Title- Everything's Changed
Author- pepsicolagurl
Rating- R

Notes- Same disclaimer as all of the rest.

Chapter Ten

"They found out why the car was left there," Sara said, leaning against the doorway as she watched him. "You know how all cars are run on computers now? Well, the computer failed in this one. It's a matter of replacing one chip, really, but that can be pricey, and they really didn't have the time."

Grissom nodded. "That means that she's still around Las Vegas somewhere." He let out the breath he had been holding for what seemed like the past hour, and nodded again. "And close to wherever the car had been left. When she called the first time, there was a lot of static. When she called the second time, when we found the car, it was as clear as a bell."

She smiled hesitantly and stepped in, shutting the door to his office. "Well...that's good, right? I mean, we have somewhere to work from. That area can't be that big. It's a lot of under-developed housing, houses that have been emptied so that more complexes can go in...it can't be that big."

"Think again," he said. "It's actually quite big, and there are a lot of houses there. And if we get close to one she's in...we don't know what he would do. We don't know what he's going to do right now." He looked towards her and for the first time in a long time, she could see what he was feeling, plainly etched on his face and in his eyes. "He hit her. I heard her scream, and I could actually hear it when he hit her. The son of a bitch..."

Her eyes went towards the floor after he said that. Sara took a deep breath and waited a moment before saying anything. "But we don't know that he did anything besides that, and for the moment, it's all we have." A bitter laugh sounded from her as she walked closer to the desk and took a seat, drumming her fingers on the top of it. "Do you know what I remember the best? Her kindergarten Christmas concert. Not really the concert, but getting her ready for it."

"She was screaming when she saw you and Tara standing there with a dress and a curling iron. I don't think she ever forgave you for that," he said, a small smile coming to his face. "I've never seen someone run so fast in my life."

This time, Sara's laugh was more delightful than anything. "Yeah, she complained the whole time when we were getting her ready. There was nothing she hated more than wearing a dress...but she looked adorable afterwards."

The smile remained on his face as he slid open the top drawer of his desk and pulled out an old photograph, passing it over to her. The photograph that had been taken after they had finished curling her hair and put ribbons in it, after they had gotten the frilly dress on her, along with the Mary Jane's and little white socks. "I remember hearing her scream for at least ten minutes, and then she just...she stopped. I never knew why, but she stopped, and I could hear the three of you up there, laughing. It seems like so long ago."

She put down the picture. "It was a long time ago, but...do you want to know why she stopped screaming?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. "Tara told her that every little girl, once in her life, has to put on a dress and curl her hair, just to look pretty for her dad. And when she heard that, she stopped and looked at me, and said, 'I'm going to look pretty for my Daddy?' I told her that she was going to look like a little princess when we were finished with her, but she was worried about not having her tiara. Eventually, we convinced her that she had a tiara, but you were the only one that could see it. That's why she stopped."

"No one ever told me," he said quietly, looking down at the photograph.

Sara nodded. "She went running out to see you when we were finished, and she asked, 'Do I look pretty?' and you-"

"I told her that she looked like a little princess. She was happy to have you there, you know. She said that she wouldn't go, and she wouldn't let us go, unless you came along. I don't think a day went by that she didn't ask for you to come and live with us."

She laughed again, shaking her head. "She had a hell of an imagination back then. And she was spoiled rotten, but she was still one of the sweetest kids you could ever meet." She paused and looked up towards him. "She'll be back, and she'll be fine."

"She'll be back, I know that, but about her being fine...I can't be sure of that."

Her eyes met his sharply. "Don't you dare say anything like that," she snapped.

He raised a hand to stop her from going on. "I'm not saying anything like that, but you know Anastasia. She's not going to be 'fine' for a long time, and you know it. She won't say anything, but she'll sleep with the light on, like she used to. She'll stay up later than usual, and do nothing but watch television. It'll be like...like when Tara died, all over again. I know it will."

"But there's a difference this time. You're not going to be sending her off to strange places again. You're actually going to be there when she needs you the most...aren't you?"

It was his turn to let his eyes show the anger he felt at that comment. "Thank you for the concern, Sara, but I am planning on keeping her out here. I couldn't send her anywhere after that."

"And in six months or so, when she feels safe again? Then what are you going to do? Is it going to be back to Orlando, or are you going to send her somewhere else? I heard that Germany has some great boarding schools," she said. "Damn it, give her a chance. Just one chance is all she needs."

He sighed tiredly and looked away. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but you have nothing to do with the decision, Sara."

