Author's Notes: Muchos gracias to my always-appreciated beta, PhDelicious, as well as anyone out there who's reading this. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my story. It means a lot to me.
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The Last Embrace
by Kristen Elizabeth
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December 1985
"Go ahead, Sara. Open it."
She looked down at the brightly wrapped package on her lap, then back up at the woman who had handed it to her. There was excitement in Cassandra's eyes; her foster mother was actually thrilled about giving Sara this present.
More than anything, it confused her.
It was no secret that she was a difficult placement. Fourteen was too old to be cute, and very few families wanted to deal with the emotional baggage that came with a teenager who'd witnessed what she had. Within a matter of weeks, the families would get sick of her, coming up with any excuse to get rid of her.
She never smiles.
We can't seem to get her to connect with us.
She has nightmares that wake the younger children.
We just find her too…complicated.
And just like that, she'd be sent off to a new home. She tried to make the best of every placement…seven so far…but every time she was shuffled to a new house in a new neighborhood with a new school, it got harder to pretend to be normal.
But Cassandra had never asked her to be perky or cute or anything. She'd welcomed Sara into her home with open arms, given her a room of her own, bought her new clothes and school supplies, and respected her privacy. She was warm without being smothering. Friendly without treating Sara like a child.
It wasn't what foster homes were like. It wasn't what foster parents were like. Sara kept waiting for her caseworker to show up and announce that she'd be moving. Everything she'd arrived with was still in her suitcase. Nothing good ever lasted.
"Sara?" Cassandra looked at her husband, but he was buried in his newspaper. He was all right; he didn't try to catch her coming out of the shower like one foster father had. Sometimes Sara wasn't sure he cared if she lived there or not, and that was just fine with her.
Sara slipped the red ribbon off, and tore at the paper. She frowned at the picture on the box that now lay bare in front of her.
"It's a Walkman," Cassandra said. "It plays cassette tapes."
She knew exactly what it was; every rich kid at her current school had one. They flaunted them in front of the other kids like diamonds. Sometimes Sara found herself staring at someone listening to one. With the earphones playing music just for them, they always seemed to be in their own world. She envied them. They could block out everyone else, even if just for the length of a song.
But now…that escape had been handed to her. It was probably the best gift she'd ever received. But Sara was afraid to say anything, afraid to even look up at Cassandra. She didn't want her foster mother to see what this meant to her. Because when you let people know what you were really feeling, they could use it against you.
"I don't have any cassettes," she finally said.
"Well, there are still packages under the tree with your name on them," Cassandra said gently. "Do you like it?"
Sara swallowed and allowed herself just a peek at Cassandra's face. "It's neat. Thanks."
Cassandra slipped off the couch and kneeled next to Sara. "If you don't like it, we can take it back and get you something you want."
"No!" She bit her lip. "I mean…it's okay. This is okay."
"Sara…" The woman took her hand. "I know that the holidays are hard. You're probably missing your mother and your brother…your father. You have every right to be feeling whatever it is that you're feeling." She tucked a wavy lock of hair behind Sara's ear. "You know, I haven't had anyone to buy presents like this for since my son died. So really…you're making my Christmas special just by being here."
"I like the Walkman," Sara whispered. "Thank you."
Cassandra kissed her forehead. "I'm very glad. And you're very welcome."
She pulled away. She couldn't help it. Reflexes. Cassandra seemed to understand. Later that night, Sara fell asleep to Tears for Fears.
Welcome to your life…there's no turning back…
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Sara wasn't surprised when Catherine finally paired her up with Grissom. She was only surprised that the woman had been able to hold off as long as she had. It had been too much to hope that their supervisor would have the tact to consider their history before making assignments. She liked to meddle too much.
"Gil, Sara. 419 in the desert." Catherine handed Sara the slip of paper. Noticing the look she got in return, she added, "Sorry."
"Who's primary?" Grissom asked.
Looking back and forth between them, Catherine raised her hands. "I'll leave that up to you."
"Fine," Sara snapped. "But I'm driving."
Warrick glanced at Greg. "Glad I don't have to be in that car," he muttered. Greg nodded his agreement.
Twenty minutes later, they left the lights of Vegas behind as they started into the dark desert. The silence in the Denali was overwhelming. Sara took one hand off the wheel and turned on the radio. She'd no sooner settled on a station than Grissom reached over and turned it off.
"You could have just said that you didn't feel like music."
Grissom shifted in his seat to see her better. "How are you doing?"
Frowning, she turned her head just enough to see him. "I'm fine. Why?"
"I was just asking." He paused for a moment. "Have you had a sonogram yet?"
"Next week." Sara shook her head. "Why are you being so chatty?"
He blinked. "Is my talking bothering you?"
"Frankly, yes, a little. I used to have to pull teeth to get you into a conversation." She gripped the steering wheel tightly. "This must be a post-Reese evolution."
