A/N: We're two here, into a society of fanfic account. Me and Blair Boo. We became friends years ago, we lost track. Now we're back together. I saw her writing this amazing story long ago and I think it's time to translate it now. :) So, this is her story, not ours, not mine. Hers. And I think you might like it ;) Here you go!
Ping, ping, ping.
The nightmare always started like this.
She was too little to go out. Too little to do something.
But she was big enough to understand the scream, the sound of things cracking and the terror.
She could smell it. The bitter smell of death mixed with the fetid smell of the little bathroom she was hiding into.
Ping, ping, ping.
The faucet was singing while she was crying. Everything was silent now.
And then she felt it. Watering her feet, soaking her clothes.
The blood flowing through under the door, up to her... like a monster it climbed her legs, sticking on her like a parasite.
And she screamed.
She awoke in the darkness. The fresh memories of the nightmare making her gasp, her chest going up and down, fighting for oxygen. Her body was covered with sweat. It took her several minutes to steady her breath and body, untill she had finaly stopped the trembling.
The clock light blinked to her, letting her know it was 3 am. Great, she thought. She had three more hours to go, to spend it awake. She knew there was no way in hell to sleep after these nightmares. Sighing, she lied herself down again, pulling away the sheet. She turned onto one side and closed her eyes, knowing too well that it was in vain. If she got back to sleep the nightmare would come back again, like in the past nights, since she had closed that case. In her dreams things were confused. Sometimes she was the girl; other, the girl was her. The story tangled as tough in a cobweb.
If little Abby's story wasn't too similar to hers, those nightmares wouldn't haunt her. But it was, and it would take her a long time to get over it.
Abby and her scared eyes, her trembling little hands and her doll that had the head bent to one side, that the girl had taken it to everywhere she was going. A little girl with a destroyed childhood just like hers, and now would depend on the system that, Sara knew better than anyone, was a flawed one.
She opened her eyes and stared at the darkness.
If he was there, at least...
She hardly had bad dreams when he was around. And when she had it, his presence, his arms around her was enough to make her feel safe to go back to sleep. But he was far and she was alone.
She had never depended on a man in her life, but now she caught herself missing a particular one.
"You are becoming emotional, that's the truth." She murmured as she sat in the bed again, flipping the light on. Resigned to the lack of sleepy, she grabbed a thick book placed next to the clock and opened it in a random page.
A smile cut her lips.
One way or another, he was always there.
Coffee.
The smell filled the apartment as she leaned over the kitchen countertop, reading for the thousandth time the Abigail Romson's case.
Eddy Romson, dead. Melissa Romson behind bars and little Abby... alone.
Case closed.
One among hundreds that have occured everyday.
She flipped through a few pages and left the file rest there, before pouring herself a cup of coffee. She sipped it as she thought about the report, line by line, only to write it down later.
Day off didn't mean a lazy day. She had tons of work to do at home.
Watered coffee.
"Argh!" She'd have to buy some goodies if she wanted to drink real coffee, or eat real food, for that matter.
She made a face as she thought about all the laundry to be done, and the pile of dishes threatening to fall and collapse to the ground. After finishing paperwork she would do that. Maybe. The last cases had taken her a lot of time and she had spent less and less hours at home. A shower, a coffee and a few hours of sleep was all what she had done there in the past weeks.
She walked over to the stereo system, chose one of the CDs spread along the coffee table and made a mental note as she pick up the CD. She had to return one to Greg. Oh, great. He had her favorite one too.
She turned the song on, but left it in a low volume, drumming the beats with her feet. She was separating them in two piles when the phone rang.
"Sidle", she said, turning down the volume.
"Hi, Sara.'
"Gil!" She smiled and held the telephone between her shoulder and ear, piling up the CDs. "I was going to call you later."
"I was faster this time." His voice sounded happily.
"Yeah, you were. What's that noise? Where are you?"
"In a hallway, the students are running over me!" He made a pause and Sara heard someone saying 'sorry' at the other end.
"Still at the university?"
"Yeah. I've got two lectures this afternoon and if everything goes well I'll take a flight tonight."
"Good."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, a little tired, you know... I'm home. I closed the Romson case."
"Little Abby's case... Did you confirm all your theories?" His tone was more cautious now. He was the only co-worker that knew the similarities between Sara's life history and Abby's.
"Yeah. It was Melissa."
"And Abby?"
She swallowed. "She's with the social worker now."
"You know there was nothing you could have done for her..."
"... except have caught the murder." She cut him off. "Yeah, you know... I just... I hope she has better chances than I did.."
"Sara..."
"I know, I know... I'm gonna stop thinking about her."
They both knew she wouldn't.
"I've gotta go now. I have a meeting with the principal now, and after that a lunch with some adorable students."
"Oh, good luck!"
"I'll take it this time. Sara?"
"Hm?"
He made a pause, then added in an affectionate voice:
"I'll try to get home as soon as I can."
She couldn't help but smile. He always saw through her.
"Thank you." She whispered.
"You're welcome. See you."
"See you."
She turned off the phone as she sat on the couch. Griss had always understood her, no matter when nor what. She never had someone to take care of her, someone who needed her in an inconditional way and this made her feel... different.
Good different, and also scaring.
The door bell rang taking her out of her reverie and now alert, she rose and walked up to the door, praying that that wasn't work to do. Not today. Please.
It seemed that God had answered her pray, because it wasn't anyone from work, or anyone that she knew, for that matter. She put herself between the half open door as she studied the little figure in frot of her.
"Hi."
"Hi."
The girl didn't look like over eleven, her hair was pale blonde and fell on her shoulders in a sloppy braid. She was wearing a sweatshirt too large for her, and a backpack on her back that had twice of her size.
"Are you Sara Sidle?" She asked narrowing her big brown eyes.
"Yes, I am. And you are...?"
"Amber Trent."
"Hi, Amber Trent." Sara crossed her arms over her chest. She stared curiously at the little girl, amused by her somewhat. "Can I help you?"
Amber did not responded. Instead, she grabbed the backpack, cracked it open and handed Sarah an envelop.
"What's that?"
"It's from my mother to you."
Sara turned the envelop both sides. Nothing written there. And before she had the chance to open it, the girl cast a grumpy glance to her and sighed.
"She said I'm gonna live with you now."