He drove.

He seemed to know where her house was, even though he'd never been there. Never. But he and every employee's personal address and telephone number memorized. Just in case.

And Sara's details were like instant recall

Etched in his mind.

He approached her door. The light was on. That was a good sign. Facts kept appearing in Grissom's head; like most women commit suicide in the bathtub, due to consideration of whoever has to clean up, and how about 60% of suicide victims' use a firearm.

Her gun.

He ran to her door, and started knocking furiously.

Nothing.

"Sara" he yelled, taking a few steps back, trying to see if there was any movement from upstairs.

"Sar-" his voice was cut off with the opening of the door. She was there, he ran to her.

"Grissom? What the hell are you doing? You're gonna wake the neighbours," her voice increased with anger and volume.

"You weren't at my office…. I was worried." He said, calming himself. He was glad she wasn't hurt.

He was glad she hadn't hurt herself.

She was touched by his concern – he rarely showed it – and when he did show it – it was usually followed by discipline.

"Come in," she said cautiously. She offered only because she knew if she didn't, he would have insisted.

If only I hadn't dropped that glass. If only I treated him like any other DB.

But he wasn't any other DB.


"So Grissom" she said, trying to break the awkward silence. It wasn't like work, she couldn't vacate the room, and this was her home. "Why are you here?"

 As if I don't know…. he's here to give me a pep talk then fire my ass. Or at least suspend me. Hopefully he'll skip the talk and cut straight to the chase.

"I thought you might have…." He cut himself of, just realising what he was just about to say, in essence, what he had said.

"Hurt myself?" she said darkly sitting down on her sofa, Grissom remained standing, and watched her.

He nodded. "Yes," he admitted, there was no point lying to a CSI.

"I have no right to," she said, looking up into his eyes. His face was so soft, with hints of concern.

Feeling as though his height and stance may be overwhelming her – or at least making himself look more domineering than he wanted, he sat down, before speaking.

"I don't understand." He said, looking at her.

"The memories might be mine – but the suffering isn't." she said, half whisper – half sob.

"Sara – I won't make you tell me about this," he paused, "if you don't want to talk about it," he continued softly.

"Its…its not that I don't want to talk about it – I'm just afraid that you'll be disappointed in me." She said, trying to bide herself time, and work up enough courage to tell him.

He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to be a hypocrite. If Sara told him something dreadful about herself – he couldn't promise that he wouldn't be disappointed. He weighed up his options.

"Sara, I promise I wont unfairly judge you," he chose his words carefully – like a DA preparing his summation.

"Ok, Griss. Ill tell you. Ill tell you who Jack Letts' is," she sighed heavily before continuing.

"I must have been eleven maybe twelve. My mom and her had always been close, you know?"

"With whom?" Grissom question.

"Grissom, this isn't a case…well, I'm not a suspect. You'll get all the information you need – but you cant interrupted," she said with a small smile.

He responded with a quiet "ok," and allowed her to continue.

"She was our neighbour across the street – every so often, mom would leave me with her. She was nice, she always smelled of home cooking – that's something she used to try and make me do – cook. I hated it – the cooking, I mean, not the company. She was a nice woman." She said, smiling at the memories.

"She used to always take pills – one day I ask her what they're for – she tells me they're for epilepsy – so I ask my mom that was – and she told me about the seizures and everything – and that's why Marie – did I say her name was Marie? Didn't work."

She paused to sigh. "I only saw her have a seizure one – a petit mal – it was scary – I was only a kid…"she said trailing off.

"You don't have to justify being scared," he said reassuringly from the other side of the sofa. He didn't know whether to draw closer to her or not, he didn't want to scare her.

She gave a small smile before continuing, "I rarely saw her husband, I didn't think she did either. He worked all hours at the office. Until one day – I go round to her house – and she tells me I can't stay. I ask my mom about it – and she tells me that Marie's husband lost his job." Sara said distantly, "I asked her why that meant I couldn't go over there – and she just said 'something's are hard to cope with'" Sara continued, taking a look at Grissom. He was really listening to her.

"So one day, about a week of not seeing her – I go over, and Marie answers the door. Her face-" Sara paused, and swallowed hard, "It was bruised. Badly." She brought her hand up to her face, and whipped away a tear that was forming.

"So, I told my dad what I suspected. I told him 'I think he beats her' – and straight away, he goes over there." Sara paused, and didn't continue. She just stared vacantly.

