Part 6

Sara was hesitant to explain this particular thorn from her past. She really didn't know where to begin. Her shoulders were tense and she could feel the tears starting in her eyes even though she had yet to say a word. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see Grissom's reaction to the horror that she was about to relive.

"Mark was eventually convicted of attempted murder and multiple counts of assault. We were there, in the courtroom, when the judge delivered his sentence. I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack when she heard the words leave his mouth," Sara said. Grissom's grip on her hand tightened and he urged her on. "Twenty-five years to life in a military prison. God, Mom went nuts. Started screaming at the top of her lungs, crying, telling Mark that they would file for appeal. My dad kept his arms around me the entire time she was throwing her fit, keeping me as far away from her as he could while waiting for her to calm down. We waited for a while."

Sara took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as though she would pass out. Her head dropped to the back of the couch and her tears started falling. Grissom's hand was there, wiping them away, letting her cheek caress his hand.

"When my mother had finally calmed down with the help of the bailiff, she turned on me and my father. He tried to stop her, but it was sort of pointless. My mother was determined to get her hands around my throat. And she did. She grabbed me, both of her hands around my throat, crushing my windpipe, and my vocal cords. I know I blacked out at some point during the entire thing because I don't remember my mother being dragged away. When I finally came around, I was in the back of an ambulance on my way to the hospital."

Her tears suddenly became a flood, making paths down her face and throat. A harsh sob escaped her and she was immediately enveloped in Grissom's arms. She cried against him, letting the pain of the entire ordeal out. It had been years since the attack had brought her to this emotional peak. Somehow, it had become a recessed memory, something she tried so hard to forget.

Grissom stroked her throat gently. Imagining the bruising pattern that her mother's hands would have made. Tears were freely making paths to his beard and he didn't really notice them. Suddenly he wondered what Sara's voice had sounded like as a child; whether her mother's attack had inflicted permanent physical damage to the woman he loved.

"Sweetheart… your voice-"

Sara nodded against his shoulder in an attempt to hide her face. Grissom's hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her closer to him, feeling her painful sobs as she shook against him.

"Oh, honey," he couldn't speak his thoughts, they were too painful. His hand on the back of her neck massaged in a soothing motion as his brain tried to register the damage that had been done to her.

Sara continued to cry, the years of pain finally catching up to her, as she sat embraced in her lover's arms. Flashes of that day in the courtroom, of the night Mark had tried to kill her, they crowded in her mind now, fighting to get out, to cause her to feel what she had felt each moment of her childhood. Fear.

"The doctor's told my father that I may never be able to speak again, she had done so much damage," Sara choked, "But I wasn't willing to let my mother ruin my life. And my father wouldn't stand for it."

Grissom pulled her closer, needing the strength that radiated from her to quell his own rising fear and anger. Sara was still sobbing to the point of gasping for breath, her world was spinning.

"What happened to your mother?" Grissom asked quietly, knowing that the quicker Sara relived this, the easier it would be for her to recover.

Sara shrugged, pulling back a little and allowing her sobs to subside slightly before taking a deep breath and trudging on through the pain.

"We found out a couple of days later that my mother made bail. I still don't know who put it up for her, but I can only assume that it was my brother. There was no way in hell my father, or even my aunt for that matter, would pay to let my mother out of jail. As far as they were concerned, she belonged there," Sara explained, "I remember my father's attorney coming to see us in the hospital; he brought me flowers and a stuffed bear. He told my father that my mother had been released… I don't think I've ever seen my dad so angry. But then again, I didn't see the look on his face when my mother attacked me."

She seemed to be struggling with putting her memories together. Sara fell silent but her emotions showed in her eyes. Grissom saw sorrow, pain and anger flash there before something else replaced them, something stronger. Something he didn't see often with her. Hatred. Sheer hatred. Passionate, overpowering hatred reflected in the beautiful brown of Sara's eyes and Grissom felt for her.

"They placed uniformed officers all around the hospital," Sara said, her voice suddenly losing all trace of emotion. She had become monotone, separating herself from the pain of her past. "The ADA was really worried that my mother would attempt to see me in the hospital. They thought that she would try to kill me, finish what she had started in the court room that day. So my father and I were watched twenty four hours a day. Dad hated it, drove him crazy. He had an escort everywhere he went. Hospital, home, work. Didn't matter, there was always someone there. All the way up until the day of the hearing."

The annoying, familiar ring of Grissom's cell phone interrupted them and he sighed loudly. He had to untangle himself from Sara, who had become wrapped around him again, before he could answer the phone.

"Grissom."

Sara huddled herself into a ball on the end of the couch. By the serious tone of Gil's voice, she knew that he would be leaving her to head out on a case. For some reason, she wanted to reach and grab him, hold him to her, make him stay.

"Grissom, please," it came out somewhat like a whimper and Grissom nearly dropped his cell phone.

"Um, Nick, I'll call you back."

Closing his phone, Grissom dropped back down on the couch beside Sara, pulling her against him. She was shaking almost violently and the whole thing scared Grissom to death. He had never seen Sara this way, in all of the years he had known her, he had never seen her so terrified.

"What is it, baby? What's wrong?"

His endearment went unnoticed and his hold on Sara tightened. She was still shaking. He couldn't seem to make here fears subside enough to calm her down and he didn't know what else to do.

"Please, Gil, don't leave me," Sara breathed, "I can't stop now. I have to tell you the rest, I have to do it now or I really won't be able to."

Grissom rested his hand in Sara's hair, holding her face gently against his shoulder, hearing her breath rasping near his ear. He feared she was going to have an anxiety attack if he didn't get her breathing back to normal.

"Hey, sweetheart, Sara, look at me," he requested softly, hands still running through her hair. Sara lifted her face from Grissom's shoulder, her eyes locking on his. Her breath was still uneven.

"Breath, honey," he said quietly, "Take a deep breath, Sara. You need to breathe for me, honey."

She tried, taking in a deep shaky breath. Her face was flushed and dry tears were smeared all over her face. She took another breath, slower this time. Her gaze never left Grissom's face as she tried to imitate his breathing pattern. She took another slow breath.

"Better?" Grissom asked.

Sara nodded slowly.

Neither of them said anything. They sat together on the couch, the same place where Sara had spent many hours over the last few days reliving the nightmare of her childhood. They sat in Grissom's apartment, a place, until a few months ago, Sara could only dream on being. They sat together, a pair of lovers, taking comfort in the strength they shared.

The smell of warm pasta sauce drew Sara from the bathroom. Gil's terry cloth wrapped tightly around her, she padded into the kitchen.

Grissom stood at the stove, his naked back to her. She smiled. His hair was still in wet, unruly curls on the top of his head and beads of water rolled down his spine between his shoulder blades. Stepping up behind him, Sara wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his bare shoulder.

"I thought you were getting dressed," he said without looking at her.

Sara shrugged, "I went into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed but all I could do was sit there. I was staring at the characters over the dresser, 'Peace' and 'Harmony'… two things that I've never really had in my life. Until now."

Grissom didn't say anything as he continued to stir the sauce.

Sara wasn't bothered by his lack of response. She knew that he wasn't sure what to say and that he wasn't always comfortable saying what he felt. She placed a wet kiss on his shoulder and moved to sit at the breakfast bar.

"Did you call Nick back?" she asked, playing with the cup of coffee Grissom had left sitting there.

He nodded, "He wanted to know if I knew where you were. He tried to call your apartment and your cell. He was worried."

"I completely forgot," Sara sighed, "My cell's in the car. What did you tell him?"

"That I had talked to you earlier and that you told me you were going home to sleep," Grissom told her, turning toward her with the pan of sauce in his hand. He held a spoonful at to Sara and she raised an eyebrow at him, "Taste it."

She did, nodding to him, "That's amazing. Is that parmesan?"

Grissom smiled, "That's my little secret."

Sara made a quiet noise of approval, her gaze shifting back to the coffee cup she was holding. Grissom turned back to the stove and Sara watched him as he cooked. It was as if he was working a crime scene, taking every aspect into consideration. Adding spices with precision, as if he were doing an experiment. The similarities were amusing.

"My mother's trial date was pushed forward. Like I said, the ADA's office was worried about my safety at that point. Anyway, I was expected to testify against my mother, not that that was a real surprise," Sara told him. "I sat with my father in the room, listening to the prosecutor belittle my mother, calling her a terrible parent and an even worse person. Her character was called into play. They called her erratic and dangerous. It was horrible, sitting there, listening to what everyone was saying about my mom."

Grissom was making the pasta now, listening as Sara spoke. He nodded when she stopped, knowing that she was wondering if he was even paying attention.

"Keep going, honey, what happened after that?"

Sara shrugged, even though he wouldn't see it, and continued, "So much that I don't really remember it all."

"The trial actually only lasted a day. It didn't take long for the ADA to convince a jury that my mother was dangerous. What made it difficult was my mom's defense. Her lawyer was attempting to convince everyone, judge, jury and audience, that my mother was not guilty due to mental defect. Not that I can argue with that now… what kind of mother would try to kill their own child? You would have to be mad."

