Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: We are angsting away. No easy resolution for this bunch. Sorry. My mind works in epic form only. I hope that you will stay interested. I am getting mail and reviews from new readers, and it is exciting to meet new people. I know the whole Sara pregnant thing is derivative as is the poor littlegirl. Still I am trying to build something unique, something compelling, and I hope I succeed. Your support has been amazing. Thanks!

Thank you to the incomparable Marlou for her beta work.

Sheila

Hope Springs

Chapter 9

Sara creased her brow at the cell when it erupted at the lab. Grissom was clear about her schedule, and went to great pains not to call her at work. She picked up the phone and winced at the number on caller ID. "Catherine?"

"Hello, Stranger. How are you?"

"Good. And you?" Sara resisted the urge to ask Catherine how the hell she ever got this number.

Catherine gave a throaty laugh. "Well, I'm not the pregnant one."

Sara's eyes widened. "So Warrick told you?"

"He knew?" Catherine's voice lowered.

"He didn't tell you?"

"Okay. Enough of the twenty questions, Sara. You're pregnant. I got it from the horse's mouth."

"Grissom? Grissom told you?"

"He told the whole lab…at once."

Sara's mouth dropped. "You're kidding!"

"In front of God and everyone, he showed us all the ultrasound. He was every inch the proud papa."

Sara found that she was choking on emotion.

"Sara? Are you okay? Are you mad? I mean, we were going to find out about it at some point, anyway."

Sara swallowed. "I can't believe he opened up like that."

"He was a very brave boy. You would have been proud."

"We're not together, Catherine."

"Maybe not now, but if he continues all this self improvement, he's going to be pretty hard to resist."

Sara laughed in spite of herself.

"Listen Girl, there's going to be a shower. A big one! Every geek at this lab is going to be there. I guarantee it. And I'm going to tell them all what to buy."

Sara smiled into the phone. She suddenly wished she was there, sitting with Catherine, having one of their rare, but rowdy girl talks. "It's nice to talk to you."

"I'm thinking that we're going to get a party room at the Stardust. I know someone. Full bar. You're okay with that, right?"

"Sounds great."

"Give me some dates."

"Work it out with Grissom. He's very into knowing where I am every moment of the day."

Catherine laughed. "Like I said, he's getting pretty hard to resist, isn't he?"

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The first few mornings he went to sleep, he didn't understand the dreams. There was always a baby and a mother. The baby smiled and the mother reached for her. He was there as well, and at first, he was smiling. The baby smiled and the mother hugged her tightly. And slowly, his smile faded. The longer he looked to (at) them, the sadder and more deeply troubled he became. He wanted to hold them and he put his arm out, but he could never quite touch them. Each night, he woke, breathing heavily, anxiety gripping his gut.

The fourth morning he came home, exhausted from a hard night and much interrupted sleep. Without bothering with breakfast, he wandered into his bedroom and shed his shirt and pants. Wearing nothing but boxers, he slipped under the covers. Within seconds, weariness overcame him and he fell into a drugged sleep.

Again the dream came. The mother and baby were happy, but he couldn't reach them and no matter what he did, they were always beyond him. A sadness washed over him. He looked at the beautiful mocha skinned girl as she nestled her head into her mother's neck. She smiled at her mother, and the sight of her almost choked him. He tried everything he could to just touch her, talk to her, reassure her about her mother. Then the child turned her face and looked him in the eye. The shout that exploded within him sounded like a bark. He was sitting up, breathing as if he had sprinted a mile. He ran his hand over the perspiration on his face, and something akin to nausea rumbled in his stomach. The red digits on his alarm clock flashed 12:30 p.m. He groaned as he realized that he had only been asleep for 2 ½ hours. He fell back on his pillow in frustration, and he closed his eyes again, hoping that sleep would somehow return. He tried to relax again. Images of his dream flashed in and out, and he wondered why he couldn't reach his child or recognize Sara. More images flashed, and it struck him. He was sitting up again, blinking hard at the realization of what he was dreaming. Hunched over, he understood that sleep was no longer an option. Images of her grew until he knew that she couldn't be ignored.

