Author's Notes: I'm overwhelmed and grateful by the response to the first chapter of this story. I hope I keep living up to y'all's high expectations. Yes, I say "y'all." I'm Southern; I can get away with it. Thanks again!
Someone Else's Star
by Kristen Elizabeth
The beginning of wisdom is found in doubting; by doubting we come to the question, and by seeking we may come upon the truth. – Pierre Abelard
September 2000
Sara tapped ash off the end of her cigarette and raised it to her lips. This would be her last one, she swore. It was a lie she needed to tell herself. She knew full well that there was no way she'd make it to June without this particular vice.
It was a cold night in San Francisco, but she still had the window in their bedroom cracked open. A frigid breeze ruffled the pages of the magazine spread out on the bed in front of her. Not that she was bothered; she'd only been half-heartedly going through it. Sara found it extremely difficult to get excited about table decorations and seating charts, even if this magazine was trying to make them seem like the most important part of the day.
He stirred just then, and Sara quickly put out her cigarette. "Sorry," she whispered as he opened his eyes. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Squinting to see her better, Matt raised up on one elbow. "Baby, do you ever sleep?"
An honest answer wasn't what he was looking for, so Sara lied. "I just woke up."
"You work too much." He flopped back against the pillow. "Messes with your sleep schedule. That's gonna have to change."
Sara stared at him for a second before she climbed out of bed.
"Don't get all pouty, Sara. Just…come back," Matt said with a sigh as she pulled on her terrycloth robe. "We can fight in the morning."
But Sara was already on her way to the living room with her laptop. After fixing a cup of tea in the microwave, she settled into the overstuffed couch and opened up her saved email file. As always, a shiver of anticipation shot down her spine as she pulled up his latest email.
Sara,
Thou shalt not be a victim. Thou shalt not be a perpetrator. Above all, thou shalt not be a bystander.
These words can be found in the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. I find them particularly telling on days like today. Days when, despite everything I know and everything I can do, despite the best equipment in the country and the smartest team assembled anywhere, I fail to bring justice to the innocent.
A guilty man walked free today. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. All I can do is wait to process the body of his next victim. I tell myself that this doesn't make me a bystander. But I'm not sure I believe it. Do you?
Grissom
PS: While I've never been one for celebrating the anniversary of my own birth, for yours I will make an exception. I hope you had an excellent birthday.
Sara's fingers flew over the keyboard as she wrote her reply.
Dear Grissom,
Humanity is won by continuing to play in the face of defeat. – Ralph Ellison
You're no bystander. I think
"What are you writing?"
She closed her laptop just as Matt padded out into the living room. "Case notes."
He seemed to accept this, and Sara released a pent-up breath. Her correspondence with Gil Grissom was a point of contention in their relationship, an open sore spot she'd rather not pick at when there was already plenty of tension.
Matt sat down next to her on the couch. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I get so caught up in trying to take care of you, that I sometimes forget you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself." Sara watched as he entwined their fingers. "I hate fighting with you, Sara."
"We seem to be doing a lot of it," she murmured. "Maybe…we're rushing things."
The diamond on her ring finger shone in the light from the moon. "Is that you talking, or your temper?"
"The temper's part of the package. If you marry me, you marry it."
Matt shrugged his bare shoulders. "I accept that. And no, I don't think we're rushing things. I don't think you do either." He smiled. "I have noticed those bridal magazines, even though they're hidden under your journals."
Sara couldn't quite bring herself to tell him that she'd bought them hoping to spark some minute flare of excitement about the wedding.
"I'm crazy about you, Sara," Matt said, seeking out her lips with his. "Come back to bed and I'll show you just how much."
She tried to return the kiss with the same level of emotion as he put into it. "I'll be there in a minute, I promise. I just want to finish up before I lose my train of thought." He nodded and got up.
When she heard the squeak of the bed as he got back into it, Sara reopened her computer. She stared at the point where she she'd left off, eventually backspacing and trying again.
You're no bystander. You don't need me to tell you this.
Speaking of telling you things…
Her hands stilled. The words would have been easy to type. "I'm engaged to a smart, handsome, funny physical therapist who wants to take care of me for the rest of my life. Sorry I haven't talked about him before this, but I keep holding out hope that you might be attracted to more than just my mind."
She lost her nerve before she'd even typed the first word.
Sara backspaced again.
You're no bystander. Think of all the ones you've helped put away. And just imagine how many more you will in the future.
Thanks for the birthday wishes.
Yours, Sara
Frowning, she stared at the last line. Was it too personal? Did it ask for too much? She tried it again.
Sincerely, Sara
Until next time, Sara
Thinking of you, Sara
Sara
Settling on the last option, the only one that left no room for interpretation, Sara saved the email to be delivered later and shut her computer down. Setting it aside, she started towards the bedroom and the man who lay waiting for her.
To Be Continued