Sara laughed sadly and Grissom glanced at her over his shoulder. She had tears in her eyes but she was fighting them. He turned back to the food, knowing that distracting her wouldn't make rehashing the memories any easier.

"Two days later, we were back in court for the verdict. My mother was being child with abuse, assault and attempted murder… I probably left that part out. I was unconscious in the hospital for six days. The doctor's told my father that I was lucky I lived through all of the beatings. I almost died at my mother's hand."

Grissom paused over the stove, the spoon in his hand stopped spinning in the pot of sauce. He took in his words and the impact they had on his heart was painful. He could've lost her before they'd ever met. That thought brought tears to his eyes.

"She was found guilty and sentenced to twenty years in a minimum security prison. And I never saw her again…"

Grissom had resumed cooking and was now heaping pasta and sauce onto a plate in front of Sara. He pushed her plate in front of her and sat down beside her. Picking up his fork, he dug in to the plate of spaghetti, avoiding Sara's gaze.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Sara stood up, moving quickly away from the breakfast bar.

"Sara?"

"I think I should head home," she called, already moving down the hall.

Grissom followed her, abandoning the plate of spaghetti, and following his leggy brunette to the bedroom. When he opened the door, Sara was perched on the edge of the bed, head in her hands.

He sat down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tighter.

"It's over, Sara," he whispered, "its over. Your mother's in jail and she can't hurt you, honey. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Sara cried softly, wrapping her arms around Grissom's waist and squeezing him like she couldn't let him go.

"That's just it, Gil, it's not over."

Grissom pulled back a little, enough to look into Sara's eyes.

"What aren't you telling me, honey?"

Sara and Grissom settled back against the headboard of his bed, her back against his chest, his arms around his waist. This would be the last of it. Her secret would be out and he would know. Grissom would know why she carried the attitude she did when working domestic dispute cases. He would know why she often cried for female victims. And he would know why she had suddenly become so sullen and depressed over the last year. He would know why she had been drinking that night.

"My mom was convicted in Modesto, 1984. Her sentence was twenty years and she served it to full term. Which means she was released -"

"Sometime last year… oh god."

"It's all right, please, just let me tell you the rest," Sara pleaded, "It's almost over. There isn't much left but I want to tell you. I need to."

"My mother was released a few months early, due to some nice footwork by her lawyer," Sara explained, "Just before Christmas, 2003. I was contacted by the DA's office. For some reason, they still thought that she was a threat to my well-being."

Sara shook her head, her hair brushing over Grissom's bare chest and he couldn't help but smile at the feel of it. She didn't notice as she went on, "Anyway, I get a call from the DA, warning me that Laura's been released, and then I get a call a few days later from my dad, telling me that I should be careful because my mother's already been 'in contact' with him. Which, in my father's 'I'm-trying-to-protect-you' way, means that she's called and threatened him or she's approached him somewhere. He would never tell me that, though, because he doesn't like to upset me."

"Which is completely understandable," Grissom said lightly, "Because I know how you are when you're upset."

Sara laughed softly at his attempt to lighten the situation.

"Yeah… when I was younger, my father would do everything in his power to keep me from being upset. Like when I was thirteen, or fourteen, my dog Ginger was hit by a car while I was on vacation with a friend and my dad went out and bought me a brand new dog that looked just like Ginger. He even trained her to come when I called her. After the hell I went through with my mother, my dad did everything in his power to keep me happy… I think he may have worried that I would run away again," she said. "I guess I made his life more difficult than it needed to be. He was always worrying about me and doing anything he could to keep me happy."

"Sara, he's your father and you survived a very traumatic experience, honey," Grissom said, "If I had been in the same situation, I would've done anything to make sure my child was never harmed again."

Sara took in his words, feeling the sudden urge to wrap herself around him and never let go. She closed her eyes, not sure she was ready for the answer to the question she was about to ask.

"Gil?"

"Hmm."

"Do you ever think about what it would've been like if we had gotten together when we met?" Sara asked, silently preparing herself for the blow of his response.

"All the time," Grissom said quietly, shocking Sara a little.

"Do you think about what our children would've looked like?" she asked, again putting her walls up.

"I think about what they will look like, honey."

Sara's head whipped around and she met Grissom's gaze. She could see the truth and emotion in his eyes and it made her shiver. She turned in his arms, tucking her head neatly under his chin.

"I love you, Gil."

"And I, you, Sara," he told her, tightening his grip on her again, "Now tell me the rest, honey, please."

Sara sighed, snuggling deeper into Gil's embrace before continuing.

