A/N: Alright, c'mon, you know you're proud of me for getting another chapter up so quickly… So, let's get to it!
The real Chapter Eight
"Warrick?" Kelli was obviously shocked.
"Wait. Y'all know each other?" Nick interrupted.
"Kelli, Nick Stokes. Nick, Kelli Grissom." Warrick sighed.
Nick's jaw dropped. "Say what? Okay, back up, back up. Would you please explain what the Hell is going on here?"
"Kelli is Grissom's half-sister." Warrick explained. "I didn't know you had a daughter."
"I…" Kelli glanced at Amy.
"It's okay, Kel, I don't mind them knowing." Amy shrugged.
"Amy is my stepdaughter." Kelli expanded. "My husband died a few years back. He left Amy in my custody."
"Grandmother has never forgiven Dad for that."
"But I legally adopted her before John's death, so the courts gave me custody."
"Kelline Chelsea Paxton-Grissom!" A voice yelled, followed by an exceptionally pissed-off looking gray-haired woman.
"Oh, Lord." Kelli groaned.
"Grandmother." Amy supplied.
"Kelline, what is this about my granddaughter being in the ER?"
"Good afternoon, Nora." Kelli replied pleasantly. "And I've asked you to call me Kelli. And I never added Paxton to my name. It's Kelli Grissom."
Nora Paxton was not the type of woman to say "whatever," but Nick could tell she sorely wanted to.
"Hmph. Taken your ring off, I see." Nora jibed.
"Nora, it's been six years. You cannot expect me to remain celibate forever."
"I did when my husband died."
Kelli's only reply was a raised eyebrow and a derisive snort.
Nora huffed. "Amy, are you alright? I knew John never should have left you with Kelline."
"Grandmother." Amy rebuked her. "Kelli has taken exemplary care of me since Dad died."
"You go to that heathen public school and you're on that cheerleading squad and you prance around in those tiny little skirts –"
Nick could see that Kelli was really getting steamed. "Ma'am," he interrupted turning on all his Texas charm. "We're conducting an official investigation, so unless you have pertinent information concerning the murder of Amber Carlin, I need you to step outside for a moment while I question Miss Paxton and Ms. Grissom."
Nora was livid. "I have a right –"
"Actually," Warrick stepped in. "You don't. You are neither Ms. Paxton's legal guardian, nor are you her lawyer. You have no place in any of these proceedings. So, Mrs. Paxton, please wait outside."
Nora threw her audience one last imperious look before exiting the room with the most ladylike stomp either CSI had ever seen.
Amy sighed with relief, as did Kelli.
"Nick, why don't I talk to Kelli and you talk to Amy." Warrick suggested.
"Sure." He pulled up a chair next to Amy's bed while Warrick led Kelli out into the hall.
"Amy, I know it's been a long day, and you're probably ready to go to sleep, but I need you to answer a couple of questions before you do that."
Amy nodded. "I figured."
"Okay. How did you know Amber Carlin?"
"We were on the cheerleading squad together."
"When did you last see her alive?"
"Nine fifteen at night." Amy replied quickly and firmly.
"That's an awfully accurate time stamp." Nick commented.
"The time had just flashed on the Jumbotron." Amy clarified.
"Had anybody been threatening Amber, or was she in any kind of trouble? Any guys not understand the meaning of the word 'no?'" Nick pressed.
"Nope. Amber was Miss Perfect. Everybody loved her, 4.0 student, adorable boyfriend…the works."
"Do you remember anything about Amber last night?"
"I'm really sorry, but I don't. I don't even remember what time I got knocked out."
"Tell me about that." Nick leaned back. "Did you get a look at your attacker? Any look at all?"
"I'm really sorry, but no. The last thing I remember is getting smacked in the back of the head with something friggin' heavy."
"Do you mind if I take a look?" Nick asked.
"Sure. Go ahead." Amy leaned forward. Nick stood and carefully examined the base of Amy's neck, where she'd been hit.
