"Is this okay?"
Sara fidgeted with the seams of her dress, looking uncomfortable as she stared at herself in the mirror.
"It looks fine, honey," he said. "You look very nice."
"I hate dresses," she sighed. "I don't even wear them to court."
"I'd say you should wear them more often, but then I'd have to fight off all the men drooling over your legs," he teased, making her cheeks flush crimson. "Help me out?"
He held out his tie, a subdued one that was navy blue. Sara took it and began to tie it with expert precision, tucking and folding until it was just right. She turned him around so he faced the mirror, reaching over his shoulders to make the final touches.
"Where did you learn to tie ties so well?" he asked, realizing that his ties always looked better when Sara tied them.
"Have a knack for it, I guess," she shrugged.
"Now I know a cop-out answer when I hear it," he replied.
She turned him back around to face her and gave him a saucy look.
"Fine," she gave up. "I dated a law student in grad school, and he dressed up a lot. Happy?"
"Very," he said. "You know what they say, practice makes perfect. His practice…"
"Makes you perfect?" she offered.
"I wasn't going to say it," he winked.
"Well, if you're impressed with the things I can tie with my hands, just wait until you see what I can do with my tongue."
He could do nothing but stare at her in awe.
"What?" she prodded. "I haven't revealed all my cards just yet."
"You amaze me," he said honestly.
He grinned at her, and she smiled back, but a quick flash in her eyes made Grissom see right through her teasing tones and airy disposition. Just as he reached out to take her hand, she turned from him, resting her palms on the bathroom counter and looking down at the faux-marble. He came up behind her, his hands pushing the hair back from her face behind her shoulder.
"You okay, Sara?"
She took a deep breath.
"Yeah."
"You ready?"
She turned to face him, reaching out for his hand, which he gave her.
"Yeah."
They arrived at the church early for the service, but there were still hoards of black-clad people making their way across the front lawns to the open double doors. Fleetingly, he wondered whether Sara's brother had made a specific request for a service and burial, or if someone had made that decision for him. He remembered Sara saying something once about wanting to be cremated herself. As if on cue, Sara spoke.
"Adam was always more religious than I was," she remarked, her eyes fixed on the church. "I was never an atheist, I just didn't know what I believed. I still don't. But Adam, he knew it, and he'd go sing it on the mountaintop if someone asked him to."
She paused, almost smiling in memory.
"It's strange that someone who knew him today would know that about him," she said. "I would have thought he gave up going to church a long time ago."
Grissom reached across the car to put a hand on her knee. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
"Are you speaking today?" he asked her gently. "At the service?"
Sniffling, Sara shook her head.
"Jason asked me if I wanted to, when he called," she said. "I almost said yes, but… I don't even know what I'd say."
"It says enough that you're here."
A few more moments passed.
"We should go," he urged her softly as she nodded.
They approached the church together, hand-in-hand, as Grissom wondered how many of the mourners Sara knew or recognized. So far, no one had come up to her. But he saw that as for the best. They were only feet away from the church's doors when Sara stopped short.
"Honey?"
Their hand contact broken, he held out his palm for her to accept again. Instead, she shook her head and backed a few steps away.
"I can't do this," she said faintly.
"Yes, you can," he urged, going to her and taking her hand as she continued to shake her head. "You can, Sara. You've come this far."
She stared at the ground, blinking away tears until she finally lifted her gaze to meet his, a pleading look on her face. He nodded to her, and put an arm around her waist, the other hand still clasped in hers. They walked through into the church together, and chose a seat in the backmost pew. There was a large framed photograph of Adam at the front of the church, beside a closed coffin. The resemblance between Sara and her brother was remarkable. Though the picture was only from the waist-up, Grissom could tell Adam also had Sara's tall, lean form, dark eyes and pale complexion. He could see the two of them as children, a mess of arms and legs, elbows and knees, scrawny, yet energetic, running around the backyard. Did they even have a backyard? He knew so little of Sara's past and childhood.
