I'm a sucker for Sara and Grissom have a child no one knows about fics. I'm a bigger sucker for writing them. Going to be honest, this one might not have a happy GSR ending. We'll see. For now, it's more the story of Sara and her daughter as they navigate a post s13 world.
For Amelia, my aim is true.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours. Definitely Bruckheimer's.
Love without fear in your heart,
feel, feel like you still have a choice...
-Passenger's Scare Away the Dark
The call from Paris came while she was cutting class and smoking her first cigarette – she figured the content of that call was her punishment. Nova Elizabeth Grissom at fourteen hates plenty of things; mornings, when her grandmother lets the coffee canister empty, paint that dries before she has a chance to use it up, her mother's face when she failed her first class, and now Nova hates her father. Shirking his parental duties once more, he left her grandmother to explain that he's divorced her mother, things just aren't working anymore and he has apparently done all he can.
"I'm going to Vegas," the teenager signs to her grandmother; it's not a plea, a request, but rather a command. She'd hitchhike or walk if there was no other choice but the fires of hell could not keep her from her mother at that very moment.
Surprisingly, her grandmother acquiesced with little fight. The petite woman just pulled her in for a tight hug and kissed her head before pulling away to sign. "Go pack a bag, my star. I'll book you a flight."
"Thank you," she breathed as she replied.
A quick kiss to her grandmother's cheek and then she turned on the heel of her sneaker to race up the stairs to her bedroom; she passed the pictures that littered the stairway, photos of her father that her grandmother always pointed to when telling her that she looked just like him – at the top step, she pettily kicked one over and barely resisted the urge to stomp on it. She threw open the door to her room and plucked her duffel bag from the closet before ripping open her dresser drawers to throw in an assortment of clothing. She wasn't sure how long she'd be staying in Las Vegas, forever if she had her way, but she packed just what she needed to get by for a few days.
She angrily brushed the blond waves from her face as she closed the top drawer and spotted the family photo sitting on top. It had been taken in Paris, just after the wedding, and she'd been so happy that her parents had finally worked things out. They had never been an ordinary family; given the nature of their jobs, Nova had been left in the care of her grandmother shortly before her mother moved to Nevada to work with her father and there she had remained, patiently waiting. Everything was supposed to finally work itself out; they were staying in Paris while her father taught and her mother did research, Nova (as brilliant as her parents before her) was staying with her grandmother until she finished up high school within the next year and then they could finally be together, the three of them. For once. It was all supposed to work out.
Nova clutched the picture to her chest and fell to the floor as she cried. None of it was fair. She hadn't always hated her father, in fact before that fateful phone call, he had been her favored parent. Not to say she didn't love her mother, she did with an unparalleled ferocity but her father had understood her in a way no one else quite did. She was his clone after all, that's what her grandmother said. Her curly blond hair and piercing blue eyes had been traits of his, a stark contrast to the dark hair and eyes of her mother. She'd inherited his passion for nature and his penchant for migraines. But he had promised her. He had promised they would be a family and he hadn't kept his word.
The vibration of her cellphone in her pocket pulled her from the sobs that shook her entire being and she pulled it from the confines of her cargo pants before frowning at her father's face. She wanted to neglect the call, anger bursting from every atom of which she was composed, but a part of her was also hoping it was a big joke.
"What," she asked.
A long silence and then a sigh was her answer. "You've spoke with your grandmother then."
"Yeah." She didn't want to give him an inch of ground to stand on.
"Nova..." She could see him in her mind; hunched over his desk, glasses cast to one side, wiry silver hair sticking in all directions, and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose – the way he always looked when he was exasperated.
"Do you believe in cosmic punishment?"
"Like karma?"
She huffed. "Yeah. Like karma."
"No."
"I do." Raking her long piano fingers through her hair, she cast the photo to one side and sat up to pull her knees to her chest. "I cut class for the first time ever today, smoked a cigarette with this cute guy in my class, because I'm fourteen and a junior in high school and I've never done anything truly bad in my life. Then I come home and my grandmother tells me that my parents are divorcing."
"I had hoped you could be a grown up about this," he began.
She cut him off. "Dad, I may be just three points shy of you when it comes to an IQ but I'm still very much a kid."
"Your mother and I-"
"I don't care," she told him. "I'm going to Vegas, Grandma – who is my legal guardian, not you – has already said it was okay. I'm going to stay with mom."
"Nova," he tried once more. "This isn't about taking sides."
"You promised me," she cried. "You promised that I just had to make it to graduation and then we could be a family! I didn't have to be a secret anymore. We could all be together. You promised! You promised me! Daddy."
"Honey," his voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I'm... I'm just sorry."
"Yeah. Me too." Wiping her tears on the inside of her t-shirt, she sniffled. "I've got to pack."
"Okay," her father relented. "I love you."
"I..." Her voice caught; she remembered the call, her mother nearly dying and how she'd almost not gotten a chance to let her know how she felt. "I love you too. I'm really mad at you right now and I don't want to talk anymore but I love you still."
