Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who's been reading my story! More will be coming soon;)
All I Have to Do
by Kristen Elizabeth
Grissom visited his mother, armed with flowers and lies.
I'm sorry I didn't get your calls, he signed in apology. I was buried in work.
For a moment, it seemed like she could see straight through him. Some kind of mother's intuition that told them when you were lying about breaking their china or being arrested for assault. He absolutely hated being dishonest. But this wasn't something she needed to be burdened with. At fifty years old, he was in the middle of his first major screw-up. He wasn't a boy anymore. He could do this without his mommy.
Next time, find a minute to make a simple call, so I won't worry. Lydia smiled. I met your Sara. She's lovely, Gil.
I know. She said you showed her the baby pictures. You couldn't help it, could you?
She regarded her son with a rueful look. Until you give me grandchildren, your pictures will stay in my wallet.
Grissom feigned a sudden interest in the roses he'd brought for her. Children were not a subject he wanted to dwell on until the more pressing chaos in his life was resolved. Even though Sara seemed to think the timing wasn't right for anything to have happened the night before, it would be awhile before they could be positive either way.
Again, not something he was eager to discuss with his mother.
I'm sorry I didn't introduce you to her properly. I'm not very good at combining parts of my life.
Lydia patted her son's arm before signing, You're learning, and that's what's important. If Sara can forgive you, so can your old mother.
You're not old, Mom.
And neither are you. So there's no reason for me not to expect those grandchildren. When Grissom looked away, she tugged at his sleeve to get his attention again. She makes you happy. Stay with the one who makes you happy. Whatever it takes.
Grissom nodded. He was about to change the subject when he thought of something that would make his mother deliriously happy and end the line of questioning altogether. Why don't the three of us have dinner tonight? You, me and Sara?
Lydia signed back with girlish glee. Perfect!
An entire evening of lying to his mother. Hopefully Sara's presence would be enough of a distraction for her.
If not...maybe she had more baby pictures hidden away.
Sara dropped two quarters into the soda machine and pressed the button for regular cola. A can of diet dropped out.
"Perfect," she muttered. "Just fucking perfect."
Greg sauntered in just then. "Oh, no one told you," he said, noting the can in her hand and the look on her face. "The soda guy put the diet in the regular place and, you know, the regular in the diet. Accidentally, I think." He reached into his pocket. "I can buy a diet and give you what I end up with."
"It's okay. At this point, diet soda is the least of my problems." Sara sat down at the table. "But thanks."
He slid into a seat across from her. "This whole place feels kinda...empty without him. It's like a circus minus the ringleader." She popped her drink open, took a sip, but said nothing. "Yeah, sorry. Touchy subject," he apologized.
"You're fine, Greg. I've just got a lot on my mind. And only about fifty percent of it has to do with Grissom."
"Anything you feel like sharing?"
Sara shook her head and took another sip. In mid-swallow, her phone started vibrating. Yanking it from her belt, she checked the LCD screen. It was Grissom.
"Sidle," she answered as nonchalantly as possible.
"How would you feel about having dinner tonight?"
She glanced at Greg. "That sounds fine. When?"
"I'll pick you up at eight." Grissom paused. "Did I mention that my mother will joining us?"
"No, but that's okay, too." Sara switched the phone to her other ear. "Listen...there's been some...developments in the Lara Monroe case."
He was quiet for a moment. "The data from the ankle monitor?"
"Gave him a rock-solid alibi," she said bitterly. "I'm sorry."
"You can't apologize for the evidence. The evidence..."
"I know. I just wanted us to be right about him." Suddenly, she remembered that she wasn't alone. "Um...I should get going. Warrick's on the case now. We have a mountain of evidence to go over. A small mountain. Maybe more like a hill." When Grissom said nothing, she frowned. "What is it?"
"I should be there. Doing my job." She heard something break; the noise made her wince. "Doing something."
Sara glanced at Greg who was very studiously trying to bury his nose in the magazine he'd brought in with him. She smiled as a thought came to her. "Well, if Mohammad can't come to our hill...the hill's just going to have to go to him." She stood up. "We'll be there in half an hour. Put on coffee."
"There's nothing here," Warrick announced several hours later. He pushed back from the table with an exasperated sigh. "The clock's ticking, and we're out of leads."
Grissom couldn't argue; it was the plain and simple truth. Everything relating to Lara Monroe's murder and the rapes that preceded it was strewn across his dining room table. But it didn't matter that three criminalists were on the case if there was nothing there to find.
Sara, on the other hand, wasn't so easily discouraged. "What about the partial shoe print that we lifted?"
"Adidas." Warrick produced the proper report and plopped it in front of her. "No way to gage size, and the tread is a common pattern."
"Maybe we need to go back to the scene," she suggested. "Look at it with fresh eyes."
"Catherine's mantra," Warrick noted. He looked at Grissom, as if for permission. "I haven't even seen the scene. Just Sara's photos."
Grissom tapped his pen against the autopsy reports. "It's your case now, Warrick," he reminded the younger man. "Perhaps you'll find something we overlooked."
Standing, Warrick pulled on his jacket. "Doubt that's possible." He started for the door. "I'll be in touch."
It was a few seconds after the front door closed before Sara stood. "Well, I should get going, too, I guess. I have a few other open cases and I..." She stopped as he leveled her with a serious look.
"Does Warrick know?" When Sara lowered her lashes, he nodded. "I thought so. He had one eye on us whenever we were within five feet of each other."
"It bothers you?" she asked softly.
"I'm still adjusting to Catherine figuring it out." Grissom reached across the table; their fingers met. Entwined. "But if it had to be anyone else, I'm glad it's Warrick."
Sara delicately cleared her throat. "Nick, too." He blinked and she lifted her shoulders. "Hey, you trained them. Don't be surprised when they pick up on things."
Grissom smiled after a second. "That much is true." His smile faltered. "Greg?"
"Blissfully clueless." She frowned. "I think." A moment passed. "Is there still an 'us' to hide?"
"You have to ask that after last night?"
"Last night...was incredible. But was it permanent?" Sara whispered the question. "Does it mean that you forgive me?"
The door bell answered for him. Grissom sighed, untangled his fingers from hers and went to answer it.
"Can I help you?" he asked the man who stood on the stoop.
"I'm looking for Sara Sidle," the man said. "I was told she might be here." Sara came up behind Grissom and gently touched his back to move him aside. Upon seeing her, the man asked, "Sara Sidle?"
"Yes?"
He held out an envelope. "You've been served." Nodding, he turned and left.
Sara opened the letter with a fair amount of apprehension. After reading it over, wariness turned to dread. She looked up and met Grissom's eyes. "I've been subpoenaed to appear as a witness for the prosecution."
"Against JJ Walker?"
She shook her head. "Against you."
To Be Continued