A/N: This chapter is something of a bridge between the last one and the next one. I hope you like it.

I don't own CSI. I also don't own Pamela's, which is an actual restaurant in Pittsburgh. They make the most amazing pancakes! If you're ever in the area, please check it out. President Obama is even a fan – he tried them during a campaign stop, then invited the owners to the White House to make pancakes for a Memorial Day breakfast with the troops last year.

Obligation

A knock on her hotel room door at eight in the morning was the last thing Sara expected to hear two days after her emotional conversation with her grandmother. She was surprised to see her aunt Carol standing in the hallway.

"Aunt Carol," she said, opening the door wide enough to admit her. "Good morning."

Carol smiled brightly. "Good morning, sweetie. Have you had breakfast?"

"No," Sara admitted. "I just got dressed."

"Good," Carol replied. "Grab your purse. We're going out."

"Where are we going?"

"Pamela's," Carol said. "You can't come to Pittsburgh without going there."

Twenty minutes later, Sara and Carol were seated at a table in the diner. Sara studied the menu, but her aunt sat back without looking at it.

"What do you recommend?" Sara asked.

"Pancakes," Carol replied without hesitation. "They're famous for them."

Sara shrugged. "Okay, then. I'll try the strawberry pancakes."

Carol beamed. "Excellent choice. They're my favorite."

After their order had been placed and their drinks had arrived, Carol looked at Sara with kind eyes.

"I heard you talked to Grandma," she said gently.

Deciding it would be ridiculous to play dumb, Sara nodded.

"Is that why you came here, Sara? To rehash the past?"

Sara frowned slightly. "I wasn't rehashing anything. I … I needed answers."

"To what questions?"

"I know what kind of man my father was," Sara said. "My mother told me something recently that made me want to know what kind of people all of you are."

"And?"

Sara smiled. "I've loved getting to know you."

"We've loved getting to know you, too," Carol said.

Their pancakes arrived, silencing them for several moments as they took their first bites. Carol looked at Sara expectantly.

"Well?"

"They're amazing," Sara murmured around a mouthful of crepe-like pancake and strawberries.

Carol grinned. "I knew you'd love them."

They ate in silence for a moment before Carol spoke again.

"Sara … I'm not sure you truly know what kind of man your father was."

Sara frowned. "I lived with him for thirteen years."

"I know, sweetheart, but …" She sighed. "I wish you had known him the way that I did. I wish you had known him when he was younger … before life hardened him."

"Grandma told me he always had a temper. That he was always in fights."

"True," Carol replied. "I won't deny that he had a temper like none of the rest of us kids. But, Sara, he loved his family more than anything. You have to understand that."

"You know what?" Sara said. "I've been a CSI for over a decade. I've seen countless women whose husbands beat them over and over again, but who keep going back to them because they're convinced that those same men who break their fingers and dislocate their shoulders love them. More than anything, probably. That's not love, Aunt Carol. What my father did to my mother has nothing to do with love, and everything to do with violence and control." She shook her head and looked away. "And, from what Grandma told me yesterday, it's something of a trend in our family."

"It was," Carol admitted quietly. "Yes, Sara, my father beat my mother. And, my brothers and sisters and I watched it happen. He beat us, too, when he thought we deserved it." Tears filled her eyes. "I thought it was normal," she confessed. "I just assumed that all families were like that. Uncle Ron taught me that love doesn't involve violence." She paused and wiped the tears from her eyes. "You showed me a picture of your boyfriend. I'll bet he's a kind man."

Sara nodded, feeling tears gather in her own eyes. "He's the most wonderful man I could ever hope to meet."

"And, I'm sure he never raises a hand to you."

Sara shook her head. "Rarely even his voice."

"That's how Uncle Ron is with me. And, that's how our family is now – all of us. Sara, we saw a terrible example of violence as we grew up. But, we conquered it, and we've come out stronger on the other side."

"My father didn't," Sara said quietly.

"He wanted to," Carol said. "Oh, goodness, Sara, he wanted to be stronger than that. He didn't want to hurt you or your mother. He didn't want to be like our father."

"Then … why …?"

She smiled sadly. "Sometimes, even the best of intentions aren't enough. Sometimes, we're too weak to follow through." She shook her head. "Your father was remarkably strong in the physical sense. He was so tall … over six feet … and so muscular. He played football and wrestled in high school, and he was famous for beating everyone in arm wrestling contests. But, he never learned how to use his strength properly. He never learned … how to be a gentle giant. He was just …"

"A giant," Sara finished quietly.

Carol nodded. "But, Sara, for all you said about those women who run back to their abusers …" Tears filled her eyes again. "I loved your father." She shrugged. "He was my older brother. He defended me from bullies at school, and more than once he took a hit from our father that was meant for me." She reached across to grab Sara's hand. "What I'm trying to say, sweetie, is that, for all of his faults – and they were many – you have to know that your father had a good heart. He did love his family … he just didn't know how to show it."

"Grandma said something similar."

"Grandma was right," Carol asserted. "He loved you, Sara. I know he did."

Sara sighed and looked away. "I'm just like those women I see at work," she said, dragging her eyes back to her aunt's. "For as much as I hated him … I loved him, too."

