Author's Note: Again, this chapter is only about 60 percent beta-read so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Chapter XIX

Where Closure Starts

Sara and Sofia watched through the glass as Sinclair and Doyle Jacobs were reunited after over five years of being apart, father and son. The boy wouldn't hug him. Sara sighed; the boy was traumatized and probably wouldn't let any man touch her for a long, long time.

They sat there, talking. Doyle smiled at the boy. "I brought this. You were probably too young to remember it, but it used to be your favorite toy." He put a small teddy bear in an Atlanta Braves jersey on the table between them. The young boy took it and stared at it. Then he spoke, "I remember him. His name is…is..Smo…Smo…" Doyle smiled, "Smoltz, we named him after John Smoltz, the pitcher. It's from your first game I took you to Turner Field. You, your Grampa and me. We all went to watch them play the Yankees." A tear slid down the man's face. "Two days later your mom took off." The boy stared at the bear. "You bought me a hot dog and always called me 'Slugger'." Doyle nodded, "That's right. You were always Slugger to me." The boy looked up. "That's what they used to call me. When they…when they touched me. Slugger, Sport, Big Guy. The lady said they wouldn't hurt me anymore." Doyle's face crumpled. "I am so sorry, Sinclair, so so sorry. I looked for you. I looked everywhere. I just couldn't find you."

The young boy didn't answer; his eyes were fixed on the wall. "Mommy kept a gun in the drawer. I took it and when he came close to me, I shot him. I didn't want him to hurt me again, so I shot him. Then she came at me, screaming…so I shot her too. I didn't mean to kill them…I just didn't want him to hurt me anymore."

Doyle choked out an "Oh God" and he went around the table and grabbed the boy. Sinclair was stiff at first, but when the older man started crying, he put his arms around him, awkwardly. "You listen to me, Sinclair. Those bastards will never touch you again. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I won't let them hurt you any more. I'm sorry."

0000000

Sara turned her back on the scene. Doyle Jacob's mantra of "I'm sorry" and his son's sobs were too much to handle.

Suddenly, two arms pulled her back against the solid warmth of another body and Sofia's throaty alto sounded in her ear. "It's okay, Sara."

Sara shook her head. "No, it's not okay. I was almost him. I came damn close to being that little boy." Sofia pulled her around so she could see her face. "No, Sara. You didn't kill your father or Laura." A solitary tear slid down Sara's cheek, cutting a wet and shiny path down to her chin. "But I wanted to, Sofia. I wanted to. Janet doesn't know, she just doesn't know how close I came." She sighed. "One day, I was cleaning one of the guest rooms, our house doubled as a B&B…I was cleaning one of the rooms and I found a gun. I was all of twelve years old and I took it. It was a Saturday Night Special, probably hot. I slept with it under my pillow. I was afraid, afraid that he would do like he always threatened to…that he'd sell me to the perverts or touch me himself. I told myself one of us would die before that happened. I didn't kill him or her." She rested her head against Sofia's shoulder, "But I wanted to. I wanted to so badly."

Sofia could feel Sara's bitter tears wetting her shirt. She stroked your hair. "Listen to me, Sara Sidle. You didn't kill anyone. You're a good person. Your Mom is a police Capitan and if I'm not mistaken, you've got another Capitan auditioning for the role of Dad." A smile spread across Sofia's face, breaking up the grief, "In more ways then one." Sara looked up. "Jim and Janet?" Sofia grinned, "I think he's smitten. I heard him mumbling about never seeing a woman throw such a good punch before." She could feel Sara smile against her shoulder. "That is so wrong on so many levels." She straitened up and stood beside Sofia as they began to walk out of the room. Sofia grinned, "What is there a Mister Janet Burgundy floating about somewhere?" Sara laughed, "Not a chance, and they'd probably be good together…it's still wrong though." Sofia threw her arm around Sara's shoulders. "Welcome to my world. The world of having nightmares about Jim Brass boffing your Mom." Sara's shriek of disgust quickly turned to laughter, and Sofia joined in.

For that moment, with the two of them laughing together without another care in the world, life was perfect.

0000000

The cell was much like the one she'd spent years in. Concrete blocks and steel bars. She could hear prison sounds all around her. The breathing of those who were attempting to sleep, the pitiful cries of those who were hip-deep in withdrawal from whatever they'd been taking and the soft groans of someone trading human contact for cigarettes. The bunk she laid on was hard and too short for her long frame.

Bastards, all of them. Fucking cops, fucking CSIs, fucking Sara. She massaged the livid bruises around her wrists, the ones that the cuffs had left. She'd had rougher treatment over the years, but damn these Pigs were protective of Sara. She remembered what the Capitan, his name had been Brass, had told her. A chill passed through her and she clamped down on the trickle of fear that wormed it's way down her spine. Fuck him and the horse he'd ridden in on, he couldn't do that. Here, in the quiet of her cell, she could put on a sneer at the memory. Not that it made much difference to her. Why would she go back at Sara anyway? She had a piss-ass government job, she lived on a pittance. No, there was nothing for Sara to give her.

The more Laura thought about it, the more disgusted and slightly deluded she became. She didn't want or need her sniveling bitch of a daughter around her. The fire had just been a message. They wouldn't pin that guy dying on her. She was done with this shit. She was done. Sara could have her shitty little life with her cops friends and snooty lies.

Somewhere down the line, she heard a loud grunt and a hiss of pain. She was safe, though. She could survive, no matter what that punk cop had said. Pigs didn't have connections on the inside…not like he'd made out.

She could hear the footsteps coming her way, screws doing their rounds and she closed her eyes to feign sleep. There was a pause at her cell. "That's Sidle. Yeah, Curtis said to give her special treatment." There was a huff, "Since when do we listen to Curtis?" The first voice answered, "Since every detective and half the unis at the PD are with her, including Brass. Especially Brass. This bitch came after the wrong chick." She heard the subtle sounds of knuckles popping and a key being pushed into the lock of her cell. Laura clutched her arms around her and swallowed the bitter bile that rose up in her throat.

Author's Note: Alls well that ends well...or something like that. I'd like to say one more time, that I really disliked writing Laura Sidle. In defence of Sofia and Brass, they only said 'Special' whatever the guards may or may not have inferred from that statement was completly out of their hands. That's their story and they're sticking to it. On a lighter note: Jim and Janet, I couldn't help myself.