Title – Escape (1/?)
Author – Ash (aka angellemyst)
E-Mail – angellemyst@hotmail.com, feedback and con crit welcome.
Archive – Only at www.nocturnality.com, anywhere else please ask permission.
Classification – Angst, PG for this part for adult content. G/S UST.
Summary – Sara's world is turned upside down after her father delivers some disturbing news.
Authors Notes – Thanks to the wonderful Karen for betaing this puppy and beating it into submission, and to Grissom and 'chele for giving it once-overs.

~ ~ ~

"Sara? Sara."

"Huh, yeah?" She looked up, slowly becoming aware that the seminar was over," Oh."

"You were distracted today."

"Oh, no, I was just...listening. Intently." She began to pack her books.

"You didn't ask a single question," he quirking his eyebrows in a now familiar gesture.

"Neither did half the class," she noted absently.

"But 75 percent of the questions usually come from you," the older man reminded her, smiling gently.

She rose, ready to leave. "Sorry." She wasn't.

"No need to apologize. Maybe you should double your caffeine intake after your next all-night study session. Or try and sleep, I hear it's good for a person," he smiled, but turned serious in the same breath," You're one of my best students, I need you to be alert, especially now that we're nearing the end of your final semester here."

She nodded," Right, more coffee, you got it," She attempted a smile before walking away.

He frowned and watched her follow the last of his students through the side door, oblivious to her surroundings. He was sure she would have walked right into the door if it hadn't been held open. His frown deepened. He'd never seen her anything but focused, always with her mind on her work. Something was very obviously wrong.

~ ~ ~

It came during the night.

A call that would literally change her entire perspective on life, as it would anyone's, she supposed. But she wasn't thinking about anyone else. She was thinking about her mom.

Sara knew she would never forget that phone call. It was like your first kiss, the first time riding a bike without falling off. Your first pregnancy scare. Good or bad you remembered these things -- they changed you in ways you couldn't predict.

But instead of remembering the dryness of her lips before that first kiss, she would remember her throat tightening as her father delivered those immortal words. She would forget long-gone tear tracks of relief that had washed down her cheeks as the pregnancy kit tested negative; that memory would easily be replaced by this new one. The old tracks now flooded with fresh salt-water; and the bitter taste of grief and overwhelming sadness threatened to choke her.

'Sara-'

'Dad? You're calling late.' She had tried to hide her surprise that he was calling her at all, never mind at half three in the morning.

'Sara, I- …it's your mother.'

'Mom? Is she ok? Dad, are you crying? Why are you crying…Dad?'

'…'

'Daddy? Answer me. Is Mom OK?'

'No, honey, she's not OK.' He was weary with grief, and from the police questioning him for 12 hours straight. But this conversation was a whole other level of pain; no father should have to make this phone call.

'Dad,' she'd stressed,' Please.'

'She was…-,'

A pause while he cleared his throat and tried to stop the constant flow of tears. His body was rebelling against words he hadn't quite processed.

'Last night, your mom was sexually assaulted and then beaten to death. They said she fought Sara. With everything she had...until she couldn't fight back any more.' He'd choked the words out.

The words wouldn't register.

This wasn't her life.

Her mom was enjoying a peaceful life on the outskirts of San Francisco. Her mom was alive.

Her dad was mistaken.

'Sara?' He'd sounded so lost.

'OK Dad, I have to go,' she murmured,' I have to go.'

Have to go.

Have to go escape.

'Sara, what do you…-'

Click.

She didn't fold the cell shut, the dial tone humming from it now the only noise inside her head. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Like too many invading strands of thought running together resulting in a single impenetrable ache inside her mind.

It was how she spent the rest of her night. Just sitting there.

Numb.

~  ~  ~

His windowed office in the theoretical physics building allowed him a clear view of the southeast campus grounds, the late afternoon sun sharing its dying heat with his second-floor room. His eyes wandered, following the meandering path that connected the different university wings. Past the tennis courts, bending eagerly around the chained bicycles and sliding up the gradual slant in the landscape to pass by him. To pass by his current enigma where she sat idly under an ancient oak tree. Sara Sidle.

Part of Gil Grissom's job was to notice the things other people couldn't. It didn't take a PhD to realize Sara had been acting out of sorts all day; she had attended classes but didn't contribute once, didn't even take notes in his seminar this morning. Not working was about as far out of character you could get for Sara. Although not wanting to work, and not being able to work were two entirely different things.

He contemplated her as she stared off into space under her tree, looking for all the world like a little lost girl; kicked and broken with no more resolve to stand up and kick back. The urge to go down and ask her what was wrong was strong, but it was a foreign feeling. He wasn't without heart, he simply just wasn't a "people person" -- everyone had his or her weakness. But the urge wouldn't go away. He tried to shake it off and turned away from the window.

He knew he wouldn't go down. What would he say? Would he ask her if she was all right? Would she answer and expect him to understand? He didn't know if he was capable of empathy any more, but he knew enough about himself to realize that he hid behind his work, and that mentality had taken him this far.

Logic was his safe house and science was his life. It wrapped him up tightly in facts and figures, standing guard against whimsical sentiments of the heart that dared to tread in his path. Logic was coherence. Coherence was sanity.

If he were to follow a rational line of thought, it would show him that Sara, being the astute student that she was with only a few weeks left before her exams ended, would be unwise to veer from the path she was currently on. Losing confidence in herself as a person, and therefore as scientist, would be detrimental to everything she had worked so hard to achieve. As one of her professors he wouldn't allow that to happen; Grissom didn't make a habit of interfering in other people's lives, but when it affected one of his students performance, it became a necessity.

He would make it a priority to speak with her as soon as possible.

~ ~ ~

Sara watched the familiar faces walking by in seemingly carefree huddles, taking no notice of the young woman sitting alone under the old tree. The oak's winding, elongated branches still shaded her from the harsh Californian sun; the bark was still rough against her back.

'Why hadn't the world changed?'

It looked the same as yesterday. Yesterday…before her world had come crashing down in a maelstrom of bitter confusion and denial. It still wasn't real to her. The phone call was ingrained in her mind, filling up the void it had left last night and overtaking everything she'd ever known. It created chinks in her armour of rational thought, emotional responses trying to escape through those cracks, wanting release, wanting to break her. But she wouldn't let them; it wasn't real.

Real was right here, in front of her face. Real were the intricate details of the beautiful roses she had admired throughout her classes. But now their lush whites and reds were an affront to her dark demeanour, mocking her with their cheerful consistency. Real was the laughter emanating from the passing group. It had never disrupted her solitude before, now it grated her nerves. 'How dare they! Have they no respect for the dead?'

But of course, they didn't know. No one here did.

~  ~  ~

End of chapter 1.

Chapter 2 coming ASAP. Watch this space.