A/N: A very special thanks to Cropper, LosingInTranslation, Mingsmommy and Superlibn for the awesome beta! Love you all!
December 20, 2007
The clackity-clack of the wheel on the shopping cart seemed to match the rhythm of the canned music as Sara pushed the cart up and down the aisles of the grocery store. She found herself walking either faster or slower, depending on the pace of the Christmas carol playing at the moment. Head bobbing, Sara checked things off her list as she placed them in the cart. Her mind couldn't focus completely on the task at hand. Instead, her thoughts kept wandering to the upcoming holiday.
Not once since her first holiday in foster care had Sara imagined spending Christmas with her mother. Actually, she had given up that dream the day her father died. And holidays as a foster child were full of forced cheer and cheap gifts and tears shed in secret. They were days filled with too many people, but never the right ones. Those years were followed closely by her years at Harvard, years when her friends went home to spend time with their families and Sara stayed at school. Years of waiting tables at Christmas, just so that she didn't have to be alone. Years spent turning down invitations because Sara Sidle didn't want anybody's pity. By the time she was back in San Francisco it was easier to volunteer for work rather than sit in her lonely apartment. And her time in Vegas was just a continuation of that story. Until two years ago.
Two years ago had been her first Christmas with Grissom. Two years ago they had both been just a little giddy with the idea of having someone to spend the holiday with. They had picked out a tree and decorated it, then made love with the colored lights flickering over their naked bodies. They bought gifts to wrap and had taken great delight in drawing out the anticipation. That Christmas was the first time Sara could remember the holiday without the cloud of fear, or anger, or sadness.
Now, she was here. Strolling through the aisles of the local market, Sara grinned at the disorganized list Laura had given her. It puzzled her that some people didn't take the time to put their list in some kind of order. Onions and sweet potatoes and cheese. Milk and flour and fresh apples and cranberries. It was obvious that her mother was planning a traditional Christmas dinner. But Sara wasn't sure how she really felt about that. Despite any progress the two of them had made, she still didn't think of the woman as family. That moniker was reserved for Grissom and Hank and the handful of misfits who had made her part of their lives.
Shaking her head to clear it, she reached for the pint of heavy cream that was on the list. Tossing it into the cart, she moved on. She was in the process of checking a dozen eggs for cracks when her phone rang. She used one hand to fish in her purse. Pulling it out she glanced at the caller id and her heart flip-flopped in her chest.
Flipping it open, she brought it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Sara," Grissom's voice was soft, but determined. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," she sighed. "I've missed you."
His deep chuckle warmed her. "I've missed you, too." He took a moment to listen to her breathe. "Let's not fight anymore. I don't want to fight with you."
Sara set the eggs down in the cart and swiped at her eyes. Smiling through the tears, she nodded. "Okay."
Grissom's sigh was so heavy that she could almost feel it gust against her ear. "That was the second most frightening thing I've ever done."
"Second?" She laughed despite the seriousness of the moment. "What was the first?"
"Kissing you for the first time," his reply came without hesitation.
Sara smiled at his response. "Was I really that scary?"
"Oh yeah," his voice caressed her and she really wished she wasn't standing in the dairy section of a supermarket. "Besides, I knew that once I kissed you, I couldn't fool myself anymore that you were just a friend."
"Ah," she teased. "So, you were straddling the fence?"
He was silent for so long Sara was afraid she managed to upset him again. Then he spoke in a firm, steady voice. "For way longer than I should have. But I've never been so glad to fall in my life."
Clearing her throat, Sara swiped at the next round of tears. "You know, if I you keep making me cry, people are going to start staring at me."
"So, where are you?" Grissom's question was met with a quiet laugh from Sara.
"I'm at the supermarket. Picking up some things for Laura."
"That sounds positive. Your buying groceries for her."
Sara shrugged her smile fading. "I guess. I just don't know if I want to do the whole traditional celebration thing."
Grissom's stomach clenched. Up until that moment, he had been holding on to some faint hope that she would come home to him for Christmas. "Oh. So, you're spending the holidays there?"
"Do you want me to come home? For Christmas?" Sara hoped her words didn't sound as needy as she felt at that moment. Just one word from him and she would be on her way back to Vegas.
"I want you to do what you need to do," he said after a long pause. "If…when you come home I want it to be for good. Forever."
Sara swallowed heavily at his words. Sometimes she couldn't believe the position she had put them both in. She never imagined that she would be the one reassuring him. Neither had she imagined that she would run away like a belligerent teenager in order to find herself. But, here she was.
"I'm coming home, Gil. Never doubt that."
"I try not to." Clearing his throat, he pressed his fingers to his eyes and tried to massage away the ache that was building there. "Do you feel like hearing about work?"
Sara's heart leapt in surprise. This was the first time he had mentioned the lab to her at all. And she was amazed at how much she missed it after a month away. "Of course I want to hear about it. What's going on?"
Sara tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she began walking along the refrigerated section, adding sour cream and cheese to the items already in the cart. She listened to his voice, letting the familiar cadence of the words wash away her worries, as he told her about the latest cases and the people she had left behind. She made her way to the registers at the front of the store while he began talking about a file that Doc had brought to him.
The cashier rang up her items while she listened to Gil lay out the facts. Sara could clearly understand why he thought the women were being murdered. And as she heard about his meeting with Dr. Malachi Rosenthal her instincts began screaming that the man was hiding something. She paid for her purchases and allowed the bag boy to take them to the car so that she didn't have to juggle the phone and the bags and the cart. Finally, she was settled behind the wheel and Grissom was coming to the end of his story. She started the car and turned on the heater to ward off the chill of the December day. But instead of leaving the parking place she settled back in the seat and turned his story over in her mind.
"So, you think this doctor is killing the women?" Sara's mind was running just below warp speed. "Like an angel of mercy?"
"I've been doing some research." He ignored her snort of laughter. "Usually, this type of killer either has a hero complex or has had a very traumatic event that triggered the behavior."
"Since the women are dead, I'd bet on an event." Sara turned that over in her mind. "You need a warrant."
"I need a reason to get one." Grissom sighed. "I hate this. I hate knowing that a crime has been committed and not being able to do anything about it."
Sara thought for a moment, unsure of how to respond. It had been a very long time since she had seen Grissom so convinced that there was a crime without any evidence to support his theory. Unbidden, a picture of young, passionate Grissom filled her mind. And she realized that she had missed him just as much as she missed the older, more reserved man she was talking to. She knew that he still had that kind of passion in him. She had experienced it firsthand. But he never let it color his work anymore.
"So are you going to look into his background?" Sara tried to keep her voice neutral. "Maybe if you know more about him you can find something to help you prove murder?"
Grissom's sigh was loud and long. "I'm not sure. I need to figure out how he's killing them. If I can do that then I can worry about why."
Sara smiled at his stubbornness. "Sometimes, Gil, the why is just as important as the how."
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Grissom closed the phone and a let his head fall back against the couch cushions. Just hearing Sara's voice had lifted his spirits and he couldn't stop smiling. He missed a lot of things about her, but one of the things he missed most was having someone to bounce ideas off of in times like these. He missed the way her mind worked. He missed her compassion and her desire to understand the why behind the how. She was a great criminalist because of her mind, but she was a brilliant criminalist because of her heart.
His eyelids were heavy, the sleepless nights catching up with him. Now that his mind and heart were at ease about Sara, his body was demanding that he rest. The television was playing quietly in the background, Hank was snoring from his spot underneath the coffee table and Grissom, phone still clutched in his hand, allowed sleep to overtake him.
He awoke much later with a crick in his neck. Maneuvering his aching body into a sitting position, he rubbed his hands over his eyes and yawned. When Hank raised his eyelids and gave him a baleful stare, Grissom chuckled.
"Sorry, boy. My neck is killing me." He reached for the remote to turn off the television. "I'm going to bed."
Hank merely snuffled and settled his head back on the rug. Suddenly, Grissom caught the phrase 'angel of mercy' from the television and he straightened up. Pointing the remote, he turned up the volume.
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The old house was decorated for the season with yard upon yard of evergreen garland and candles and wreathes. The tree was massive, taking up a quarter of the parlor, and was decorated with strings of real popcorn and candy canes and ornaments designed to fit with the Victorian feel of the house. The overall effect was beautiful, but it still left Sara feeling cold. She longed for the simple tree she had shared with Grissom and wondered if he had even bothered to put one up this year. She knew him well enough to know which side of that bet to be on, and she felt another wave of guilt wash over her.
The thought of losing him was never far from her mind. She knew that she had to go home. She had to make things right between them. If she lost him, all of this was for naught.
"Sara, are you going to stare into that refrigerator all day?" Laura's question broke her reverie.
"Huh?" She turned around, catching the concern in her mother's eyes. "Sorry. I'm just…," she shrugged helplessly. "I'm a little distracted, I guess."
Stepping around her, Laura pushed the door of the refrigerator closed. "You know, I'd understand if you want to go home. For Christmas."
Sara shook her head, but there was no conviction behind it. "I'm okay. I came here for a reason. Gil understands that."
"Does he, Sara?" Concern made the words soft, almost a whisper. "Does he really understand?"
Squaring her shoulders, Sara calmly replied, "Yes. He really does."
Laura's eyes searched her daughter's, looking for the truth. Finally, satisfied, she nodded. "Good." With an absentminded wave, she motioned Sara toward a chair. "Sit down. I'll make us some tea."
With a smile, Sara pulled open the refrigerator again. "I'd rather have a root beer."
Grinning, Laura pulled out a chair. "Me, too. Bring me one?"
Sara set the cold can in front of her mother before popping the top on her own. She took a long drink before sinking into the chair opposite Laura. "Did we have root beer at home? When I was little?"
Slowly, Laura nodded. "It was your father's favorite." She brought the can to her lips and took a sip. "I never drink it. Funny, huh?"
"What else did you guys like?" Sara began to twirl the can around in circles on the table, watching the condensation rings make patterns on the wood.
Laura studied Sara. She was so beautiful and so fragile. Something had driven her here, something she didn't want to talk about. Laura knew that before Sara could go home, she had to come to terms with whatever that was. A sad smile played over her lips and she shook her head slightly.
"We were…normal, Sara." Her voice was steady, betraying none of what she was feeling. "In a lot of ways, we were normal."
Something indefinable lurked in Sara's eyes as she glanced at her mother. "I…don't know if I'd say we were normal." She took a drink, letting the sweetness roll over her tongue. "At least not what most people would consider normal."
It was Laura's turn to study the table, searching for explanations in the wood. "You're right. But we ate hotdogs and went to the beach and the fair and took drives on Sunday. So, no matter what you think, we did normal things."
Reaching out, Sara laid her hand over her mother's. "Doing normal things didn't make us normal. It just made the rest of it worse."