A/N – Okay, a nice long chapter. I think maybe Sara and Grissom will be going home soon.
Disclaimer – Give me a quarter and I'll buy one.
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That evening, they made their way back to Laura's house. Standing on the front porch, Grissom quietly frowned as waves of tension began to roll off of Sara. Before knocking, he reached down and squeezed her hand. "I won't tell you to relax," he said, and when he turned back to the door, he added, "Just remember I'm here, and I'll always be here."
Grissom raised his eyebrow in surprise when Laura answered the door after barely ringing the bell. "Please, come in," she offered, stepping back to give them room. "Dennis is in the living room," she continued, leading them into the room Grissom remembered from the previous night.
After quick introductions were made, Sara asked, "Where's April?" Over the past couple of months, she had become fond of her step-sister, and found she enjoyed spending time with the young, vibrant college student. It amazed her that this lively, active young woman had been raised by Laura. Sometimes, when she wanted to really admit it to herself, Sara felt a tinge of jealousy. However, jealousy couldn't possibly stand up to April's effervescent personality.
With a fond smile, Laura replied, "She's in the kitchen, helping me with dinner. Would you like to join us?"
When Grissom received a pleading look, he just smiled. Sara and a kitchen were never a good combination, as he had discovered on numerous occasions. She delivered a look of her own when he blandly said, "Don't burn anything, dear."
"Hi, Dennis," Sara muttered, being led away, as if to her funeral.
Failing at controlling his grin, Grissom took a seat when Dennis waved him to it. He took stock of Sara's step-father. Dennis appeared to be in his mid to late sixties, trim, and tall. He stood several inches taller than Grissom. Gil flinched when realized he had the same sweater in his closet, and wondered if he looked like an aged, retired professor when he wore it, as well.
"So you're Sara's husband," Dennis murmured. Suddenly feeling like he was being placed under the microscope, the steel trap shut down on Grissom's face and he went into passive resistance mode. Smiling, Dennis said, "Please… take no offense. I've just become fond of Sara these last couple of months. She's a remarkable woman, much like her mother."
"Yes, she is," Grissom quietly replied.
"I'm going to ask you something personal, so feel free to tell me it's none of my business if you wish," Dennis started. When he had Gil's full attention, he asked, "Why didn't you come here with Sara?"
Grissom sat back in his chair, and debated what he would or could talk about. "That's not an easy question, and there isn't an easy answer," he finally replied. When he received nothing but silence, he continued, "I don't know how much Sara has told you, or how much you've wanted to hear. Neither one of us expects life to be fair. However, it can be unkind and cruel at times."
"You've both seen a great deal of it in your jobs," Dennis replied.
Thinking about their line of work, Grissom nodded before matter-of-factly saying, "If not us, then who will stand for them? Who will stand for the abused, the hurt, and the dead? Most people go about their lives, and don't understand the toll it can take. You don't just do the job – you are the job. It's part of what defines you."
"And Sara couldn't do the job anymore," Dennis quietly inferred.
"No, she couldn't," Grissom concurred, then added, "She needed to come here to deal with her own past. It's something she felt she needed to do on her own, and I had to respect that."
Both got lost in thought before Dennis said, "I think she may be close to going back, though – to the job."
Grissom's eyes sharpened, so Dennis explained, "When she first came here, she seemed… a little lost, like someone looking for meaning to their being." Chuckling, he continued, "She also reminded me of a warrior, ready to do battle. She made it very clear up front that she was here on her own terms, and if we didn't want to meet those terms, we could all go to hell and die a fiery death." Pausing, he added, "She may not have said the words, but the look in her eyes said more than enough."
Grissom said, "Good for her. She's always been one to stand up for others – identify other people's needs – she needed to stand for herself." Pausing, he studied the older man, and added, "I think she's needed people to accept her, and it seems you have."
With a somber face, Dennis quietly looked at the kitchen door, as Sara's and April's laughter filtered through. Leaning a bit forward, he quietly said, "I asked Laura to marry me over a decade ago. I knew what had happened, and why it had happened. However, she's an amazing woman, with a talent for empathizing. Not having Sara in her life has always left a gaping wound in her. Having Sara here these last couple of months has been… liberating for all of us. It's been nice for April to have a sister."
When Grissom smiled, Dennis curiously asked, "What?"
Gil's reply surprised them both, when he said, "Laura comes across as a bit fragile. She can be tough as nails, though, can't she? She's survived months in a mental institution, years in jail, and since then she's probably dealt with being stigmatized by others as a murderer… I wonder what Sara will do when she realizes she's a lot like her mother."
As Dennis roared with laughter, the kitchen door opened, puffs of smoke came filtering out, and the fire alarm beeped extraordinarily loud. When Sara emerged, she rolled her eyes, and said, "I told them not to have me cook. They keep trying to teach me, though."
Standing next to her husband, she leaned in and murmured, "We may be ordering pizza if they can't manage to fix the disaster I created."
A pizza delivery later, the five of them sat around the dining table. Grissom had been pleasantly surprised in meeting April, and found her to be charming, engaging, and extremely energetic. "So, Sara said you are in college. What are you studying?" he asked.
"Math and computer science majors, and a minor in physics," April quickly replied. Tilting her head a bit in thought, her long blond hair curved over her shoulder, and she absently pulled it back. Physically, April reminded him of the stereotypical sorority girl – all laughs and fun, with no real substance. However, she was anything, but that when you spoke with her.
With a smile, she said, "At first, I was generally a shocker to my professors. They seemed to initially assume that because I'm in shape and blond, I'm not that bright." Laughing, she added, "I fully intend to graduate Magna Cum Laude."
