Disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of CSI or any of its characters.
A/N- If I get some good feedback I may do a sequel.
Remorse
"Jesus! I swear no matter how long I've been on the job, people surprise me." Jim Brass exclaimed as he entered the crime scene. It had been a long night, and this last call was the last in a stream of gruesome murder scenes. "Did they have to slaughter the cat? I could see killing a dog, but a cat…"
"I don't know why your so surprised Brass. The woman kills her husband and kid, why would you think he would be humane toward a loved pet?" Greg quipped as he packed up his kit and grabbed a few evidence bags and headed off to the Tahoe.
Brass just sneered and turned to the other CSI working the scene. "Sara, you okay?"
The young brunette had appeared to be off in her own head since she came on the scene. At first Brass had shrugged it off as her more than likely getting off of a double, but something in her haunted eyes made him question her.
The crime scene was really nothing spectacular; that is if you don't think a battered woman snapping a killing her entire family and their pets as routine. The main scene was in the kitchen, the father had been repeatedly stabbed in the upper and lower torso of his back. The eight inch butcher knife pierced through his abdomen and into the young girl, his twelve year old daughter that had been trapped beneath him during an attempted rape. The wife had confessed to the crime, despite her state of shock. She had been insistent that she was just trying to get him off of their daughter, not kill her. Brass asked what the cat had done and the woman had promptly clammed up.
Shortly after Sara and Greg had arrived the bodies was removed and the processing of the scene began. Hardly a word had been uttered from Sara, as she carefully and cautiously worked the scene. Occasionally he thought he heard her mumbling under her breath, which he graciously ignored as his concern for his semi-adopted daughter. Now that the scene was practically wrapped up, he felt a need to show his concern.
"Huh?" Sara Sidle continued to stare at the blood pull on the cheap yellowed linoleum. Two puddles of crimson intermingled and ran together, signifying the loss of life.
"Hey kiddo, you okay?" Brass stepped up to her and lightly touched her shoulder.
Sara jumped startled out of her thoughts. "What? Yeah…just…tired." Her eyes wandered back to the blood splatter on the fridge.
Sympathetic, Jim Brass gave the woman's shoulder a light squeeze. "Go home and get some sleep Sara. Put your thoughts to rest."
"Sure Brass." She gave him a slight grin, one that did not reach her haunted eyes. "I'll just drop off some stuff at the lab and head out."
He watched as she turned and left the scene, leaving him to tape of and lock the doors as a crime scene. "You do that kiddo." He whispered softly.
Sara surprised even herself when she took Jim's advice and actually did head home. The morning sun had not yet peaked over the horizon, but dawn was swiftly approaching. The light of the city and the sun danced off her front door. Her apartment really wasn't much to look at from the outside, it was little more run down than she would have liked, but you couldn't compete with the price. Sara had made the inside a bit more comfy and it at least looked sanitary. Just walking to her front door made her want to shower of the germs and bacteria that more than likely grew on the steps leading to her door.
A shower was exactly what she was wanting when she opened the front door to the loneliness and the darkness of her apartment. Systematically she went through her rituals, locking all three locks on her door, grabbing bottle water from the fridge, rechecking her locks and her peephole, before making her way to her bathroom. She was in desperate need of a cleansing; she needed to get the latest crime scene out of her head. It hit way to close to her haunting memories; including the cracked and battered linoleum.
Turning her shower on, she set the hot water on as far as she could stand it. Sinking to her trembling knees, Sara began to scrub the memory off of her body. The memories of her past flashed before her eyes forcing her to scrub her body harder. Her tears fell surprisingly cool against her face under the scalding water. Briefly Sara resisted the urge to scrub herself with bleach, before the need to feel cleaner took over and she found her skin burning under a much harsher sensation.
"Bleach kills everything..." She mumbled as her washcloth began to take on a purplish tent before a much more yellow color, as she dumped more bleach into the tub. After another ten minutes Sara felt a bit cleaner, her skin was rubbed a raw red and her skin felt tight and burned. She however felt a sense of emptiness and raw pain, her eyes burned from her tears and from the repugnant smell of the bleach
Stepping out of the shower she wrapped her robe around her small body. The cleansing did not wash away her demons; she would have to stoop to another level. Shaking lightly she padded into the kitchen and pulled out a new bottle of Smirnoff Vodka. Pulling out a shot glass she cracked the lid and poured herself a healthy bout of the clear alcohol. She thought briefly of grabbing a beer as a chaser, but changed her mind and made her way to her dark living room. Falling into the couch and wiping her eyes she threw the shot back and swallowed hard.
"No chaser?"
Startled, Sara jerked up tipping her glass over and scanned the room. In the corner of the dark room a figure sat cross legged in a chair, their features shrouded in darkness. Falling over the back of the couch in shock, she scrambled up and went for her gun, which she had left sitting on her kitchen counter. Gripping her gun in one hand and her phone in the other, Sara approached the living room.
"Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?" Despite the situation and her earlier jumpiness, with the gun in hand she felt in more control.
"Sara…" The raspy voice chuckled at her. "Is that any way to greet your mother?" With that said the figure stood up and stepped into the light, that the sun had finally graced them with. The older woman looked surprisingly young and beautiful despite being in prison for the last twenty years. To look at her you wouldn't have guessed she was a convicted murderess, even with the few bruises that littered her face. Her hair dark hair and eyes were the very same as her daughter. "I would rather have been offered a drink."
Sara Sidle's face turned pale, and she fought the urge to vomit. "How…what…when...?" Sara choked on her words.
"How am I here?" Laura Sidle asked, amused at her daughter's fumbling of words. She glided lightly into the couch and reset up the shot glass, pouring herself her own shot. Tossing it back, the woman seemed unconcerned about the gun still shakily being pointed at her. "Do you want to know how I got in your Fort Knox like apartment, or how I got out of prison Sara?" She smirked.
Unable to hold her shaking body up, Sara sank to the floor, the kitchen counter supporting her back. Her hands fell heavily at her side, her police issued gun clattered on the tile. Shaking her head, she stared up at her mother, who was taking her second or was it third shot of vodka. "Both."
"Just am." Laura grinned like a Cheshire cat from the couch. "Is that really the question you want to ask me?"
A sense of self coming back to Sara, she narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Why?"
"That's my smart girl, always getting to the root of the problem." She chuckled lightly and tipped the bottle in offering toward Sara, who just ignored the gesture and bore her eyes into her mother's. "More for me."
"Why?" Her voice was unnaturally high. Sara was sure she actually croaked the word.
"Why not." Her mother taunted with a shrug.
Sara's face grew hard. "You could have left…we could have just left." She spat out her voice laced with venom.
"Could we?"
Irritated Sara stood up, her gun and phone long forgotten on the tile floor. "Yes." She said with conviction. "What you did…how you did…"
"You have always been so naive Sara, your unwavering believes in justice and humanity, it's laughable." Laura poured another shot and thrust it into her daughter's hand. "Even after tonight, after seeing that scene and all the scenes you have seen before, you still believe in humanity."
Sara tossed the shot back against her throat, her mind spinning with questions. Still she was determined, everything else could wait; she only wanted one answer tonight. "Why?"
Laura studied her daughter; the dark circles under her eyes her to thin form, her hardened face. "So you could smile."
"Smile?" Sara laughed bitterly. "You thought I'd be happy? After you…after he…how could I smile?"
Laura shrugged and tipped the bottle back. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sara spat out in anger. "What is with the goddamned riddles?" Her arms flailed in anger.
The older woman let out a full belly laugh. "You were always one for dramatics Sara." She pursed her lips in thought. "Even as a small child, always sputtering about this or that, never a moment to relax and enjoy life."
"Enjoy life? Are you fucking kidding me? What was I suppose to enjoy, you and him getting drunk and high or him beating the fuck out of us? I know, I should have enjoyed it when he took me at every turn, against the kitchen counter, in my bed, in your bed, the couch, the car…fuck you!" Her body stood rigid, her fist clenched tightly drawing blood, her breathing coming out rapidly.
