A/N Thanks to Michelle and Jennifer for keeping me at least reasonably honest.

Sara

Our family didn't start out fucked up. I mean, we started out regular, hardworking people. I don't know if it was one thing that changed. Or maybe my mom was shielding us from the ugliness. Anyway, the last good birthday I had was when I turned six. In a word, it was excellent. I didn't have a fancy party. My folks couldn't afford that. What I did have was pizza from Mr. Piers and a homemade chocolate cake. My mother makes the best chocolate cakes. They are fudgy and heavy and have two kinds of frosting. White chocolate for the roses and milk chocolate for the rest. My name was spelled out, albeit shakily in pinkish purple.

Happy Birthday to Sara. We love you. Actually it said we heart you but same thing.

My dad got me a second hand bike from Mike's Pawn and Gun. He shined it up nicely for me and it even had streamers coming from the handles. My brother had saved his allowance money and bought me a horn that had a siren setting. My mom loved it because it was unreasonably loud and she could always tell where I was in the neighborhood. Dad said I sounded like a mini cop.

I loved that bike. Loved racing through the streets, the wind from the lake whipping through my hair and snapping at my ears. We had to pawn it back the next year.

My brother was and probably still is one of the best human beings I'll ever know. He was kind and generous; filled with good intentions and hope for the world in general. Even after all our bullshit, he never gave up faith.

Dad was always a drinker and sometimes he got snippy. It was nothing like the nastiness that came later. It was an old story. The plant closed down. Most of the town followed. Some people moved away. Some wives found jobs in the few offices that were left or cleaning for the rich people that had "weekend" houses on the lake.

My dad drank and wallowed and pushed us farther down the hole.

Mom, tried to do her best by selling her remedies (unfortunately, she gave away more than she sold) and babysitting for the weekend people. She just didn't have any other skills. She never thought she needed anything else. She married her high school sweetheart, she had babies and she kept house. It was the life of my grandmother and her friends.

It would've been a good life, too. Hell, it was a good life.

When the bottom fell out, Mom didn't have any usable skills and Dad blamed her for getting pregnant right before they graduated. He always complained that she had trapped him. The first time he said that, Mom laughed, "First I've heard of that in ten years."

That was the first time he slapped her. The next week he broke one of her fingers. In between, he threw potshots at me and my brother. My brother was-is a wall of a human being. He'd jumped over my parent's slim, sinewy genes and pulled from our sturdy Russian peasant stalk. David Sidle was a big kid. He was tall and wide and was too heavy to carry past his second birthday.

The other kids were scared of him-for a time. The thing was that my brother was unreasonably gentle and achingly kind. He was also a hard worker who would do just about anything to keep the lights on.

That really pissed my dad off. Well, that and the fact that my brother had his head stuck in some book on war strategy most of the time.

"What kind of weirdo kid doesn't want to play sports with that body?"

Davie's mind changed when Mr. Johnson, his gym teacher, encouraged him to join the football team.

"If you keep your grades up, with that and the football, you could easily get a scholarship."

Those were magic words for Davie. He wanted to get out very, very badly. I hadn't gotten that far yet. Me, I just wanted more than 24 hours of peace and quiet.

My father wasn't too fond of me, either. He liked to call me my mother's clone and said I was cute enough, but too smart for my own damn good.

My mother made it clear that protecting me was my brother's first priority. Davie did that well, until he finished his senior year in high school. He was the Jaguar team captain. Oh sure, he was a solid player; a good player, but more than that he was smart and dependable. Davie led them to the state championships.

He got that scholarship to a mid sized state school four states over. It wasn't the only one he got, but it was the one that would take him farthest away. Mom had insisted.

The day Davie graduated (magna cum laud), Mom pressed 300 dollars in his hand and told him not to come home and not to call. He gave me a desperate hug, kissed mom on both cheeks and then he was dust. We all knew why she made him leave early for school. If he stayed much longer, someone would end up dead.

And it would not be Davie.

Mom told him not to contact us. It would only make things worse.

He didn't.

I never went back to school after that summer. Mom was always very sorry about that. It was my birthday. All she could manage was a store bought cake that tasted like cardboard. We couldn't afford the ingredients for her special cake. The expense for "an ungrateful kid" angered my father and he hit me-harder than he ever had, a swift backhanded slap across my cheek and then a punch that nearly broke my nose.

I don't remember everything that happened. Probably could if I tried. All I know is that it ended with birthday cake on the floor and Cain Sidle dead. I can only assume that Mom cut me by accident in the mayhem. Maybe one day I'll work it out.

It wasn't as bad as it looked. Still, there was lots of blood and I had to get stitches. Early the next morning, I snuck out of the hospital and never looked back.

Observation

"I took my stitches out myself," Sara said shyly as Grissom traced the patterns that danced across her stomach.

"Of course you did," he said as he kissed one of the tattoo covered scars. "You did a fine job."

"Ya think?" Sara's hand fanned through his tangled curls. The white was quickly overtaking the dark. She approved.

"You can doctor on me anytime." He turned his face up, glad to see her eyes were vivid and clear.

"What do the tattoos mean?" Grissom asked carefully kissing her soft flesh again.

She tilted her head to the side and asked, "You haven't looked them up?"

"Thought about it," Grissom admitted.

"But..."

Sara was surprised to see his ears turn pink. "I wanted you to tell me."

"Come here" she whispered and held her arms open for him. He complied, enjoying the feel of their connected bodies as he slid up and into her arms.

"They're Japanese symbols for summer and winter. Everything changes. Our lives are constantly moving. Nothing is all bad. Nothing is all good."

Without much thought, but knowing it was completely the truth, he breathed the next words. "You're all good-for me."

OOOOOOOOOO

Gil waffled on how to start the letter. There were so many variables to consider. Finally he settled on the only evidence he had

Ms. Sidle,

My name is Gil Grissom. I'm not sure Sara has mentioned me or not, but I have heard many wonderful things about you from Sara...

TBC