He dragged himself through a shower, and downed coffee as if it were medication. It took only three calls to homicide before he had the information he needed. In a t-shirt, jeans, and ball cap, he headed out to his SUV. It took 45 minutes for him to reach the isolated neighborhood at the edge of North Vegas. In sharp contrast to his own neighborhood, this one was yellow and gray. There were almost no attempts at growing grass or other plants in this part of town. Houses were small, dusty boxes and lawns were graveyards for children's toys and old cars. Almost every house was surrounded by a chain link fence. Several yards had large, wary dogs chained to posts. The heat of the midday sun shimmered on the black asphalt as he stepped out of his truck at an address at the end of the block. The house was a faded pink, and the yard was littered with broken toys. He stood beside the truck, not sure that he could actually go up to the door. Wind was blowing hot, and for a few minutes, he stood there as the wind massaged his face. The front door opened and a little hand appeared through the screen door, pushing it out. She walked onto the stoop wearing an orange, faded sun dress. Her hair was untended and wild about her head. Her small feet were bare, and she stepped gingerly down the concrete steps onto the sandy lawn. She knelt by a pile of sand and leaves, and began to play. A matchbox car appeared out of one pudgy hand and was deposited at the top of the pile. Grissom realized that he was almost holding his breath while he watched her. Her legs outstretched around the mound, she dug in, destroying it and then building it again. The wind whipped at her stiff curls and the sun beat down, but she ignored all of it, intent on her creation.

Grissom walked up to the gate, trying to think of a way not to startle her, but her eyes were up and looking at him before he even got there. Her blueberry eyes in contrast to her mocha skin were startling. He expected that she would be scared of a stranger and he hesitated to enter. She didn't move, just staring at him. Finally he pushed open the gate gently and smiled at her. "Hi honey. Is your grandmother inside?"

The child didn't move, but her eyes followed him every step he took.

"You just play, Lucy. I'm just going to go in and talk to your grandma."

Her head swiveled as she followed his movement up the steps to the door. Grissom banged lightly on the screen door, keeping one eye on Lucy Bell. There was no response. Puzzled, he tried again, knocking louder. Again, there was no response. Gently, he pulled open the door. "Mrs. Phillips. This is Gil Grissom. I just wanted to check in on you."

Inside, the house was stale and quiet. Dirty dishes and leftover food sat on the counters. The carpet was thick with yellow sand. Toys were strewn about the room. At one end, there was a tattered, sunken couch in front of a TV showing a soap opera with no sound. "Mrs. Phillips. Please. Are you home?" He was careful to step around the debris. "Mrs. Phillips, I understand if you don't want to talk to me. Just let me know that you are okay, and I will leave you alone. I am just here to see how you and Lucy Bell are doing."

He turned down a hallway, and immediately saw legs stretched out the door of the bedroom. He trotted over and kneeled beside her. A rush of fear filled him as he imagined her to be dead. But a hand on her arm quickly found her warm. A smell of stale booze rose off her. He grunted and leaned back, squelching the nausea rising in him. Somehow, the smell of this drunk woman hit him harder than a dead body stuffed away in a tool shed for a week. The sour smell of vomit mingled with the sharp stench of urine. Scrunching up his face, he leaned in and shook her shoulder. A low moan rose in her throat, but her eyes didn't open. Strewn on the floor in front of her was an empty vodka bottle. Grunting, he turned her on her side so she wouldn't choke on her vomit. Sitting back on his heels, he called 911. Suddenly her hand shot out and grabbed his leg. He pulled back for a moment.

Her voice was hoarse and her eyes never opened. "I'll be fine in a few hours. Go away."

"You need to detox at a hospital."

"No. They just dry you out and send you home." Her voice was as gravelly as the front yard.

"You can't take care of Lucy Bell like this."

"I leave crackers and juice boxes on the couch."

Grissom drew back away from her. "That is not enough, Mrs. Phillips. Lucyneeds a lot more than that."

"Julianne survived just fine that way." She murmured into the carpet.

Grissom suddenly understood why a girl like Julianne would stay in an abusive relationship. He could imagine that she would have done almost anything to get away from her mother.

"Don't let them take her. No more foster care. Julianne hated it."

"Mrs. Phillips, somebody needs to take care of her. She can't live like this."

The woman groaned and nestled her face more deeply into the dirty carpet. "My sister…in Minnesota, she'll come for her. She promised. If I couldn't do it…"

He nodded. "Then she will only have to be in care for a couple days."

"No!" she hissed. "Julianne would hate that. You owe her. Take Lucy Bell until Maura comes for her."

"No, Mrs. Phillips, I am not equipped to watch a child."

"You know nothing about children? Big surprise!"

Clearly, she was hung over more than she was drunk. Suddenly, he wanted to tell her that he was going to be a dad; that he wasn't the detached and neglectful scientist that she saw in the courtroom. But he swallowed and said nothing.

"Maura can come soon. Two days. Do it!" Her harsh rasp echoed through him.

"Mrs. Phillips—"

"They hate me. Social services. Took all of my babies. I only ever got two back. Once they have Lucy Bell, they will never give her back. I know this."

"How do I know your sister, Maura, is healthy and good for this child?"

"She's clean. Never had the trouble like I did. She had kids, grandkids. They're all living good lives now. College. Jobs. Married."

Grissom sat silently, the sounds of distant sirens signaled the approach of paramedics.

She raised her matted head and looked at him. "You took my baby away from me, Dr. Grissom. You didn't help her and you let him kill her. I don't have any other kids in town that can step up until Maura gets here. You have to do it. My sister's number is in the address book on the counter."

Grissom couldn't talk or look at her anymore. He got up, and left her lying in her own urine. He walked out into the hot sun. The sounds of sirens were loud, but Lucy Bell didn't even look up from her play. She probably had heard more than her share of sirens in this neighborhood. He walked down the steps. She heard him, but didn't lift her head, and he stopped beside her and crouched on his heels. "What are you doing, Lucy?"

She looked at him, but didn't answer. He suspected that she was between 2 ½ and 4 years old. His recent research told him that she should have some command of language by now. She returned to her project, digging up the matchbox car that she had buried deeply under sand.

An ambulance pulled up, and paramedics pulled out large kits and marched on the house. Grissom identified himself and led them to the back where Mrs. Phillips was still lying half in her bedroom. He didn't stay with them, but returned to the front yard, and sat with Lucy again. A squad car pulled up and two officers he recognized got out. He waved them over. "This child will need emergency shelter care. Her grandmother can't take care of her right now."

One officer turned and spoke into the radio on his shoulder. Grissom felt a twinge of guilt in his gut, but he had to believe that involving social services was the best place to start. The officer who spoke into his radio came up to him. "It's going to take them an hour or so to get here. Would you like us to take over with the child?"

Grissom looked up. "I'll sit with her. It's okay."

They sat quietly beside one another while Lucy Bell built up another mound dirt to destroy. When the paramedics rolled the stretcher out the front door, Grissom wondered if he should shield her from the sight. But Lucy Bell had only a cursory interest in the proceedings around her. She looked up once when the stretcher rolled by, but didn't seem overly concerned about her grandmother's predicament. An officer came up and again offered to take over and watch her, but Grissom shook his head.

When all the vehicles left, it was only him and Lucy. She continued to busy herself with whatever resources she had on hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Grissom spotted a large beetle scurrying past. Without hesitation, he reached out and snatched the beetle up. He opened his hand and watched the creature squirm as it tried to right itself. Then without thinking, he deposited it on the top of Lucy's mound. Immediately he regretted it as he remembered that very few little girls appreciated bugs. But Lucy sat transfixed by the sight, watching intently as the beetle began to burrow its way into the sand. Suddenly a small brown arm shot up pointing at the insect, and she squealed, "Bunny!"

It startled Grissom and he laughed. "No, Lucy Bell, it's a beetle."

She creased her tiny brow and repeated, "Bunny!"

"Okay. For right now, let's say you're right about the species. But look, Lucy, your bunny is disappearing into the hill you built."

Lucy's head swiveled back to her mound and she saw the last of the beetle disappear inside. Immediately, her hands began digging down trying to locate her new pet. The beetle was able to scramble until it disappeared into a crack in the ground. She looked back up at him with a frown on her round face.

He smiled at her. Suddenly a thought hit him. "Lucy, are you hungry?"

She turned back to her play for a moment until the idea gained ground within her.

"Quackers!" She announced.

Grissom got up and dusted off his jeans. She was already moving past him, trotting up the steps and pulling open the screen door. He watched as she shimmied onto the couch and began digging into a box of animal crackers. Grissom headed for the kitchen determined to find something healthy for her to eat. The smell of rotting food hit him and he opened the refrigerator to find that it had been shut off for some time. Warm, foul air drifted out. He took note of the milk and eggs inside before he slammed the door closed. The cupboards were largely empty except for some Folger coffee cans and microwave popcorn. There was some cereal, but the top was open, and he noted that the bottom of the box had been chewed open, most probably rats. He went back into the living room where the little girl was working on a mouthful of crackers. He walked back into her bedroom and found toddler sizes all over the floor. The crib had a sour smell. It seemed impossible to find something clean and fresh in this house.

He wheeled around and marched into the living room. "Lucy Bell, how about we go out for some real food?"

She looked up. "McDonald's!"