Her eyes narrowed as her hands slammed down on his desk. She leaned forward and waited until he looked at her. "News flash, Gil. Tara's dead and you're the only person that she has left. And she's still trying to make herself into the pretty princess that you thought she was when she was a kid," she added before standing up and walking out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

**********

"You son of a bitch," she muttered, bringing a hand up to the cut that she had gotten before. It was open again, and slowly oozing blood. Nothing serious, but it stung worse than anything she had ever felt before. Very slowly, she worked her jaw from side to side, closing her eyes when her face exploded with pain. But it was nice to know that nothing had been severely damaged, she thought to herself.

"And I'm sure that you could come up with a few other names to use for me, but really, Anastasia, it doesn't bother me." He took the seat at the desk again and watched as she wiped away the tears that had escaped, before clearing her throat. "Or should I call you Tara? I don't know what you prefer."

It took awhile, but she finally opened her eyes and looked at him. "I really don't care what you call me."

He nodded. "What does Gil call you?"

"Anastasia," she answered shortly.

"No nickname? He used to call you...what was it...Princess, right? Yeah, I think I remember hearing that before. But he never called you that after your mother died." Stopping, he looked at her closely, like he had done before. "You look a lot like your mother. The pictures that were in the newspaper...and you'd look a lot more like her if you ever got to her age. That has to bother Gil, I'm sure."

She shrugged, making her face as neutral as possible. "So what if it does? I'm sure that you're not all that concerned about what either of us think about what you did, or what we think about you. We're not that much of a concern to you, now are we?"

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Anastasia. You see, you're not that much of a concern to me, but your father is. You never really mattered. Just an added bonus."

She smirked, despite the pain that it caused on the side of her face. "So I'm no better than the prize in the cereal box, or the decoder ring in the box of Cracker Jack's. Thanks, I appreciate it."

"I'm sure you do," he said, before a considering look went over his face. "I said that I would give you answers. It doesn't really matter, because you won't be able to tell anyone what I said. You want to know why I killed your mother?" She nodded. "Retribution, plain and simple."

Opening her mouth to say something, the words got stuck in her throat, and she quickly stopped and thought about what he said. "I...don't completely understand. Retribution for what?" She wanted nothing more than to add a sarcastic comment to the end of that, something along the lines of, 'And I'm surprised that you even know a big word like that,' but her father had asked her to at least TRY to stop talking back, and she was. She just didn't know what it would be so difficult.

He shifted in the desk chair, making it complain like she had earlier, only he wasn't worried about it. Instead, he laid his arm out along the top of it. "Your father tried to ruin my life, Anastasia. He was accusing me of murder. You know the story, you have all the newspaper clippings from the trial. Your friend sent them to you."

Shaking her head, she tried to make sense of what he had just told her. "You're telling me that because my dad thought that you killed someone...you turned around and killed someone. I can see the brilliance in that statement," she said dryly, mentally cursing herself. No talking back, she repeated in her head for a few moments. "Why did you kill my mom, though? Wouldn't it have been smarter to go after my dad? My mom had nothing to do with it."

"But Tara had everything to do with it, Anastasia. You see, my wife was gone, and I was the suspected murderer. If I lost my wife...would it be fair for your dad to lose his? Now, I didn't have a child, which is the only reason that I never touched you all those years ago. But then I was caught, and I made that foolish mistake of telling Gil that you were next. I never go back on my word."

If she wasn't so horrified by what she was hearing, she would have shuddered at the playful tone that he used to speak his words. This was the part of her history that no one knew about, that no one could tell her about. No one except for him, and the truth was, she wasn't really looking forward to speaking to a murderer, but she had no choice anymore. "I don't believe this," she exclaimed. "Did you kill your wife? The least you can do is tell me the truth about that."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Why shouldn't I know?" she asked in response, trying to stop her anger from showing.

"Why do you want to know," he asked more slowly.

Her face filled with color as she stared hotly at him. "God damn it, why the hell shouldn't I know? Tell me why I shouldn't," she shouted. "This is my life that we're talking about. I deserve to know!"

He jumped out of his chair and walked closer to the bed, his eyes as calm and dead as she had ever seen. "You don't deserve to know anything, and you won't be alive for much longer. I answered the question that you wanted an answer to. It's not enough for you? That's too fucking bad," he shot at her before turning and opening the door. He walked out and slammed it shut behind him.

Her eyes closed when she heard the lock turn. "Screw you! Just..." She trailed off and lowered her voice as tears came to her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Just screw you," she whispered, before turning away.

