Thirty Years Earlier…
The arguing she was used to. The shouts, the screams, the sound of things hitting the walls, breaking. It had become the lullaby that she drifted off to sleep to, dreaming of better things than the nightmares reality could bring. But tonight, there was silence.
It had started as any other night. She had closed her bedroom door, the fighting voices vibrating off the other side. She had crawled into bed and waited for sleep to come, to take her away from the all too familiar noises. The ones that frightened her but, due to routine, had been strangely comforting. She held the stuffed rabbit in her arms, squeezing it, pressing an ear against it to muffle the sounds and calm her conflicted heart. The bunny was rubbed almost bare of fur on its belly where Sara had laid her head most nights, catching her tears that over time had turned its sweet powdery smell into a musty one.
But that night, the silence came early and sudden, beating her to sleep. It felt wrong, and before she even left the bed she felt her stomach drop, dread replacing the common fear. Quietly, she tiptoed out of the room and down the hall. She stopped at the end of the corridor as the kitchen came into view. Her mother knelt on the floor, shaking and rocking back and forth. She was smeared with something dark and red all over her, in her hair, on her hands, drenching her flimsy nightgown. Sara started towards her mother when the sight of a boot and pants leg, laying on the floor far too still, stopped her. She recognized it, and she knew what the dark puddle growing underneath the leg was too. But her mind told her she was dreaming. Her mind told her it wasn't real, it couldn't be. Her mind lied to her and told her for a moment that it was going to be okay. She just had to wake up…
Two Days Earlier…
As they walked into the house, Grissom noticed how little had changed in it. The furniture held the same arrangements they did when he had called this place home. Everything seemed the same, yet something was off. The pictures were gone or replaced. The ones of their time in Costa Rica, in Peru, and of just them in general had disappeared, making the familiarity seem sterile. It spoke volumes of the pain he had unintentionally inflicted, far more than Sara would ever say.
"I'm going to lay down," she announced as she walked towards the bedroom. He nodded and watched her go. She paused as she walked by the bookshelf along the wall. Grissom saw her remove something stuck halfway out of an old photo album. A small sad smile crossed her face. It made his heart flutter, catching him off guard. He could tell himself he was over her when he was away. He could pretend she no longer had an effect over him when he had so many other things to distract him and occupy his thoughts. But here, the truth returned, the impact of it hitting harder than he expected.
Sara stared at the picture in her hands as she moved to the couch, sinking down on it. Grissom joined her, careful to keep the distance between them as he took a seat.
"It's hard to believe we ever had moments like this." Grissom looked at the photo she was grasping, a picture of her and her parents when she was a child, all of them smiling for the camera.
"What were they like?" he asked. She looked up at him.
"You know, I'm not really sure. Some days I remember them playing with me on the beach or walking the pier, laughing and being the all American family, but other days I remember the fights, the anxiety in my chest waiting for it to end." She looked past him for a moment, a far off look in her eye. "It's funny how time warps reality." He smiled at her as she returned her gaze to him. "Gil, why did you answer my call? Why did you return?"
"Sara, I care about you." He lifted a hand to brush her brunette locks behind a ear, the movement causing her to flinch.
"Trash bags." He let his hand retreat as a look of confusion etched in his brow. "That's what we used to carry our stuff from one foster home to another," Sara continued. "Like we were disposable. That's how my mother made me feel, Gil. Disposable, just like my father. When I met you, I used to think you were the best of them. The intellect and concern without the rage, without the pain. But I was wrong."
"Sara, I never meant to hurt you-"
"That's what she used to say. I didn't mean to kill him. I didn't mean to hurt you. Just spare me the apology, okay? I've had enough to last me a lifetime." She looked away, trying to blink back the tears. "I'm going to go lay down now." Without another word between them, she rose from her seat and left, slamming the bedroom door behind her.
He followed her in, sitting beside her on the bed as she laid facing away from him.
"Sara," his voice became soft,"I don't think you are disposable. I could never think that."
She turned over to look at him. "Gil, you haven't spoken to me in two years. Years. How else I am suppose to take that?"
"Do you remember the last time I was here, with you, in this room?" He searched her eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. You were a ghost of yourself, Sara. You had just lost the baby, and you wouldn't talk about it. You brushed me off any time I came near you. You took extra overtime at work and left me here alone, waiting. You were hurting and in despair and I couldn't help you. I couldn't…I couldn't do anything but watch you push me further away."
"Gil-"
"You kept waiting for me to save you and I couldn't. When I ended it, I heard the disappointment in your voice. It killed me, Sara. It killed me to hear you like that. I let you down, but I needed you to see it, to understand it. To realize what I already knew: there was nothing I could do. I had to let you go so you could save yourself instead of waiting for me to do it."
"You could have tried, Gil. You could have said something, reached out. You could have done more."
"You're right. I could have. I should have, but I was broken too. I just wanted to forget, to save myself. But I didn't save anything, I see that now." With one hand, he rubbed his eyes moving down to his beard. "There was never anyone else but me and my own stupidity. I want you to know that."
She sat up and took his hand from his face, holding it in hers as she laid back down. "Stay with me awhile. Just stay." He stretched out beside her on the bed, their eyes meeting until hers flickered close as she drifted off to sleep. He laid there awhile longer listening to her breathing steady. He kissed her forehead gently and then stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
The ringing stirred him from his unexpected slumber as he awoke to find the book he had been reading sliding off his chest and the sunlight from the window gone. He checked his own phone, although it was not the source of the sound, seeing that it was now well into night, the day having slipped away. Sara's phone vibrated off the coffee table, the ringing signaling urgency. He picked it up to see that Greg was calling her. Had been calling her for the last twenty minutes.
Standing he took the phone and knocked gently on the bedroom door. "Sara," he called to her,"Greg is calling you." He waited, receiving no response. Cautiously, he pushed open the door.
The bedsheets were strewn in a crumpled mess, but the bed was empty. He ventured into the bathroom, calling her name. She was nowhere to be found. He pushed the fear that came from years of working as an investigator deep into the back of his mind, not ready to contemplate the horror that this situation was starting to resemble. His pulse began to increase, instinctually preparing for the marathon it knew it was about to run. He walked the house, studying the rooms, looking for anything that seemed off. That's when he noticed the sliding door to the back porch was slightly cracked and a coffee mug laid in pieces on the concrete just outside the door, dark liquid staining the floor around the remains of the shattered cup.
The phone rang again and this time he answered.
"Sara?" came the panicked voice of the other end.
"No, this is Grissom," he answered carefully inspecting the evidence before him.
"Grissom? Is Sara there? I need to speak with her right now," Greg said, not hiding his distress.
"Greg, is there still a police car outside the house?"
"Yes, Grissom, what's going on? Where's Sara?"
Grissom closed his eyes, angry at himself for allowing her to be put in harm's way once more. "Send the police inside now. Sara's gone, Greg. I think she's been kidnapped."