Nova hung up the phone and stood, wiping at her face with the back of her hands before zipping up her duffel. She grabbed the book she was reading from her bedside table and her sketch pad and charcoals from her desk, stuffing them in her book bag alongside her homework before sliding her laptop into the special compartment in her bag.
The taste of nicotine lingered on her tongue when she carried her bags down the stairs; she placed them by the front door and then went to the kitchen to grab the extra smoothie she had made before school, sipping at it in spite of the churning in her stomach. A hand on her shoulder caused her to turn and she smiled down at her grandmother before stepping into the hug that she offered.
Her flight left just shy of five pm and gave them just enough time to get from their small bungalow into San Francisco, to the airport. Because she was a minor, her grandmother was allowed to accompany her to the gate and they hugged tightly for a long moment before she was permitted to board with the first wave of passengers. Nova took a seat toward the front of the plane, next to a window, and tucked her backpack under the seat before pulling her phone from her pocket to turn it off for the flight when she found a message waiting from her mother.
"Betty messaged me. I'll meet you at the airport," Sara wrote. "I love you. I'm so sorry for all of this."
"I love you," she wrote back. "Flight leaving soon. It's not your fault."
The flight from San Francisco to Las Vegas wasn't a long one but it seemed to be drawn out for the fourteen year old as she fought to make herself as small as possible on the little seat she had been given. Flight attendants stopped to check on her at random intervals, she was the only minor on a relatively empty flight, but for the most part she stared out the window as the winter sun dipped lower and lower in the sky. When they finally landed at McCarran, she was allowed to collect her things and was escorted off the plane by a flight attendant.
Then there was her mother; Sara Sidle stood out in the thick crowds of people, her recently short having grown back out and darkened, twiddling her thumbs and rocking on her shoes as she scanned the crowd for her daughter. Nova turned to the attendant and offered a small smile. "That's my mom," she explained. "Thank you for helping me."
And then she was off; like she was little kid, she craved her mother's comfort and could not refrain from the dramatic sprint that occurred when her mother looked up at her with sad eyes and offered the smallest smile. "Mom," she cried as their bodies collided and she clung to her neck. "Mommy," her voice cracked. "I...I..."
"I know," Sara whispered as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, kissing her temple. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. I should have been the one to call you."
"He didn't call me. He called grandma. Grandma is the one who told me."
"Dammit," her mother swore. "I'm sorry, Nova."
"He called afterward, after he knew she would have told me." She sniffled. "He's such a coward."
"Nova," the older woman sighed. "Don't talk bad about him, okay? He's still your dad."
"He's an ass," she countered. "Don't tell me you're not heartbroken right now."
"I am," Sara told her honestly.
"Well so am I," she agreed. "And I'm not forgiving him any time soon for breaking our hearts." She sighed and dove back into her mother's embrace. "We were supposed to be a family."
"I know." Sara kissed her head. "Let's go home, sweetheart."
"Okay."
They collected her bag from the carousel and then Sara draped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, tucking her into her side as they made their way into the hot Nevada heat to find the car. Nova relished her mother's touch; the girl had never been much for affection but with her world in upheaval, there was something comforting about the anchoring of her mother's arm around her as her fingers danced through the blond curls that fell in waves around Nova's shoulders.
"Mom," she asked quietly when she was tucked into the passenger seat and her mother was pulling from the space in the crowded car park. "Are you sad?"
"Very much so," she told her honestly. "How about you?"
"Dad said I should be more grown up about this," she explained. "I don't feel very grown up right now... I feel like I did when dad called to tell us that you were in the hospital after that psycho attacked you. I feel like my world is a snow globe and someone just gave it a real hard shake."
"I would say that those are very okay feelings right now," Sara promised. "You don't have to hold it together or be an adult about this, Nova. You can cry and be mad, if you need to. I know you're a very grown up fourteen year old and that soon none of us will be able to tell you what to do... but you're still a kid, still my baby, and you can cry and be upset right now."
"Okay," she sniffled. "I cut class today... And smoked a cigarette. With Mike Dawson. Do you think this is some sort of karmic retribution for that?"
"I don't think the universe would ever punish a teenager for being a teenager," Sara told her, reaching over to rub away the tears that fell from her baby's blue eyes. "Though I would appreciate it if you never did anything like that again, the universe isn't punishing you. Daddy and I just... drifted apart, I guess. Me being here and him being in Paris worked for awhile but it's just not anymore and neither of us are willing to give up doing what we love."
"What about who you love? Doesn't that trump the what?"
Sara sighed and shook her head. "You would think so but not this time, I'm afraid."
"I hate this," she told her, decidedly. "I don't want to think about it anymore tonight."
"Me either," she agreed. "What do you say tonight we just put this out of our heads, watch some old movies, and tackle everything else tomorrow."
"I'd say that sounds like a very good plan."
"Good." Sara pulled up in front of the house and parked before reaching over to wrap her daughter in another hug. "I'm glad you're here, Nova. I love you."
"I love you back, mom." She tucked into the embrace. "I'm glad I'm home."
"Me too," she promised her daughter. "Sorry it's not the home you were expecting."
"It doesn't matter. Home is still home and we're together – that's all that really matters."