"What do you want to do with your degree?" Grissom asked, his curiosity peaked.
"I thought about writing video games," April said. "However, hearing Sara talk about the work she's done, I'm thinking I might take a couple of video forensics courses next year," she added. Taking a bite of pizza, she thoughtfully chewed before continuing, "I volunteer two nights a week at the community center, and in the summer I work with the youth program. I like giving back to the community that raised me. While I could make some damn good money making games, I want… it's hard to explain."
Dennis looked right at Grissom when he paraphrased Gil's own words, "You want to stand for people who can't stand for themselves."
"Exactly," April replied.
Grissom noticed Sara getting quieter and quieter as April talked about her goals. He reached under the table and squeezed her hand. When he looked in her eyes, he could see the fear surge from her and into the room. Time seemed to stop, as they looked, touched hands, and he felt the tremors flow through her. The room fell silent, and they spoke in silent conversation.
Finally turning her attention back to her step-sister, Sara quietly said, "April, be very sure working around crime and criminals is what you want, because it takes a piece of you that you will never get back."
"She's right," Grissom concurred. Squeezing her hand one more time before releasing it, he addressed the young woman. "Even the lab techs, who usually don't see the victim or the suspect, aren't sheltered from the agony that the victim feels. Sometimes, it hits so hard, you feel like crawling into a hole and dying. Yet you can't. Every day, you get up knowing that someone is going to be beaten or raped or mutilated or killed. Every day, you go to work, with this knowledge that someone needs answers, and you have to provide them." Feeling a surge of fatigue, Gil sat back in his chair.
Sara could feel the weariness emanating from her husband, so she took over the conversation, "At the end of the day, you are expected to step back and let go of the victim. It may seem cold and callous, but if you don't… if you give every victim a piece of yourself… you burn out, and you lose perspective." Looking at the table, she murmured, "I lost perspective, but I'd lost myself long before I ever became a CSI."
It was Grissom's next action that convinced Laura that Grissom was right for her daughter.
Without hesitation, he leaned over, kissed her temple, and quietly whispered, "You're still here. I'm still here. And as warped as our family back home might be, they're still there, too. They miss you." Closing his eyes, Grissom could feel the tension rise in his wife, and used a hand to rub her shoulder until she leaned into him. The two of them had been riding the edge of fatigue for so long; they didn't know any other way to live, so they just held for a few moments – eyes closed and finding solace.
"I'm glad you're here," she said with a full Sara Sidle smile… the one he'd always loved to see.
"I'll think about what you said," April told them soberly. She then addressed Sara with, "How much of what happened when you were a child has influenced and harmed you, though? I don't think I could be a CSI, but if I could find a way to help with my skills, I need to do it. Mom taught me that." She nodded towards Laura.
Trying to lighten the tenseness in the room, Laura stood and smiled. "Let me get the dishes, and we can have coffee in the living room," she said. Looking at Grissom she asked, "Would you care to help me?"
Picking up the plates, he followed Laura into the kitchen, and began rinsing.
Standing back, she studied him. She hadn't been sure what to think when this man had shown up. The fact that he was significantly older than his daughter had surprised her. However, when she'd watched them together, she recognized that in a lot of ways, her daughter was older, too. It made her ache in a way that only a mother would recognize, and knowing she was a significant cause of it, made the ache burrow deep.
"She loves you," Laura softly said, "and from what I've seen, I don't need to ask if you love her, as well."
She stood beside him at the sink as he finished rinsing the last plate. "Will you tell me how you met?" she asked.
Grissom contemplated the question, and from her tone realized she was asking more. She wanted to know how they ended up together. Wiping his hands on a towel, as she busied herself with making coffee, he finally said, "I feel like I've known her forever. We met years ago, here in San Francisco, at a lecture I was giving on forensics. She fascinated me from the start. I asked her to come to Las Vegas."
Shaking his head, he sat on the stool at the counter before he continued, "I knew she wanted a relationship. Hell, I wanted the relationship, too. I was her boss. She was my subordinate. I didn't see how it could work, but she was always… there. For awhile, I think I regretted bringing her so close, where I couldn't touch her in the way we both needed."
"When did you decide it was worth the risk?" Laura asked.
Grimacing, he replied, "I started thinking that direction when she was nearly killed by a man in a mental institution. She'd had problems controlling her anger, lately, but we'd started talking. She started talking to me. Then one day, we're working a case, and this man has a something at her throat and is about to slice her jugular. They were locked in a room together. I couldn't do anything. I froze. When she came out of it, a small nick on her throat, she told me she wasn't about to let her past determine how she reacted to cases anymore. She was going to finish it. All I could think was 'That's my girl. Fight your way out of it.' It's an image I live with constantly, though."
When she put a cup of coffee in front of him, he continued, "When our friend Nick was kidnapped and buried alive, I realized I couldn't keep fighting the inevitable. We started re-establishing this friendship we'd once had, and it progressed from there. We've been together for well over two years. It all comes back to feeling like I've known her forever."
"You're in love with her," Laura murmured, a wide smile gracing her face.
"Yes," he replied, a boyish grin on his face.
As they walked out, Grissom watched his wife talk animatedly to her young step-sister. There was an affection evident, which had been denied her entire life. When he sat down beside her on the couch, Sara smiled at him. For the moment, her eyes were alive and dancing with humor.
"April's been telling me blond jokes," she laughed, and added, "I need to pass them on to Catherine."
Cups of coffee were passed around. