rest." "Thank you Doc. I'll read this." Walking out of the morgue, she dialed Grissom's cell. "Grissom," a very weary sounding Grissom answered. "Hey Grissom, its Sara. Can you do me a favor?" "What is it?" "Can you interview the foster parents for me?" "Sorry Sara, I have to help Greg out with something. If you want someone to…" "No, its fine, I'll do it myself. Bye." Without saying goodbye, he hung up the phone and prepared herself for the interview that would make or break this case. When she got to the interrogation room, she realized she hadn't been paying attention to what she was doing driving over here. I hope I didn't break any laws! She saw the parents in there with their lawyer and she already dreaded the meeting. "Hello, I'm Sara Sidle. I'm going to ask you some questions." "Well, we're not answering anything," Mr. Anderson said. "Well, that's interesting, because you are suspected of murder, abuse, and sexual molestation." At this, Amy Anderson looked over at her husband, obviously scared. "Amy, don't you dare tell this bitch anything! You understand me?" "Take him out of here Conroy," Sara said, trying to get the weaker person to talk. After Conroy took Mr. Anderson out, Sara asked, "Where are the 6 other children?" "In the shed! He told me to put them there…" At this confession, Sara stood up and hurried out of the door. On the way to the crime scene, she called Brass, who said, "Don't do anything until we get there!" B.S. Sara thought as she hung up the radio. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 When she got to the foster home, she went directly to the shed. She opened the unlocked door and looked inside. 6 children, of all different ages, shapes, genders and races were all locked up in chains lining the walls. Sara found the keys on the door and unlocked all of the chains. She ended up carrying the littler children out, them sobbing and whimpering, and her nearly in tears herself. After she called the hospital, Brass came in and started yelling at her. She really didn't listen. She really didn't care. Greg had come with him, saying that he was assigned to help her. "Whatever," Sara mumbled as they made their way to the shed to find any evidence they could. Greg and Sara had been working 15 minutes when Sara made her way to the workbench on the far wall. After moving a tackle box and a tool box, Sara said softly, "Greg, get out of here." "What?" Greg asked. "Greg," raising her voice a little now, "get out of here NOW!" He made his way to the door and saw why Sara wanted him to leave. A bomb had been planted under the boxes. "Sara…" "Greg get out of here NOW," Sara said, yelling so loud that her voice hurt. She heard him scream for them to get the bomb squad. She thought to move but thought against it. If I just stand here, and let it blow me into a million tiny pieces, I would be out of my mental misery. I would never have to worry about foster homes or unsolved cases again. I would never have to think about all those things that have been eating away at me for all these years. Killing me for all these years. But I would never be able to say goodbye to my friends. They are the only family I have ever had. I couldn't go without saying goodbye to them. Especially Grissom. I have to say goodbye to him at least. And with that last thought she turned towards the door. She ran half way across the shed before the bomb exploded, knocking her out and sending her flying. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 It had been a long day and Grissom was tired. He was filling out paperwork when his cell rang. "Grissom," Grissom said wearily. "Hey, its Brass. Thought I'd tell you that two of your CSI's were just blown up." "What, are they O.K.? Who are they? What happened?" This had woken Grissom up instantly. "Well, one's O.K., but we're not sure about the other one. It is at the foster home Sara's case was at. Come out here quick." At this they hung up the phone. Grissom stood up and went to his car. This wasn't good. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 He arrived at a scene of mayhem and misery. Bomb Squad and police officers were swarming the scene. ERs clustered in an area by some hedges on the other side of the house. Grissom instantly spotted Greg, and started walking towards him. He was intercepted by Brass, who started yelling about how Grissom's CSI was impatient and didn't wait for back up, and that was why they were in this mess. This interception didn't change Grissom's pace, and he tuned Brass out after the first 5 seconds. When he reached Greg, Brass found someone else to yell at, storming off, causing Greg and Grissom to be relatively alone. "Look, Grissom, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. It all went so fast. She wouldn't leave and she kept screaming for me to get out…" "Who?" Grissom asked, not