"Wow. You've got a decent-sized bump growing there." He commented. "Did the doctor say anything about a concussion?"
"No driving for a week, minimum." Amy replied glumly.
"Let me write down my cell phone number, just in case you remember something, okay?"
"Sure." Amy rolled her neck and touched the base of her skull. "Ow."
"I'll bet." Nick sympathized.
"Ew. There's something wet in my hair." Amy tugged her hand away from her hair. "It looks like…green paint?"
"Looks like." Nick agreed. "May I take a swab?"
"Sure."
Nick uncapped a swab and rubbed it over the green paint. "I will get this to the lab. I hope you feel better."
"Thanks Mr. Stokes." Amy tried to smile brightly, but winced in pain. "Ow."
Nick tried to hold back a chuckle.
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Grissom guessed that at some point he'd fallen asleep because his auto-set radio alarm clock had gone off and the local classical station was playing Rachmaninoff's Isle of the Dead.
'What an uplifting piece.' Grissom thought sarcastically. 'Perfect for such a wonderful morning.'
His sour mood came as somewhat of a surprise. While he was normally apathetic and passive, this morning he was bitter and hostile. Mechanically, he wandered into the kitchen and flicked on the light switch and turned on the coffeemaker.
"Morning." Sara didn't bother to add the 'good' as it certainly didn't feel like a good morning.
"Good morning." He returned, pleased that she was even speaking to him.
Sara cocked her head. "What's on the stereo?" She asked.
"Rachmaninoff." Grissom listened to the low, lilting, ominous tones of the piece. It was haunting, and the middle seemed almost remorseful. The two remained silent for a few minutes, listening to the music.
Good morning. Emily strolled into the kitchen. Did you sleep well, Sara?
Yes, thank you Mrs. Grissom. Sara accepted the carafe from Grissom.
Well, it certainly was a pleasure having you stay with us.
Sara nodded and gulped down her coffee. I really should go if I'm going to make it home in time to get any sleep for shift tomorrow.
Emily nodded. At least let me pack you something for the road.
'Pick your battles.' Sara reminded herself. That would be great. Thank you.
Emily set to work, filling a paper lunch sack with an egg-salad sandwich, a shrink-wrapped brownies, carrots, and a bottle of water. Please do visit again, Sara.
Mercifully, Grissom saved Sara from having to reply. "I'll walk you out to your car, Sara." He led her to the Denali sitting on the front parking strip. "Sara…" He hesitated and ran a hand over his bearded jaw. "It wasn't supposed to go like this."
"Go like what, Grissom?" Sara knew she was picking a fight, but sometimes a fight was necessary to get everything out into the open.
"You weren't supposed to hate me."
"I don't hate you." She returned. "I just can't trust you. With anything. You broke my heart. A couple of times. Then you scared me half to death. I might not hate you, but I am mad."
"I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you." He whispered.
Sara closed her eyes. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not? Now seems as good a time as any." Grissom lifted one rough, callused palm to her cheek and carefully smoothed his thumb over the pale skin.
Sara couldn't help herself. She leaned into Grissom's hand, regret welling up in her stomach as she forced herself to say, "it's too late, Grissom. You're too late. I spent too many months moping over you. The only thing I can do now is pick up the pieces of my life and move on."
"To where, Sara? Move on to what?"
"Something. Anything. Just…not here."
Grissom nodded and gave her cheek one last stroke before his fingers stilled. With his right hand, he reached into his back pocket and tugged out a plain white envelope.
"What's that?" Sara asked warily.
"A letter." He shifted uneasily. "It's supposed to…I…it's what I couldn't say."
Sara turned the envelope over in her hands. "I'm sorry it had to end this way."
"It doesn't have to end." He raised his other hand to her cheek, so that he was cupping her face.
"It ended a long time ago." Sara told him sadly. "I will always love you, Griss, but this is the way it has to be."