"Sara," Grissom called. She didn't even blink.

He moved closer to her, but not to close, just so near he could touch her arm. "Sara," he repeated.

"Hmm?" she said, apparently not really stirred by his actions.

"Anyway" she continued, before her voice went back to how it was before, "Dad comes back, really mad at me. He tells me that Marie had a bad seizure, and that her husband didn't appreciate me drawing attention to it." She said, turning to Grissom, "but I knew that those injuries weren't from a seizure – they were from his hands."

"Your dad wasn't to know," he said reassuringly.

"Yeah – I doubt he even saw her," she said sadly. She never knew if her father had seen her – if not he was in no part to blame – if he had and had ignored them for one reason or another – well…she felt sickness forming in her stomach.

"I saw her a couple of days later – god grissom – she looked worse for wear – and she was smoking. I don't think I had ever seen her smoke before. She always told me it was a bad habit…"

" - Possibly her way of coping," Grissom interrupted. Sara didn't mind this time – he was interested – he was listening. He wasn't listening just to the content of her story – but the emotions of it.

"Yea," Sara agreed. "Well, she beckons me over, and I go, but I walk really slowly, she tells me that her husbands gone out for the day – and that he wont be back for awhile," Sara held another pause, before turning her complete body toward Grissom, without moving any closer to him.

"Then she touches my face, and tells me I'm beautiful. She tells me to never let a man take away my beauty – and there was something in her eyes – that's when I knew what had happened to her. I knew he raped her." Sara said dejectedly.

She looked at Grissom. He didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything.

Sara just continued looking at him, more for comfort than for anything else.

I get home from school one day, to see police tape around her house – and a squad car. I try to get in, but the officers stop me. My dad sees me struggling with the officers, and takes me home. He told me – he told me that Marie had fallen down the stairs – so I tell him that I think she was pushed…." She stopped, and exhaled heavily.

"What did your dad say?" Grissom uttered just louder than a whisper.

"He told me that I watched too much TV – and that Marie had stopped taking her Clonazepam, which caused her to have a large seizure."

"But you don't think she stopped taking her benzodiazepines, do you?"

Sara shook her head. "No – and there wasn't even a post-mortem because Marie had seen her doctor in the last 6 months – and the husband was a great liar." She sighed.

"And I knew if there was a way to prove she still took her medication….." Sara began, "I knew there and then I wanted to be a CSI Grissom, I didn't know the name for it, but that's when I knew what I wanted to be." She said passionately.

She weekly smiled at Grissom, who returned it. "Her husbands name was Jack Letts, wasn't it?" He said quietly.

She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply for a few seconds, before opening them and looking at Grissom, "yes" she weekly responded.

"But now…" her voice still week, "every abused wife I see, I'm a kid again, I'm helpless, I'm there for the after party. That's why I have to work so hard to prove it."

"I dedicated part of my life to finding Jack Letts, I lead her, a lead there, never enough to find him. But to know he's dead…. its…"

"A relief?" Grissom suggested.

"More of an affirmation of my vocation." She said determinedly, and forced a smile.

"Why did you think I'd be disappointed?" Grissom question, with a perplexed look.

Sara bit the bottom of her lip, and looked away from him, "Because I haven't always been strong, I haven't always been…"

He wiped a tear away from her face, and he felt compelled to stroke her cheek. She pulled away.

"No Grissom," she interrupted his actions. "I don't want anything from you."

"Sara, I just want to tell you how I feel." He said innocently. He wanted to comfort her, show her she wasn't alone, he was hear for her.

"What you feel right now is pity." She said sadly, looking away from him. She wanted it to be more, but after that story, she guessed just about anyone would want to comfort her.

Grissom paused for a moment to consider, before conceding.

"You're right Sara, what I feel for you, right now is pity. But that isn't what I felt for you yesterday, and I wont feel pity for you tomorrow either." His words rang in her ears.

"Tomorrow is a new day," Sara recited, as though she was taking words from somewhere else. She lightly smiled at Grissom.

He returned it. Her words held hope. He knew they would do nothing more tonight – but that was ok – as she had said 'tomorrow is a new day,' and for Grissom, that new day held hope, for both him and Sara.

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Thank you for reading this, I hope it want too cliché.

To my reviewers – you've all given such encouraging reviews – thank you!