Title: Break It Down

Author: Battus philenor

Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this one are not mine, but I love them as if they were.

A/N: This is a just a little Sara piece, kind of cheesy, but some cheese is okay, right? Thanks to ShipperGirl for the beta work, any remaining errors are mine.

Sara sat with her legs crossed staring out the window, eyes fixed on the blinking lights of the planes taxiing by. She occupied the end the seat in a bank of bright orange chairs at the airport. The Starbuck's cup in her hand half full of cold coffee which she doesn't even seem to remember she's holding. When she'd purchased it two hours ago the clerk had to take the money from her hand, her bloodshot eyes just stared blankly at him when he gave her the total. A Less than honest kid might have kept the change, but he stuffed what was left over in her hand, closing her fingers around the bills. He would think of her often over the next few weeks, the sadness and complete emptiness in the wounded brunette.

She wasn't sure why she'd shown up so early; her flight wasn't until eight that evening, she had five more hours to wait. Waiting there or waiting at home didn't matter much to her, both places were lonely; at least she could be lonely in the midst of people here. Chaos and a sense of urgency surrounded her now, and she felt comforted by it, she was used to that. The rush to complete something, or the need for speed in putting a case to bed so that justice was allowed to roam free. At least here it was others who had to rush around, others who had to scramble so things would work out alright. Yes, Sara figured five more hours of this might be okay, until she remembered once again why she was there.

She was leaving. She was leaving Las Vegas, she was leaving the job, and she was leaving him, Gil Grissom. She would always love all three, but she knew this was the only way she could survive. If she stayed, she'd lose herself; when the world around you was filled with so much sorrow and so much loss, you couldn't help but lose yourself in it and to it. So she was waiting for a plane to take her back to California, and she wasn't going to let Grissom know until she was safely on the ground there.

"Hey Sugar, you okay there?" Came a scratchy voiced disruption which held a hint of slow southern charm. Sara realized suddenly that the woman had repeated herself and this time had laid a gentle wrinkled hand lightly on her leg, trying to pull her from her deep self absorption.

"Uh, yeah. I'm okay—thanks." She heard herself respond automatically. Sara was initially perturbed by the intrusion, but there was something so comforting and almost familiar about the woman. Looking at her face, that over-ripe yet sweet looking face, she lost any anger towards the source of interruption. Sara liked her, she just couldn't help herself. The dark wrinkled skin held in it the warmest and widest smile that Sara had ever seen. So wide she would almost have believed it to be false, if not for the joy and sparkle seen in the eyes above it. The older woman was truly good and represented everything right in the world. And even though she was eerily familiar to Sara, she couldn't remember seeing anyone with such spirit before.

"I'm goin' home to my Charles now." The old woman started, "we live in Georgia." The woman said proudly, her smile growing even larger at the mention of Charles.

"Is that your husband?" came Sara's courteous reply, accompanied by a smile that she just couldn't help but exhibit in the woman's presence.

A very loud cackle escaped the old woman's lips as passersby couldn't help but turn to seek out the owner of the comforting sound. "No Sugar, Charles is my cat." The still giggling woman managed to spit out. "My husband's been gone nearly forty years now; rest his soul, an' thank you Jesus." Her hand went to her heart, resting there for a moment as her smile faded and a hint of sadness crept over her aged face for only the briefest of moments.

"What are you in Vegas for?" Sara asked politely, trying to divert attention from the memories of her long since passed husband.

"Oh, Sugar, I'm visitin' my very first gran baby. I got six children, nineteen gran children, and ten and a half great gran children, so far." She said with a wink, which seemed to signify her grand motherly delight. "They all special, each an' every one of them, but the first one holds a very dear place in my heart. I come once a year now to visit her special." For the first time since their little visit, the old woman looked away from her, staring out the window, which did not go unnoticed by Sara.

"That's nice that you set that time aside, to visit in person." Sara responded dutifully.

"Oh yes, I update her on the family an' the adventures of Sir Charles, doncha know."

"She doesn't come out to Georgia to visit you and the family?"