"About three days before we got the call on the Marlin case, my mother called me. I wasn't home, thank god, but she left me this terrible message and I sort of panicked when I heard it," Sara said, shuddering involuntarily at the thought. "I think I drank an entire bottle of vodka that night… I was terrified and clueless about what I should do. Not that I think about it, it's so unlike me to panic that way, but that's the kind of power my mother has had on me since I was a little girl. It's hard for me… to take orders from women, if you haven't noticed."

"Ah, Catherine."

Sara nodded, "Yeah, Catherine. Everyone always tells me that I have a problem with authority, but that's not it at all. Yes, I have a problem taking orders sometimes, but it has more to do with who's giving me the order. I don't have a problem taking orders from you because I trust you not to hurt me, Griss. I don't do well with Catherine because I can't make myself trust women… I just can't."

Grissom kissed her hair softly, "I can understand that, honey… so the stress you were feeling, the reason you started drinking, it wasn't work related or even because of me, it was because of your mother?"

Sara laughed lightly, "Not quite. Yeah, my mother's call irked me and my initial reaction was to drown myself in alcohol. But my PEAP counselor and I dissected it this way. It wasn't one stressful element that set me off, it was all of them. Work, driving myself to the breaking point with cases that reminded me so much of my past. Our relationship, making me feel like I was on a never-ending roller coaster- and don't grin at me like that Gil Grissom because not everyone in the world shares your love for roller coasters. I, personally, despise them. Ever since we worked that case with Pharaoh's Fever…"

Sara made a little shuddering noise and Grissom couldn't help laugh.

"So, you see, my turning to alcohol didn't start until my mother came back into my life and my whole world felt like it was crashing down on me… what I didn't know, was that it had already started to collapse and I was barely strong enough to hold it up," she continued, her voice softer now. "That day, I downed the entire bottle of vodka, got pissed, trashed my apartment, cried, and then passed out on the couch. It's too bad I had the night off or the shit would've hit the fan then and there. I slept more that day than I had in months… an alcohol induced sleep, but sleep none-the-less. The bad didn't really happen until I woke up… I was so hung over, I didn't know what to do with myself. So I turned on a CD and cleaned up the apartment. I remember walking around, moving from room to room, feeling like a zombie. I did things meticulously, like it was already programmed into my brain. Even cleaning up the plant… that poor plant."

Grissom didn't say anything and she knew that he didn't know what she was talking about.

"The plant, Grissom, the orchid you sent me? 'From Grissom'?"

She glanced up in time to watch the blush rise on his face.

"You kept it all that time?" he asked.

Sara shrugged and nodded, "Of course. It was from you… of course, it endured its fair share of my wrath."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grissom asked, still somewhat confused.

"Well, uh, I guess, just that- whenever I was angry or frustrated with you, I had to find the some way to take out my frustration-" Sara laughed, "I'm surprised the poor thing survived as long as it did.

Grissom shook his head and sighed. Sometimes, he didn't understand this woman.

"There's more though," Sara said suddenly, drawing him from his musings. "During the Marlin case… my mother contacted me two more times. She said she saw my picture in the paper… with Debbie Marlin's name under it."

Grissom stiffened, pushing Sara back some so he could look into her eyes.

"Sara-"

"No, it's all right, Gil," she said, shaking her head lightly, "I had figured that something was different about the Marlin case… I knew because of the way you looked at me and the way you spoke to me. You were more distance than normal and sort of short with me at times. At first, I was worried that you were just pissed at me, but then… my mom called. So I went to the morgue and I was just going to go in and look at her… look at her face and get it over with. But Catherine paged me to come to the break room for the conference call. I didn't see her face 'til later when Cath asked me to get her toe prints."

"She looked just like you, honey, it scared the hell out of me."

"I realized that… later, after I watched you interrogate Lurie."

Sara's voice in that moment reminded Gil of a frightened child. He felt her tense in his arms and his hands immediately started moving on her back to soothe her. He hadn't known she was there, he didn't know that she had heard his confession to Lurie. She knew all this time that I loved her, Gil thought, and she knew that I was a coward. He squeezed her harder, suddenly needing to make sure that she was his, that she wasn't running away from him.

"I-I should have said something," Grissom said quietly, "Oh, God, Sara, I'm so sorr-"

"Hey, it's ok. Really, I know how hard this is for you and its ok now. I'm here and you're here and you aren't letting anything get in the way of our relationship," Sara explained, "That's all I need, Gil, because I love you."

"Are you sure that it's enough?"

Sara pulled back, smiling up at him, "I love you, Gil. And yes, that is all I will ever need."

