Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS. I am playing with them because I feel like it.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved.

You guys are great feed backers. I love you for it. I really do. I'm having nothing but fun with all this. I suspect that I will be finished posting in the next 3 days or so. Going to go chapter a day 'til the end. And I can do that 'cause you all were such great supporters.

Thanks

Sheila

Chapter 13

When Grissom heard the shower, he smiled. She was emerging finally. The last three days, she had holed up in her room, only coming out at mealtimes. He knew she needed the time, but was relieved that she was showing some signs of returning to the world.

His notes were spread across the table, and he arranged them so that there was room for her. He got up, and prepared cereal with soymilk and a banana for her. It was amazing the small things he had learned about her this week. He knew she was going to glare at him for making her breakfast, but he also knew that if he didn't do it, she wouldn't eat. On the second morning, she made the audacious claim that breakfast wasn't good for her as she was never hungry when she woke up, and, therefore, it upset her stomach. He found that if he made it, and put it in front of her, she scowled at him, but eventually ate it.

She shuffled in, wet hair hanging down her back. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, her feet bare. Grissom was amazed to learn that she wore a different set of clothes altogether at home than she did at work. He had begun to wish that department dress code was a little more lax as jeans seemed to fit her in an especially fetching manner.

She saw the cereal, and rolled her eyes. Grissom waited. He knew to let her work through her reaction. She sat down in front of it, eyes down. She looked up at him, and narrowed her eyes, and then returned her attention to the bowl in front of her. Finally, she picked up the spoon, and dug in. He suppressed a grin. She would not be pleased to see it.

He joined her at the table, and began putting notes into specific piles. He knew she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, but he continued his work as if oblivious.

She grabbed a stack of notes and turned them so she could read. He stayed hunched over his papers digesting none of what he was reading.

"A paper on the Asian Lady Beetle?"

Now addressed, he raised his head. "There is an influx of these beetles over the last three years in Vegas. They should be properly studied to see how they can benefit forensic science."

"Do they feed on corpses?"

"No, but their lifecycle is very well defined. We could use that for time of death."

"Interesting. Want any help?"

"Thought you would never offer." This time he let his smile grow.

She returned the smile. "When do you ever find time to do all this research?"

He shrugged. "Other people have a social life.."

"And some of us stay glued to our police scanner…."

He pushed a pile of paper in her direction. "Here, I need whatever you can find on the maturation of the females."

She picked up the pile, and then created a space for herself. Every once in a while, he would steal a look. She seemed intent on the work in front of her. He, on the other hand, was not so intent on his work. She was up, and looking less fragile. He wanted to talk. Finally, after fifteen minutes of forced concentration on the same paragraph, he sat up and took off his glasses.

"Sara, I want to ask you something."

Her head popped up.

"I'm confused. I don't understand what you thought was going to happen when you went to that lounge. Showing up like that with no back-up, no safety plan. It doesn't correlate with the serious and thoughtful Sara that I thought I knew."

She thought for a moment before responding. "I thought that I was standing up to my fears. My memories have held me captive for so long, especially when children like Hannah come into my life, I didn't know how else to confront them."

"Did you care that you were exposing yourself to an extremely dangerous situation?"

"You're wondering if I was being suicidal?"

He nodded.

She shook her head. "Desperate is what I was feeling. Nothing more."

"Okay."

She lined up her stack of notes carefully, and then put them to the side. "Grissom, when I was a kid…"

Grissom stopped what he was doing, and gave her his full attention.

"My dad left us when I was 10, and my mom fell into a depression. Big, nasty, unable to get out of bed, crying all the time depression. And then, in order to cope, my well educated, middle class mother, began using drugs. At first, it was not too bad. My brother still lived at home, and I could go to him….until he started using. At some point, she graduated to bigger drugs, heroin for example, and with that came her supplier boyfriend, Curt. Handsome, charming, mean Curt."

She saw his eyes narrow. "Don't assume anything just yet, Grissom. It was bad, but it could have been worse."