Grissom sighed. "Can we please not talk about…"
"Oh, I get it. You want to talk, but just as long as you get to talk about what you want to, and nothing else." Sara nodded. "Now that's the Gil Grissom that I know and…"
"And what?"
Instead of answering, she turned the radio back on.
They arrived at the scene thirty very long minutes later. Detective Vartann was waiting for them. As he ran through what little was known about the victim, Sara couldn't shake the feeling that Grissom was watching her. A glance at him confirmed this.
It was going to be a very long night if she let this go on. So when Vartann was done, Sara picked up her kit. "I'm going to start at the perimeter and work my way in. Gris…you stay with the body."
She wasn't sure if doling out tasks made her the primary, but all she could think about was getting away from that blue stare. And if she had to take the more mundane of the jobs that needed to be done in order to escape, so be it.
Her first few laps around the search area yielded little more than a few wayward footprints that were probably from the hikers who'd found the body.
Sara was fifty yards away from the main source of light, with only her Maglite guiding the way when he spotted something in the rocks ahead. But as she went for it, she tripped. And the next thing she knew, she was heading straight for the hard ground. In mid-air, she twisted to protect her stomach. Her hip hit first, and the shock of the impact jarred her whole body.
She was too stunned, and too embarrassed, to call out for help. She lay on her side for a second, catching her breath from the adrenaline rush. Slowly, she started to pick herself up. Her gloves had kept her from scraping up her hands too badly, and her jeans had saved her legs from the same fate.
Sara cursed herself. She'd be sore as hell in the morning.
An hour later, she limped her way back to the center of the scene with nothing to show for her time but the bruises that were probably already forming. David had arrived and was in the middle of loading the body into the coroner's van.
Grissom looked up from his notes. "David estimates he's been out here ten to twelve hours." He stopped when he noticed her limp. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You're limping."
Sara sighed. "I stepped down wrong. Twisted my ankle the wrong way. Nothing major."
He set his clipboard down. "Let me take a look at it."
"Look, it hurts more to stand here talking about it than it would if I were moving, so can we just…"
She was cut off by a shooting pain in her abdomen. Unconsciously, her hand shot out and grabbed the first thing she could reach as she doubled over. And it happened to be Grissom's arm.
"Honey?" He covered her hand with his other one. "What is it?"
Sara shook her head, squeezing her eyes tightly against the pain. There was a warm wetness at the center of her body that she could feel slowly soaking into her jeans. When she opened her eyes and looked down, all she saw was red.
Grissom looked down at the same time. "Oh god…David!" He put his arm around Sara, supporting her before she collapsed. "I've got you…I've got you, honey. David!"
The junior coroner ran over to them. "What's wrong?"
"She's bleeding." His words were frantic. "She's pregnant."
David hesitated little more than half a second before his medical training came rushing back to him. "Sara, when did this start?"
"Just now." Her teeth chattered with fear. "I fell…out there. I thought I was okay…"
"There's pain and bleeding?" he asked. She nodded. "Okay, let's not panic, all right?" He looked at Grissom. "It could be any number of things, not necessarily a miscarriage."
Sara sucked in a breath. "No…no, it can't be…I can't lose this baby…" The pain had her practically on her knees. "God…no, please!"
David took her hand. "Sara, I need you to calm down. Take deep breaths. We're going to get you to the hospital, okay?" She nodded. "Okay. Grissom, let's get her lying down in the backseat of your car. You take her straight to the hospital, and I'll take the evidence in with the body."
"Come on, honey," Grissom said. But Sara couldn't seem to make her body work. He didn't pause. He gently lifted her into his arms and carried her to the Denali.
"Gil." She clutched at his collar as he helped her into the backseat. The last time she'd called him that, they'd been in bed the night before he left for that fateful trip to New Orleans. "This can't be happening…"
His hands cupped her face. "Honey, you're going to be fine. You and your baby. I promise."
Tears streamed down her temples. "I can't lose this, too. I just…can't. I…can't!"
His lips touched hers softly. The kiss was nothing but chaste reassurance. "I'm not going to let you down. Can you trust me?"
She gulped for breath, nodding. "I never wanted to stop."
Grissom ripped out the emergency blanket they kept stored under the front seat, and draped it around her. "We need to keep you warm. And you need to keep talking to me. Understand?" His hand lingered on her cheek before he ducked out of the car and closed the door. A moment later, he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.
Sara rested both hands on her belly and closed her eyes against the jostle of the Denali over the rocky ground.
"Sara," Grissom's voice was firm and insistent. "Talk to me, honey."
She ran her tongue over her dry lips. The sticky wetness below her waist was still fresh and warm. She was still bleeding. And with every second, she could feel the tiny life inside of her slipping away to be with its father.
"Nick," she whispered. "Help us…"
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To Be Continued