Author's notes: I'm sure several readers will be somewhat pleased to learn that as much as I attempt to keep this fic merely friends, my muse is a psychotic something-or-other. Try as I might, this is going to end up way to GSR happy.

Jake the dog- in at least one episode there is a picture of a golden lab in Sara's locker. I figured he had to belong to someone.

Allison Cross- Based on a child of the same age I know, so it's really not all that unbelievable.

See first chapter for all important disclaimers.

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The family entrance lacked the ornate detail her father had lavished on the business front, physical proof that he had taken Sara's advice at least once. Before she raised her hand to knock, the door flung open and she was embraced.

She pulled back instinctively, and the arms were dropped. It was Matt, and she wasn't at all surprised that fifteen years had seen little change in his appearance. He was fairly good looking, in a quietly intelligent sort of way. His hair was boyishly rumpled, a dark brown that was straight off the picture of a high school quarterback. He hadn't actually played sports though, electing instead for the debate team. His eyes were bottle green, and framed with glasses so often associated with the academic field. Although currently frowning, the lines around his mouth indicated he still smiled often.

"Hi."

"Hi."

What was she supposed to say? She was completely clueless, unsure of the situation. Her mind latched onto the first thought that came along.

"Sorry I'm late."

He half-smiled, and she realized how absurd she must have sounded.

"It's okay. Your mom is sleeping still, so I've been watching TV," he said, making way for her to pass. "Who dropped you off?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

"My boss."

Matt mulled this over for a minute before admitting defeat.

"There were no plane tickets. By some extraordinary coincidence he happened to be heading for San Francisco for a conference, and had an extra ticket. When I realized I hadn't called mom, he offered to drive me."

"That was very kind of him," Matt replied, his tone suggesting that it was above and beyond the call of duty. "Are you two…close?"

She could tell from his voice what he meant by close.

"I've known him for years, but we work together. Fraternizing with co-workers is a professional no-no. Besides, the man's a walking encyclopedia. But stick him in a social situation and you're begging for a disaster. Absolutely no knack for human relations. So no, we're not 'close'."

Her tone was unnecessarily confrontational, and Sara forced herself to soften it.

"I misread the signs once, learned my lesson, got over it. We're civil."

Having enough of the topic, she focused on what had brought her home.

"Has the body been released?"

God, she hated how callous that sounded.

"The autopsy confirmed cause of death was an aneurysm, so the funeral home is picking it up in the morning. Your dad planned his funeral and organized his will nineteen months ago, so most things have been taken care of. There are a few people your mom hasn't been able to contact though. There's a list in the kitchen."

"What about guests? Has she phoned them?"

"Anyone scheduled for the next two weeks has had their reservation transferred to another B&B, and we've contacted them all."

Momentarily panicked at the thought of nothing to occupy her time, Sara desperately asked what was left to be done.

"Not much. I can handle it, if you'd like."

"No, no. That's fine. I can handle it. Just…tomorrow."

She felt tired all of the sudden, and he put on his coat. Promising to return during his lunch break the next day, Matt left.

The house was silent as Sara locked the door and made her way to her childhood bedroom. She found it hadn't changed since her high school days- eggshell white walls, a flowered bedspread and a poster of the periodic table over her desk. The lamp on her nightstand had been replaced, since Jake had knocked it over a few years earlier.

Wondering where her parent's golden lab was, she conducted a quick search of the upstairs. It wasn't like him not to greet her at the door.

She found him sleeping, stretched out beside her mother. Thankful he kept her from being alone, Sara closed the door and retreated to her bedroom. She unpacked her suitcase, surprised that empty hangers still hung in her closet. Her dad was terrible for stealing them, as he always lost his own.

She finished quickly, and realized she had nothing to do. She finally elected for bed, and changed. Once in the single bed, she had expected sleep to come quickly. No such luck, she thought as she tossed and turned looking for a comfortable position. It took almost three hours before she realized the problem wasn't her mattress but the rigidity of her body. Starting with her toes, she worked her way up the body, forcing one muscle at a time to relax. She was surprised that muscles she was only passingly aware of were tensed. She finally let sleep take her.

