Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…

With that she smiles and stands up. "The service really sucks in this place and it's too noisy," she says as she walks toward the door. "Let's go somewhere a bit quieter."

We walk out the doors and find ourselves standing in a park. Mini-me finds a bench facing the playground equipment and sits down, motioning for me to join her.

I walk over and plop down on the bench beside her. "Who are we here to visit? Hodges? Wendy? Ecklie? Some future victim of someone I wasn't around to make sure was put in jail?"

Instead of answering my questions, mini-me pipes up with, "It's a beautiful park, isn't it? I bet you took Lindsey to parks like this in your reality, didn't you? You spent hours watching her swing 'higher and higher' and swoosh down a slide over and over. It's a shame she doesn't exist here-- she'd love to play in this park. We're so close that you can even smell the salt air from the Pacific."

A Frisbee lands at our feet and instead of saying anything, she just looks up in the direction that it came from. I reach down and pick it up and follow her line of vision. A lanky woman is jogging towards us with a smile plastered across her face.

It's not until she's standing in front of us that I realize who the woman is. She's tan and much younger than I ever remember her being. Her shorter hair is tamed under a baseball cap with a pony-tail pulled through the opening in the back.

I immediately rise to my feet. Mini-me's firm grip on my shirt sleeve tempers my response as I realize that here, Sara won't know me.

Her smile is friendly and there is an air of health and happiness about her that she was totally void of when she left Vegas.

"Sorry about that," she says as she reaches out to accept the disc I'm extending toward her. "My friend obviously thinks I'm a Golden Retriever."

I want to speak but I'm afraid my voice will betray me. So instead, I just laugh—maybe too much.

Her smile turns nervous as she moves slightly to the side to look at mini-me. She waves the Frisbee at her and says thanks again before turning to head back to her friend and her game of Frisbee.

"Boy, you sure are smooth. How can anyone resist you?" mini-me taunts.

I cut my eyes in her direction.

She throws her hands up in mock surrender as she stands up, "All I'm saying is that you didn't say a word to her. You stood there like a bump on a log. Every time we saw someone else from your life, you asked about her. I guess I just assumed that you'd actually open your mouth and actually put together a couple of syllables."

"She looks young—and happy," I think aloud as we walk through the park.

"She should look young. She graduated from Harvard last year. She's back here working in the Coroner's office while doing her grad work over at Berkeley. She'll stick it out here for eight years before moving on. She doesn't leave to go Vegas, but she did have itchy feet. Of course, having found the love of her life, she was willing to pick up and leave and go wherever she went just to be with her—for more than one reason."

We approach another bench and mini-me pats the area beside her indicating for me to sit down.

I'm sitting there watching some woman pushing her little girl on a swing when her words really hit me. "She's…she has a …girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend is kinda an understatement. I think partner or wife might be more appropriate. You can see for yourself how serious they are," she points toward a lithe figure pushing a stroller down the path in front of us.

"She has a baby? Sara has a baby? When? How? Who?"

I don't wait for her to answer before standing up and walking toward Sara and the stroller.

I put on my best mommy face and she slows down at my approach. I smile at her and kneel down to look at the little tike.

"She's adorable," I brush my fingertips delicately over her unruly brunette hair. "How old is she?"

"She's fifteen months," she beams as she moves to stand next to me. She looks from the baby and up at me, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to stare, but have we met before? You look so familiar for some reason."

I just shake my head and add, "No, I don't think so. I get that all the time though. I must have one of those faces that just looks familiar to people. What's her name?"

"Gibson."

"Favorite professor," I half whisper as I stand back up.

She looks at me questioningly before stepping between me and the stroller. She's using her hands to talk and I can't take my eyes off of the glint of gold that encircles her ringer finger on her left hand. "How did you know that? I thought you said…"

"Mom, we need to go," mini-me rescues me by grabbing my hand and dragging me away from Sara as she's still standing there trying to figure out how I know who her little girl is named after.

We're out of Sara's line of sight when mini-me slaps my arm, "I told you not to interact with anyone else. That means especially HER! What were you thinking?" She doesn't give me time to answer before she continues speaking, "I'll tell you what you were thinking—you weren't! She doesn't know you and you letting her know that you know who she named her kid after only freaked her out!"

She storms off and leaves me to follow in her footsteps. I can hear her ranting ahead of me, "Isn't she adorable? I must have one of those faces. Give me a break! I'll be so glad when this little visit is over."

We continue until we find ourselves walking down a busy street. It doesn't take long for me to notice the familiar swagger of Sara Sidle and I brush past mini-me and fall in step behind my former lover. She walks into a coffee shop and I follow her in.

While we're in line, she pulls out her phone and after pushing one button, she puts the phone to her ear. I can hear her end of the conversation.

