Blast to the Past
Catherine didn't have much time. Already GenSyn was fortifying themselves with attorneys from one of the nation's top law firms and she didn't relish being sent through endless series of "Please hold on"s.
She knew where she'd find Sara. The break room was usually too occupied and too noisy. There was a strict policy against staying inside the labs any longer than was necessary. There was a lounge, but that was nobody's favorite place.
The only time that the locker room experienced commotion was during the changes in shifts. On other occasions, it was almost as silent as the Pathology Wing.
Sara was seated on one of the long metal benches. Her fingers laced together, elbows resting on knees. Her head was bowed, hair tumbling down like a dark veil to shroud her face.
Catherine was lingered a few distances away, out of sight. She had known where to find Sara. She was the de facto supervisor, and she knew she should be the one to talk to Sara. But, Nick had already volunteered to do the asking, and Catherine had let him. It was better, she thought. Sara would probably never open up to her, anyway.
"I'm sorry for running away like that." Sara whispered.
"You recognized it." Nick's voice was soft.
"I was there from 1976 to 1980. The longest I've ever spent in any school. You know, I always run out of spaces while filling out my past schools." She smiled feebly.
"Why did they issue you a card?" He slowly sat beside her, careful not to intrude on her space.
"All kids had one. There was a case with a pedophile in Marin County and schools restricted entry to outsiders. Only those who carried the admit card for their kids were allowed access. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best they could come up with."
"Do you remember how you lost your admit card, Sara?"
Nick noticed how her muscles went rigid. "My brother used to drop me off in the morning and then pick me up. He had the admit card. He died… he was shot."
The room filled with a grave silence. Nick was speechless, a lump settling in his throat and choking off all words. He had never known Sara had a brother. Now that he thought about it, he hardly knew anything about her personal life. Had it not been for Greg's big mouth, he would have never guessed she liked Grissom.
"Do you know Connor Greenberg?" He moved back to the important questions, mostly to distract Sara from her bad memories.
"Outside of a scientific journal, no."
"How about your parents, do you think they knew him?"
Sara gave a dry smile. "My parents and he didn't exactly move in the same circles."
Nick couldn't think of anything more to ask, so he stood up. "I have to meet Doc in a few. If you remember anything…"
She nodded, but didn't look at him. She hadn't lied, but she hadn't told Nick everything. In fact, she had barely scratched the truth. A very tiny portion of her life was on file; more details could be found by anyone with enough resources and the know-how to search through the various government databases. But there were still some things no one knew or would ever know. It had taken her years to open up to Grissom – the closest person in her life right then – and even he got just the tip of the iceberg.
She waited until the sound of his boots faded away to look at the mirror hung on the door of her locker. She saw nothing but the reflection of a scared, little eight-year-old child.
June 5, 1987, Lola's Pizza and Ice Cream
Sara stared out through the dusty glass window at an elderly lady and her poodle. The strawberry shake lay untouched in front of her, wet and condensing in the summer heat.
"So, she tried to escape again?" She asked, still looking out.
Vanessa nodded.
"Why? Why does she do that to herself? She knows she can't run. She only hurts herself. Doesn't she care that she hurts herself?" Anguish burnt her throat.
"She wants to see you, Sara."
"I don't know if I can."
"She is your mother."
"You know, you could get in trouble with Child Services for trying to blackmail me emotionally?" Sara teased, but there was a seriousness in her tone.
"Yes, I know, and I know that they only want to protect you, which is good. But, do you honestly think your mother is a threat to you?"
"I'm not afraid of seeing her; I just can't see her… like that."
"She wants just one visit, Sara, just one visit. If she sees that you are okay, she'll spend the rest of her sentence in peace."
"Tell her I'm fine, Vanessa. Tell her I got admitted to Harvard."
"I did and she won't believe me. She won't believe anyone until she sees you for herself. She has lost faith in the system, Sara."
Sara finally turned her head. She wanted to listen to Vanessa. She wanted to visit her mother. She was dying to visit her mother. But, she knew that, one visit, it would only take one visit to dismantle her.
"I… can't."
Catherine was already at the autopsy room by the time Nick arrived there. They exchanged a brief look through which he told her that he had gotten some information. The harsh fluorescent rays from the overhead lamps were focused on their skeleton and gave it an almost supernatural glow. The other steel table was already occupied; an overweight teen, her pale skin bulged by the McDonalds and KFCs of an overfed nation.
"I could make a guess." Doc Robbins said. "But I'm not really the person you should be talking to."
"We need an anthropologist." Catherine understood.
"Yes, and you've got yourself one." A voice spoke from behind them.
Teri Miller hadn't really changed since the last time they saw her, which was over four years ago. She was still impeccably dressed as always, slacks that snuggled against her trim legs and a starch-white lab coat over a turtleneck sweater. Catherine's expert eyes admired the quality, and price, of the wool. However, the grey eyes no longer held the glint that used to give it a mischievous edge. Hard lines had formed along the mouth, probably from not having smiled in a long while. Nick wondered if the strain of a job that only dealt with the dead had caught up to her.
She gave each of them a polite but brief smile. She clearly didn't want to waste time on pleasantries.
"Your guy was never buried. The lack of compost and inorganic soil points to that." She said, sweeping her hands over the body. "However, decomposition had obviously occurred, so the body hadn't been in the freezer since the time of death. Look at these." With her pinkie finger, she pointed towards what looked like a layer of crusts embedded within the ribs. "These are exoskeletons. Factoring the insects and the cracks on the bones brought about by the freezer, we could get a rough estimate of how long ago the guy died."
"Bugs, uh, that will be Grissom's area of expertise." Nick grimaced.
Catherine noticed a dark look cross the woman's face, only to be quickly gone.
"Yes, but I believe he's not here." Teri spoke impassively.
"Yeah." The Texan sighed. "So, our guy's a guy?"
"Yes, the pelvic bones are narrow. Definitely male." She leaned forward and, with forceps, gestured towards where the rib bones met the thicker sternum. "You see the jagged edges here? By estimate, I would say the person was at least over twenty five at the time of death."
"Do you think you can get a face out of this?" Catherine asked.
A slow smile curved across Teri's lips, reminding all of them once again of her attractiveness. "I know I can get a face out of this."
All of u still reading this are wonderful folks! Forget my muse, you guys are my inspiration :D
Ok, now that we've gotten the cheesiness aside, I just wanted to say that this story will have a slightly, uh, different take to Sara's past. As for Teri Miller, I do like her character, but she won't stay for long, and there won't be any G/T in here.
