Disclaimer: Not mine. Stop asking.
A/N: A huge thanks to Cropper, LosingInTranslation, Mingsmommy and Superlibn for the beta work. They are all amazing. A very special thank you to Cinco for helping me out when I was trapped in the corner. Also, this chapter contains references to Jewish praryer rituals. I will admit that I don't know much so if I got anything wrong please forgive me. :D
Chapter 12
December 16, 2007
Sara awoke to a room filled with warm sunlight. And for the first time in a long time her mood was just as bright. She stretched languidly, loving the way the sheets felt against her bare legs and the way the cool air of the room tingled against her arms as they slipped from beneath the blankets. Turning her head, she glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it was noon.
Laura had stayed until almost midnight, the two of them talking about a time before Sara had been born. They had polished off the last of the soup sometime during the evening. Sara had poked and pried, trying to hide her frustration when Laura balked at answering her questions. Her mother seemed determined to take things slow, but at least she was talking, so Sara had finally decided to just relax and let things happen.
Rising from the bed, Sara hurried into the bathroom, yelping when her bare feet hit the cold floor. She completed her morning routine quickly before donning some sweatpants and a sweatshirt and sliding her feet into the fuzzy slippers she loved. She shuffled into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee before checking her phone. She didn't expect to have any calls. She hadn't had any since leaving even though she had asked Grissom to call whenever he wanted. She only checked the thing as a form of self-torment. Her surprised delight at seeing Grissom's number displayed under missed calls had her smiling like she hadn't in months.
Noticing that she had a voicemail, Sara pressed the speed dial numbers and waited for the prompts. Pushing the appropriate buttons, she held the phone to her ear. Grissom's voice came through the speaker and she winced, her good mood burning away like morning fog dissipating in the sun. He sounded so tired, so lonely.
"Hi, Sara. It's…um…it's me. I didn't want to bother you, but you said I could call. It's just…I…I miss you. And I love you."
When his voice broke, she felt tears fill her eyes. Without stopping to think about the time, she hung up and dialed Grissom.
"Grissom," he said into the phone.
"Shit. Gil, I'm sorry." After years of careful study Sara could tell by the slight huskiness in his voice that he had been asleep. Her words came out in a rush. "I wasn't thinking. I'll call you later." She was about to hang up when she heard him say, "Wait."
"Sara?" He asked hopefully.
"I'm here." She paused for a moment, listening to him breathe. Her legs moved her toward the couch and she sank down on the cushions. "How are you?"
To his credit, he tried to sound cheerful. "I'm okay. I hope I didn't bother you. I just hadn't heard from you and I was worried."
Again, she found herself fighting back tears. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. It was…just a bad few days." When he didn't say anything she rushed to fill the silence. "Things are better now but I still should have called."
"It's okay, honey," Grissom began to placate her.
"No. It's not okay." Sara sucked in a deep breath. "It's not okay for me to make you worry any more than I already have."
They were both silent for a moment. Finally, Sara spoke. "I got your message."
Sara would have sworn, if it were possible, that she could see his embarrassment through the phone. "I probably shouldn't have done that. I don't want to put any pressure on you. But the house was so empty this morning and…"
"Gil, don't." Sara's hand tightened around the phone. "Don't apologize for being human. I miss you, too. And I love you. Never doubt that."
"That's not the easiest thing to do some days." Grissom's voice was hoarse with all the emotions he was fighting hard to suppress. "All those years I lived in fear of this but I never imagined it would be this hard."
She wanted to talk to him, but hearing the pain in his words was more than she was ready for, and without knowing what she was asking, she said, "Gil, please."
"Please what, Sara?" He felt the anger slipping through the wall he had built and he fought to keep it contained.
She shook her head violently. "I don't know. I just…I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Never."
"Well, life's funny like that." He snapped as the fury rose on a tide of bitterness and self-pity. His control was slipping and he made a futile attempt to divert the storm that was coming. "Look, can we talk about something else?"
Sara's eyes slid closed and she drew in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. "I don't want to talk about something else. We've ignored this for far too long. I want to get this all out in the open. I want you to tell me exactly how you feel. And then I want to put it behind us so we can start to heal."
Grissom was silent for so long that she was beginning to think the connection had been lost. His voice was tight and controlled when he finally said, "I can't."
"Yes you can." Sara's jaw clenched tight in frustration. "You were so close just a minute ago. You can tell me. Let it out."
"Don't you think we're past talking about it?" Grissom gave a harsh laugh.
