A/N – Please R&R.

Eighth Brick

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VEGAS

Gil Grissom stood at the stove, trying to figure out just how one cooked tofu. He looked at the vegetables he was sautéing, but for the life of him couldn't figure out what to do with the squishy stuff in the dish beside him.

Sara stood behind him, stifling a laugh.

"Honey… you hate tofu," she giggled, "you don't have to use it." Unable to hold back, the laugh broke through.

"So you think it's pretty funny, huh," he said, exasperated.

"I was trying to make something I knew you'd like," he admitted. "Then I realized I had no idea what to do with this stuff."

As he was saying this, he smelled something… burning.

"Well, damn!" he yelled, yanking the blackened vegetables off the burner.

Sighing, he said, "I give up. Wanna order in Chinese?"

"Sure," she replied, grinning. "And next time let me take care of the tofu."

Gil made the phone call for delivery of primarily vegetarian dishes. He joined Sara on the couch, as she flipped over to Forensic Files on television. The two watched the show, making comments her and there about methodology until the doorbell rang. Standing up, Gil made his way to the front door. He paid for their meal, pulled out a couple of plates to dish up, and carried their plates and forks to the living room.

"You do realize that not many people can actually eat when they're looking at the skeletal remains of a human being," Sara commented, chewing on stir-fry vegetables. "One thing about being a CSI… after your first really nasty autopsy, not much will ruin your appetite."

They continued to eat, and when they were done, Sara shut off the television.

"I suppose now I should tell you about my parents… about seeing them," she said, putting both of their plates on the coffee table.

"It occurs to me that we're seeing Natalie tomorrow afternoon, and I want this out before we see her," Sara explained.

Gil leaned back against the couch, and held onto her hand.

"Tell me," was all he said.

"After all I'd done already in California… talking with Rose, Mark, Julie, Mike, Andy… I knew what I needed to do."

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TOMALES BAY

Sara walked into the cemetery, grasping a piece of paper in one hand that contained the marker number of her father's grave with a map. In the other hand, she held a small bouquet of simple daisies. She didn't know what had possessed her to bring them, but she felt it was needed. Slowly making her way up the aisles, she found the row and hesitantly made her way over to his grave.

The grave had a slab of smooth concrete laid into the earth, with only a name and an identification marker on it. Obviously no one had placed a headstone there. She crouched down near the marker.

"Hello," she mumbled. Feeling tears prick her eyes, she looked skyward at the beautiful blue sky. Once that welling of emotion subsided, she looked back down.

"I don't know you," she said. "I never knew you. Part of me aches because I never got to know the man you could have been, the father you could have been."

"A friend taught me to see glimpses of what could have been, and I now wonder if we could have been happy. If you hadn't turned into a drunk… if your anger hadn't driven you to hurt us… maybe we could have been happy. You could have seen me win first place in the science fair. Maybe you could have been there to watch me graduate from high school. I wanted to see your eyes light up when I got into Harvard."

"I went to counseling because of you. I've had flashback because of you," she said, bitterly.

Sara sat back on her heels and looked down at the neatly trimmed grass covering his grave.

"You hurt me. You hurt mom," she sobbed, tears forming in her eyes, drops slowly dripping onto the ground below. Taking a calming breath, Sara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You destroyed my family, so I made a new one," Sara said.

"I've worried that I would be like you – causing nothing but pain in my wake," she sighed.

"It all comes back to violence, and I'm tired of violence."

Sara continued, "I work with cops. I dream the man you could have been would be proud of me for that, but I doubt the man I knew would look on it with pride."

"I've had a tough year," she sighed, "and along the way I lost who I was. Hell, I lost trust in myself all those years ago."

"I'm not lost anymore, daddy," she whispered. "I'll never understand you and I think I can accept that, because in the end, I have to let it go. I have to let you go. I need to open my arms to the people in my life that I love – my real family."

"I've learned something about myself since I've been here. In the end, you were just a man who lived in my house. I adored you once upon a time, but the first bruise you gave me and the first bone you broke destroyed that. I have felt fear my entire life because of you, but that fear is fading," she said.

"I'm saying goodbye. This will be the only time I ever get to say this, because I won't be back. I hope the man I wanted you to be can understand this. Maybe if you'd lived long enough, you could have found a way to be that man, but that's not possible now. That dream of mine died with a knife in your gut."

