How it All Began
A/N: I have taken on a complete obsession with Jorja Fox, CSI and GSR. What is the result? A lot of fic's and not a lot of study! This is one I have been kind of toying with for a while, one that I have wanted to write, but have never got around to doing so.
Until now, of course. I'm planning this to be about, ten chapters, possibly a lot more, depending on how you all like it (:
Hope you enjoy!
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The screaming in her home was something Sara was used to. She thought it to be normal, she had witnessed it for so long.
It seemed everyday, her Father would come home drunk, and begin a fight with her Mother.
Usually the twelve year old would slip away into her room, focus on her homework.
That was what she was doing tonight, sitting in her small room, with the dim light, flickring every now and then, stooped over her math book. She liked math. She had a way with numbers, one that she noticed very few others had.
She wrote away, well ahead of her class assignment.
The shouting was just background noise to her, she had learnt over the many years on how to block out anything she didn't want to hear, feel or see. It was something she was almost proud of.
Her small desk was cluttered, covered with books and papers. Apart from that, everything else in her room was immaculate. Her bed was meticiously made, not a shred of clothing was strewn across the floor, all folded neatly away or hanging up in her wardrobe. She didn't have much to make a mess with, clothes and books was about the extent of her possessions.
Sara Sidle was not your typical twelve year-old girl.
As she finished off the last problem, a small smile crossed her lips, knowing she had gotten the right answer. She had been tackling algebra, even though her class had not even so much glanced at it, but she wanted to know as much as she could about everything.
Her studies had been her way of escapism. Her mother had always sent her to her room when he Father would come back, her attempt of keeping her from his violent path. It only worked for so long. Sara had recieved her fair share of bruises, broken bones. She never had any friends over, the few that she did have. She didn't want them to be possible victims of her fathers fist.
Most of the time, it was just her and her older brother, David, not that he spent much time at home. Sara envied that about him, he had the freedom of age to go out and do as he wanted, because he was eighteen, for her on the other hand, she had to stay where she was told. She wasn't one for rebellion, for breaking rules. She could come up with other things to occupy herself with.
She jumped, startled by the sound of something shattering. She sat up straight, closing over the book she had buried herself in. She could imagine exactly what happened. Her Mother said something her Father didn't want to hear, and so he made her listen, by smashing something. Possibly the ceramic vase her grandmother had given to her mother.
It was times like these when she wished she could do as she pleased. It was for that reason, she spent so long doing homework, and extra studies, forever with her head in a book. She knew you couldn't get anywhere in life without an education. She wanted to get somewhere, anywhere. Somewhere away from here. There was nothing here that gave her a sense of happiness.
She knew she had to work hard for that, and she was going to.
She stood up from the small desk chair she was suprised she had been granted, stretching out her long legs. She had always been tall for her age, a point her class mates had picked up on, and made her very aware of. She wouldn't exactly say she was beign bullied, she didn't really allow herself to care much as to what they had to say.
She crossed the small room, what David had christened as the boxroom, over to the one window, next to her single bed. She parted the blinds slightly so she could take a glimpse into the neighbourhood below.
She lived in a small, two-story house, with barely a scrap of room for a garden. The sky was streaked with a mix of shades of blue and purple. She had always liked looking at the sky, it was fascinating to her. She brushed her dark curls from her face, tucking them behind her ear. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the dusty glass of her window. Pale, curly hair, with a gap between her teeth.
She sighed, looking down into the neighbourhood. Apart from one mother ushering her two young children into the house, the street was empty. Everyone seemed to disappear when the darkness came.
A loud thud brought Sara's attention from her neighbourhood, to her own home. It was a situation she did not like to think about often, but the thud unnerved her a little. What unnerved her the most, was the errie silence that crept over the house once it had finished ringing in her ears.
Silence was something she wasn't used to in this home, especially when her Father was at home.
She was unsure for how long she stood, rooted to that spot, listening, waiting for anything. she heard the odd creaking of the floorboards, as if they were being paced, but she heard nothing else. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to go down to the living room and check.
How long had passed now, it seemed a little darker in her room, could it only be minutes?
Her door creaked open, allowing a little more light to filter into the room. Sara's face dropped when she seen her Mother standing in the doorway. Was she hurt? "Mom-" she began, but the older brunette stopped her.
"Sara, sweetie, are you okay?" She asked, seeming a little distant, as if she were just after waking up.
Sara nodded, "Yes, I am but-"
"It's okay, we're okay now. You won't have to hurt ever again." The woman whispered as she crossed the room, taking her daughter in her arms, holding her tight against her chest.
Sara stood limp, not sure what to do. She could feel her mothers tears on her skin, and a sticky liquid soaking into her shirt. Her voice was strained as she whispered against her mothers chest, "You're covered in blood."
xxx
"This shouldn't take long. A mother, Laura Sidle, kills her abusive, alcoholic husband. She claimed she did it to protect her twelve year-old daughter and eighteen year-old son. Apparently he liked to use them as a punch bag too." The officer told the twenty eight year-old level three CSI.
Gilbert Grissom strolled under the yellow crime scene tape, his forensics jacket drawn tight around his body. Grissom arched an eyebrow and looked at his supervisor, Craig Elliot, who had accompanied him on this case, as if to ask what he thought on the officers words.
He shrugged his shoulders softly, inclining his salt and pepper coloured head towards the doorway where a young brunette girl sat on the steps, an officer beside her, not making any attempt to comfort the obviouslt distraught young girl.
"Daughter?" Grissom asked the officer, who nodded.
"She hasn't said anything since we arrived here. She is covered in blood, could be from her father or mother, or both. There is plenty of it inside. I had to send Lewis out, he threw up all outside. I hope you guys have strong stomachs." He said as the came to a stop just feet away from her.
Craig nodded, looking to the young girl who was watching them carefully, he offered her a soft smile, unable to keep the sympathy from his expression. He had seen so many cases like this one in his years.
The women did everything they could to protect their family, from the one person who should be protecting them more than anyone else. One day, it all becomes too much for them, and they snap.
"The suspect is still inside, she's being questioned by Detectve Felder. He's almost done." The younger officer said to the two CSI's.
"Okay, Gil, I'll take the inside, you take the girl, collect her clothes, see if she knows anything, and then meet me inside." Criag said before he slipped inside.
Grissom would admit, he was a little thankful he got to stay outside in the fresh air for just a few moments more.
Grissom made his way to the young girl, who was clutching her legs tight to her chest. He watched her for just a moment, contemplating best on how to approach this. She was a young girl, who may have seen her Father murdered by her Mother. He needed to have some tact.
"You're not a cop." She spoke before he did, catching him a little off guard.
A small smile came to his lips, she was observant. Most people, grown adults wouldn't deduce that fact. "You're right, I'm a scientist."
"What are you here to do?" She asked, tearing her eyes away from the spot she had been fixated upon, to meet Grissom's eyes.
"Well, I'm here to collect any evidence that is inside your house."
Sara nodded slowly, looking away from him again. Where was David?
"What's your name, honey?" He asked gently, trying to put her at ease.
"I'm Sara."
"Sara, that's a lovely name. My name is Gilbert."
"I like your name too. It's the name of one of my favourite characters, Gilbert Blythe from Ann-"
"Anne of Green Gables." Grissom finished for her, seeing a small smile spread on her lips as he did so.
She nodded, "Yes, that's the one. I never met anyone else who liked those books."
"I haven't met anyone else, either." He said with a soft smile. "Do you like reading, Sara?"
"I do it all the time. I used to get books from the school library. Dad always said it was a waste of time." She concluded sadly.
Grissom gave a small sigh. She reminded him slightly of him when he was her age. "On the contrary, reading is an amazing thing to do."
Sara said nothing, only nodding in agreement. it was her escape, but she doubted even now she could manage to escape from this.
"Sara, I doubt you want to stay in those clothes. Do you want me to go get some clothes for you from your room, and let you get changed? I could get a few books for you from your room, if you want too."
Sara turned her head to look at him, nodding slowly. "I'd like that, thank you."
Just then, the front door of the house swung open, and out came Laura, handcuffed, escorted by Detective Felder.
Sara's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't move. Laura's eyes found her daughter straight away, and she called out to her. "Sara! Sara, sweetie! Tell them I did it to protect us, tell them Sara!"
Felder dragged her away, despite how she kicked and screamed, getting more and more frustrated that Sara wasn't saying anything. "Sara! I did this for you! Don't let them take me away!"
Sara couldn't being herself to look at her mother, and Grissom saw how she wiped away a lone tear that rolled down her cheek, but Grissom didn't let on that he knew.
Once Laura was gone, Sara pushed herself to her feet. "Can I go up with you, to get my things?" She asked, needing to walk, even for just a moment.
Grissom stalled for a moment, a little hesitant with bringing her back inside the home. Was it what was best for her? To bring her back through the home that had to hold such a bad memory for her?
There was a look in her eyes, that made it impossible for him to say no. "Okay, but we have to be quick, and make sure you follow my exact footsteps."
Sara nodded, and as Grissom walked inside, she was close on his heels. the first thing that hit him, was the smell of blood in the air. It was almost tangable. He could understand how the younger cop had been unable to stop himself from throwing up earlier.
Inside the hallway, he could hear the mutterings of his supervisor as he turned to Sara, silently asking in what direction should he be moving. She nodded in the direction of the stairs straight ahead. Grissom walked up the stairs, very carefully, and Sara was extremely careful to follow in his footsteps.
There was only one door on the landing that was open, and Grissom knew instantly it was Sara's.
He stepped inside, taking in the near empty room, the books that littered the desk. She was reminding him more and more of himself every moment.
"Can I get a few of my things?" She asked tentatively, to which Grissom just nodded.
Sara picked up her school bag, packing her school books inside the bag.
"Do you like school, Sara?" He asked, an attempt at conversation.
Sara gave a soft shrug of her shoulders. "I think it's okay. I like the classes."
"What's your favourite?"
"Science." She said, meeting his eyes, bringing a soft smile to his lips. He wasn't suprised.
He watched her as she began taking a few more off of the shelves that covered the wall over her bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and blanched, it possible, becomming even paler than she had been before.
She needed to get out of the clothes she was wearing. Now. She felt sick. She had caught a glimpse of the living room on the way up here. Blood covered every inch of the wall, the floor. And her.
She pulled out her drawer, taking out a pair of worn jeans and a jumper. She looked to Grissom, silently asking if she could go into the bathroom and change. He did a quick check of the bathroom, to make sure there was no evidence, and then allowed her to step in, while he waited outside.
Minutes later when she emerged, he took her blood covered clothes from her and placed them in the brown evidence collection bag he had brought up with him.
Sara walked back into her room, and packed her school bag with a few more items of clothing, before swinging it over her shoulder.
"There is a woman here who would like to talk to you, Sara." Grissom said softly to the girl. He would never usually spend such time with anyone like this, from a crime scene, but there was something about this girl.
"I know I'm going into Foster Care." Sara said, impartially, as if she did not mind, yet the look on her face said otherwise.
He felt his heart tugging a little, and he avoided answering her. "You ready?" He asked, and once she nodded, he lead her back down the stairs slowly, taking her outside straight away.
Immediately, they were faced with a tall, blonde woman who had a soft smile on her lips. "Hi, Sara. My name is Madeline. I'm going to take you to another home for the night." She said with a sweet voice, holding her hand out to her.
Sara said nothing, turning to look at Grissom. "I don't want to be on my own." She whispered softly to him.
He took a deep breath, unsure as to what to say. "How about, I come and see you tomorrow, once you go and get a good night's sleep, eh?" He offered after a few moments.
"I'd like that." She said quietly.
After a few moments more of discussion, Sara finally took Madeline's hand. Once she got a grip of it, she felt that she couldn't let go.
The last thing she seen of her home before she left, was Grissom, watching her still as she went.
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A/N: So, how am I doing with this? Have I got your interest, or do you need more?
Please, let me know (: Click the wee blue button to review, and make one very happy Rach (:
Hope you all enjoyed!
-xx