See first chapter for all important disclaimers.
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Sara slumped further into her seat, unable to determine exactly when or how she had made her way from the terminal to the plane. She was vaguely aware that Grissom had led her by the arm like a child. She'd have to thank him later.
At the moment he was placing her overnight bag in the compartment overhead. He took his seat beside her, offering her a comforting smile before examining his briefcase intently. She briefly, and not too kindly, wondered how interesting it could honestly be. It was a leather box with a handle and gold clasps. Not exactly a work of art.
Scowling at nothing, she turned her attention to the window on her left. They hadn't lifted off yet, and it seemed almost funny how ridiculous the airport looked from her viewpoint. People on the ground were small enough to look obscure without reaching the ant-ish status, and she wondered what business they had scurrying about. She was so wrapped in her thoughts she missed the captain's first announcement, and tuned out the stewardess's instructions.
She had forgotten to buckle her seatbelt, and Grissom tapped her arm.
"What?" snapped Sara.
"Seatbelt," he reminded her.
Sara wondered if he intentionally spoke with so little emotion or if it was merely force of habit. She wished that there had been some inflection to his tone. Amusement… gentleness… irritation, perhaps. But there wasn't, and she was left unable to read his emotions.
When the plane took off, he offered her a piece of gum. She took it, wondering how he remembered her ears hated the pressure change. Hell, she knew he probably hadn't really. He was either lucky, or suffered the same problem. Popping ears weren't exactly a rarity.
It was several minutes after they had reached cruising altitude when she asked Grissom to get her a water. He complied, noticing upon his return the used Kleenex she stuffed down the side of her seat.
Her smile was tightlipped as he handed her the bottle, and he didn't comment. A few minutes later she rustled through the in-flight magazines, but finding nothing of interest she slammed them down and sighed loudly.
"Here," he said, offering her a magazine he had pulled from his attaché case.
She looked at it, then gave him a tentative smile. It was the latest edition of Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science.
"Anything interesting about the Mile High Club this time around?"
"No. A fascinating report on a cheaper method of DNA testing though. And another one on identifying the profile of female arsonists. It was pretty good."
She turned to the arson article first, but found she couldn't concentrate. She glanced at the book in his hand, looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't hiding an entomology book in the cover. He wasn't.
"Calvin and Hobbes?"
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"No, not at all," she said defensively, turning back to her magazine.
Half an hour later she had exhausted her reading materials, and closed her eyes. The plane wasn't scheduled to land for another forty five minutes, and she really didn't want to talk to anyone. The chance of that happening was slim to none, as Grissom was still absorbed by his educational reading, but it was an effort at self preservation.
Her mind wandered, tracing a meandering course of memories. She thought about her father, and how her mother would be holding up. Having analyzed that situation she moved to more logical thoughts- who to call, what to arrange, legal matters that needed attending. She organized the actions, setting an itinerary to follow. She heard one of the attendants coming up the aisle, and meant to ask for more water. She stopped when she heard Grissom speaking quietly to her.
"May I please have a pillow?"
"Of course sir," the woman replied.
The next thing Sara was aware of was Grissom's hand moving her head forward just long enough to put the pillow behind it. Her first instinct was to tense at his contact, but her common sense overrode it. No use making things more difficult then need be. He took the magazine from her hands gently, letting his palm rest over hers. She was surprised to discover the gentleness of his contact, and it threatened to pervade every nerve ending in her body.
His hand rested there, a crude effort at comfort, until the plane began its descent and she faked awakening.
~*~
Sara looked around the terminal, peering into every passing face in the hopes it would be the one she sought. They weren't, as she knew deep down they wouldn't. Still, it was hard to believe. Her father had always hated airplanes, and was always there an hour before hers was scheduled to land. Even after she had moved into San Francisco itself, only going "home" for the occasional weekend, he had driven in. At all hours of the night too.
Grissom's voice broke through her reverie.
"Sara?"
"Yeah?" she replied, forcing a smile on her face.
"The bags are coming around."
Shouldering her overnight, she followed him silently.
He spotted her suitcase before she did and grabbed it off the conveyor belt. She returned the favour, grinning triumphantly. He feigned innocence, and Sara made a point of letting her hand linger when he took it.
"Who were you looking for?" he asked. She considered letting the question lie, but his eyes asked her not to.
"My father," her strained smile twisted itself upwards even more. "It's funny. I deal with death every day. You'd think I'd have known better."
"Denial is human nature, Sara. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
She shrugged, and he didn't bring it up again. He mentioned picking up the rental car, and she started in the direction the signs pointed before stopping to let out a curse.
"What is it?"
She shook her head ruefully. "I forgot to tell my mom when the plane was coming in. I just hope the car rental has decent rates."
He looked at her questioningly. "Why don't I just drive you?"