For a minute, she just sat there, staring at him. She really didn't know what else to do, or how to go on with her story. She knew that he would be upset by what she had been through, and he would feel guilty for not knowing that something was wrong, but he had a right to know. If they were going to continue their relationship, he needed to know.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way…" she said lightly, turning and leaning against his chest again. With each breath he took, Sara felt his chest expand and she found it amusing the way it moved them both. She took a breath of her own, and trudged on.

"Do you remember the morning we worked the Trent case? Porn star and her husband were killed in their driveway?" Grissom nodded and Sara went on. "I went home after shift that morning to find my mother waiting for me outside my apartment building. I think I just sort of freaked out, seeing her again, and I yelled at her… screamed really. I told her I wanted her to leave… told her I would call the police if she did. Then she started in on me, telling me how useless and pathetic I was. I couldn't even stand up to my own fucking mother, as she so kindly put it. I was standing there… in the middle of my apartment complex's parking lot, having an argument with my estranged mother. I- I had just come off an incredibly long shift and I specifically remember wanting nothing more than to shower and crash. But no, I had to force my mother to leave… I even pulled out my cell and acted like I was calling for backup. I really called you… hit the first number on my speed dial-" Sara laughed, "-I had no clue what I was going to do if you answered. Luckily, I didn't have to say anything because, after calling me a few names that I don't really care to repeat, she left."

"Sara, you could've just said, Griss, I'm in trouble, and I would have come to you."

"I know that now," Sara said, shrugging a little, "but, at the time, I wasn't sure that you would. It doesn't matter, she left and I proceed to drown my fear. I went into my apartment, locked the door and all the windows, took a beer from the fridge and drank it all in one breath. I threw up… I remember that much. God, did I throw up. And it wasn't, oh I drank too much or I ate something bad, throwing up. It was, I'm so fucking scared, throwing up. And then I got paged. I got to the scene, did my job, but the minute I got back to the lab, Brass corners me and asks me if I've been drinking. I didn't know what to do… so I played it off like I'd had a drink with dinner and everything was fine when, inside, I was screaming at myself to ask him to help me."

"Why didn't you, honey?" Grissom asked, his voice calm and gentle.

Sara laughed again, "Please. Sara Sidle doesn't ask for help."

He frowned. He didn't like the way Sara thought they all saw her. He didn't see her that way. He didn't see her as stubborn and high strung. He saw her as strong and confident and passionate. He understood her passion, understood the way she focused her emotions on each and every case. It was part of what he loved about her.

"After that, things at work started heading south, making this worse for me. First the promotion, then the DUI. I never thought I'd be able to get my life back under control," she said, her voice losing some of the energy he had heard there earlier.

"Tell me about that night, about the night you were pulled over," Grissom urged.

Sara hesitated but only for a moment, "Well, you know what happened after I was pulled over so I'm assuming you mean before that. We worked the Linley Parker case. Yet another victim of rape, one more out of thousands. I realized what I was doing to myself. And I thought that it was slowly becoming useless. What the hell was I doing? Why did I fight so hard for these women when nothing good ever came from it? So I told Catherine to do the SAE kit and I left the hospital. That's when I actually had my first drink. On the way back from the hospital. I stopped off at my apartment… I'm lucky I didn't kill anyone, aren't I? When we talked in the lab that night, while Linley talked with the sketch artist, I was sure you would smell the alcohol on my breath. But you didn't say anything and I just pretended like it hadn't happened, I went on with the case."

"After Linley Parker died, I just sort of shut down. I didn't care about anything at that point and that's when the boys and I went out. We didn't even drink. We went out together and Nick wanted to go and grab a beer but War and I turned him down. After Warrick left, Nick and I walked for a while, talking about work mostly. I told him how happy I was that he'd been recommended for the promotion…"

"And the funny thing was, I wasn't happy for him at all. I was just too pissed at you to care about Nicky. Pathetic, I know, because he's my best friend, he might as well be my brother. But I lied and told him I was proud of him, that he deserved it, and I left him on the strip. I guess I had no intention of drinking before heading home… I really don't think I even consciously knew I was walking into a bar. I mean, I don't remember going in and sitting down. I don't even remember ordering a drink. All I really remember after leaving Nick is being pulled over and brought in," she said, trying to put it all together in her mind.

"I guess you know the rest…" Sara snuggled deeper into Grissom's embrace and closed her eyes.

Grissom held her, pressing soft kisses into her hair and not speaking. He was trying to absorb everything she had told him, but there was so much. He would never have imagined Sara having to endure all of the pain and suffering that she had. He didn't want to imagine it.

"Sara, what about your mother?" he asked, suddenly remembering that she hadn't mentioned her mother since their argument in front of her apartment building.

"Oh yeah… mommy dearest."