-1Disclaimer: I own no part of CSI. Anything you recognise is not mine. Anything you don't is mine. I would like to say trespass and you're doomed, but then again I am trespassing so I can't really say hands off. Should anybody be interested in my extra characters that is. Hasn't happened before but there is a first time for everything. Just mention me somewhere.
A/N: Anything that does not fit into my little world will be ignored. I can't remember if Sara has any surviving family, so here she doesn't full stop and her mum died in prison some years before. Sigh. Glad I got that off my chest. And I fixed the thing with Papa Olaf. And I can't remember when the thing with what they were like in school was, but it's referenced in here.
Chapter 3
"We are going to have to contact their families." Grissom said into the stony silence of the break room. The entire CSI team had returned to the lab, as there was little they could do at the site. And because the fire chief had threatened to have them arrested if they harassed him for another second!
"Sara and Greg have been incommunicado for four hours now. We have to contact the families."
The men looked frazzled and slightly dirty, ash from the still burning fire having marked their faces and clothes. Catherine, having joined them later at the site, was slightly cleaner but no less worried about her colleagues.
"Does Sara even have a family? She never mentions anybody."
Grissom frowned. "There is a family in San Francisco Sara lists as her emergency contact. As far as I know she has no living relatives. Greg's situation is similar, has his grandfather listed as next of kin, no other contacts known."
After Grissom left to make his phone calls, an uncomfortable silence filled the break room. Nick was the first to break it. "Has it occurred to anybody but me that we know hardly anything about Sara and Greg?"
"Yeah. But they never talk about things." Warrick interjected in a vain attempt to alleviate his bad conscience.
"Well, maybe we should have done more asking." Catherine whispered, having the uncomfortable feeling that she had failed her fellow CSI.
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Sara gaped at Greg, unable to believe her ears. Just to make sure she repeated herself.
"You knew your ribs were broken."
Greg grinned weakly, amazed that despite the fact Sara looked just about ready to rip his head off, she was still sitting in his lap. Then he gave himself a mental slap around the head and reminded himself that she was wounded and that was probably why. Belatedly he realized that Sara was waiting for an answer to her question.
Shrugging turned out to be a bad idea. "Was I supposed to leave you in the dumpster. We didn't know how badly you were hurt and the risk of a major infection was rising with every second you spent wallowing in that dump. I figured it would be okay. Chalk it up to chivalry." Inside he hoped that Sara would be happy with that answer as the truth was - no not going there.
Sara, sure there was more to this, submitted for the moment and gathered her wits. "Well we are going to have to bandage them some how. I have "
"duct tape." They finished together. For a second their problems were gone as they shared a smile.
"My father always told me to have some with me." Sara said quietly as she helped Greg rest his arms over her shoulders so she could get the tape as tight as possible. Greg, slightly distracted by the lemony smell still lingering in Sara's hair, only mumbled.
"The only good thing he ever told me." Sara continued bitterly. Leaning in closer, she brought the tape around Greg's back. 'He smells good.' Sara felt a flush rising in her cheeks and bowed her head, hoping Greg wouldn't notice.
Fortunately for her he didn't, much too busy trying to be manly about the pain he felt inside and dealing with his body's reaction to Sara's proximity.
In an effort to distract himself, Greg asked: "What do you mean? Did your dad and you not get along?"
Sara swallowed, realising that in all the long time she had been in Vegas nobody had ever bothered to ask her about her family. It occurred to her that Greg was the only one she would be willing to tell her story to.
"It's a long story. Let's get you comfortable first and then I'll tell you the sordid life story of Sara Sidle, alright?" She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her bangs falling into her face. "But you have to return the favour."
Greg looked at her considering. "Okay, but there is not much to tell. Pretty boring stuff."
"I'll be the judge of that."
It occurred to Greg that for the first time, he and Sara were meeting on even ground, not as CSI and labrat, but as equals. It was a heady experience or would have been if he hadn't been in so much pain.
Leaning on to each other they managed to hobble back to the doorway Greg had woken up in. The effort left both of them weak and trembling, but it had to be done. There was still burning debris falling from the sky, mostly paper and ashes. There was the distant noise of fires, but nothing that allowed the assumption help was on its way.
Trying to breathe shallowly and slowly, Greg shifted until he was in a position that was not quite as excruciatingly painful as the others. He was slowly becoming aware that there was something else wrong with him, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. His torso felt hot and also heavy. He didn't want to upset Sara though, besides help would be coming soon. There was nothing to worry about.
"So, you wanted to talk about your life." He gently prodded Sara. She tilted her head and looked at him.
"Okay, I suppose you could say it all starts with Ryan, when I was 8."
"That's cryptic. What was before?"