Grissom picked up the assignment slips he had just prepared ahead of going into his beginning of shift meeting with his team. He was about to leave his office when the phone on his desk rang. Sighing, he returned to the desk to pick it up.

"Grissom."

"Hi, Gil. It's Valerie Nichols."

"Hello," Grissom said cautiously. He had a feeling he knew exactly why she was calling, and he doubted she would be pleased the news – or lack thereof – he had to give her.

"I'm calling about the Natalie Davis case," she said.

Bingo. "Did you need to go over some of the forensics?" he asked, hoping that might be the case, and, admittedly, trying to divert her attention.

"Not yet," she replied. "I was just calling to see what Sara's return date is."

Grissom exhaled. "She hasn't set a definite date yet," he said evasively.

Truth be told, Grissom had not spoken with Sara since calling to ask her to come home for the trial two days previously. He wanted to give her some space to process everything. He was certain she would come home to testify, but knew that she needed to make up her own mind about it. Pushing her would do him no good.

"Okay," Valerie said slowly. "She needs to do that soon, Gil. I'm sure the department can pay her airfare if she's trying to find a cheap flight. This is official business."

"Of course," Grissom replied, hoping that she meant her department would pay for Sara's flight. He knew that there was no way CSI would pay for it. "She knows how important this is, Valerie. I'm sure she'll be back in plenty of time. As soon as I hear from her, I'll call you."

"Okay," Valerie said. "I'll be in touch."

"Thank you for calling," Grissom said.

"Bye, Gil."

"Goodbye."

Grissom hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. He exhaled slowly.

He needed to know what Sara was thinking. He needed to know where she was in her decision-making process.

She needs to be here. Now. If she were here, I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not it was too soon to call her. I could look into her eyes and know if she was ready to talk.

But, she wasn't with him, and hadn't been for a long time. Grissom exhaled slowly again, trying to rein in his frustration with the situation.

You can't be angry with her. Think of what she's been through. She deserves time to think things through, and to get her perspective back.

He just wished he knew how much time she would need.

The ringing of Sara's cell phone cut through the stillness of the museum. She had decided to visit the art and natural history museum on a whim, and was completely engrossed in a Caravaggio when her phone rang. Her face flushed as she fumbled for the phone, hoping she wouldn't be kicked out of the museum for leaving the ringer on.

"Hello?" she said quietly, already rushing back to the café area, where she was sure she could talk without disturbing others.

"Hi, Sara. It's Dean."

"Hi," she said cheerfully, feeling relieved that she had made it to an area where she could speak at a normal level. "What's up?"

"Well, I have exciting news," he said. "I just got two tickets to tonight's Pens game, and I wanted to see if you'd like to come with me."

"Really?" Sara exclaimed. "I thought tickets were impossible to get!"

"Yeah, I just won a drawing at work," Dean replied, his excitement traveling across the phone to Sara.

"Are you sure you want to go with me?" Sara asked. "You could take your sister or one of your friends or –"

"Sara," Dean interrupted. "I'm calling you because I want to take you. So, are you in?"

Sara grinned. "Yeah. I'm in."

"Great! The puck drops at 7:08, so I'll pick you up at about 6:00. That will give us time to park and get in in time to see some of the warm ups."

"Okay," Sara said, glancing at her watch. Two hours. "Sounds great."

"Excellent. I'll see you then."

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome."

Sara was incredibly excited about going to the game. She didn't own anything appropriate to wear, so she stopped at a street vendor a few blocks from the museum to buy a Penguins shirt. Pleased with her new purchase, she went back to her hotel to start getting ready.

Just after six, Dean called to tell her he was waiting for her outside. He grinned as Sara emerged with her coat unzipped to show off her new Pens apparel.

"Lookin' good," he said.

"Should I have gotten a jersey?" she asked, noting his official Malkin jersey.

"No, this is fine," he said. "Come on, get in the car. We've got a game to attend!"

Sara had a great time at the game. She ate nachos, drank beer, and cheered her team to victory.

"Thank you so much for taking me," Sara said to Dean as they walked out of the arena after watching the Pens defeat the Hurricanes. "I had so much fun."

"I'm glad," Dean said. "Have you been to a Pens game before?"

"Not since the last time I came to Pittsburgh," Sara replied. "Grandpa took me and my dad. We got to see Mario's first game." Even after only two weeks in Pittsburgh, she had learned that Mario Lemieux was commonly referred to as simply, "Mario."

"No way! That's so unfair. I didn't see Grandpa handing any tickets to Mario's first game my way."

Sara laughed. "Well, to be fair, no one knew how that one would turn out."

"True." He smiled. "The night is still young. How do you feel about a drink?"

"Sure," Sara agreed.

"Great! I know just the place."

Twenty minutes later, Sara and Dean were seated at a table in a bar full of Penguins fans. The local news was playing on the bar's televisions; fans cheered as the highlights from the game were shown.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Dean asked, taking a drink of his beer.

"What do you mean?" Sara asked. "This has been a great night!"