"Not any more Sugar. She used to, my sweet Pammy, at least twice a year. Her an' her husband, but she can't now, not since her accident."

A chill broke out over Sara and she was certain the color was draining from her face, she could feel it. Uneasiness, bordered on fear as the memory of an old case came rushing up on her senses.

She could smell the damp cold air as if she were back on the side of that road where the body was found, the still warm and breathing body. Sara hated death, but it was cases like that one, Pamela Adler brutalized and left for dead, that made her prefer to work homicides instead of crimes which left a living victim.

Sara was certain it had to be a coincidence; it couldn't be the same Pamela that this kind old woman was referring too. Part of her wanted to know for certain, but a bigger part of her needed to not know. She knew the woman would know of her participation, sense somehow that she'd been involved with the case and let the whole family down.

Sara wished suddenly that the woman would just stop talking to her, or go away, or something, but she didn't. She was looking at Sara with concern, about to speak again.

"You okay Sugar? You look like you seen a ghost." She drawled, the concern evident in her wide eyes as she leaned in more closely to Sara. "It's a'right, really Pammy's been sort of asleep close to four years now. I think of her as bein' closer to God now. Too busy a talkin' with Him to bother with the likes of us anymore, amen an' thank you Jesus."

She slurred the end of her last sentence together in a rush, the sign of a well loved and often used phrase, which under different circumstances would have tickled Sara.

Sara's stomach dropped further as the truth was learned; even though she had a feeling just moments ago, she now had no doubts that this woman was Pamela Adler's grandmother. But she found herself very confused by her attitude.

"Thank you Jesus? You're not angry?" Sara asked, appalled.

"Angry? Heavens no. Sad yes. I get sad when I think about talks we used to have, and how she can't talk to me no more like I talk to her, but I ain't angry. It's the Lord's will Sugar, he needed Pammy for somethin'. Who am I to argue with the Lord?"

"You have a strong faith." Sara whispered in awe.

"Of course, what have you got if you ain't got faith an' hope?" The old woman asked.

"Nothing, you have nothing without faith and hope." Sara said softly.

"That's right Sugar, right as rain. And when you feel yourself gettin' low on those things, that's when you gotta stand back and thank Jesus for everythin' you got. That fills you back up with faith an' hope again."

"What if you haven't got anything to be thankful for?" Sara asked quietly, honestly.

"Lord Sugar, you always got somethin' to be thankful for. You're here ain't ya? You're here on this earth, livin' an' breathin' an' beautiful. Shoot, today you're even makin' an old woman's day by sittin' a spell and talking'. You're blessed Sugar, you just don't know it. It's a simple thing, but you got to remember to think about the positive, not the negative. My Pammy was always good at that."

The old woman paused, looking at Sara; she didn't think she got it yet.

"Even when you think nothin's going right, you gotta break it down. Go over your day an' think about the things that did go right, the things that you did good, Sugar. There's always things that you did good, you'll see that when you take them one by one. Shoot folks don't need no pills to make them see the positive, they just need to change their way of thinkin', that's all." The old woman said with finality as she leaned back in her chair to let Sara think about things for a bit as she mumbled about head doctors pulling a fast one on folks.

Sara couldn't get over the woman's attitude about Pamela's incident, and she was smiling despite herself. What would have turned most people into a pile of anger and grief had only appeared to make this old woman stronger.

An incident which had left her emotionally parched and screaming for some sort of relief had left this family member bubbling over with forgiveness. And while attempting to mimic her whole philosophy might be too far from Sara's norm, she figured an attempt at some things may be worth the minimal effort.

Leaning over towards the old woman, she smiled as the woman looked up at her. "Thanks for the advice; I'm Sara, Sara Sidle." Sara said as she stuck a hand out in greeting.

"Nice to meet you Sara Sidle, I'm Odetta James, an' it wasn't my advice Sugar, it's just good ideas that have been around for a couple a thousand years, doncha know." Odetta said with a smile and a wink as she took Sara's hand between her own and gave a squeeze.

Sara wasn't sure she bought into all of it, but she had a few hours to think about it all, chat with a kind woman, and break it all down.

End

Battus philenor