Writing on a Blank Slate
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.
Rating: M for later content
Chapter 5: "I'm looking for a home."
Sara awoke the next morning momentarily disoriented. Then a sense of where she was returned, and she smiled. She had made her escape. She showered, then went to knock on Nick's door. As she approached she saw that there was a note stuck to it, and her heart skipped a beat. Had he changed his mind after all? A look at the message, however, reassured her.
'Sara: relax! I've just gone to get breakfast. Nick'
"Hey!"
Nick's voice, calling from behind her, made her turn. He was holding two cups of coffee and a paper bag.
"You realize we only have ten minutes until checkout time?" she asked.
He shrugged. "So we'll eat in the car. No big deal."
There didn't seem to be much point in varying their route, so they continued heading north.
"So," Nick asked after a while, "you really don't have any idea what you're looking for, huh?"
"Honestly? I know it sounds silly, but I'm looking for a home, a place where I can belong. I've never had that before."
A day earlier, wild horses wouldn't have dragged that admission from her, but now that they were on the road she supposed she should start being honest about her mission.
"Not even when you were a kid?" he asked. Sara's life was a closed book, and he was determined to at least get a peek inside the cover. She was silent for a while, long enough that he thought perhaps she wasn't going to answer.
"I didn't have the greatest childhood," she finally admitted softly. "I remember when I was very little it was okay. Not perfect, but okay. But then my parent's B&B burned down." She shrugged. "We lived in a small town, and there wasn't much work around. Mom ended up housekeeping in a hotel and dad-" she broke off. "Dad just got more and more frustrated," she finished.
She glanced at Nick, and saw compassion and understanding in his eyes.
"He hit you," he supplied. "Your mom too."
Sara nodded. "Yeah. Eventually someone noticed the bruises, and I ended up in foster care." Her throat tightened at the memory. "So I went from this B&B that was too public to be a home, to this scummy rental that was too hellish to be one, to foster care, which was…"
She trailed off. At some point in her tale Nick had turned off the radio. Now he reached over and placed his hand over hers on the steering wheel. He didn't say anything, but the touch of his hand, large and warm and slightly calloused, brought a faint smile to her lips.
After a moment she cleared her throat and continued in a stronger voice.
"Anyway, I figure if I drive long enough maybe eventually I'll hit on a place that could be home."
Nick nodded. "You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan."