Author's Notes: Ideas and lyrics shamelessly "borrowed" from Idina Menzel's new single, Brave. I normally don't write songfic, and I don't suppose this one qualifies, as the lyrics aren't written INTO the fic, but I had to let you see where my mind was when I was writing this. (If it's tacky, teenager-y or trite, let me know and I'll edit them out and make it an author's note or an addendum. I love concrit!)
Also, forgive me for switching POVs, but the Muses made me do it. I do love getting into everyone's heads.
----------
"I don't know just where I'm going and tomorrow is a little overwhelming, and the air is cold, and I'm not the same anymore."
Sara stood shivering, clutching her new wool overcoat around her. The New York wind bit at her, slicing icily at the fingers grasping futilely at the collar of her coat with the remnants of a freezing afternoon rain. She fought the urge to turn and run, admonishing herself not to give up.
She took a hesitant step toward the tombstone, then another. She read the words, uncomprehending, although they were so familiar. His name. His date of birth, his date of death -- things Sara knew without looking. "Beloved son, doting father, taken from this world too soon. He waits for us on the other side." She couldn't help the harsh laugh that bubbled up; the irony was too much.
Calming down, Sara took a deep breath and another step forward, clearing her throat. "Hi, Daddy." She had to turn away from the grave for a moment, as if her father were standing there before her, instead of lying beneath the soil. "I'm sorry I haven't come to visit sooner," she said, echoing the words she'd said to her mother not a month before. "I wasn't...well, I'm sure you know. Life, right?" Sara sighed softly. "I'm not sure what I'm doing here. I'm talking to a stone. I don't know if I believe you can hear me, wherever you are. But then, this isn't for you. This is for me." She smiled wistfully. "This is so that maybe I can finally let you go."
Sighing, Sara bent her head against the wind. "I miss you. I miss what I remember about you, I suppose. You know that time we went to the zoo? I think I was about six. Just you and me. I forget why Tony couldn't go, but I was so happy he stayed home. I had you all to myself. I didn't let myself think about the black eye you gave Mom the day before. I just...you and me, you know? Doing what the other kids said their dads did with them. And we spent the whole day, I couldn't believe it. You bought me that stuffed tiger. I ate so much cotton candy I got sick, but God, I didn't care. I had my Daddy."
Without another word or a glance back, Sara strode away from the gravesite, scrubbing at her windburned cheeks.
----------
If this is the moment, I stand here on my own... If this is my rite of passage that somehow leads me home... I might be afraid but it's my turn to be brave. If this is the last chance before we say goodbye, at least it's the first day of the rest of my life. I can't be afraid 'cause it's my turn to be brave.
Sara swiped at a frozen tear. "I was so angry with you for so long. I blamed Mom for everything until I realized that you took away her power. You convinced her she was nothing, and it wasn't until you threatened what little she had that she fought back." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "But I know you didn't do it on purpose. I..." Her voice was trembling, and she struggled to control it. "I met Grandma Lily, and she--she told me about your father. I wish I'd known years ago. She had no idea what was going on, and she says if she had...she'd have helped us. Helped you." Silent crying wracked her, and Sara tried to breathe.
"I forgive you," she whispered. "I...I love you, Daddy." With a watery smile, Sara turned and walked away slowly.
----------
"I've been running in your direction for too long now. Lost my own reflection, and I can't look down if you're not there to catch me when I fall."
Sara's finger hesitated over the button. I went to see my dad today. We had a good talk. I cried. Talked to Mom earlier, and she said the oddest thing - she misses him. After everything, she still cares about the man she fell in love with. She said she knows that somewhere deep down, he was that man, not the one who was so angry he couldn't control it.
I know how she feels.
She hit 'Send'.
----------
And I might still cry, and I might still bleed, these thorns in my side, this heart on my sleeve. And lightning may strike this ground at my feet, and I might still crash, but I still believe. This is the moment I stand here all alone, with everything I have inside and everything I own. I might be afraid but it's my turn to be brave.
Grissom read the e-mail twice. Sara's promise rang in his ears, as if she'd whispered it to him. "Hang on, honey. I'll be home soon." And now this. He couldn't feel the air entering his lungs; he barely remembered to breathe at all.
"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." She's never stopped believing that he loved her once, and so she cannot stop loving him.
I know how she feels.
He hit 'Send', finally exhaling.
----------
If this is the last time before we say goodbye, at least it's the first day of the rest of my life. I can't be afraid. It's my turn to be brave.
A light rap on his office door and Grissom's breath caught audibly in his throat. Before she spoke, he knew it was Sara.
"Hey," she murmured, her voice husky.
He raised his eyes from the paper lying beneath his fingers to meet her studious gaze. Wordlessly, he stood and crossed the room, passing by Sara and leaving her with a confused frown, tears beginning to accumulate in her eyes. Grissom shut the door with a tiny click and flipped the lock. Finally, he turned back to face Sara, smiling gently. "Welcome home."
"Oh, God." Sara raced toward him, winding her arms tightly around his neck and squeezing him hard. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her face hidden, pressed tightly against his neck.
Grissom chided her tenderly. "Don't be," he said, his voice low. "You've never kept me from the things I need to do. How could I deny you the same?"
Laughing softly, her tears soaking into his shirt, Sara tightened her hold on him. "Are we okay?"
"We're fine," Grissom assured her roughly. "As long as..." He trailed off.
Sara leaned back, meeting his gaze with a look of utter conviction. "Never," she promised, her voice breaking. "Never again, Gil."
With a silent sigh, Grissom nodded. A small smile began to form at the corners of his mouth as he slid his fingers around Sara's. He gave her hand a gentle tug, moving toward the door. "Come on. We'll pick Hank up from the sitter's early. He's dying to hear all about your trip."
"Is he?" Sara chuckled quietly, wiping away the last of her tears.
As he reached for the lock, Grissom caught sight of the white gold band, resting comfortably on Sara's left hand. Shocked, his eyes flew to hers.
She nodded slowly. "I meant it. Never again." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Let's go home."
THE END