"No, I don't." Her expression was confused as she thought about his question. "I think being able to talk to each other, even about painful things, is what keeps a relationship alive. I don't ever remember my parents talking."
"We are not your parents." Grissom's anger boiled over. He hated being compared to her father in any way. "But you are so afraid of becoming like them that you can't see the truth. You can't see what we had."
Swallowing convulsively, Sara fought against the pain from his words. "Had?"
"Don't nitpick, Sara. You know exactly what I mean." His words were short, clipped.
Sara sighed. "You're right. I do know what you mean." She fought to keep her voice steady. "It's just that you've never been the best at communication."
"Me?" Grissom couldn't believe the woman who broke his heart with a letter had the nerve to say he didn't communicate. "At least when I needed to leave I told you. Face to face."
"You're right." Sara could feel the flush of shame coloring her cheeks. "You did."
"And I told you when I'd be back." He went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I didn't run off without even consulting you. I didn't buy a one way ticket to Massachusetts and ask you just to accept it."
He was sitting on the edge of the bed running a hand through his hair. Hank, sensing his master's agitation, studied Grissom curiously, whimpering at the angry words.
"It's not a one way ticket." Sara's anger rose to match his. "I'm coming home."
"Are you, Sara? Are you really?" Grissom pushed off the bed and began to pace, his empty hand clenching and releasing unconsciously. "Do you think the new and improved Sara will still want me?"
For once, Sara was at a loss for words. She couldn't even begin to process what she'd just heard.
Grissom's heart was pounding and his breathing was rapid. He knew that any chance for a rational conversation was lost. He moved to the closet, yanking jeans and a clean shirt off their hangers. "You know what, Sara? I can't talk about this anymore."
"Gil, please don't be…" Sara's attempt to calm him was cut off.
"Not now, Sara." He moved back to the bed, dropping the clothes he was carrying. "I need to go. I'll call you later." With that he snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the bed.
In under a minute he was dressed and shoving his wallet in his pocket. Then he and Hank were in the car. Not sure about his destination, he merely drove, letting the miles unwind behind him.
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
And so the ritual begins. I remove the phylacteries from the chest in the corner of the room, the smell of worn leather and aged parchment escaping from its confines. Placing the larger of the two leather boxes on the inside of my left arm, just above the elbow, I begin to slowly and methodically wind the straps around my forearm and down over my hand, ending with the wrapping of my middle finger. As each pass is made around my arm I recite the words of the scriptures contained within, scriptures written millions of years before. The blessings pour from my lips and my heart is filled with such peace that I can hardly hold it all.
I continue the sacrament, placing the other box in the center of my forehead and tying the ribbons behind my head. Carefully, I arrange their ends to dangle over my shoulders, turning them so that they lay against my chest as dictated by law. My lips continue to move, forming the words of the ancient language. The scriptures are a reassuring whisper against the cool air of the room. My mind and body work as one, my knees bending at the appropriate times as I supplicate myself before God. I am lost in the familiarity of my actions.
When I was younger, I couldn't see the beauty of Judaism. Now I appreciate the nuances, the meaning behind each and every prayer. I understand that following the laws of God can bring favor to a man. I know this because I am one of the blessed, the chosen. Just like my ancestors, I will use the power of Jehovah to defeat my enemy. As I stand here before Him, I ask for His strength and His guidance. I pray for perseverance and wisdom. I claim the laws set out millions of years ago as my own and I look to them for guidance. I then give thanks unto the Lord for all that he has done for me because I must never forget how my lifecould have been different.
I can see the room around me begin to reassemble itself. Little pieces coming into focus one pixel at a time. When I glance up, I realize that almost two hours have passed. I am hungry and tired but my heart is at peace. I remove the phylacteries and store them in their trunk, all the while thinking of my next move in the battle of wits I have entered into with Dr. Grissom. With a smile I remind myself that I don't have to worry. I will prevail because I am doing God's will.
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
The miles sped by unnoticed. Subdivisions gave way to the lights of the strip. Those, too, soon faded into the distance. The scenery changed from hotels and fountains and flashing lights to hard packed sand, mesquite bushes and Joshua trees. But none of it penetrated Grissom's brain.
He had thought the anger would fade if he could just get away from the emptiness house. Instead it seemed to grow with every click of the odometer. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that his forearms actually ached from the strain. Still, he couldn't relax, he couldn't regain his equilibrium. His focus remained turned inward, driving merely a subconscious activity. His mind replayed the conversation with Sara. All the things he should have said, could have said, instead of hanging up wound through his tired brain.