He nodded, figuring he wasn't ready to fight the big battles yet. He swung her up into his arms and slammed the front door to the house hard. Still carrying her, he rooted around in an old Chevy parked in front of the garage and extricated a car seat. He found the seat to be more complicated than he imagined, and it took him nearly fifteen minutes to secure it in his back seat and install Lucy. In the back of his mind, he realized that he should be waiting for social services, but he couldn't picture being at this house for even a few minutes more.

Dust flew as he backed up his SUV and headed away from the neighborhood. He was decided. Before he took her to social services, he wanted to make sure that she was well provided for.

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

By the time, he reached the lab, hours had passed. The child was in the back seat sleeping, her stomach filled with chicken McNuggets and French fries. He had stumbled into a McDonald's with a play place, and it amazed him the amount of time she was able to occupy herself crawling through tunnels and down slides. Then he had stopped at a baby superstore and gave two teen-age sales girls some sense of her needs. He let them take over, and practiced patience as they each wheeled carts around pulling all manner of clothes and accessories from shelves. 546 dollars later, he had a new wardrobe in her size.

He pulled the sleeping child out of the back of his truck and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Still sleeping, he marveled at her ability to relax totally in his arms. He assumed the firestorm would start as soon as he walked in those doors, but he didn't care enough to delay it. He grabbed one of the many bags for Lucy and pushed through into the lab.

Judy at the front desk looked at him with surprise but said nothing. As he walked down the hall, techs and other lab personnel stopped as he passed, their eyebrows raised and mouths open. He walked past his own office, stopping only when he got to Catherine's.

She looked up from her desk, and her eyes widened. "Grissom, you have not been answering your phone. Brass is ready to put an APB out on you."

"This is Lucy Bell."

"I know Grissom. Social services is going frantic looking for her. What could you possibly be thinking?"

He stood there silently, the girl snuggling in tighter under his neck. Catherine put her pencil down and sat back. "I understand that the house was terrible. Smells like she hasn't been in a bathtub for some time."

"I thought you could help me with that." He said softly.

She let out a big sigh. "You know, Gil, just when I think I understand you completely, you pull something completely outside anything I ever imagined."

"I have new clothes for her." He thrust the clothes out in front of him.

She pulled out the floral jumpers and pastels shorts outfits and looked up at him. "I am guessing you didn't pick these out."

He shrugged. "They're clean."

She took off her blazer and grabbed her lab coat. Then she reached for the girl. "Here. Let me take her. I'll have Nicky get a basin out of storage and we can bathe her in the shower."

He nodded. "There are more things in the truck."

She transferred the child to her shoulder, and the little girl shivered and her eyes reluctantly opened. Grissom started to follow her, but Catherine stopped him. "You go talk to Brass. They are probably drawing up kidnapping charges as we speak."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brass' face was red, and he paced back and forth behind his desk, stopping every once in a while to slam his hands down on the desktop to emphasize a point. Grissom sat silently, and let the homicide detective continue his ranting unchecked. He couldn't answer why he had taken the child or why he hadn't at least called in to inform social services.

Finally spent, Brass sat down at his desk. Grissom leaned forward and said, "What do I have to do to become her foster parent?"

Brass narrowed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he was on his feet again, arms waving, complaining that Grissom hadn't listened to one thing he said. Grissom settled back into his chair to wait.

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

It was another hour before Grissom had a chance to check on Lucy Bell and Catherine. He found half the lab in the locker room gathered around the little girl. She was sitting on Nicky's lap in a pink flowered jumper while Catherine pulled socks out of plastic bags, and Greg searched other bags for shoes.

Warrick and Mia were arguing about how to do her hair. Mia settled it by taking the comb and hair grease out of his hands, and sitting down next to Nicky. Grissom winced at how hard she pulled on Lucy's hair, but no one else seemed disturbed so he decided to drop it.

"A social worker should be here in half an hour to pick her up."

Heads swiveled and people noticed Grissom in the room for the first time.

Greg looked up. "Hey Boss. I promise to come visit you at the big house. I'll bring cigarettes and gum." Warrick glared at him and he shut up.

Lucy's eyes caught Grissom's and she erupted in a smile. Pointing a finger at him, she exclaimed, "Bunny!"

Catherine smiled. "Yes, he is, darling. Yes, he is."

"Shouldn't her language be a little more advanced by now?" Grissom asked the room.

"Yes, it should." Grissom was surprised to find Doc Robins sitting on a bench next to David. "I looked her over though, and my guess is that her delays are due to a lack of proper stimulation rather than disability. And the trauma of losing her mother has probably regressed her some as well."

Greg freed a box of multi-colored hair bands from a bag and tossed them to Mia who immediately began twisting Lucy's hair into pigtails.

