AN: This story contains references to abortion. If this subject matter makes you uncomfortable, please do not read it. The opinions expressed within this story are not necessarily my own, so do not send me emails expressing your opinions. I do, however, appreciate reviews with questions, comments, and suggestions."

Every time history repeats itself, the price goes up. - John A. Appleman


December 26th 1977 6:00a.m.

The day after Christmas dawned crisp and clear; Gil was watching the sun rising in the horizon from the kitchen window in his mother's cottage while waiting for his black coffee to cool enough for him to take a first sip. It would be the first cup of many to get him through the shift and the double that would most likely follow. School was out so he'd be spending the next few weeks much like the last, covering vacations and illnesses.

He was working an obscene number of hours, with only short breaks for sleeping and eating between them, all for the large paycheck before the next term started. He hadn't told anyone what he was saving up for, but his supervisor had just looked over his reading glasses and said mildly, "She must be something special to work these kinds of hours."

Looking at the sky that was the same shade of grey as her eyes he smiled. Lindy was something special alright; she was the one. After three years, he was ready to take the next step and had already begun the preparations. His grandmother's ring had recently returned from being cleaned at the jeweler's and once his next paycheck was deposited there would be enough for a down payment on a small house. He'd already made arrangements so he could work while finishing school and all that remained was for him to ask her.

He ignored the familiar anxiety when he thought about his proposal plans. A nice dinner, followed by hours of dancing and then just before midnight he'd whisper "Marry me?" in her ear. He could hear her saying yes and they'd still be kissing as the confetti and balloons fell down around them marking the transition from one year to the next.

Picking up the coffee cup he sipped the dark brew and began preparing himself for another long day at the Coroner's office. He could bear the terrible things he saw everyday, because of Lindy and their future. Smiling he could hear her recent reply in their quotes game ""The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. He'd won a kiss when he correctly attributed the quote to Eleanor Roosevelt."


December 26th 1977 7:00a.m.

"Hey Carver." Gil called out to the dark skinned Coroner as he entered the break room to grab a cup of coffee. For the older man to still be in the building he'd either gotten in really early for his afternoon shift or never left.

"Gil."

"What are you still doing here?"

"Had to pull a double. Some religious nut was inspired by the Hillside Strangler; so I had to stay for three strangled college girls while nightshift worked a six car pile up."

"Religious nut? That's an odd comment from a man who's a Deacon in his church?"

The black man shrugged. "Well I don't know what else to call it when someone writes 'I broke the sixth commandment' across his victim's foreheads."

"Thou shall not kill." Gil spoke quietly.

"The case is going to be high profile and has got the D.A. worried; he doesn't want a repeat of the Hillside Strangler."

Gil nodded in understanding, his school schedule kept him from working on the recent case, but he'd seen how deeply the case affected his co-workers and the residents of Los Angles.

"The odd thing was all three had recently had abortions so it probably referred to that. Well I'm heading home. Have a good shift Gil. "

"See ya Carver." Gil called over his shoulder as he left the room.

Walking down the hallway Gil was surprised to see a group of people already in the family waiting area. Normally families didn't arrive to make identifications until mid-morning so they were probably related to one of the college girls. He tried to give the family some privacy by averting his eyes so a stranger didn't watch as they grappled with their overwhelming grief.

As he drew closer, he was startled by the familiarity of their silhouettes. His boss was standing next to Lindy's Dad who was trying to comfort the weeping woman in the chair. He tried to pretend it was his girlfriend sitting there, but each step brought him closer to the truth. It became harder to breathe as his brain railed against the conclusion it was trying to draw.

"Gil?" The woman's voice called out softly as he approached. Her voice was a little deeper than Lindy's, but so similar that he looked up hoping his senses were deceiving him. The red rimmed blue eyes and face stained with tears confirm it wasn't Lindy. "I'm so sorry."

Stumbling a little he steadied himself against the wall. It was too much, too big; there was an unfamiliar throbbing in his head and the pain was overwhelming as he sank to the floor. Looking down he stared at the white tiled floor, he noticed a small spider cross the tile to the wall.

"I'm sorry son." Lindy's Dad gave his shoulder a squeeze, but Gil couldn't bear to look up and see Lindy's grey eyes staring back at him, even as the older man choked out the dreaded words. "Melinda's gone."

"There must be a mistake, you're wrong."

"I wish it was, but they've just made a positive i.d." His supervisor's voice was soft and understanding. "Melinda was one of the women brought in last night."


October 2nd 6:00 a.m.

Dusting sand off his pants Grissom shook off the memories of the past to return to the present he stood and stared at the ocean. The sun was rising and it was time to leave. Following his footprints in the sand back to his car he thought about secrets and lies.

Sometimes just before entering the interrogation room he would remember watching Detective Owens' question Lisa Eden, the mentally disturbed woman responsible for killing Lindy and two other young women. He'd remember the gentle probing questions that revealed the terrible truth; she believed that God would give her a baby if she exacted 'justice' on those women.

Mrs. Eden had kept secrets from her husband not telling him about her rape, her illegal abortion, the infection it caused or how it prevented her from conceiving. He lied about the reasons for the divorce rather than admitting he'd fallen in love with someone else. Maybe the truth might have prevented her from slipping into madness and murder.

Gil sighed if only Lindy had shared her secret with him, they could have discussed it and things could have turned out so differently. She wouldn't have been alone when she left the clinic so she'd have lived. Maybe they'd have eloped, bought a little house and had the baby. That child would have been Greg's age now and he guessed it would have been as brilliant as his youngest CSI. Either way things would have been different.

He'd spent years avoiding these thoughts because they accomplished nothing. If that one thing in the past had been changed he knew that his life would have been very different. He'd have chosen alternate paths and that would've changed so many things; criminals not caught, students not taught, friends he wouldn't have made. The past was past and dwelling on the what-ifs only brought heartache and he had enough of it in his present.

Stopping to pick up a rock to throw into the ocean he thought of Sara's secrets and lies, the rage was gone now. He balanced the stone in his palm; it was cool, smooth and reminded him of Sara. She'd been broken, battered and tumbled through her childhood by forces out of her control. It was only recently that the last of her rough edges seemed to smooth out as if she had finally come to rest on terra firma, but like the stone, the surface revealed little of her chaotic origins.

He hadn't pressed her to share more than she'd already revealed, choosing to respect her privacy and allow Sara to keep her secrets until she felt safe enough to share on her own. He wondered now if that was a mistake. Was she still worried that violence was genetic? Shoving the stone into his pocket he continued his trek back to his car. Until now, he'd thought their relationship couldn't be harmed by what had been left unsaid, but now he knew better.