How do you solve a murder... when the victim is you?
Or, more importantly, how do you let people know who did it. You know what happened. Where it happened. And even why. What are you supposed to do now?
Sara had been sitting in the back yard all evening, thinking about all this. And what on Earth happens next? A bright white light at the end of the tunnel? Too cliche, she thought. No one can hear her or see her. Everyone else still thinks she is alive. Was there something she was supposed to do? She then got up and walked into the house. She then found her way into her old bedroom, which she had been occupying since November. Sitting up on the bed, she climbed fully onto it and sat in the center, legs tucked under her. Her arms were rested on her thighs as she looked around. Now what? It seems as if that were the only question she could ask herself. But, she still didn't know the answer. Laying on her back staring at the ceiling, her arm guided itself over to the night stand and opened up the small drawer, like she had done a thousand times within these past months. Sara then pulled out a picture with a slight wrinkle in it, and allowed her gaze to fall upon it. It was of her and Grissom, with Hank occupying the bottom of the photo; and it was her favorite picture of them. She remembered the day very well. It was a saturday morning and she was in a bad mood; the night before Grissom had promised he would watch a movie with her, and he had. Sort of. He fell asleep 10 minutes into it...
"What do you want to do today?" Grissom asked her, as they sat together in their living room on the couch; the TV on in the background. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him. Sara kept her gaze on the TV, and simply shrugged. "What? Nothing?" he inquired. When she ignored him, he turned her head so she would face him, as he put on a puppy dog face. "Excuse me." she said, annoyed. "But "Sara. I said I'm sorry. I'm just not a fan of, um... those chick movies." "What was the name?" she asked. Still not looking at him. "The name?" "Of the movie. You do remember that don't you?" "Oh, yeah..." After about a minute, Grissom decided to, not so smoothly, change the subject. "Let's see what else is on TV." he suggested as he reached across her and tried to grab the remote. But Sara beat him to it as she raised it high above her head away from him, and out of his reach. "Gilbert Grissom!" she part-laughed, part-yelled. "You don't even know the name of it?" "Of course I do... I just, don't. Um, remember it?" he said; asking more than stating. Sara then, not so gently, tossed the remote to Grissom, hitting him in the chest. She then crossed her arms in front of her and tried to ignore him again. "Sara." Grissom begged. "How can I make it up to you?" Sara barely had to think. "Buy me a puppy." she said as she finally turned to face him. I sly smirk on her face. Definately catching Grissom off-guard. But he quickly recovered as he matched her smile and gave her a quick and simple response. "Fine." he said as he stood up and brought her up with him. "Let's go." 2 hours later they were at a dog shelter and were preparing to bring home a new addition to their family. While they were there one of the employees took a quick picture; one that captured them in one of their happier moments.
Sara held the photo to her heart as tears soon began to fell.
Sara put the photo in her pocket as she got herself off of the bed and walked out of the room. She soon found her way into the kitchen as she sat in one of the four wooden chairs surrounding the fairly small kitchen table. They had been the same chairs that the Sidle family had used when Sara was young. Sara looked around, and realized her mother wasn't around. Rising up, she walked out of the kitchen, down the small hallway, to the right, and was face to face with her mother's closed bedroom door. Sara almost knocked on the door out of habit but then laughed sadly at the thought. Opening the door slightly, Sara peered inside to see Laura sitting up in her bed, reading a book. Stepping back out of the bedroom, Sara closed the door and began walking back in the direction of the kitchen. Emerging out of the small hallway, Sara's attention was brought to the sliding glass doorway occupying the back wall of the kitchen, where she had just heard a small, yet sudden, thud. Quickening her pace towards the door, she became a little nervous. She stepped up to the glass and looked around and into the backyard; nothing. She then cautiously sat herself back down in a chair, and upon looking on the ground of the deck outside, she sighed. There, about a foot away from the door, was a small bird, a robin perhaps, laying face up on the deck.
Poor thing, Sara thought, must've flown into the window.
The bird wasn't dead though. It's small chest was still quickly rising up and down despite the fact that it's eyes were closed and it lay face up, as well as it's small feet in the air. Sara almost expected it to jump up and fly away, but no. It stayed on the ground; the only sign of life in the small animal was it's tiny moving chest. Then something happened. Something weird, or surreal, or unnatural... Sara couldn't even find the right words to describe it. She heard something. A chirping. No, not an annoying ringing in your ears that you'd get every now and then, but an actual chirping; from a bird. Looking to her left, she struggled to keep herself from jumping back as a small bird had settled itself on her shoulder, singing a sweet tune in her ear. She took a double-take as she looked from the bird on her should to the bird on her deck outside. Wait.
It was the same bird. On her shoulder, and on the ground. Now, if Sara wasn't confused before, she sure was now. The bird was laying on the ground, and looked almost dead... but wasn't. The bird was on her shoulder, it could see her. To the little animal, she was real. They were in the same world. But the bird wasn't dead. So... was she dead? Sara then got out of the chair and onto the floor, scooting herself up to the sliding door, sitting Indian style. She watched the 'real' bird closely, as it's chest went up and down, up and down, and then, boom. Nothing; the movement in it's chest had now ceased to exist. Sara looked to her left, expecting the bird to still be there, perched on her shoulder. But it was gone. Just like that the bird had passed from one world and to the next. But not before stopping where Sara was currently. But in the state of confusion that overtook her, Sara wasn't even sure about where that was either.
The bird wasn't dead, but it was with her. Not dead. Not dead.
"Not dead." Sara whispered out loud. "Not dead." Sara said as she rose to her feet.
All this time, she had been wasting, while walking around moping about her "death." But now she was given hope.
"I'm still alive."