Title: Of Decades and Train Whistles
A/N: I originally intended this to be a one chapter only story, but then some one gave me the inspiration for a few more chapters. They shall be posted faster than the wait time for this on.
Sara sat at the kitchen table with papers scattered about her, working on her bills and trying not to brood over the latest notice she'd received from the city. Seattle was opening a new centre for autism, and through this centre also came a new class, tied in with the school near it. Though Alex wasn't as withdrawn as he used to be; two years of extensive one on one therapy had assisted with that, Sara knew that this class would be the extra support that Alex would flourish with. She hoped, anyway.
It was a mid February evening, snow still littered the ground, and by this time it had become litter because it had mixed with dirt and road slush long ago. Her mug of hot chocolate had long grown cold and Sara rose to put on the kettle for more. She hugged her warm sweater to herself, cursing the bad insulation in the old home. The last paycheque had been spent on living expenses, a tiny bit into savings, and the rest to pay for the next month of therapy for Alex.
He was currently sitting on the floor under the kitchen table, where he'd set up a small train track and was oblivious to Sara's presence. Maybe next year there'd be more money to fix up the house some more.
She gave Alex his ten-minute warning and spent that time putting together her schedule for the next day, penciling in his various appointments. She was also supposed to meet up with Grissom at some point this week; he'd finally moved and was getting settled in. Sara was hesitant over this, not wanting to let him just jump right back into her life like old times. Fortunately, Grissom appeared to be a little wary of insta-friendship too.
Tuesdays were spent working in the kitchen and partially outdoors for Rose, who enjoyed gardening in the summer but worked mainly to keep the front path clear for everyone in the winter. She thus felt a sense of pride and accomplishment when the doorbell had rung not fifteen minutes after coming inside, justification for her constant battle with the snow. The gentleman behind the door, however, left Rose a little taken aback.
"Sara works day shifts now, she won't be home till after five," she softly told Grissom, inviting him in for a coffee. It was unnecessary, but she never had visitors during the day and she was curious about him.
"That's alright, I have a few questions for you, actually, if that's okay," he asked sincerely, not missing the pondering look on Rose's face.
"About Alex…" Grissom paused as Rose served him and offered a small plate of cookies. "I'd like to...well, I'd like to perhaps see if I could spend some time with him, getting to know him. But more importantly, letting him get to know myself."
Nothing was said as Rose thought it over; wondering why he'd come to her and not just asked Sara herself. Perhaps he was afraid to. He wanted to spend time with Alex, but he was afraid to fail in front of Sara, afraid that he would do something stupid with Alex, and she'd turn him away. But his honesty and initiative impressed Rose, and she felt it only right to give him a chance.
"Okay. Lets start out at the park, because Alex enjoys the quiet there and it's neutral territory."
Grissom smiled, glad that Rose had accepted his offer. Back in the fall, when he'd first found Sara, she had caustiously decided to give him another chance to re-enter into her life. Only this time it wasn't just Sara, he would also be entering into the lives of Alex and Rose. For some reason he figured that getting to know her son and mother in law would be an easier task than to reacquaint himself with Sara.
Supper that night was spaghetti, which Alex usually made a mess of, but Sara had been craving it. It was just simple spaghetti, and Alexander's job was to help with the salad. This was a task he usually did with Rose, however she was out playing euchre with her friends and so he would have to do it on his own. When Sara turned her head to ask him to help he was still sat at the kitchen table, eyes pouring over subway routes from the 1960's, maps he'd gotten from the library. She only needed to ask twice before he carefully put his maps away in a neat pile on the small desk that sat by the back door. She'd only seen such meticulous dedication in Grissom before – not even Michael had been that nitpicky. Alex wasn't perfect, but when he did put something away, it was put exactly back where it belonged.
While she was watching him put his maps away, the soft but steady popping noises the spaghetti sauce made as it boiled brought a form of comfort to her ears. The sauce wasn't homemade, it was only from a can, but had been mixed with chopped vegetables and Sara's own blend of spices, a mixture that experience blended with creativity to make had made. She enjoyed her kitchen, and though she wasn't a grandiose cook in any sense of the word the kitchen still felt homey and well used to her. The walls were a Bordeaux red, a rich wine colour that was comfortably celebratory to her, and the old wood stove they had by the brick wall in the corner was functioning and gave a historic and warm touch. She'd taught Alex to roast marshmallows in it during the winter, though he didn't take the same joy in it that most other children did. At least not that she'd been able to see.
The ringing phone brought Sara out of her semi-trance, back to reality and an almost over boiling pot of pasta noodles. She stuttered hello into the portable handset, drawing back a sharp breath as an errant droplet of scalding water jumped past the stirring ladle and landed on her hand. Grissom's voice on the other end surprised her, and while his timing was a little inconvenient it was nice to hear from him.
She leisurely served the pasta to the waiting plates and listened as Grissom described the guest lecture series currently being given at the university, considering accepting his offer to attend when Alexander's voice started to overpower Grissom's, in a steady rhythm.
"Mum mum mum mum mum."
He stood behind her, empty handed and with chocolate brown eyes focusing on something beyond her left shoulder as she turned. She shook her head at him and shrugged her shoulders, unsure of why he was calling her.
"Do you have Friday off? The lecture on forensic biology looks quite interesting. Bring back old times." Grissom continued.
Silence came from Sara's end of the phone as she scanned the room quickly, but couldn't think of anything off hand that was unusual.
'Sara?"
"Mum mum mum mum mum." Alex interjected, looking slightly lost and out of place.
"Alex, go get your pecs cards, Mom doesn't know what you want. And Griss, hold on."
She watched as Alex turned round and went for his stack of cards, choosing the blue book, which was the family one and the one he had on him at all times. Alex found the card with Rose's picture on it and handed it to Sara, who had taken a deep breath and all the food off of the stove. Most days she wished she had more hands to do things. Sara bit her lip, and instead of instinctively answering where Rose was, she asked Alex to give her another card, telling her what he wanted to know about his grandmother.
The 'where' card was handed to her, and that was good enough for today. On a normal day Sara would make Alex repeat his question verbally with her, but tonight hunger had taken over, and somewhere Grissom was waiting patiently on the phone.
Shaking her head, Sara told Alex that his grandmother was out and that he'd have to make the salad himself. This turned out to require her starting the salad, and from there Alex took over, the familiarity of the routine guiding him. She also continued her conversation with Grissom, who'd only heard part of what she'd said to her son and was wondering why she was talking about pectoral muscles.
"I beg your…oh. Pecs, Grissom. Pictoral Exchange Communication System, or something like that. I'm lucky if I can remember the short form. They're picture cards, and when Alex needs to express something, he's supposed to bring me the card with that corresponding word or picture on them." Steaming plates of pasta were placed at the table, watched carefully by Alex. Sara pointed at the salad bowl and the task was resumed and finished.
"Do they work?" inquired Grissom, ever the student.
"Sometimes. But you can't make cards for everything." she replied, sounding rather distant. Alex came to the table and sat across from her, waiting for his mother to sit down. He'd been taught not to start eating until everyone was at the table, and Sara used this as her cue to say goodbye to Grissom. They'd be meeting up in a couple of days anyway, for a lecture that she'd already forgotten the topic of. He let her go with a rather cheerful goodbye himself, not mentioning that the next day he'd be meeting up with Alex and Rose at the park.