"I know, and I know you said that before," Dean replied. "But, there's something else … I don't know what, but I know that you've got the same look Maggie gets when she's upset about something but won't talk about it."

Sara sighed. "Heredity gave me away, huh?"

"Yup," Dean said with a grin. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or should I start guessing?"

"You'll never guess."

"Is that a challenge?"

Sara smiled. "I've been asked to go back to Vegas to testify in a trial."

Dean frowned. "I'll admit that I don't really, fully understand what you do, but … I thought that you had to testify in trials. Isn't that part of your job?"

"Generally speaking, yeah. And, generally speaking, I don't mind it. But, this trial …"

"Harder than the others?"

"More personal," Sara said.

Dean frowned.

"I was the victim," Sara clarified.

"Oh, Sara."

"Let's just say, I came out of it with a broken arm and lots of bumps and bruises," Sara said. "And, a lot of confusion."

Dean nodded. "Can't they do the trial without you?"

"They probably could," Sara said. "But, from what Gil said, they really do need my testimony."

"Gil? Your boyfriend?"

Sara nodded. "He's a CSI, too."

"Ah." Dean took another drink. "So, what are you going to do?"

Sara smirked. "I've known what I'm going to do since he called me two days ago. I just have to talk myself into doing it."

"You're going back, aren't you?"

She nodded, pain and sorrow filling her eyes.

"Hey."

Sara looked up.

"I think it's great that you're doing this," Dean said. "You're showing your attacker that you hold the power. You're not afraid anymore. You're not afraid to go back, and you're not afraid to discuss what happened. You're the strong one here, Sara. I'm proud of you."

Sara shook her head. "It's not that. It's … I have to do this. I have to do it for my team … for Gil. If I don't, and they lose this case … I can't let them down like that."

"Call it whatever you want," Dean said. "Either way, you're the strongest cousin I have."

Sara smiled slightly. "Thanks, Dean. For everything."

"Sara, it's been my pleasure."

Grissom was documenting the kitchen of his latest homicide victim when his phone rang, its display lighting up with Sara's name. Thankful that she had waited to call until after he had gotten David's report, he flipped his phone open.

"Grissom."

"Can you talk?"

"For a minute."

"Are you still at work?" Sara asked.

Grissom chuckled. "Still? Honey, it's the beginning of my shift."

Sara looked at her bedside clock. "Huh. I guess it is."

"What's up? Why are you up so late? It's after two AM on the east coast."

"I was out with my cousin," she said. "He took me to a Penguins game."

"Sounds like fun."

"It was," Sara affirmed. "Then, we went out for a drink, and got to talking, and …"

"And?" Grissom prompted, suddenly nervous about what she might say next.

"I just booked my flight back to Vegas. I'll get in on January 28 at 4:25. Can you pick me up at the airport?"

Grissom's face broke into a smile. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Great. I'll email you my flight information."

"Okay."

"Okay," Sara repeated. "Look, I know you're probably busy … I just wanted to let you know my plans."

"Sara …"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She smiled. "You're welcome. I love you, Gil."

"You, too."

She grinned at his refusal to repeat the words at work. "I'll see you in two weeks."

A warm sensation spread through Grissom's entire being. "See you then."

The decision over who would drive Sara to the airport was a battle of wills and courtesy. No one wanted to inconvenience anyone else, and everyone wanted to take on the burden him or herself. Sara was ready to end the exceptionally polite argument by taking a cab when the decision was made. Her grandmother, aunt Carol and Dean would all take her to the airport.

The drive seemed all too short to Sara, who wanted as much time with her family as possible. Dean parked in the short term lot so they could go in with her to say goodbye.

Her boarding pass printed and luggage sent through security and to the plane, Sara turned to her family. Tears filled her eyes even as she tried to smile.

"Thank you all so much," she said. "You've been so kind to me, and so open and loving, and … I'm so glad I had the chance to know you as an adult."

"We are, too, Sara," Carol said, hugging her tightly. "I'm so glad you came to visit us."

"We all are," Margaret said, taking her turn to hug her. She pulled back and touched Sara's cheek. "Your father would be proud of the woman you've become."

"I'm proud of you, too," Dean said, hugging her as soon as their grandmother released her. "I know you'll do great in Vegas."

Sara nodded. "I hope so. You'll have to come and visit me there."

"I definitely will," Dean replied. "I've always wanted to see Vegas."

"You'd love it."

After one last hug for each of them, Sara readjusted her shoulder bag and gave them a wobbly smile.

"I guess this is it, then."

Margaret shook her head. "Not at all. Now that you know the way, you can come back anytime. You are more than welcome."

"And, you have to come back with that boyfriend of yours," Carol said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "We need to meet him."

"And approve of him," Dean added. "My cousin can't date just anyone."

Sara smiled. "I'll bring him to meet you. I promise."

"Good," Margaret said. "It's not really goodbye, then. Just, see you soon."

Sara nodded. "I'll see you all soon."

"Right," Carol agreed.

With one last smile, and one last hug for her grandmother, Sara made her way into the security line. She didn't look back, even though she knew her family would still be there, watching until they couldn't see her anymore.

It wasn't time to look back. It was time to look ahead.

It was time to go home.