Sara turned away, not sure she would be able to take whatever Greg's face was going to show in the next few minutes while she regaled her life before Ryan. "My family was never very loving. I suppose Mom and Dad must have liked each other at one point otherwise there would be no me. Mom was a stay-at-home and Dad was a miner. He lost his job in '82 when I was 7. Couldn't get another one, started drinking and hitting us. Mom and I took it for a year. I always wondered why we didn't leave. Then when I was eight mom couldn't take it anymore. She killed him - stabbed him 22 times. Didn't stop until the neighbour pulled her off him. If he hadn't been around she would have slit her wrists right then and there as well. But he was. Didn't have any other family so when they sent her to prison, I got thrown into the system." Sara took a deep breath, willing back the tears. It had been a long time ago and tears didn't change anything. Finally daring to look at Greg's face, she braced herself for pity, or even revulsion - the usual reactions when people found out she came from a broken home, that her mother was a murderess.
What she saw humbled her. Greg's face showed only sadness with a palpable sense of pride - in her. That she had survived. What she had made of herself.
"Wow, Sara. You're amazing." Greg smiled at her and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Is that why battery cases get to you so much?" Sara's jaw dropped, shocked and glad that he had seen the connection, that she didn't have to tell him. Throwing her arms around him as gently as she could, she burst into tears, burying her head in his jacket, trying not to squeeze too hard, glad that her secret was finally out. That someone here in Vegas understood.
For long moments, Greg just let her cry, surprised that it didn't make him uncomfortable, rather honoured that she would trust him with her tears, realising that she did not often let things out that ate at her. When it sounded like she was calming down, he gently prodded her to continue.
"So, you were in the system. I take it that's where you met Ryan?"
Sara sniffled, then nodded. "Yeah, he was in the same orphanage. His parents had died in a car accident when he was 6. When I met him he had been in three different foster families and two other homes. He was ten then."
"Too old to be cute and accessible for adopting parents, right?"
Sara looked at him in surprise. "Yeah, exactly. Not that he was sad. He was - is - the happiest person I know. He kinda adopted me. I found out later that he had had a little sister in the car with his parents. She also died. So I sort of took her place. He showed me the ropes, gave me a shoulder to cry on. And when the next foster family came knocking, convinced them to take me too. I owe him my life."
"Cause you could have fallen through the cracks, right?"
Again Sara was surprised at Greg's insight, but resolved to ask him later.
"Right. Anyway, Ryan kept me on the straight and narrow. He always supported me, with everything. Thanks to him, school was great. I never doubted that I could be anything I wanted."
Greg realised that Sara was beginning to dwell on what her life would have been like had she not met Ryan, so decided to change the subject slightly. "So what was Sara like in high school? Didn't you once say you were a card-carrying member of the geek-squad?"
He was surprised when he saw a brilliant blush race over her face and didn't catch what she mumbled under her breath.
"Sorry?"
"I was a cheerleader." Sara said quickly, refusing to look him in the eye. "I lied, okay? Can you imagine what the guys would have said if I had admitted that? Not to mention Catherine. That I was once a perky, always happy member of the cheer squad? I'd never hear the end of it. Probably find pompoms in my locker." She was interrupted by Greg's burst of laughter, which was almost immediately cut short by a groan as the movements made his ribs scream with pain, and something inside him tear.
"God, Greg. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
Still groaning, Greg put his traitorous body to the side and managed to say: "It was worth it. Sara Sidle is a cheerleader. I can't believe it." His eyes twinkled through the pain.
Sara managed a weak smile. "I will have you know that we won the state championship both years that I was captain." Then she realised what she had admitted and whimpered.
"Are you sure you're not making this up to get my mind off the pain?" Greg teased, then sobered. "I believe you. I always thought you must have been something of a dancer. You can see it in the way you move." His face turned sly. "So tell me did you date the quarter back?"
Sara lightly swatted his arm. "For two weeks. Then I realised how thick he was."
"What happened next?"
"I skipped a year and graduated one year after Ryan. We'd both got scholarships for Berkley, so moved in together off campus. Ryan studied architecture and I decided I wanted to be a CSI. I even joined a sorority."
"Now, I know you are having me on. You?"
"I'm serious. Ryan's idea in the beginning. He said that since I was going to finish after him, he wanted me to meet other people on campus. Plus he said I needed girlfriends and couldn't just hang around him all the time."
"Wise man."
"I know. I moved into the sorority house in my last year when they made me president. Best time I ever had."
"You do realise you are giving me endless blackmail material here, right?"
Sara looked at him for a long time and said soberly: "I trust you."
This time it was Greg's turn to flush with pleasure. "Thank you."
The shared moment was cut short, when a second explosion rocked the building behind them.
"Damn, I think somebody has it in for us." Sara said. When Greg failed to answer she took a close look at him. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face and he was turning an alarming shade of pasty white.
"Greg what's the matter? Talk to me."
Greg swallowed past his dry tongue and managed to say: "I don't think I just broke my ribs."