"Hi, I heard from Tameron and Mike. They're in town and want us to have dinner with them tonight…Yes, tonight…Come on, we're talking about one night with friends we haven't seen since we left Berkeley…They're only in town tonight….Why do you have to be like this? …No, let's talk about it now…Please, I want to see our friends…I understand." Obviously defeated, she slams her phone shut and runs her fingers through her hair before sliding her phone into her pocket.

As she places her order for her coffee, I realize how similar her end of the conversation was to one I had previously heard. I turn and quickly walk out of the coffee shop and find mini-me watching a mime perform on the street. I walk over to her, grab her arm and drag her away from the show.

"Who is it? Is it who I think it is?" She starts walking, her elbow still firmly in my hand. Within a few minutes, we find ourselves outside a familiar brownstone. There's no moon and it's a cool, autumn night.

I drop her elbow and walk toward the house. I stand beneath a window and can hear the argument taking place inside.

I can hear Sara arguing, "One night—that's all I wanted, Holly. One night with people who were once our best friends."

"Those people aren't our friends. The bottom line is that we had plans…"

"…plans that could have been put off for one night. How important was it for us to go to opening night at some Art Show?"

I can hear the distinct sound of a hand meeting someone's cheek, "Don't ever interrupt me again. Understand?" There's silence followed by a bellowing, "I asked you if you understood."

"I understand perfectly, Holly," Sara's voice is crystal clear and ice cold.

"As long as we're clear," Holly's voice fades as she obviously leaves the room.

A few seconds later, a new voice enters the room.

"Mom, are you okay?" This is obviously the little girl I met what I can only assume were years ago. She must be a teenager by now.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Why don't you go and get your things and go stay at Gina's tonight?"

"Let's both go," I already know that Sara won't listen to her little girl. "I don't like Mother. She's mean to both of us and she hits you. We should leave. Please, mom?"

"If you won't go to Gina's, at least go to your room and stay there, Gib." The girl obviously hesitates, forcing Sara to become more insistent, "I'm serious, Gibson. Go to your room. Now."

I sit under that window for what seems like hours as darkness and quiet descend on the brownstone.

At some point, a light comes on and a figure walks past the window. I stand up and watch as Sara walks into the kitchen and a few seconds later, she walks past the window again. She pauses briefly at the bottom of the stairs and looks longingly up them before finally ascending them.

In a room beyond the landing at the top of the stairs, I can only imagine that all hell must be breaking loose. I begin counting…one…two…three…two ninety-one…two ninety-two…two ninety---

My counting is interrupted by the shrieking scream that comes from the second floor of the home. Shortly thereafter, Gibson comes flying down the stairs and out the front door.

Before the ambulance and police cruiser show up, I walk back to the safety of the sidewalk and join mini-me. As I reach her, the tears are flowing freely down my face. I turn once more to look at the brownstone and see Sara emerge from the doorway. She walks out and sits on the steps. Her daughter runs back to her and clings to her.

I turn back to my miniature self and the gravity of the situation finally breaks through to me. "This," I point back to the house and Sara, "is not right. She'd never kill anyone. She's not her mother."

My half-pint version shrugs her shoulders before disagreeing with me. "I don't know. They say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Sara's mom managed to kill her father with her as the only witness. She obviously did the same thing with Gibson in the house. And I don't recall hearing a gunshot. That means she used a knife—just like mommy dearest."

"NO! She is not her mother. Sara fought hard not to be her," I'm adamant in my refusal to accept this.

"Think what you wanna think, Rin. That jury is going to find her guilty. She's going to go to jail. Her daughter is going to grow up in the same system she did. What are the chances she'll be as strong as her mother? And let's face it, do you really believe that Sara is tough enough to handle prison? Do you?"

Mini-me walks away from me before turning back and adding, "Don't you think this is way better than having her leave you? Isn't knowing that she'll spend the rest of her life behind bars better than the heartache you have to face because she couldn't deal with the ghosts of her past in your reality?"

"Fuck you! I didn't expect Grissom to end up dead. Greg shouldn't have to be an addict because I have a broken heart. Nick and Sofia didn't deserve what happened to them. I'm happy that Brass had a decent life, but Eddie sure as hell never deserved to have the life he has here. My Lindsey was never born and Nancy ends up dead because I didn't sleep with her boyfriend??? I don't believe that Sam is really that much different, but Rick could never be the cold-blooded bastard I saw at his side. And Sara—Sara doesn't deserve this! This is not better than having her leave me. This is not better than wondering what I could have done differently. This is not better! This is not better!"

"Come on, Rin. You don't mean that," her eyes sparkle and she has a devious smirk on her face. "Do you?"

"I'm glad I was born. I'm glad I made a difference. I'm glad I had the chance to love Sara even if it meant…even…even if it meant losing her. I wish I had never made that stupid, stupid wish. I just want to go back. Go back to the way things were," I sink to my knees, sobbing openly. "I just want to go back. I just want to go back."

A/N: Thank you Immi