She shook her head. "You've already done enough Gris. It's an hour and a half one way."
"It's not like I have anything to do tonight anyways. There's no reason for you to rent a car- I assume your mother has one?"
"Yeah. And I'm not going to win an argument with you, am I?"
"Come on."
Sara sighed, realizing the futility of debating the matter. Once Grissom got that look in his eyes, there was no going back. She was surprised to find the thought was tinged with an uncharacteristically bitter tone.
"I should call my mom. Let her know when I'll get there, see if she needs anything."
"Sure. I'll just go get the car…"
"I'll meet you at the office, okay?"
He left, looking back only once. Sara fished her cell from the suitcase, punching in the B&B's personal line.
"Sidle residence," an unfamiliar male voice answered.
"Who is this?"
"Matt Cross. Who is this?"
Sara felt like she was in the twilight zone. Matt Cross? Talk about a blast from the past. Then she remembered- Mr. Hotshot Lawyer had moved back home five years ago, to raise his daughter. Allison, she thought her name was. Her parents had looked after the girl a couple of times a week for the last three years or so.
"Hi Matt. It's Sara. How's mom?"
"Your mom's okay. The Sidle women are pretty resilient. She's laying down for a bit though, so I'm holding down the fort."
"Okay. I just got in, so I'll be there about seven, eight if I stop for dinner. Will you be there until then?"
"Sure, I'll stay as long as you need."
"Thank you," she said, hanging up.
By the time she caught up to Grissom he was finishing off the paperwork. The keys were handed over, and she expertly snatched them from his hand.
"I'll drive."
"Sara…." he warned.
"Look, how much sleep have you had in the last two days?"
"En-"
She cut him off.
"Warrick had to testify in the Black case yesterday. And don't try to tell me you weren't there," she gave a sardonic smile. "He was attached to the case, and I know you were there. On cases like that you always are, tucked into a back corner so we don't know you're there. Even for me, though I don't know why."
Noticing his confused look, she continued. "Don't worry, I won't tattle. My point is, you were in court yesterday. Then you worked a nine hour shift–getting me a plane ticket at the same time- and then flew in. Do you really want to drive on unfamiliar roads, for three hours, at least partially in the dark?"
"Fine," he said, shrugging. "Lead the way."
~*~
Traveling in silence was usually uncomfortable, but for once it didn't bother Sara. Forcing the reason for her visit from her mind, she took the all too familiar roads home. She turned the radio to the same station she had listened to as a teenager, grimacing slightly when she realized its play list was still crap. She couldn't find anything better though, and left it.
When they entered the town marking the halfway point of their journey, she asked Grissom if he wanted dinner. He gave a noncommittal grunt, and she pulled into a small diner.
"I'm hungry," she explained.
They chose a booth by the door, nervously eying the menu. A waitress who looked liked the star of some Independent Film took their order. Sara tore at the corners of a napkin, rolling the pieces into tiny balls she listlessly flicked across the table. Grissom knew he should say something, but exactly what that was he wasn't sure. The waitress came back with their food a split second before the silence had dragged on too long by even their standards.
They took it gratefully, both focusing on the food to avoid their companion. After a few minutes, Sara commented on the quality of her chili and Grissom unthinkingly mentioned she hadn't tasted chili until she had his mother's. She cheekily asked if that was an invitation, and he shrugged. It sparked a discussion about family recipes though, and for awhile the world outside the diner did not exist. They eventually had to pull away and, paying for their dinner, left.
The remainder of the drive, forty five minutes, passed without a word. It was closer to eight thirty then eight by the time she arrived at the Clearstone Lodge, but she figured Matt wouldn't have left her mother alone. Pulling first into a large circular driveway and then onto the smaller path which led to the house entry, Sara braced herself for the inevitable flurry of emotions she had avoided until that moment.
Taking her suitcase from the backseat, she got out of the car. Grissom took her position at the wheel, his hand making contact with her for an instant before closing the door. She walked towards the door, almost reaching it before he called her back.
"Yeah?"
"You forgot your bag."
He handed it to her through the window, then reached into his pocket. Pulling out what she assumed was a plane ticket, he glanced at her with guilt written on his face.
"I forgot about this- the return ticket. It's for 11 o'clock Saturday. AM. You can exchange it for whenever-" he changed the topic suddenly. "Do you have a pen?"
Taking one from the bag he had given her, she asked what he needed it for. Jotting something on the ticket envelope, he answered.
"Take as long as you need here, but when you know how long you'll be, phone the lab. And if you need anything…to talk or whatever… here's the number at the hotel."
Surprised by his offer, she took the ticket without question.
"Take care of yourself Sara," he said, putting the car in reverse.
She watched the vehicle depart until vegetation obscured her view. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to deal with the current situation.
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