"I'll concede that point. Still why not smile now?" Laura shrugged. "I mean…" She looked around the apartment. "I don't see him here now, so what's your excuse?" She took another swig, dumped more into the glass on the table and thrust it at Sara. "You're the one getting drunk now."
"Sara let the glass fall spilling over her carpeted floor. "I'm not a drunk." She seethed.
"No?" Laura smirked. "The apple doesn't fall far from the proverbial tree Sara. You can call it what ever you want, but it doesn't change the facts."
"I'm not a drunk." Sara maintained.
Laura nodded in understanding. "What ever you say Sara, you was always the smart one in the family, too smart for your own good."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It is what it is Sara."
Sara bent over and picked up the empty shot glass, gripped it tightly and than hurtled it across the room, shattering it against the wall. "What is with your goddamn riddles?" She screamed. Her anger and temper was getting the better of her, and she was seriously thinking about throttling the woman standing in front of her. "Can't you just talk like a normal fucking human being?"
Laura's smile seemed to grow at her daughter's outrage. "My, my…how the mighty have fallen. Judge not lest thee be judged…or some shit like that." The older woman cackled.
"Get out." Sara retrieved her gun and phone. "Get out before I call the cops or shoot you for trespassing!" Sara knew that the woman who plagued her waking nightmares would offer no comfort or answers. At this point she just wanted to be left alone. "Get the fuck out of my house."
"Come now Sara, you're not going to use that thing." Laura made no move to leave the apartment. "We were just getting reacquainted, is that any way to treat your mother?"
"I'll kill you Laura, I will." She spat out in anger. She trained her gun on her mother's head. "Leave now…or so help me…"
"No."
"No? You don't think I have it in me to kill you?"
"Of course you do Sara." Laura taunted. "After all we have already covered the apple and the tree."
Sara Sidle was unaware of squeezing the trigger. She heard the deafening noise of the bullets being released from her gun as she emptied her clip into the smirking face of her mother. Through the smoke of the gun barrel, Sara made out the Cheshire grin of her mother.
"Can't you get anything right?" Laura laughed.
Sara stared in shock at the now standing form of her mother. She felt as if she was looking through a fog that had deafened her ears causing everything to come out in far away echoes. She did not hear the police knock down her front door, or yelling at her to drop her weapon. She did not feel herself being knocked to the floor and her arms jerked harshly behind her back. Forcing her head up she looked back up at her still mother's unharmed face.
"How…I shot her…how…" She mumbled. "I killed her. She's dead. I killed her." Her voice grew louder, panic setting it.
"Sara!" Jim Brass gripped the handcuffed CSI, turning her to him. "Who Sara? Who did you shoot?" He couldn't bring himself to say kill. He was shocked to when the call came out as shots fired at Sara's apartment and had rushed over.
"I killed her. She's dead." Sara mumbled, tears falling down.
"Sara, calm down kiddo." He gave her a brief hug and pulled back. "Who did you shoot Sara?" The scene had been cleared and no other body dead or alive had been found within the apartment. No blood spatter, no signs of struggle, nothing. Of course a trained CSI may find something, but at this point it looked as if Sara had just shot off her weapon against her living room wall.
Sara looked at him, her face pale. "My mother. I killed her, shot her. Brass she just stood there laughing." Sara turned away from her surrogate father and looked back in to her apartment. Her mother was once again sitting in her sofa, tipping the bottle of vodka to her and grinning. "Why isn't she dead, how can she be smiling like that? I won't miss next time!" Sara screamed out in anger, trying to take off toward her apartment.
Brass restrained the young CSI, gripping her from behind in a bear hug. "Who are you talking to Sara?"
"My mother, Laura fucking Sidle! She's sitting right there enjoying a drink and laughing at me, can't you see her. She's right there!"
Brass narrowed his eyes and looked into the front door. The apartment was empty, the officers on the scene had retreated to the parking lot waiting for the CSI to process. No one was inside. "There's no one there Sara."