Okay, first of all, I'm not Katie. She is my creation. Secondly, I'm PureJoy not GSR, but this is kind of what I think of Sara leaving without at least talking to Grissom about it. Hope it makes sense to you. Let me know what you think.

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I sat in the coffee bar, watching a brunette stare at her laptop screen, tears falling from her eyes. Her face was heartbreaking. She was obviously in great pain; pain of spirit, pain of the soul. I'm usually quite shy and seldom approach strangers and find it difficult to comfort even the best of friends...always at a loss for words and actions that seem appropriate. But something in her face pulled me in her direction.

Standing across from her, I asked, "are you okay?"

She glanced up, tears still rolling down her face, and blinked. "Of course you're not," I said. "I'd like to help if I can. Perhaps a cup of coffee and a friendly, and more importantly, stranger as a listener?" I could see her wheels turning in her head as she considered my offer. Finally her head nodded and she offered a seat.

"My name's Katie," I offered.

"Sara," seemed all she could muster.

"From around here? I'm a visitor myself."

"Used to be from here. Now I don't know where I belong." She paused to wipe her eyes and catch a breath. I searched for something to say and then realized she didn't need my words, she needed my ears. So I waited.

Finally she began to talk. "I just left the only home I've ever had, a man I pursued for years and finally we had connected...he asked me to marry him a few weeks ago, and I'm not sure where I am headed. I just knew I couldn't stay. It was destroying me and would have destroyed him to watch me fall apart."

Again I waited. She would talk in her own time...or not. I wasn't going to make her tell me her story. I simply wanted to help, if I could.

After a few minutes she started again. "The job I had...it takes a toll, surrounded by death and destruction everyday. Seems that's been my whole life... And then, a suspect in one of our cases kidnapped me and left me in the desert. I almost died. It was if all the demons of my past rose up to haunt me at once. I treid, I really tried to push them back, but it didn't work. And then the last case, it was the last straw, the proverbial straw..."

"Are you a cop?"

"No, I was a criminalist...crime scene investigator. Worked with the cops. Anyway, I was falling apart and had to get the heck out of dodge. I was drowning." She got quiet again.

"What's his name?" I asked.

Startled, she looked up at me. "Gil."

"Gil...it's a good name. Solid."

"Yeah...he's a good man; complicated, but good."

"What man isn't? Complicated, I mean..." I said trying to lighten the mood just a little.

"Yeah... we were good together, understood each other. He's older, but I needed older. And he's one of the smartest people I've ever met, except when it comes to relationships...that took him forever to figure out. And he's..." she smiled a little as her next words fell out, " fine...so freakin fine."

"Good looking, eh? Well, that fits. You're an attractive woman."

"Yeah, he's ...yeah..."

Silence. Her mind was on him.

"I had a really bad childhood and it all has come crashing in on me. I never resolved it so now it's come back to bite me."

Bad childhood...something I could relate to. "Yeah, old ghosts have a way of doing that. It took me years to put mine to rest."

She looked at me with interest. "You have ghosts?"

"I've come to the conclusion that almost everyone does. Mine are an abusive father and a controlling mother. At least as long as he was alive, she was somewhat restrained. After he drank himslef to death, she was free to do her worst. She had me so under her thumb that I was afraid to breathe without asking permission. By the time I got out I was a basket case. Wierd thing is, I still love my parents, I just can't stand my mother and wouldn't go anywhere near my father if he were still alive."

"So...how did you put it all to rest?"

"I'm not sure I can give you a simple answer.I had to realize that that was them, it didn't have to be me. And somewhere along the way, I decided that I didn't want my life to be about their abuses. I began to build my own life. I stood at my father's grave and forgave him for all the unforgivable things he did. And, while I couldn't speak directly to her about it, I forgave my mother also. And I forgave her again and again...and again, almost everyday, it seemed. Someone once told me that forgiveness is a process. I try to remember that every time the ghosts threaten to rise up again. After a while, I found my own good man. The ghosts threatened to undermine our relationship at first, but I fought back. I wanted a life with him more than anything and I wasn't going to let them win. So I focused on us and let them go. I won't say it was easy, but so far so good..."

She listened and I could see her thinking about what I had said. "But...mine are a little different. My dad was murdered and my mom eneded up in a mental institution. I spent the rest of my childhood in foster care. It's all so overwhelming."

"Yeah, but you survived...you're a survivor. It had to be hard to lose your dad like that...never getting a chance to say good bye. And your mom in an institution...wow. But that's her, not you. And you survived foster care. How many don't? What is it you are running from?"

She sat silently, her brow furrowed in thought. "Running from? My past, I suppose... Thing is...my job surrounded me with all the things that haunted me, abuse, violence, death...the waste of it. I had to get away from it."

"Yeah, I can see where you don't need to be in that job, not with your history. But you're willing to throw everything elase away with the job? You said he's a good man..."

"But...he is in the same field. He had to take time off last year because it was wearing him down, threatening to burn him out. I can't live next to it like that, watch what it does to him."

"What does he say about it? You could find a different job. What does he think about it?"

Sighing heavily, she replied. "I didn't talk to him about it. I...I just left."

I sat silently as I thought about her words. She just left ...the guy was probably feeling like he'd been run over by a freight train about now. "I thought you said you two were good together and that he wanted to marry you. Why didn't you talk to him about it?"

"He'd try to help me fix it. It's not something that he can help with."

"Yeah, most men are 'fixers'. They don't get that sometimes we girls just need a sympathetic ear. They go charging around trying to fix things when they don't even understand what's broken. My husband did that for awhile. Eventually I was able to make him understand. He's been very supportive since."

"You are married? Isn't it hard...I mean, with an abusive father and all?"

"I just remember that my husband isn't my father. He would never do the things my father did. That's one of the things that attracted me to him. He's a much better man than my father was. Trust was an issue for awhile until I let go of the past."

"How did you let go?"

"Like I said, forgiveness...I forgave...and forgave again until I was free."

"So that was it? It sounds too simple."

"Oh, it's not simple. It hurt. But it was worth it. As a kid I can remember thinking that I was destined to live a miserable life. I can honestly tell you, that I am happy now. All of my past is just that, the past. My life now is about my family now, my husband...my kids."

"How do you forgive like that?'

"You just do. At first, it's just words. Then it becomes real and you are able to let go."

"Did you talk to them...go revisit the places?"

"Yeah, at first. I went to my father's grave but realized he wasn't there. And I drove by the house and realized that it was just a building...no magic there. So I began, where ever I was at the time, to forgive. My life is hundreds of miles away from where I grew up. I don't need to go there anymore. The answer is within me, not in some buildings that we left behind long ago."

Her expression changed. A smile began to form on her mouth. She looked at me gratefully. "Thanks," she said. "I think I know what to do now."

"It won't be easy Sara. You need to find a different job, but that'll probably be the easy part. But good luck."

"Thanks," she said again. I stood to leave and heard her dialing a cell phone. As I walked away I heard, "Gil, it's me...I'm sorry...Can we talk?"

I left the coffee bar, hoping that Sara would return to her good man. I went back to the hotel to hug mine.