They only had to wait a few minutes before the service began, and Sara's hand remained clasped in his the entire time, cold and clammy, yet steady. The priest began the prelude, then the worship, and Grissom kept his gaze focused on the ceremony, but his attention stayed on Sara. So far, she seemed to be holding up. By the time the invocation was stated and Adam's friend Jason stood to give the eulogy, she had yet to shed a tear.
"Adam was a lot of things," Jason began. "A son, a brother, a hard-worker. But to me, he was my friend and someone I could always count on to be there for me, no matter the hour. I, uh… I remember one time a few years ago, I decided that I really, really wanted… a burger. At four a.m. Luck would have it, my car broke down on the way to the In 'n Out. No one but Adam would have gotten his butt out of bed to pick me up."
Jason paused in reflection and glanced around the church.
"Adam was a good guy," Jason continued, his eyes flitting towards Sara before he went on. She shifted slightly in her seat. "I don't know much about the person he was before I met him, but I know he went through some hard times. He never expected that he'd come out a survivor, but in my eyes, he did. The one thing I do know about him, is how much he loved his baby sister."
Sara's hand twitched in his. He glanced at her, and although she wasn't crying, her eyes were red and puffy from trying to restrain the tears. Several of the mourners had turned in their pews to find the woman on which Jason's eyes were resting. Grissom wished he could tell them all to turn back around.
"He, uh, he always said that Sara was the smartest person he ever knew," Jason said. "And he was so proud of her. And I know that if he'd want me to say anything for him here today, it was that he loved her very much."
Sara lost her battle with the tears as they were unleashed and made streaky trails down her cheeks. Her gaze was locked firmly on Jason, and Grissom saw her give him the slightest of nods, in thanks.
"The way Adam left us was sad and unfortunate," Jason went on. "But he wouldn't want us to be thinking about that. He would want us to remember the good times, the laughs, and all the times that he shared with each and every one of you. At his heart, Adam was a giver. Today, give back to him, by remembering him, and smile."
Jason stepped from the podium, and before Grissom could say or do a thing, Sara leaned into him, pressing her head into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her head under his chin. He could feel eyes upon them, but he kept his gaze lowered. Eventually, she pulled her head from his chest, but stayed close to him. He kept one arm tightly around her, and the other clasping her hands in her lap. The funeral progressed through the rest of the hymns and prayers, finished the benediction and concluded. Sara and Grissom stood, hands still clasped, but before they could even make it out of their row, they were suddenly surrounded by dozens of the funeral's attendants, trying to get to Sara to offer her their condolences.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Sara. Adam was a good man."
"You probably don't remember me, but I used to watch you and your brother when your parents were working," one shriveled old lady told her. "You were always so sweet. I'm so sorry, dear."
"You let me know if you need anything, Sara."
Sara thanked each and every one of them, those she remembered and those she didn't, clasping hands, accepting hugs and getting kiss upon kiss planted on her cheek. Grissom stayed near her all the while, not minding in the least bit that many of the funeral guests were eyeing him and the hand that was constantly on Sara's waist. He kept it strong and firm, and gave her extra squeezes when it seemed she needed them. As the church finally emptied, Sara met his gaze and he knew in an instant that she was ready to go. He moved his hand to the small of her back and guided her through the crowd, out of the church and towards the door.
"Are you okay?" he asked her when they were finally clear of the crowd.
"I've said it so many times," she answered dazedly.
"Said what, honey?"
"I'm sorry for your loss," Sara said, her voice dull. "It's so routine, so… unhelpful."
He couldn't think of a thing to say to her in return, so instead, he moved closer to her as they walked in the bright sun. They had almost made it to the car, Grissom's arm wrapped firmly around Sara's waist, his hand resting on her hip, when a voice called out to them, hesitant, but loud.
"S-Sara?"
Sara turned around towards the voice, and a look crossed her face – one that Grissom would not forget for years to come. She stared at the speaker for several moments, obvious recognition on her face, but at a loss for words. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke in a defeated voice.
"Gil, meet my mother."
TBC!