AN: As promised to my reviewers here is part two of the update I told you about. I hope you will bear with Grissom he's dealing with emotional baggage he's ignored for decades. We'll hear from Sara in the next chapter. Also italics are used to represent conversations in American Sign Language.

"A mother loves her children even when they least deserve to be loved." Kate Samperi

October 2nd 6:30 a.m.

Walking up to his mother's cottage he spotted the flowers she and Sara had planted on the last visit were blooming. The front of the house was dark except for the porch light, but he knew that didn't mean anything. Where he was a night owl, Mom was an early bird. Pushing the doorbell he watched as the interior lights flashed on and off alerting her to the bell.

A few minutes passed, before the wooden front door opened. Through the glass of the screen door he could see his mother. She looked like she always did; dressed casually in faded blue jeans and a tailored white peasant blouse. Her shoulder length hair neither quite the champagne blonde of her youth nor completely platinum. She looked much younger than seventy-five. He knew he hadn't woken her up, but since she was still barefoot he guessed she hadn't been for her morning walk yet.

Rosemary Grissom smiled at the sight of her only child standing on her front porch. "I wasn't expecting you and Sara until Thanksgiving."

"I know." Both women had been so excited about the upcoming holiday trips. Thanksgiving with his mother and then Christmas in Chicago where he'd hoped to introduce Sara to the rest of the family as his fiancée.

Opening the glass door she looked around for Sara, her smile faded and was replaced with concern when she didn't see her. "Where is Sara?"

He sighed, not looking forward to disappointing his mother, she'd been so happy to meet Sara. His mother would have tried to like any woman he wanted to marry. She didn't have to 'try' to like Sara; they had bonded over a painting, been inseparable for the rest of the visit and chatted online nearly every day. Last week he'd even teased that Sara was closer to her than her own son.

"She's not coming."

As she studied her son, Rosemary saw that something was very wrong. She stared deep into his blood shot blue eyes, past the fatigue and saw something darker, to the source of the defeated slump to Gil's shoulders. It broke her heart to see him hurting like this and she wished that a kiss could make it all better like when he was little. It wouldn't so all she could do was get him to tell her about it and help him find a solution.

"Gil what's wrong?"

"I needed to get out of Vegas."

"You're a little old to be running away from home." She teased gently, when he shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders, she saw the little boy he'd been. Gil had acted the same way as a child he didn't have a reply and whatever was making him unhappy was serious. Stepping back she silently invited him in with the tilt of her head before turning to open her fridge to scan its contents.

"You want bacon or sausage?"

"Neither."

"Sara said you were taking better care of yourself; eating less meat and getting more sleep." She signed before pulling out a couple of eggs.

Sitting at the dining table, hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee he watched as she deftly moved around the kitchen scrambling eggs on the stove then popping bread into the toaster. Watching his mother cooking breakfast in her bright yellow kitchen he suddenly missed Sara desperately.

Setting twin plates of toast and eggs on the table, Rosemary sat down across from him. Her hands were still for a minute and then flashed as she signed. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about Sara."

"Why not?" She asked, taking a sip of her coffee giving him time to formulate his answer.

"She doesn't know I'm here. I don't want you to tell her I am."

"How is she? I haven't talked to her in a couple days." Rosemary picked up her fork to taking a bite of her eggs.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before he set down his fork and began explaining at his own pace. "Yesterday she went to the Doctor." He swallowed a bit of coffee to help with the painful lump in his throat, speaking the words instead of signing them. "I think she had an abortion."

Rosemary set her plate aside, moving around the table to take his face in her hands so he could read her lips. "Ridiculous. Sara would never do that."

He shook his head and pulled away. "I heard her Mom."

"Maybe what you heard isn't what you think." He shook his head tiredly, seeing he wasn't in any frame of mind to be reasonable, she dropped the subject for now. "Gil when did you sleep last?"

"Two or three days ago."

"You need to sleep. We'll talk more after you've rested."

"I don't want to talk about it yet."

"Too bad. Finish your breakfast and then get some sleep."

The alarm on his watch went off. It was 7 a.m. and shift was over. Turning off the music he lay on his back staring at the guest room ceiling. Like the room, the watch was just another reminder of Sara. She'd given it to him the third time he'd missed an after shift date and not called. In his experience such an oversight turned into a huge fight. Terri Miller hadn't been the first woman upset when work interfered with a date, but at least she d just walked away instead of causing a scene like some of the others had. Sara hadn't gotten angry or walked away; she'd just handed him the watch, kissed his check and whispered in his ear. "The alarm goes off when shift ends. Promise you'll try to call if you'll be late so I won't worry."

The problem was solved that easily. They didn't have any of the issues that had plagued past relationships because of the shared vocation and interests. That didn't mean there hadn't been issues, but as he thought back on their relationship he realized that Sara had done all the work, tackling all the issues and using logic to find a practical solution. Up until two days ago everything had been practically perfect because Sara had made it that way.

He was tempted to call her and keep his promise, but that defeated the purpose of leaving. His heart hurt, his mind was numb, his body exhausted and the guest bedroom bed was definitely not as comfortable as he remembered from that last visit. It was smaller and firmer than what he was used to in Vegas, but that wasn't really the problem. If he was honest, he missed the soft, lithe form he was used to cuddling with. He even missed how she'd run her ice cold feet over his calves.

It wasn't until she wasn't there that he began to be aware how she made everything better. Closing his eyes he forced himself to relax using a technique she'd taught him. As he released the breath he hoped his mother was right and that everything would be clearer after he'd slept.