They stared at each other for a minute that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Sara couldn't tear her eyes from Grissom, and he couldn't seem to take his hands from her face. Grissom leaned down, as if to kiss her, but instead simply touched his forehead to Sara's. They both breathed in deeply, memorizing everything about each other. Sara reveled in her last whiff of Grissom's spicy, alpha male scent, and Grissom inhaled Sara's clean soap and rosewater scent. Sara closed her eyes, forming a barrier against the rush of sensations.
"I should…go." Sara's voice broke and her breath against Grissom's lips drew them both back to reality.
"Yeah." Grissom pulled back.
Sara ducked into the driver's seat of her Denali and Grissom shut the door behind her. The engine roared to life and Sara slowly rolled away from the house. She gathered speed until she turned left at the end of the block and disappeared from Grissom's sight. Grissom turned back to the house and quietly opened the door.
His mother put a hand on his shoulder. Gil.
Grissom shrugged the hand off. Not now.
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"Ow." Lindsey groaned, extending her right leg and flexing, then repeating the stretch with her left leg.
"Hey Linds." Ben flashed a heartstopping grin. "How's it going?"
"My legs ache." Lindsey moaned.
"You're saddlesore." Ben smirked.
"Saddlesore?" Lindsey asked, sliding her helmet into its designated cubby.
"You've never ridden before, have you? When you sit in the saddle for long periods of time and you aren't used to it, your legs will ache." He chuckled. "Come on. I'll help you unsaddle and put away your tack."
"Thanks." Lindsey trotted after Ben, ignoring the dull ache working its way through her legs. "So, how old are you anyway?"
Ben looked surprised, but nevertheless, he answered. "I just turned seventeen. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason." Lindsey hedged.
Ben narrowed his eyes, but didn't press. "Hey, Windwaker." He greeted Lindsey's horse. "Who bought this girl for you?" He asked Lindsey.
"My grandfather left her to me." Lindsey ran a hand along Windwaker's belly, so as not to startle the mare before she started undoing the cinch.
"Your grandfather has excellent taste." Ben worked the bit loose from Windwaker's mouth. "What is she, American Quarter?"
"That sounds about right." Lindsey flipped the cinch over the saddlehorn and hoisted the saddle off of Windwaker's back.
Ben deftly retied the quick-release knot and hooked the reins over his shoulder. "Here, I've got it." He took the saddle from her. Ben carefully settled Windwaker's tack into the proper spot.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Hey, don't forget about the barbecue this weekend."
"I'll be there." Lindsey grinned.
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"So that was the Nick you wanted to set me up with?" Kelli asked Warrick.
"I did not want to set you up with him." Warrick protested. "I just wanted you to meet him."
"You did so want to set us up and don't lie about it."
Warrick sidestepped the conversation. "So were you at the assembly? I didn't see you there."
"No. I met the paramedics here." She shrugged.
"Is that why you weren't looking for a squeeze at the Highball that night?"
"What?" Kelli didn't seem to comprehend the non sequitur.
"Amy." He supplied.
"Still confused."
"You didn't want to bring home a bad influence. Amy's important to you."
"She is. It's just been us two for the last six years. Her mother died when she was two. Amy hardly remembers her. I've done the best I can, but even we sometimes fight."
"Nick's a great guy." Warrick started in on his sales pitch. "He has sixteen nieces and nephews, and he's nice guy."
Kelli laughed. "Alright, alright. Sold. Set me up." She rolled her eyes. "Are you happy now?"
"Ecstatic."
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A/N2: So, what did you guys think of Grissom and Sara's goodbye? I hope it was emotional without being sappy. I was shooting for a strong-Sara-but-still-reluctant-to-let-go-Sara or did I just end up with Irrational Sara?
Coming next chapter: Sara gets home and reads Grissom's letter, Grissom meets up with another somebody from his past. Lindsey attends the barbecue. Kelli and Nick's first date! I hope to have it up by Sundayish, maybe earlier depending!