"Maybe that's the biggest lesson I learn from you… that maybe there's hope for people like me," she said. "I'm glad I ended up away from you. Even if it was hard to go through my life in the system, I landed where I was meant to be. But maybe if you'd lived, there would have been hope for us to find each other in a different time and place."

Sara looked out over the cemetery, seeing ornate headstones laid in place by loved ones, and engraved headstones with beautiful inscriptions.

It's time, she thought to herself. It's time to let go.

Looking down at the marker, under which her father lay, she whispered, "I forgive you for your faults, and I forgive me for staying silent."

Sara placed the daisies and the paper on the ground near the grave.

"Goodbye."

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VEGAS

"Wow," was all Gil could say. "Wow."

"It amazed me how easy it was to say the words," Sara murmured.

Wordlessly, Sara got up, picked up the phone, and walked into the bedroom. Ten minutes later, she sat back down beside Gil, and said, "I've asked the team to come over after shift for breakfast."

He just looked at her, quizzically, "Why?"

"It's time I let them see me… the real me," she replied.

Sitting back against the cushions, she picked up Gil's hand again.

"While I'm telling you about him, I need to tell you about her," Sara said, looking into Gil's eyes.

"All right," he replied.

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SAN FRANCISCO

Sara hated these places. She hated the institutions. Since that fateful day, the only time she ever saw her mother was in one of these places.

Rarely was she lucid back in those days. Sara didn't hold out much hope for her to be lucid now.

"I have an appointment to see Laura Sidle," she told the man at the reception desk.

The young man in the white coat picked up the phone, and a few minutes later a woman, dressed professionally, came out to the lobby.

"You're Laura Sidle's daughter?" she asked.

Upon receiving Sara's nod, the woman said, "I'm Dr. Theresa Lincoln, her therapist. Why don't you come to my office?"

The office itself was warm and inviting, unlike the hallways to the institution. A fresh vase of orchids sat on a side table, and the walls were painted a warm spring yellow – not brassy, but comforting.

"I've been working with Laura for almost a decade," Dr. Lincoln said. "She's made some advances, but we've had to often keep her sedated."

"Why?" Sara asked.

"She has a lot of triggers that set her off… make her hysterical and we know trying to put restraints on her makes it a thousand times worse," the doctor explained. "When she becomes hysterical, she sometimes tries to hurt herself or someone else. Considering why she's here, we feel it's necessary to sedate her."

"Is she sedated now?" Sara asked.

"No," the doctor smiled.

Letting out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, Sara simply said, "I need to talk to her. I have some things to say."

"I can see that you do," Dr. Lincoln said. "But I think you need to see a few things before you go in and talk to her."

Dr. Lincoln reached into a filing cabinet and pulled out a folder.

"When I saw you were coming, I pulled this together. It's stuff your mother has collected over the years," she said. And she handed Sara the file.

Sara began to flip through the folder, pulling out one item at a time. She pulled out a clipping from a Boston paper – on it was a picture of Sara's graduating class from Harvard. In the middle of the picture stood Sara herself in her cap and gown, grinning from ear to ear. The next item was a letter Sara had written as a teenager, telling her mother about a boy who had invited her to the senior prom. In there, she found an entire article on the physics of material gathering that Sara had written for a journal when she'd still been in San Francisco. There was a photocopy of her high school diploma.

Sara just stared at these items, as she pulled more and more from the file. When she looked up, she found Dr. Lincoln smiling softly at her.

"She's so proud of you, Sara," the doctor told her. "She's been trying to keep track of you, and to be honest she's had help from some of the staff here. It gives her peace to know that you have become so successful."

Bereft of words, Sara simply stared, breathing deep to prevent the tears that have become so common for her lately from spilling over. On a deep breath she said, "I had no idea." Guilt from not visiting swept over her.

"Sara," Dr. Lincoln said, "It's okay, you know. After everything you've been through, it's okay that you haven't visited. It's okay to be angry with her. If she was my mother, I'd be angry, too."

"Why don't we go see her," Dr. Lincoln said, and offered Sara a hand up from her chair.

Walking down the sterile hallway, Sara's senses were assaulted by the smell of antiseptic cleaners and urine, with an underlying smell of body order.

"Here's her room," the doctor said, leading Sara into a small cell.

Kneeling before the dark haired woman sitting quietly in a chair, Dr. Lincoln quietly said, "Laura, your daughter's here."