Would it have been so wrong to tell her you want her to come home? That you miss her? And if she can't come here you want to go to her?
No.
So why didn't you just say that?
Because I'm afraid to give her that power even after all we've been through.
Who are you trying to kid? She has always had that power over you.
How can I be this fucked up? Why can't I just tell her how I feel?
A fresh wave of anger washed over him when he realized that by not pulling her closer he was pushing her away.
Visions of the past assaulted him. He could see Sara, ten years younger, pony tail bouncing, smile lighting up the room. Sara, standing there with the Vegas sun turning her hair to molten chocolate, smiling at him like no one else in the world existed. Sara crying. Sara laughing. Sara fighting. Sara underneath him with heat in her eyes. Sara loving him when he couldn't even love himself. Sara with her body broken. Knowing that he loved each and every one of her many forms only added fuel to the fire.
He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and hear the blood rushing in his head. His whole body burned with the heat of his fury. Hank, who normally rode with his head resting on Grissom's shoulder, was curled up in the back seat, eyeing the man warily as the anger rolled off him in waves. Suddenly, as if he weren't torn enough, Natalie joined the fray; her dreamy smile and empty eyes, the fucking song that made his skin crawl and his heart break into a million pieces.
Maybe it would have been easier to deal with if Sara had died in the desert.
What?! How can you even think that? What kind of man are you?
I didn't really mean that. I couldn't live with myself if she had died out there. Died out there because of me. No. Even if she left me I'm so thankful she's alive. I can't imagine living knowing that she was never coming back.
Is that why you keep holding on to the idea of her returning?
She is coming back. I believe that she's coming back.
Grissom tried to rein in his thoughts, to make some sense of his anger so that he could regain control. But his mind wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't turn off. Time passed unheeded. He drove and thought and railed against everything that was wrong in his life. He railed against his own inadequacies, Sara's childhood, the Great Rainone who couldn't love one daughter as much as he did the other.
It wasn't until he saw the sign for Red Rocks that Grissom realized where he had been heading when he got in the car. He slowed down and made the turn into the park. There were a few cars dotted around the asphalt but he didn't bother with parking. Instead, he crossed the small area and nosed onto the access road at the far end.
A mere five miles further and he was there. The indention was the same. The endless acres of sand were the same. Nothing had changed except that the car was no longer there. Putting his vehicle in park, he sat and stared at the spot where Sara had been left to die. He lowered the windows and turned off the engine. The air was cool and dry, the wind occasionally whistling through the sparse vegetation.
He stared at the dent in the earth and images began to unfold across his mind. As if he too could see what had happened here, Hank sat up and gave a sharp bark that trailed off into a whimper. He rested his head on Grissom's shoulder and they both stared through the windshield, as if they were at a drive-in, the two of them watching something that only they could see.
Sara trapped, her hand clutching weakly at the rocky soil. The rain fell, pounding down on her arm, trickling underneath the car, wetting her clothes and her hair and her skin.
Why didn't I realize it was Natalie? Why didn't I figure it out in time?
The weight of the car making it hard for her to breathe.
She's so thin, so fragile. She's so beautiful. How could I have let this happen to her?
The water rose, higher and higher. The car tilted but wouldn't lift enough for her to get out. Her arm, she pulled and yanked and then the bone snapped.
The pain must have been fierce. But she told me it was no worse than she had felt before. I should have seen it then. I should have known there was something going on. But I was so glad she was alive that I didn't see, didn't look. So much pain in her life. How much is my fault? How many times did I hurt her, even when I didn't mean to?
Scrambling and clawing out of that hole. Moving, climbing, away from the flood water. Dripping wet, freezing, scared and disoriented.
All this because of me. Because I wasn't good enough.
No wonder you've been too scared to think about it. You led Natalie straight to her.
The anger was a living thing. It seethed and writhed in his gut. Unable to sit inside the car any longer he fumbled for the door handle. Grissom's movements were jerky when he flung open the door and stepped out. Just as he had the day they found Sara, he moved across the desert and dropped to his knees. This time Hank scrambled out and followed him, pressing his quivering body against Grissom's side as they came to a stop.
Grissom clenched his trembling hands into fists, his knuckles white with the effort. For a long while, he simply knelt there, trying to understand where everything in his life had gone wrong. But there were no answers. Science and logic couldn't help him. And without those two things, he was lost. With his heart pounding in his ears, he tilted his head back and screamed. "Why?!! Damnit, I want to know why!!!!!"
The information on Jewish prayer rituals came from: