Post-Butterflied
Disclaimer: Author looks around, shuffles through papers Nope, still no CSI rights. Darn, and I thought they'd just materialize this time.
Chapter Twenty Three
"I'm glad you took me to meet your mother," Sara said as Grissom was in the bathroom getting ready for bed.
"She told me she really liked you," Grissom called out.
"I'm surprised I haven't hardly heard anything about her before, Gris, I didn't even know your mother was deaf," Sara said.
"It never really came up. I don't exactly know a lot about your family either," Grissom came out of the bathroom and leaned on the door frame.
"Yeah, well I don't like to talk about my family," Sara's smile disappeared.
"Why?" Grissom asked, concern flickering across his face.
"It's a long story," Sara shook her head, "one I'd rather not tell."
"Come on, sweetie, you can tell me anything, you know that," Grissom sat next to her on the bed.
Sara sighed and leaned on his shoulder, "Are you sure you want to hear about this?"
"Yes, I am," Grissom stroked her hair, gently.
"Okay, but remember, you asked," Sara told him.
"Please, just tell me about your parents," Grissom coaxed.
Sara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to decide where to start the complicated story of her past, "I haven't seen either of them in nearly twenty years."
"Why?" Grissom pulled away, trying to look into her eyes.
"If I'm going to do this, I want to do it my way. So please just let me tell my story without interruptions," Sara told him seriously.
"All right," Grissom sensed this was very important to her, so he sat back against the headboard and allowed Sara to lean against him once more.
"I was about ten years old when my parents first started to argue. At first it was just stupid little things, but after a couple years, they started to get physical with each other. More than once my dad hurt my mom bad enough to put her in the hospital. He never hurt me though," Sara couldn't help but start to cry.
Grissom wordlessly pulled her closer to him. Sara nuzzled into his shoulder for a minute, taking time to gather herself before continuing.
"I was barely thirteen years old when it started getting really bad. I was afraid to tell anyone how bad their arguments and fighting were getting. One night my dad showed up at home really drunk. He got into a shouting match with mom over something and I hid in my room like I had learned to do to avoid the conflict. Usually they would either get so mad they'd get physical or one of them would just storm out of the house angrily. This time it was different," Sara started crying so hard she couldn't speak.
Grissom continued stroking her methodically, tears forming in his own eyes at Sara's deep pain. He knew there was more to this story, something dark and frightening was coming up, but he had promised not to interrupt her.
Sara cried for a few minutes before continuing her story softly, "They just kept arguing and I heard someone throwing things around. I went down to see what was going on and to see if it was necessary for me to call the cops. I walked into the kitchen just in time to see my mom attack my dad with a knife. She stabbed him to death and I saw the whole thing," Sara stopped her story abruptly and buried her face into Grissom's chest.
Grissom was now allowing his tears to flow freely. He wanted to say something to soothe Sara, anything, but he knew at this point that no words could help the pain she was reliving. He had no idea that Sara had such a tragic childhood. He had always thought her family life was nice and normal. He didn't know what to think.
"My mom is in jail right now. But she was up for parole at twenty years. So in a few months, she might be getting out of jail. My older brother skipped out on the family when I was eleven, I haven't seen or heard from him since either. So the only family I have now is at the lab," Sara finished shakily.
"Sweetie, I don't know what to say," Grissom finally managed to say.
"You don't have to say anything," Sara told him hoarsely.
Grissom sat, dumbfounded as she got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He sat for a moment, entirely unsure of what to do, until he heard her crying in the bathroom. He got up and knocked on the door.
"Sara, can I come in?" he asked.
"Why? You don't want to be with someone so screwed up as me," Sara shouted.
Grissom was shocked to hear her say that and flung the door open, "Sara Sidle, how could you think that? I love you."
"But I'm a mess, just run away before I drag you down with me," she sobbed.
"Sara, no," Grissom took her into his arms, kissing the top of her head, "I love you so much and nothing could ever change that."
"I love you too," Sara whispered, "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize about," Grissom assured her, "are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah, I think I will be," Sara wiped some of the tears from Grissom's cheeks, "are you?"
"As long as I'm with you, I'm fine," Grissom smiled.
Sara couldn't help but return the smile, "I'm so lucky to have a man like you."
"And I'm lucky to have a woman like you," he kissed her.
"I think I'm going to take a shower," she told him.
"Okay," Grissom stood, "I'm going to go organize all of our notes for tomorrow's lecture."
Grissom closed the bathroom door and sat on the edge of their bed. He flopped over onto the bed and closed his eyes for a few minutes. His mind was still wildly trying to process all that had just happened. Sara had always come off as such a strong, independent woman and he never had any idea why she was that way. He was amazed at what she had become, coming from such a destructive background, here she was, a successful crime scene investigator. It also made him realize why she had always been so nervous to bring up her feelings with him. He certainly hadn't helped that out.
Sara got dressed after taking her shower, and she was feeling a lot better. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off shoulders. Of course, she had the feeling Grissom would never look at her the same way, but she had to tell someone. She had been carrying the burden of being "the girl whose mother killed her father" alone for almost twenty years. She took a deep breath and realized just how emotionally drained and tired she was.
She stepped back out into the room and spotted Grissom laying on the bed, nearly asleep.
"Getting ready for our lecture, huh?" she smiled at him.
"Hmm?" he asked groggily.
"I thought you said you were going to get ready for our lecture," Sara teased, "and here you are nearly asleep on the bed."
"I guess I was more tired than I realized," he sat up slowly.
"It's okay, I don't know about you, but I'm ready for bed," she yawned.
"Me too," Grissom stood and pulled back the blankets.
They crawled into bed together and Sara wrapped her arms Grissom. Grissom wrapped his arms around her protectively.
"I love you," he kissed her.
"Love you too," Sara whispered.
"Good night," Grissom yawned.
"Night," Sara mumbled, already falling asleep.
