Disclaimer is back in Chapter One, but I'll reiterate that I don't own any character from the show "CSI."
To the Readers: Thank you all for being patient with me and reading this story. I know that you're all clamoring for the Snickers shippery stuff. I've written six chapters past this, and I am guaranteeing that it's going to happen. However, this is primarily a Sara-focused story, and I love the characters of Lilly, Grace, and Jules. Their interaction with Sara is the main plot of the story and will continue to dominate as I try to develop Sara's maturation and personality to one that's more focused, stable, and adult than the Sara we see on the show, whom I love and want to know more about. This is my way of exploring the personal aspects of Sara's life. In the story, her life is extremely complicated right now, and she's got a lot to figure out. Stick with it. The Snickers stuff will happen, but Sara needs to grow up and figure a few things out first. Keep reading and reviewing—I love you guys! –Lyssa
Lilly sat in the living room, in her favorite chair, waiting for the girls to return. The chair was a large maroon recliner her parents had given to her as a gift when the girls were born, since it was big enough for both babies plus Lilly. Her favorite picture from their babyhood was of her in the chair, exhausted, with a baby tucked into each arm. She had moved the ratty chair into her room back in California after the girls hit kindergarten. Now, though, it was in the living room, spaced far enough from the kitchen so she wouldn't be nauseated by the scent of food, but close enough that she could look in and try to participate in their lives. It was near the TV, which was the actual gathering point of the household, so that she could rest her tired, sick self within view of the daughters she mother henned over. It also had a very good view of the kitchen table, because Lilly knew that Jules and Grace liked doing homework at the kitchen table, once school started.
She sighed and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. She always felt so sick. Sick to the bone, sick to the heart. How many little details about the girls' existences had she memorized, details so minute and lovely that only a mother would know? When they were thirty, having their own children that were finicky eaters, would anyone else remember that she had to buy both grape and strawberry jelly for years, because Jules liked grape and Grace liked strawberry? That Jules ate peanut butter and banana sandwiches and Grace adored canned tuna with mustard, tomato, and cucumber? Would they remember that Grace sang the bunny song until she was eight to remember how to tie her shoes? Would anyone care about Jules' endearingly klutzy attempts at singing, Grace's nerves before dance recitals, the messages they wrote on homemade Mother's Day cards—the Monday after Mother's Day? When they had to stay up till one AM working on sugar-cube models of the pyramids, would either remember when they were in third grade Jules was obsessed with Ancient Egypt and Grace was obsessed with Greek gods and goddesses? Or their earliest obsessions—medieval princesses for Grace, The Sound of Music for Jules? Nobody else would care that Jules' favorite Disney princess was Belle (because she loved to read like Jules did) and Grace's favorite was Aurora (because she had a pink dress and she had a pretty dance).Who else would have an elevated heartbeat just remembering the time Jules convinced Grace that hitchhiking to Hollywood was a good idea? Would either of them remember that their first big fight was because she'd tried to teach them both calligraphy when they were seven, and Jules got jealous because Grace could do it, whereas Jules had absolutely no artistic talent? Margaret was right—Lilly couldn't let go. She was just being a good mother. If—when—she died, the girls' childhoods would die, too. Someone had to be the flame-keeper, guard these memories until they were old enough to care about those moments again.
She had given the girls money to go back-to-school shopping, explaining to Sara her policy on clothing allowances, and how much money the girls received per quarter to spend on clothes. It taught them responsibility and gave her an excuse not to cave in Grace's begging for cashmere-infused designer jeans and Jules' pleading for just one FCUK skirt. Sara had entrusted the girls to Greg—she was still feverishly working on this Skylar Westborough case, which seemed to hinge on the boyfriend, who had lawyered up. All Sara would say, tight-lipped, was, "It looks accidental. Tragic and wrong and accidental." So Sara had opted out of the shopping to sleep, but the girls needed clothing, and Greg was willing to take them. Lilly had found Greg humorous and endearing but probably clueless about shopping with seventeen-year-olds.
Lilly rolled sideways and shifted her hip, trying to get more comfortable. It wouldn't work and she knew that. She turned as she heard noises, and was quietly relieved that it was only Sara, and not the girls. She still wasn't sure what she would say to them.
"Good evening," she said.
"Hi, Lilly." Sara smiled tiredly. "I'll go get your pills; it's nearly five."
"Thank you," Lilly's voiced cracked.
"Here." Sara handed her three pills in a Dixie cup and a large glass of water. "Do you need more water?" she asked when Lilly was done. "How are you feeling?"
"Yes, please. I'm…okay." Lilly said. "How is your case going?"
Sara sighed and arched her neck before going back into the kitchen to fill Lilly's water. "She just died, Lill. There's signs that she was beaten up, contusions, abrasions, fingernail marks. She wasn't raped, though, and she was drunk. I think she and the boyfriend somehow snuck into the pool and she tried to swim while she was drunk. He's just not talking, though." She sighed again, frustrated, "I just…want someone to blame. And not her. She was young and she was talented and she had the world on an oyster, or whatever. She shouldn't have died from a series of accidental, stupid things that all teenagers seem to do." She looked around. "Anyways. The girls not back yet?"
"No. I hope they don't kill Greg." Lilly said.
"Honestly? Greg's probably at a food court with a frappo in one hand, or playing Keno, and they'll find him when they're done." Sara came back in with two glasses and handed one to Lilly.
"Well, that makes me feel much better." Lilly smiled tiredly.
"How was your stuff today?"
"Good." Lilly cleared her throat. "Sara…"
"Yeah?"
"Do you know—how they girls are taking…everything? They seem to be such good sports. I don't think I've spent any time actually contemplating them; they seem to have been taking this so well it just seemed like one less thing to deal with. It's only been about the next day, and the day after that. Margaret and I talked about that today—maybe…I don't know. They must be so scared. I thought I was handling them fine, but now I don't know."
Sara swallowed. "I don't know, either. I barely know them. I think they're great, though, Lilly. They've been behaving or coping wonderfully. Maybe…maybe they'd like some reassurance, or something. I think they're scared and uncertain, but they're trying to hide it. It's only a hunch though. I barely know them, Lilly. It's sort of like the first week of college here."
"True. I'm sorry. I shouldn't've asked. I was just wondering." Lilly felt very tired.
"Did something happen today?" Sara got up to refill her water.
"Yes—no—nothing more than what should happen in therapy. My emotions got poked to the surface and made me think. Margaret wanted to know about how the girls are doing. I gave her what I thought. She thought they might be taking things a bit differently than what I'm reading them. She wants them to come in before schools starts up next Monday."
Sara rolled her eyes. "Shrinks. They're not happy unless they're analyzing something. Makes them miserable people. Someone needs to analyze them. It's so he-said-that-she-said-that-he-said-that-she-said."
"I think she might be right. I hope she is. I mean," Lilly welled up and swallowed slowly before continuing, "their mother's dying. I hope there's some…repressed emotions here. Is that selfish of me?"
"No, you just want your daughters to miss you."
"Right." Tears were streaming down Lilly's cheeks. Tentatively, Sara put her hand over Lilly's. "But they're taking everything so well. And I don't want to talk to them about it."
"Then don't." Sara suggested.
"No—I think they need it. Do you ever think—have you ever known someone who is very sick, like I am, but wills themself to live, for just a certain event? A daughter's wedding, a grandson's birth—something? And, once this event happens, they've got their peace, they can die?"
Sara nodded. "My best friend in college had an aunt she was close to. The aunt had ovarian cancer but lived to see Miranda graduate college and died about two months later."
"Right. So you know what I'm talking about. I think—I think I just willed myself to stay for the girls, so that I could find somewhere for them to be safe. I've accepted everything else about this damned disease, the pain, the death, God, everything—this is the only thing left. Margaret said so and I agree with her. I can't let them, go, Sara. But I'm not caring for them properly either—I'm just ignoring the issue, because the longer I let it fester, the longer I have."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting a longer life." Sara was thoroughly uncomfortable.
"Yes, there is. I'm hurting them. I'm hurting you. I'm hurting myself." Her voice was agitated, and she was shaking and twisting her shoulders.
"You're only hurting yourself by punishing yourself and being hard on yourself. I'm pretty sure the girls appreciate any time you have with them."
"I'm scared." Lilly was becoming almost erratic now.
"Scared of dying?"
She shook her head. "No. Scared of losing the girls. Scared of them not missing me."
"Lilly, you know that won't happen. They'll be lost without you."
Lilly started to shake harder. "See? Either way it is, by getting sick, by having to focus on myself and having to die, I hurt them."
"Lilly—Lilly. Why are you doing this now? You've been so levelheaded, so…courageous, for the past few weeks. You've been the best mother those girls could have."