For the first time since she had woken up in the room, she knew that there was no way she was going to get out of there the same way that she came in. That much was frighteningly clear.

**********

With a quiet groan, Sara lowered herself on the couch and stretched out, closing her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was leave the lab, but there was nothing for her to do there. The regular shift was over, and no one would even let her get close to the latest body that had come in, the teenager that had been found on the side of the road. She knew that everyone had been thinking the same thing when the call had come in, and that was the reason that she hadn't gone along. She couldn't imagine what it would have been like to look down and see Anastasia laying there, but it wasn't her. Luckily...thankfully, it wasn't her.

But it was still a teenager, close to the same age as Anastasia. It would have been too much for her to work on it, they thought. But they were wrong. She needed something to take her mind off of the missing girl, and she would have dove right into the case, barely coming up for air. Maybe that was the problem. They thought that she would be too involved with it.

She rolled over and tucked her arm under her head, creating a makeshift pillow as she sighed. She had been sent home. The only thing she was surprised by was that they didn't take her out, kicking and screaming. They had just told her to leave...and she had. All she wanted to do was wait and see if they could get anything from the car. All the hair had been collected, all the blood...all of it Anastasia's again. They knew what direction the car was going, they basically knew where she was, but they couldn't do anything about it. Grissom had been right. If they had even gotten close to the house, and he had noticed, they didn't know what would happen to her, and they couldn't take that chance. No one could.

Narrowing it down to one house, or even one section of houses in that area would be hard. Everything under-developed or abandoned...it was a complete mess. Everyone else had thrown themselves into the job more than willingly, and she could do nothing but stand there and watch and worry.

Worry about the little girl that she used to look after her. The one that would giggle and shriek uncontrollably when you even threatened to tickle her. The one that liked to bake cookies with her Mom or with Sara. The one that would sit there with a storybook and struggle past every big word, trying to figure it all out for herself. And she worried about the teenager that she had become. The sarcastic brat that loved to blast country music out of the stereo every chance she got. The one that would agree to pay for her own lunch only, and then turn around and pay for both of them weren't the other person wasn't looking. The one that was still as innocent as a child, and yet so smart about the way the world worked.

And she couldn't help but be worried for Grissom. She knew, without really realizing, how much this was affecting him. She was sure that the only other person that understood was Catherine. He was so calm, so stoic...but then you got him alone, and he would start talking without thinking about what he was saying, and it was in those rare moments that you really saw him. How worried he was...how scared he was that he wouldn't see his daughter again. He never really saw her before, but now...it was almost like his little princess had returned, and he was trying to protect her like he used to.

Her eyes opened to stare blankly at the wall, not all that shocked when she felt the tears raise in her eyes. She had seen Anastasia grow up from a happy little girl, into a confused and awkward teenager, and then into a more confidant one. And now, she was a teenager that was scared for her life.

She would give anything to trade places with her. Anything at all, and she had nothing to offer. But if it meant that that little girl, that teenager, didn't have to go through what she was...she would give everything that she owned. There was nothing that she could do, though.

A single tear escaped her eye and rested on the side of her face as she let out a long, shaky breath. There was nothing she could do, but stand there and be in the way. Watch and hope for the best. And it was almost like the life had been sucked out of the lab. No one was really joking around, and no one was teasing each other like they usually did. Even Greg, when he found out what was happening, had stopped the corny jokes and playful flirting with the women, trying to process the blood samples as quickly and efficiently as he could.

No one even really knew Anastasia there. Most of them had met her, but they didn't know her. Her case had become the most important, and not because it was Grissom's daughter. Any kidnapping or missing persons case always took precedent over the others, and this was no exception.

If she could get her hands on Richard Blake...if she could just get near him, she would be the happiest person alive. Because there wouldn't be much left of him to examine. Forget the regulation gun that she wore, or procedure, or anything. All she needed was five minutes alone with him, and her bare hands. The thought that she could hurt someone so easily and without any regret frightened her, but it was the truth. Anything to understand why he was doing this, why he would try and hurt all of them...

She had no ties to Anastasia, no real ones. She was an old baby-sitter, and a friend. That was it, but to see the kind of worry and pain that Grissom was going through, and the fright and pain that she was sure Anastasia was going through...that changed everything for her.

Her eyes closed again, but it didn't stop the next tear from falling. Or the one after that, or the one that followed the third. They were coming faster, and faster, and just like everything else, there was nothing that she could do.

Absolutely nothing.