A quick look of panic passed over the frail woman, her brown eyes darting to the doorway.

Sara stood in the doorway, assessing the woman in the chair.

She's so small, she thought. She never seemed small before.

The relationship between the two women was obvious. While Laura might be shorter than her daughter, they shared the same distinct cheek bones, hair, and eyes. To anyone who didn't know them, they were so obviously mother and daughter.

Dr. Lincoln beckoned Sara over to a chair before excusing herself with, "I'll leave you to talk, but I'll be near the door."

For long minutes, the two just looked at each other. Sara didn't know where to start, and Laura simply stared at her, waiting, both thinking back to a time long ago. Sara broke the gaze and looked around the room – at the walls with simple water colors taped up, to the cot in the corner, and finally back to her mother.

"Hi," Sara finally said. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I had to come see you…"

"I'm happy to see you, Sara," Laura whispered. She let on a small smile when she continued, "I was excited when I heard you were coming to see me."

"I had to see you," Sara said, "I have to… be free of this," and Sara spread her hands open in defeat.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, mom?" Sara asked, not sure just how 'with it' she currently was.

"I'm having one of more… aware… moments," Laura replied. "I've worked with Dr. Lincoln these past few days to make sure I could be for this visit."

"My life is a mess," Sara whispered, "it always has been a little messy. But when I left home to come to California, my life was in shambles."

"You may not want to hear what I have to say," Sara warned. "I don't want to hurt any advances you've made, so if it gets to be too much, I'll leave. But I need to say these things to you."

Dr. Lincoln had been watching from the doorway. "If it becomes too much, I'll step in Sara," she said. "Say what you need to say. Maybe it'll be good for both of you."

Taking a deep breath, Sara began, "You didn't protect me. I was no more than an after-thought to either of you. If I was in the way, I was thrown into a corner."

She stopped in thought before continuing, "I have always felt I need to hide myself behind a fake exterior, because I've always felt like showing my vulnerabilities made me weak and worthless."

Sara stood and began to pace and stopped in front of her mother when she said quietly, "My parents made me this way."

Tears began to pool in Laura's eyes, and slide down her cheeks. Her trembling hand reached out and grabbed onto Sara's arm lightly. "I didn't know how to be any different, Sara."

"I can understand that, mom," Sara said, looking her mother in the eye. "I've seen so many women in the same place as you. They didn't know what to do, either. And it makes me so damn angry…"

"I'm so tired of being angry," Sara said, "I won't go on like this."

Looking her mother in the eye, she said, "I won't be afraid to weak. I won't be hiding anymore. But… I need to understand. Only you can answer my question."

"What happened?" Sara asked.

Sitting back in her chair, Laura looked at Dr. Lincoln, then back at Sara.

"He'd thrown you across the room," she said. "I don't know if you remember. He was drunk, but not drunk enough to pass out. He was so angry, because he told you to do something, and you did something I'd never had the guts to do. You said 'No'. And when you did…"

Laura stopped for a moment, getting her furious tears under control, breathing through soft sobs.

Then she continued, "I realized in that moment something had to happen. It couldn't go on like this anymore. I was terrified he was going to kill my baby. You were hiding in your closet, and he was searching your room."

Laura's eyes glazed over a bit when she said, "I felt dazed. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first knife I saw, and I went after him."

Taking a deep breath, Laura looked to Sara and said, "I think you know the rest."

"My mind snapped, and I ended up hiding in my own head for years and years. I'm getting better," Laura stated, looking for confirmation from Dr. Lincoln, "but I accept this may be the best my life can ever be."

In that moment, Sara realized something amazingly important. She'd always thought she was the one who had to break the cycle. But it was her mother who had started the process.

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VEGAS

"I'll be visiting her every now and again," Sara told Gil.

"Can I come with you?" he asked, and Sara hugged him with a smile.

"I'd love it," she responded.

Sitting up, Sara told him, "I never realized what it took out of her to act the way she had. I thought it was insanity, and I believed until then that it may have passed on to me."

"We talked for awhile longer, and then I talked to Dr. Lincoln," Sara explained. "The doctor is going to keep me up to date on her progress."

She looked at Gil when she said, "I'm going to keep contact with her, because I think I need to. I think that maybe my successes personally and professionally give her strength."

"It's funny," Gil said, "what a little hope will do for a person."