~*~

Sara woke up at seven, and showered before heading downstairs to make breakfast. Her mother was already at the stove, flipping pancakes. Sara paused at the door, struck by the familiarity of the scene. All it needed was her father sitting at the table, coffee in one hand and the Arts and Entertainment section in the other. When he didn't magically appear, she swallowed against the lump in her throat and entered.

She went to help with the food, but her mother swatted her hand.

"Go sit down Sara."

The plate was heaping, easily enough for a dozen people. She took several, pouring excess syrup. It was a bad habit she had broken in college, but she didn't care.

"Your Aunt Bea will be coming about noon, and Wendy and the kids should be here early afternoon," her mother informed her, with false cheeriness. She avoided saying anything about why, and Sara didn't want to broach the subject.

"Matt said there were a few people you hadn't called yet. Who?"

"There's a list on the fridge," she said mildly, as if nothing was wrong.

Sara bit her tongue before she could comment; reminding herself the denial was the first stage of grief. But staying in that stage was dangerous. Not to mention functioning and dealing with the inevitable problems that would arise required some acceptance. She finished the pancakes and poured herself some coffee.

She'd start phoning after breakfast.

~*~

By eleven she was about to give up. Of twenty calls, three had been out of service, six had gotten her answering machines and one had a live person at the end. The others hadn't been answered. Deciding to try later that day, when people were likely to be off work, she had started dusting.

About eleven thirty a knock came at the door, and she remembered Matt's promise. Answering the door, she found is was him.

"Hi. Come in. Do you want something to eat? I was about to make some vegetable soup…."

"Sure," he said, following her into the kitchen.

They didn't talk until they were seated at the table, steaming bowls in front of them.

"I told you last night, your father had almost everything organized. I dropped a suit off yesterday, but the funeral home may call about a few details. Just flower arrangements and stuff."

"Okay," she said.

"He wanted a wake, so people can say goodbye. Then he wants his ashes spread out on the bay. You'll have to book a boat, unless you want me to."

"I can do it," Sara asserted, somewhat miffed he doubted her ability.

"Have you started phoning?"

"Yes. I'm not getting much, but I'll do it."

"And-"

"I said I can do it!" she yelled, banging her fists to punctuate. The force caused the soup to spill onto the tabletop, and she looked horrified. She grabbed paper towel to clean it up, apologizing profusely.

"It's my fault really…"

"No it's not. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

When he protested, she cut him off. "Just accept the damn apology."

Their eyes locked, neither one willing to let the other take the blame. The battle was interrupted when Jake bounded into the room, fresh from a long walk. Sara's mother came in next.

"Hi Matthew."

He stood and hugged her. "Hello Louise. How are you?"

"Better then I could be," she answered truthfully. "Is Ally going to come tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't want her to be a bother."

"Let her come."

He nodded. "Okay. I have to go now, if I want to get back to the office. I'll stop by after work."

Matt kissed Louise on the cheek, nodded to Sara and showed himself to the door.

"Do you want some soup, mom?" asked Sara, pointing to his untouched bowl.

~*~

Aunt Bea arrived on time, and Sara put her in the guestroom. She set up a room for when Wendy came, then tried contacting the people she hadn't gotten ahold of yet. The funeral home called around three, to confirm that wake times.

"Tuesday at seven o'clock, Wednesday at eleven and again at seven?"

"Tuesday? As in tomorrow?" Everything seemed to be happening so fast, but Sara chalked it up to dealing with corpses involved in active investigations. "That'll be fine."

The woman on the other end commented on a lovely display of pictures to remember the deceased throughout the years, and Sara was inspired. Bringing the cordless phone with her to the attic, she spent most of the day sorting through boxes of old photos.

