Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI. I'd love to though ;)

AN: This chapter includes a lot about Sara's past. So I hope I did a good job on it. It's about her feelings during No Humans Involved.

Many many many thanks to Rhee for beta reading.

chapter 16

In the last weeks she had managed to find her way back to her professionalism, she had managed to not get too touched by her cases and to not get too involved into the tragedies behind them. And she had managed to build up her life again; she had managed to build it up around herself and not around Grissom. They were talking from time to time, in that very 'Grissom-ish' way to communicate, but still, they were at least communicating. He had told her that he was concerned and she appreciated this, it hadn't sent her into another 'Oh my God he cares for me' ecstasy though. She knew how to deal with stuff like that now.

Or at least she had thought that she could deal with everything now. Tonight's case had knocked her off the track. She had been reminded of her own painful childhood when she had been talking with the oldest of the foster children, trying to find out what had happened to the dead boy. The girl had been reading in a science books and Sara had hoped that she could build up mutual trust between her and the girl because they had something in common. But in the end Sara had to realize that it wasn't the interest in science what they had in common but the fact that both their lives had been or still were in the hands of lawyers, social workers and judges.

She hadn't thought about her past for a while. She had finished her sessions with the P.E.A.P. Counselor months ago and had thought that this theme was finally ticked off for her, tonight she had to realize that it wasn't.

At least, she had tried to tell herself, at least the two other boys would be alright soon, they would have to deal with the nightmare that they had been put through for the rest of their lives though. Some people always say that you would forget most of your memories with time, and that you wouldn't remember what happened when you were little. But she knew that this wasn't true. She could still remember everything, at least most of it.

She could still remember how her father had been terrorizing her mother, how he had been hitting and abusing her, how he had used her as his punching bag. She could still remember how her father had almost killed her brother once when he had smashed a chair on him. She could still remember how her father had grabbed her once while she had been playing with her soft toys; he had grabbed her so hard by her arm that he had dislocated her shoulder when he had pulled her up, he had slung her against the wall and she had been bleeding from her nose and her mouth, there had been blood everywhere on the white wallpaper.

Shortly after that, Sara still remembered, her father's attacks had started to get even more brutal. He drank more and more alcohol everyday and the more he drank the more aggressive he became. Other people went to church on Sunday mornings; they went to the hospital on Saturday nights.

Sara remembered every single night, every single slap, every single punch, every single tear and every single scream. One night the screams had suddenly stopped. She had been lying awake in her bed, hiding her face under her pillow. She had been able to hear the screams nevertheless and she had been more shocked about the fact that they had stopped than about the fact that they had been there. She had left her room and had been walking downstairs to her parents' bedroom. She had found her mother leaning over her father's lifeless body. There had been blood everywhere, on the walls, the bed, the ground, her mother's clothes; everywhere. She had screamed, loud, not a word, simply a scream, a vowel, nothing meaningful, she had just screamed. She had been standing in the doorway and screamed, until the paramedics had arrived. Later a woman had arrived and had taken her into foster care. Her mother had been sent to prison for the night and later to psychiatry. She had spent a year in foster care before she had been allowed to go back to her mother.

She did not remember how she had found the strength to go through all this though. She'd been hiding herself into a dream world sometimes, a world in which people loved her and thought that she was pretty. She'd been a princess and a glorious knight would come and save her from all the bad and he would marry her and make her a queen. When she was older she had started to study a lot for school, because she had come to the conclusion that she could only escape from her horrible life if she would find a great job where she could earn a lot of money. She thought that if she would have to stay at Tomales Bay she would end up just like her mother. So she had been studying hard, she had studied every day, for hours and hours. And she had achieved a lot. While her mother had stayed at Tomales Bay, drowning in self-pity, she had gone to Harvard and later studied at Berkeley.

She had achieved a better life but she would never forget her childhood. She would never forget the pain and these two boys wouldn't either.

She could see the guys in the break room, she missed working with them. Since the team split they barely saw each other. It wasn't the same to work with Sofia or with Greg… she missed working with Nick and Warrick, she missed hanging out with them during their breaks and after shift. She usually spent her breaks alone now. She didn't like Sofia so she avoided being near her and Greg; Greg had the bad habit of talking too much.

She sighed and looked over to Grissom's office. Sofia sat on his table and they were talking about a book or something. She felt her chest tighten, Grissom and Sofia got along so well with each other, she couldn't deny that she was jealous. And it hurt that Grissom seemed to like spending time with her. Every person has a jealousy gene. She had always tried to suppress hers, but when it came to Grissom… well with Grissom everything was special. Still.

She knew that she probably shouldn't dive too deep into her memories and her past, but she couldn't help it, not tonight. In all the years she had never read the files about her mother's case. Tonight she wanted to know it, wanted to find out all about it. So she began to type…

THE PEOPLE VS. LAURA SIDLE W/2,MODESTO, CALIFORNIA, 1984.

TBC

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