wanting to know the answer. "Sara," Greg said sadly, nodding his head in the direction of the cluster of ERs over by the hedges. Looking closer, they were pulling Sara out of the hedges, talking to each other, then decided it would be easier and safer to cut her down. They pulled out a saw and Grissom pulled his eyes away from that scene as quickly as possible. Sara was unconscious with a good amount of bruising and cuts from glass and tools from the shed. "I'm sorry," Greg murmured, before the ERs directed him into the ambulance. Grissom's gaze was then again directed to the scene by the hedges, where they had finally cut Sara down and were laying her onto a gurney. She was rolled over to the waiting ambulance and soon the ambulance drove away. He quickly got in his car and drove after it, right to Desert Palms Emergency Room. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 He sat in the emergency room, filling out paperwork to the best of his ability. Does s/he smoke? No. Does s/he do drugs? No, but if she did, would she tell anyone that she did. Stupid question. When a doctor came out he called, "Anyone here to see a Miss Sara Sidle?" At this Grissom jumped to his feet and walked over to the doctor. "How is she?" Grissom asked impatiently. "Not good, but not as bad as we thought. She could live, if she's tough. But she seems like a fighter. If she doesn't give up hope, she'll get better in time." "Thank you doctor, can I see her?" "Sure. She is in room 516 until her condition is more stable. Then she'll be moved. If she's asleep, don't wake her up. She's been through a lot tonight and she is on a lot of narcotics. Her lights 'll probably be out for a couple of days." "Thank you doctor," Grissom said as he turned and walked down the hall. 512, 514, 516 here it is. He quietly opened up the door and moved inside. Sara was on the only bed in that room, head turned to one side, mouth slightly open. She was hooked up to all different monitors and tubes. He started talking softly. She was unconscious and had so many medications running through her that she was out like a light. "You know, Sara, today when I saw you up in the hedges, I thought I may never see you again, alive, or talk to you again, well, with you conscious. But the doctor says you'll get better. That you're a fighter and as long as you don't loose hope you'll pull through. You are a fighter, and you're amazing…" His thoughts trailed off as he looked at Sara more closely. Her body, under the hospital gown and the thin blanket, was so thin you could see almost every bone. Her face showed how tired she was, after working so many hours on cases that meant something to her. It killed him to see anyone like this, but especially Sara. He remembered how many of his nightmares had this frail, fragile Sara on an autopsy table. With this he had to add another thought to his one-person conversation. "And Sara, I never thought I would be able to tell you this, but after seeing you up there in the hedges, so close to the thin line between life and death, I've realized I have to say it. I love you, Sara. More than anyone on Earth." And with that statement out there, he bent down and kissed her cheek. When he moved back he saw her head move up strait, and her eyes open slightly. For once he was glad he had been deaf in one ear, because at that moment she mouthed, "I love you too, Grissom," and he understood every word. He sat there until here monitors could tell him that she was sleeping soundly again. When they portrayed this information, he stood up and left, with the imaginary voice of Sara replaying her last statement. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 Walking up to the crime scene, Catherine, Warrick, and Nick hurried up to him. He was hit with a wall of questions and statements. "Are they all right?" "What happened?" "Eklie took our crime scene Grissom. This should be an internal investigation. Eklie can't do it." Only hearing that last statement, he walked over to where Eklie stood in the middle of the field, doing nothing but ruling over his workers. The scene had fewer people in it now. Police officers mingled a little bit, and criminalists from dayshift scoured the area, searching for clues. When he got to Eklie, he started yelling, "Get your people out of here! This is our crime scene! Get them out of here now!" But to this outburst, Eklie only sneered. "This is our crime scene. You can't do it on account of personal interest. But you can talk to the witnesses and victims. Lord only knows how much I LOVE talking to them." "Come on guys, lets go home, its after our shift anyway," Grissom sadly said, walking away towards their cars. He couldn't be any support to Sara, physical or mental, if he was extremely tired. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 "What do you mean you don't know where she is?" Warrick yelled at the receptionist at the front desk of Desert Palms hospital. "I mean, I have over 500 patients here and I cannot keep track of them all. We are trying to find out for you, but Miss Sidle was just moved, so it isn't in the computer." "Ugh," Warrick said exasperated, just wanting to see Sara and to make sure she was all right. Greg had been let out a few hours ago, but he wasn't supposed to go into work that night. Soon Nick came up behind him, and lightly tapped on his shoulder. They exchanged "Hey" s and Nick asked, "What's up?" "They lost Sara. They don't know what room she's in." They exchanged looks and stood there waiting. Soon Catherine and Lindsey came up behind. Lindsey remembered Sara from when her father was killed, though she was too young to understand the full capacity of the situation. They all just stood there, looking at each other, murmuring softly. Soon Greg came up. He looked broken up. They were great friends, though he always wanted it to be more. She had gotten him out of trouble many times and he was always there with an open ear. Grissom had put them together a lot when the team was split up, because Sophia and Sara didn't play nice together. No wonder he was so sad. Soon Grissom came in and looked at the group. It seemed that no one could sleep, they all had to see Sara. Soon the receptionist came back and looked with astonishment towards the group. "Hello, how can I help you?" she asked. "We're all here to see Sara Sidle," Catherine said, hoping the edge in her voice would get her to move faster. "Oh, her room number is 890. I thought she didn't have any family in the area?" "We're her friends," Catherine stated impatiently. "Oh, all right. Go on in," the receptionist said, becoming distracted by whatever was on the computer. They walked as a group to the elevator, and took it up to the 8th floor. Once they got there, they walked to the room in silence, occasionally broken by Greg's sniffles. Once they got to the door, they knocked softly. "Hello?" Sara said from the bed on the other side of the door. They opened the door and walked in one by one. They all sat around her bed. Some pulled up chairs, some sat on the edge. "How 're ya feeling?" Catherine asked. "To tell you the truth, I feel like sht, but that's probably from the painkillers. Oh, Greg, how are you? Did you get hurt? Are you all right?" Sara finished, feeling more compassion than anyone should in that situation. Why did she want to make sure he was all right, when she was in the hospital bed? "I'm all right," Greg forced out, but started crying again, and Sara sat up in the bed. With this she felt lightheaded, but she had to look strong, if not be strong, around her friends. Quietly, Lindsey walked over and started calming them down. That was the last they talked about the scene. For the rest of the time they talked easily, about any subject that came up, and they felt like they had been friends since childhood. This is the way it should be Sara thought, enjoying the conversation. Soon Catherine and Lindsey had to leave, explaining that Lindsey had school the next day, and they had errands to run. Soon after, Greg started dozing off, so they sent him home, Sara warmly saying, "Hope you get better soon." Greg then choked up and walked out. Nick and Warrick left after that, saying they needed at least a little sleep before shift started. Walking out of the room, Warrick whispered to Nick, "You owe me 50 bucks." "We'll see," Nick responded as they walked down the hall. To this Sara smiled. They were funny, all of them, but she was glad to be alone with Grissom for a little while before he left. "They're funny," Sara whispered, breaking the silence, hoping they could talk as easily as when there were others there. "Um, Grissom," Sara said, scared that saying this would mess their building relationship up. "Sara, I better let you go to sleep. You look tired. I'll see you tomorrow, baby," Grissom said. He heard her let out an audible sigh and say, "Goodnight Grissom." He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He had an idea of what she was going to say, but he didn't know how to respond. He didn't want to mess up their building relationship. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 That night he had gotten plenty of sleep, and was ready for anything Sara threw at him. At least he thought he was, until he got to her room. There was a nurse, changing the sheets, but no Sara, anywhere. He cleared his throat, partially to make his presence known, and partially to clear the unwanted mucus from his closing throat. "How can I help you, sir?" the Nurse said, sounding bored. "The patient in this room, Sara Sidle, where is she?" Grissom said, extremely nervous. "She was trying to get up and go to the bathroom last night. She lost her balance and sprained her wrist." "Where is she now?" "I don't know! Ask the receptionist. Its her job to know," the nurse said, finishing up and leaving him in the room alone. He was really exited to see the receptionist again, but he would do anything for Sara, even if it meant slow and painful torture in the form of an unorganized receptionist. He walked up to the receptionist and asked, "Where is Sara Sidle?" "She is in ER," the receptionist said like she was talking about the weather. "I thought she sprained her wrist. What is she doing in ER?" "She went in with a 107 fever. It calmed down, but she is under quarantine until we know it has left her system." "So you don't know what 'it' is?" "No, but the doctor might. He is probably on the 8th floor." "Thank you," Grissom said as politely as he could. She was finally starting to do her job completely. He soon found her doctor in the break room, looking through textbooks and sipping coffee. He heard Grissom step in and asked, "How can I help you?" "I'm Gil Grissom. I think you are Sara Sidle's doctor." "Yes, I'm Dr. Warren. How can I help you?" "Can you tell me what is wrong with Sara? Why she got the fever?" "I don't know yet. I haven't seen much like that before." "Well, if you find out, can you call me?" "Do you have permission from family of the patient, or the patient herself?" "No, but Sara would probably give it to me." "Well, I can't tell you anything, unless you are the emergency contact. Are you?" "I don't know," Grissom said, but somewhat hoping he was. "Go to the receptionist and ask her if you can find out who is." So with this, Grissom went back down the elevator to the receptionist's desk. When he got there, she and a nurse were in a very solemn conversation. "She was very pretty," the nurse said. "She was young, only 25. Poor kid, have they figured out what happened?" "Yeah," the nurse responded, "Thermanocitis. A fever and unbalance is, like, the only symptoms. Well, I have to get back to work." The Nurse walked away and the receptionist saw Grissom. "Hello, how may I help you this time," the nurse said, annoyance clear in her voice. "I would like to know who the emergency contact is for Sara Sidle," Grissom said. The receptionist tapped the keyboard a couple times, studied the screen, and said, "It is you Dr. Grissom. Cell number 837-846-8376. Home number 837-964-3984. Work number 827-987-3948." "Yes," Grissom said. He then walked back up to the break room where the doctor was still pouring over textbooks. "Hello doctor, I'm the emergency contact." "Well, good. I will contact you with any information I find. In the meanwhile, you should contact her family. She has no contact information for them." "O.K.," Grissom said, unaware of how eye opening this job would be. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 That night he only got an hour of sleep before he woke up and felt the heavy burden of the task put upon him. He decided to call in some help. He dialed the number and hoped he wasn't waking her up. After the first ring she answered, "Hello?" "Hi Cath, its Grissom. I hope I am not waking you up." "You're not. What's up?" "Can you call Sara's family. As the emergency contact I'm supposed to do it, but I'm not good with people. Plus, I don't know where to find them." "And you think I do? Any way, I think it is important that you figure this situation alone." "I'm taking it you know something I don't." "Yeah, but you have to find out on your own. Bye Grissom." And with that she hung up the phone, causing him to be lost in his thoughts. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 Early that day before shift started, he went to Sara's room. He knocked on the door, and was welcomed by a pissed of, "Who is it?" from Sara. While he opened up the door he braced himself and said," Its Grissom." When he saw Sara she looked like a totally different person. She looked pissed and bored. When she saw him, her face brightened tremendously as she said, "Oh, hi. Sorry about that. They re-hooked me to intravenous and I'm not aloud out of this bed," she said in a mocking voice, which brought a smile to both of their faces. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods?" "I need some information. But first, what happened to you? You got a 107 fever. Why?" "I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine. Probably better now that I think about it," she mumbled the last sentence. "So," she said, perking up, "what kind of information do you need?" "I am the emergency contact, so it is my job to contact your family. Can you give me the numbers?" "Oh, you don't need to contact them. It's all right." "No Sara, I have to do this," Grissom said, starting to grow impatient. "If you can guess where one is, I'll tell you both where to find them," Sara said, trying to act silly but her facial expression ruined it. "O.K. Your mother is in jail?" Grissom tried. Sara made a game show buzzer sound that showed you that you were wrong and said, "Wrong. She is in San Francisco's women's mental institution. Which is just like a prison, especially when you spend 3 days of your 13 year old life in it," Sara finished. "What, you were in a mental institution?" "Yup, and if anything, it made me crazier. And my brother? Look in the San Francisco drug correction facility, or the men's county jail. Don't know where he is, lost track after the first few years." "Thank you, Sara. Feel better," Grissom said as he left the room. He heard her sigh and say, good day Grissom." Then in an almost playful voice she whispered, "And good luck. You'll need it." As he left he heard her chuckle again, closed the door behind him. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 Later that day, he decided to get it over with and call Sara's family. He first contacted the women's mental institution. "Hello," a southern drawl, much like Nick's came out of the earpiece of the phone. "Yes, I am looking for a Laura Sidle. Can I speak to her?" "Sure, I'll get her on the phone," the southern woman said as she put the phone down. He waited 5 minutes until someone on the other end of the line spoke. "Hello, who's this?" said a woman sounding much like Sara. "This is Gil Grissom. I'm calling about your daughter Sara." "What about that btch." This is one name he never expected a mother to call her child. "She is in the hospital," Grissom said cautiously. "Good. I don't really care what happens to that btch, but god bless whoever put her in that hospital. She needed to be brought down a notch or two." "I'm sorry," Grissom said, throwing all caution to the wind, "but I don't understand why you call her that name." "Btch. Well, that's what she is, ain't she? She tattled on her own mother. I wouldn't have stabbed her if it wasn't for the fact she called the cops. Only a btch calls the cops on her own mother." This conversation upset Grissom the deeper it got. He decided to end it here. "I just wanted you to know she is in the hospital." "Well, I never want to here from you, or her, or any of you sinful Las Vegas people about that btch again." And she hung up the phone. He decided to call the brother next, trying to find someone who cared. He dialed the number for the San Francisco Jailing facilities. When someone picked up the phone, he said, "I'm looking for a Mr. Sidle. Can I find him here?" "You sure can. Do you want to talk to him?" "Yes please," Grissom said. "All right. What's your name?" "Gil Grissom," Grissom answered. She put down the phone and he waited another 5 minutes this time until someone picked up the phone. "Hello," a man's voice said on the other end of the line. "Hello, I am Gil Grissom. I'm calling about your sister, Sara. She is in Palm Springs Hospital." "Oh I'm sorry to hear that. Hope she gets better. I'll try and send her a card. Thank you for telling me. Good bye," and with nothing more, he hung up the phone. Grissom stood there, holding the phone up in disbelief. He didn't wonder why she wanted to get away from them. They were nuts. The rest of the day went by slowly. He tried to concentrate on the ominous pile of paperwork on his desk, but he thought about Sara the whole time. He heard the conversation between Nick and Warrick. "Oh, yeah, Nick. You owe me 50 bucks." "Nothing's happened yet." "Well you mine as well give it to me now. We both know I'm right." "Yeah, we'll see," Nick finished, almost unable to be heard. At the end of shift, Eklie came in with a sneer on his face. "I have the case report for the explosion." "I don't want to read it now. Leave it on my desk." Eklie placed it on his desk and left, the sneer still plastered across his face. After he left he could not help himself but to read it. Only one word jumped out at him. "Suicidal". She wasn't suicidal, was she? No. He wouldn't believe it unless he heard it himself. He went to his car and jumped in. He fired off towards Desert Palms. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 He walked Sara's room, taking time to say good afternoon to the receptionist. On the way to the room he met the doctor. "We found out she had thermanocitis. It came from another patient and traveled on the nurses." Grissom thanked him for the information and moved to her door. He knocked on her door, and a cheery voice said, "Come in Grissom." How did you know it was…" He said as he came in. He stopped when he saw the bed empty with the sheets stripped off. "I saw you come in. Over here!" Sara said from the window overlooking the parking lot. She wasn't hooked up to intravenous anymore, so she moved herself to the window. She was wrapped in a sheet from the bed, her hair swirling down her back. She must have pulled the chair over from where he pulled it up next to the bed, because 2 chairs were next to the window. He sat in the other chair and noticed her shivering. He placed a hand on her arm and felt her coldness through the thin sheet. After sitting there for a while, her shivering stopped, and she asked, "So you talked to my family?" "Yeah, um…" "Whatever you want to say, I won't feel offended." "O.K. How did you end up so normal coming from such a screwed up family?" Her laugh let him know this didn't offend her. She smiled so widely he thought her face might crack. The silence that encased them was comfortable. But Grissom had something on his mind. "Sara, I read the case from Eklie…" "Yeah, its on the bed. If you guys did it, it would go faster." "I know. Did you read it?" "No. I know what is says." "It says you're suicidal." "That's a bunch of B.S. I got out of that a while ago." "WHAT!" Grissom asked, completely confused. "Well, I used to be anorexic, and I used to cut, but you would to if your mum killed your dad," she said in a rush, as if saying it fast would take away the sting. "Do you believe me?" She asked, making him realize that it had been a while since anyone talked. He still didn't understand. But she answered his question. "The case hurt me deep. It reminded me of, well, my childhood. I seriously thought about letting the bomb blow me into a million tiny pieces, but I couldn't do that without saying goodbye. You guys are the best family I have ever had. And I defiantly couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you," she said, her voice soft and smooth. "Is there anything I can do for you, Sara?" "You could try and convince Eklie I'm not suicidal, or get Brass of my back." "Of coarse Sara," Grissom said. "And can you give me a case to do here. Just something about forensics before I go nuts?" Sara asked. "I can't do that. You need a break," he said hoping she wouldn't be pissed. "What ever you say. You'll just see me before you want to," she said, the pleasure from playing with his mind evident in her face. "Um, are you aloud to be out of the bed." "No, but after he checks on the woman in the other room, he goes into the break room across the hall. That gives me enough time to get from here to the bed." "Well, I have to get some sleep if I'm going to butt heads with Eklie tomorrow." "Bye Grissom, see you tomorrow," Sara said, turning back towards the window. "Bye, honey, see you tomorrow," Grissom responded, and walked out the door. Before the door closed, he heard her say, "Before you think you will." 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 When he walked into the break room, he almost choked on the coffee he was sipping. There was Sara, sitting in her usual chair, reading a forensic journal. After Grissom cleared his throat and said, "What are you doing here?" "I still work here, right?" she asked, feigning innocence. "Aren't you supposed to be on paid leave?" Grissom asked. "Yeah, but when was the last time I listened to doctors. I've kept my sprint on all this time, so no one can argue with me. So, can I have a case." "Everyone is already on a case, but I can put you with Catherine. Don't do anything that will hurt you, O.K.?" "I'm not that stupid," she said as she walked out the door to find Catherine. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 He stood in the locker room door, watching Sara. It had been a stressful day for both of them. He had to explain her actions to Eklie and Brass, and she had to deal with Catherine enforcing the fact she should be on paid leave all day. There she sat, head in her hands, swaying back and forth. But after closer inspection, he saw the brilliant smile plastered across her face, and understood this was where she was safe and happy. "Sara," he said, breaking her from her trance. She lifted her head to look at him. She looked tired, but so extremely happy. "Would you like to have dinner with me?" There was a pause where she didn't know what to say. But they had gone through this conversation before and decided to play his game. "No," she said, remembering exactly how their conversation went. "Why not? Lets- Lets have dinner, see what happens." She was having fun with this, and wasn't going to stop. "I don't know what to do about this," she said, gesturing to them just as he had. "I do," he said, but then changed the conversation drastically, "and a few days ago, I could have been too late." She looked back down at her hands and back up at him. Her smile accepted his offer. She stood up, closed her locker, and followed him out of the lab. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 Nick and Warrick stood at the end of the hallway, watching them leave. "You owe me 50 bucks," Warrick said to Nick, extremely pleased with himself. Nick gave him a friendly nudge and as they walked away, dug his wallet out of his pocket. THE END