"Curt kept my mom high a lot of the time. It became increasingly difficult for me to reach her at all. I blamed him and let him know it. Constantly. I was a very stubborn little girl."

He smiled. "Hasn't changed, Sara."

Her face was tight and she was unable to return the gesture. "One day, my mother was drooling on the kitchen table when I came in from school. So high. I could barely get a response out of her. So I ran to call 911. Curt saw me and pulled the phone out of the jack. I started hitting him. And, to no one's surprise, he reciprocated. He had me on the kitchen floor, we were struggling, and the next thing I knew he was pulling off my jeans."

Grissom breathed in sharply.

"I got hysterical. My mother struggled to her feet and climbed on his back. He punched her a few times, and she was out. He caught me by the legs, but couldn't get any cooperation. He reached up onto the counter, and pulled down a steak knife. And then he stabbed me in the side."

She stopped and rubbed at her wet eyes. Grissom didn't move.

"That stupid knife saved my life. I bled like a stuck pig, and got it all over everything. It freaked him out. He couldn't stand the blood. The next thing I knew, he was off me and backing away. Cops didn't find him for a month. He was holed up with some other poor woman. My mom couldn't handle things. She left me at the hospital, and I didn't see her for two weeks. And only then because they found her dumped in an alley. She went to treatment seven times before she got clean. But she couldn't parent anymore. And, as for me, I spent my adolescence in foster homes where I treated every parent like a potential Curt. I was not a fun kid."

Grissom broke his paralysis, and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"Gris, every time, I work with an abused kid or neglected one… Every time, I see an abused woman, it feels like Curt is right there. Like they never caught him. I feel their wounds and their bruises; their fear and their pain. I can't seem to control it. More than anything I worry that this means I shouldn't do this work. More than anything, I think that's what I'll see in your eyes when I look at you."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I'm so sorry." He held her hand tightly. He imagined getting up, going around the table, and holding her tightly. That was probably the thing to do, but he didn't believe he had the grace to do this in anything but the most clumsy manner. He imagined it would be awkward for both of them. So he held on tightly from across the table for as long as she allowed.

………………………………..................................................................................................................

Catherine trotted after Conrad Ecklie. "Wait, Conrad."

Ecklie turned and slowed for her. "What can I do for you, Catherine?"

"I just want to know how your investigation is going."

"Really. I didn't realize you were so interested in cases not on your roster. Which one are you curious about?"

"Knock it off. You know I want to know how the IAB case is going."

"Why would I discuss that with you?"

"Because Grissom is an employee in good standing, and he was backed up by respected members of the department, and this matters a lot to every employee in this lab. Conrad, please remember that you are supposed to hope that he gets cleared. He's one of ours, he is one of yours."

He stopped in the hall and turned to face her. "I am a scientist, and this is an investigation. It will be done in an objective manner. And as for what I hope, well let me tell you this, Catherine, if the situation was reversed, Grissom wouldn't even think twice about hanging me out to dry."

Catherine stared back at him. "Not if you were innocent. He has no stomach for that kind of revenge. Can you say the same?"

He stepped forward and raised a finger at her. Despite his obvious size, Catherine didn't move back. "You want to accuse me of bias? Do you realize that as a new supervisor, you are on probation? I can fire you or demote you anytime in the next 3 months without a formal process of any kind."

"This is what I'm saying, Conrad. Exactly this."

He shook his head slowly, refusing to make eye contact. "You'll never get it. You act like the only thing that matters is what happens out in the field. You ignore everything that goes into making your job possible. Those of us that make this lab viable and solvent, you have no time or respect for us."

Catherine snorted back a laugh. "You can have all the respect in the world, Conrad. But resenting Grissom because he is smarter or more esteemed in his field is not getting you anywhere. You can't be him."

He backed away, and, without another word, he turned and left. Catherine collapsed against the wall for a moment, and cursed her lack of tact.

TBC