"I also checked her mother's forensic report, and there were no signs of heavy alcohol or drug abuse," Doc continued. "I suspect that she is free of fetal alcohol effects."

"I am allowed to visit her at her foster home." Grissom was startled that he had said this aloud. Confessions were becoming something of a habit for him and he was going to have to be a little more discerning about that.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Your life is complicated enough with Sara pregnant, and not even in the same state. What are you trying to do to yourself?"

Grissom focused his attention on Lucy Bell. Mia had expertly created a head full of twisted pigtails using hair bands with pretty pink butterflies. She looked clean and fresh and healthy. For the first time since he saw her this morning, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. She looked like she had a chance. Lucy wriggled out of Nick's lap, and trotted over to Grissom. "Bunny!" she instructed and took his hand. Grissom looked up in confusion. Catherine shrugged. He let her lead him out the door, and was able to steer her toward his office. He was sure that there would be specimens enough to distract the child until the social worker came.

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

She had gotten in the habit of taking the Grissom call every day. It had happened yesterday and today, she still had yet to hear from him. It was nine in the evening, and she knew he was on shift in an hour. It was everything she could do to not call him. But she was resolved to not make that move. It was Grissom's choice to come to her. She just never imagined he would lose interest so early.

She tried to read one of the many childbirth books on the coffee table, but found she much preferred the prenatal and postnatal reading. The idea of childbirth intimidated her. She hoped that her anxiety would not get the best of her when the time came. It was her intention to have this baby with as much courage and dignity as she could muster.

Again she turned her attention to the phone. In her head, she went over scenarios where she would call him with some sense of nonchalance and no sense of expectation. She discarded story after story as contrived until she realized that she would have to wait for him to call or call him herself and acknowledge her interest.

In the end, she found the will to leave the phone alone. She lay in bed and massaged her growing abdomen. Now she had to wear special things. There was a pair of ridiculous pants she purchased that the salesgirl insisted would be a part of her pregnancy attire within the next 2 months. They were monstrously large with a frightening elastic panel in the front. She laid them over a chair in her bedroom and liked to regard them with a rather frightening awe. She settled in with a prenatal book focusing on the third trimester. Alone, she lay with the book and the silent phone placed on her bed next to her.

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

She sat up, blinking when her phone finally rang. Grabbing the phone, she lay back down, mumbling a sleepy hello.

"Sara?"

"Grissom."

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Just fine. And you?"

Grissom hesitated. "It's been an interesting week."

"Our first Lamaze class is tomorrow night. You're still coming, right?"

"Yeah…about that. Things have gotten complicated at this end."

Fear gripped her gut and she found herself unable to respond.

"Sara? Listen, it's not what you think. Julianne Phillips' child, Lucy Bell…I found her at her grandmother's house, neglected. She's in care now, and her grandmother is in detox."

"You're aware that the Lamaze is important?"

"Of course, I do. I have scheduled to be in San Francisco the entire month of September because I think it is so important. Berkeley confirmed. I am teaching three days a week until you deliver, and then family leave kicks in…for how ever long you want me there."

Sara began to relax. "If Lucy is in care, why can't you come?"

"She has a court date tomorrow afternoon. I want to make sure she is well taken care of."

"Okay." She kept her voice steady.

Grissom felt her anger. "Sara, tell me what you are thinking."

She sighed. "It will always be something. We both know that. We are both the same kinds of people in that regard. You will always be able to run off to something that feels just as important. It will become easier and easier to justify after a while."

"It's not like that. I owe this child something. I'm responsible…"

"You owe me and our child something as well." She took in a deep breath. "Look. Do what you gotta do. I know that this is important. I know how hard this has been. But you have to remember that you're not making decisions for just yourself now. Every decision you make impacts us and vice versa."

"I understand."

"I don't know. Maybe I'm frustrated because it feels like the commitment is different for women. I know that I have to change everything. I know that I have to narrow the focus of what I care about so that there's always enough room for this child to be number one."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I never thought about that."

She suddenly felt very tired. Still holding the phone to her ear, she rolled onto her side and curled up under her comforter. "I know this is important. I want you to do this. You need to heal. I understand that. Take care of Lucy. But be honest with yourself, Grissom. If the pressure of this pregnancy is getting too much, if this is not what you really want, I need you to tell me, tell us…so that we can learn not to expect anything again. We deserve that."

He started to responded, but emotion welled up in her, and she couldn't continue. "Bye." She breathed softly and ended the call, holding long enough so that the phone went dark.

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TBC