There were few with her father, who had always opted to be behind the camera. He'd jokingly complain that his 'ugly mug could never compare to the beauty of his two favourite girls' and take the pictures. There were a few good ones though- wedding photos, one of him holding a baby Sara with her brother beside him, a twelve year old Sara grinning gap-toothedly beside him at the fair.

When she found enough, she went back to the kitchen to stick them onto a display board. It took several hours for her to be content, and night was falling. Her mother had welcomed Wendy and her two children at some point, and they came for dinner.

Matt stopped in briefly, and found that Sara had taken control of the final arrangements. He offered assistance, and she politely turned him down.

By the time she climbed into bed that night, she had talked to all but four of the people on the list. What felt like half the neighbourhood had stopped by to offer condolences, often bringing an offering of food with them. For having done next to nothing it was a tiring day, and she congratulated herself on keeping it together.

~*~

Allison Cross had her father's green eyes, but had taken the rest of her looks from her mother. Her nose was small and upturned, her smile sweet against a dark complexion. Her hair was long and a shade of brown so dark many first mistook it for black.

All this Sara processed within thirty seconds of opening the door and finding the girl on the step at one o'clock.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, revealing a lost front tooth.

"I'm Sara. Where's your daddy?"

The girl looked confused by her question.

"He's at work, you silly billy."

"Then how did you get here?"

"The school bus dropped me off."

"How old are you?" Sara asked doubtfully.

"Five and a half."

Sara thought she spoke well for a five year old. But then again, what the Hell did she know about kids?

"Come in."

The girl did, dropping off her backpack –how had Sara missed that?- and her outerwear in the closet before making a beeline for the living room. She seemed to search for something, looking under all the furniture. Not finding it, she went from room to room. Once she was done, she seemed satisfied.

"Grandpa's really gone, isn't he?"

For the first time that day, Sara felt tears prickle her eyes.

"Yes, he is."

"I didn't believe daddy," the girl confided sadly. "But he was right. Can I watch Dora?"

"Dora?"

"Dora the Explorer," the girl explained, as if she were speaking to a complete imbecile. "She's on the hamster channel."

"The hamster channel?"

"Use the guide," Allison said, rolling her eyes.

Sara complied, knowing there was really no option. Her mom had taken a walk in the morning, and hadn't come back. Aunt Bea had gone with Wendy and the kids into town, and Sara was alone with a smart-mouthed five year old.

~*~

After settling Allison down, Sara toyed with the idea of phoning Grissom. She suddenly wanted to hear his voice, even if it was the disapproving supervisor tone he used on her all too often. She finally dismissed the idea, convincing herself he was probably in the middle of a lecture.

Wendy and the others came back around three fifteen, her mother soon following suit. Matt appeared around quarter to four, suggesting they get dinner at the local steakhouse. Allison wrinkled her nose in disgust and said she didn't feel like eating. Matt tried to convince her otherwise, reminding her steak was her 'absolute favourite', but she was steadfast. Sara offered to stay with her, claiming exemption because of her vegetarianism.

Matt finally agreed, and they pulled out of the drive as the grandfather clock struck four. Whatever show that had held Allison's interest was over, and she begged for a movie.

"Which one?"

Allison seemed to give this careful thought, finally settling on Sleeping Beauty. She asked Sara to watch it with her, even offering her the "best seat". When Sara obeyed, she cuddled in tightly and watched as the credits rolled.

When Malificent roared into the banquet, Sara prepared to hide Allison's eyes remembering how frightened she herself had been at that age. She was surprised to find the girl fast asleep. Sighing, she resigned herself to watching the movie.

She was scoffing at the meeting between Briar Rose and Prince Philip when a knock came on the door. Figuring it was another neighbour, she ignored it. Whoever was at the door was persistent, and Sara finally got up. Allison stirred slightly at the disturbance, but fell back asleep.

Sara opened the door, surprised to find who stood of the other side.

"Grissom?"

………………………..

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