"I used to want to die quickly. Without pain and instantaneously in my sleep. Then I got sick, and I started think, 'you know, maybe this is best. I can get my ducks in a row before I die. I can be with the girls, give them better memories of me.' Now, I want to die instantaneously again. Let them deal with it after I die. Right now, we have to deal with the death and dying all at once and their last memories of me are going to be pain-filled and horrible."
"You're not being fair to the girls," Sara tried as Lilly continued to sob quietly. "They're stronger than that. You made them that way. They love you more than you're giving them credit for."
"I've ignored them lately." Lilly said quietly. "I've passed them off on you, I've forced them to be more independent. I should just be holding them right now, making sure they're going to be okay. I should be looking out for them. This entire time, the whole time I've been sick, I've just been selfish. I'm only thinking about me. It's led to so many conflicts—I've rearranged so many people's lives. It's wrong. And it only hit me today."
"Lilly—Lilly—what happened?" Sara tried to keep her voice calm and steadying, but she was close to panicking. "You've been great about this—you've planned everything, and you've been extremely considerate and levelheaded and everything. Why the change?"
They were both startled by noises at the door; it was Jules, Grace, and Greg. "Hey, Mom, hey Sara." Jules called joyfully as she bustled into the living room.
Sara quickly stood up, wiping her palms. "Hey guys. How was shopping? Where'd you go?"
"Greg took us to the Strip," Grace said, and Greg smiled bemusedly.
"The Strip?" Sara repeated. "What for? The traffic's insane. And you're not old enough to gamble, and we didn't buy show tickets."
"The shopping," Jules said it as if she was stating the obvious.
"Plus, we'd never seen it." Grace added. "But the shopping was amazing. There's a great Sephora at the Venetian." She pulled out a bag with the svelte S-logo of the cosmetics store out of their large pile. "And going into place like Wynn Las Vegas and the Bellagio to look at the pricey stores was awesome."
"What all did you buy?" Sara eyed a huge The Gap bag suspiciously.
"Oh, tons." Grace said brightly. "We hit everything—those outlet malls, too, and Fashion Show Mall. That place was nice—there was an Express and PacSun and all—but sort of anticlimactic after all the ones in the casinos."
"We went casino hopping, too." Jules sounded bright and bubbly. "Greg got us pizza in New York-New York."
"Then we got some great gelato at this Italian café thing in the Desert Passage. The coffee gelato was delicious." Grace enthused.
"Thanks, Greg." Sara said awkwardly before switching into a more relaxed, teasing mode. "Way to sugar them up and send them home."
"I'm glad they didn't mention the million Pixi-Stix then." Greg grinned. "I'll see you at work tonight, Sar." He turned to the girls, "That was eye-opening." He smiled. "We should do that again sometime."
"See ya, Greggo." They chorused.
"Wow," Sara said as soon as he had departed. "He told you about his nickname. There's trust."
"It was cool," Jules smiled. "Plus, I got a ton of clothes. Do you want to see them, Mom?"
There was suddenly a break, as both girls got a good look at their mother. The giddy bubbly conversation ceased Sara cleared her throat. "I'm going to take a shower. Go into work. Hopefully this'll get cracked."
"Mom?" Jules turned to her mother as soon as Sara had trucked upstairs. "Everything alright?"
"Yes. No. Sort of." Lilly drew a shaky breath. "Girls—how do you feel?"
"Fine, why?" Grace asked, confused.
"No—not physically. I mean—I mean," Lilly struggled to elucidate everything. "I mean about me being sick. About me forcing you to move here and restart everything, before your senior year. I mean, Sara, and this, and everything that's going on. How are you feeling?"
The girls looked at each other, raised their eyebrows, and Jules said, "I knew we were going to have to have this conversation sometime." They both sat down, Jules on the ottoman about five feet away from Lilly, and Grace swung a chair over from the dining set nearby.
"Girls, please. I'm—worried. Scared."
"Of dying?" Grace questioned, carefully avoiding her mother's eyes and keeping her face neutral.
"No—not really. I've been reading my Bible; I've been talking to Margaret and Pastor Vince; I've been praying and everything. I guess I've made my peace about dying. I'm not scared to die. I'm scared to leave you two here. I'm scared for you two." She paused and looked at the girls. Grace looked ready to cry, and Jules's face was crumpled and puffy already. Jules had always cried more easily than her sister—it was something that surprised others, since Jules was the more abrasive, outgoing twin, but Lilly understood it perfectly, since Jules was also the more high-strung one. She started to tear up herself. "I think I've been so scared that I've avoided bringing it up. But I don't know how much longer I have to bring it up. I want you girls to tell me anything that you're feeling—anything at all. Please, sweets, kitten. Just tell me how you're feeling. Are you angry with me? I'll understand if you're angry with me. Are you sad, or scared, or upset?"
The girls looked at each other, speaking silently in a way their cousin had dubbed their 'voodoo twin thing.' Finally, Jules went first. "Mom—first off, we're not angry at you. I've been angry with everyone but you. God, and the doctors, everyone. I was sort of pissed at you when you launched this plan to move in with Sara, but I got over it. It's really sucky to have been able to leave high school a year early, but then have to restart at another high school, where we're not such known people. I guess that was the only thing I was ever angry about. But, I'm over it. It's not like this year was going to be about prom and graduation and swim meets and all the gushy sentimental crap if we stayed at home and you were still sick." She was silent again. "I'm still mad at God, though." She burst out into full-fledged tears. "I'm so mad at Him for taking away both our parents, and nobody else's. It's not like everyone else, where their parents got divorced. Hell, even the kids who parents abandoned them have it better than us now. Their parents are still around." She bit her lip. "That was horrible. I should take that back but I can't. I'm just so mad that you had to get sick." She hugged her knees and buried her head, continuing to sob. "You're not going to be there for anything that I want you at—my high school graduation, or when I get married, or have children, or even the crappiest parts of my adult life. You're never going to be there for support. Everyone else's mother is going to be there, and they won't care. They won't notice even. It's not fair." Her voice sounded echo-like.
"Oh, sweets. Oh, Julie." Lilly gasped and struggled to sit up. "Come here, sweets. Gracie, kitten." She beckoned to her other daughter, silent and shaking in her chair. "You come here too, kitten." She awkwardly cradled the teenagers, now both much larger than her. Jules's sobs were enough to wrack all their bodies, and Grace, who was holding herself together so tightly and refusing to break down, slowly crumbled and shook very quickly and cried very softly. She stroked their hair until tears intermingled with the locks like sweat beads and their gasps for air slowly died down. "Gracie, you got anything to say?" she kissed both girls' temples.
"Not really," she straightened by propping herself on her elbow and tried to fluff her bangs back to normal. By alternately blinking and bulging out her eyes, she adjusted her contacts. "The same things as Jules. I was never mad at you, Mom. Ever. I'm just scared. I'm so scared of what's going to happen the Day After. Who's going to be there for us? Sara's great, Mom, thanks for bringing her back into the fold. We'd much rather be here with her than with either of the uncles. But…there's seventeen years here. You carried us and gave birth to us. There's just so much…" she began to sob again, "There's just so much that's here, and there's a history, and there are things that are understood. And that's what a mother's supposed to be. And we won't…" she was crying so hard she could not finish.
"We won't have that anymore." Jules finished. "And we don't know what we'll be when we don't have that."
"Girls," she said, and repeated herself as their tears crescendoed. "Listen to me," she looked them both in the eye. "I wish there was an easy answer to your questions. Hell, I wish there was an answer. But there's not, and there's never gonna be. And you know that." She hugged them close and pressed her eyes together so tightly that tears squeezed out the sides. "I wish I was going to be here. I wish it so very badly. I wish I could see you grow up all the way. I want to see you go to college, and fall in love, and get jobs and get married and have your own babies and laugh all the time. And the bad things, too. The bad things sometimes remind you that you're living, too, you know. You're such beautiful girls. So smart, so talented. I couldn't have asked for better."
"You made us this way." Jules choked out. "It was all you, Mom. You've always been so strong. And smart and kind and fair and everything else." She nestled herself back into her mother's body to cry some more.
"I don't deserve such praise." Lilly murmured. "Girls, the only two things I can tell you anymore are—" she swallowed and couldn't continue for a minute, "are to be strong and have faith. You girls must have faith. With faith comes everything else. Comfort, love, hope, strength. Everything. Without it, you are not able to believe in anything. Have a little faith. Things happen for a reason." She bit her tongue. "I wish I had more wisdom that platitudes from Ecclesiastes, but they're true, girls. So very true." She nudged her chin downwards in between their cheeks. They stayed like that, their tears mingling together and running down the crevices of the twins' cheeks, for a very long time.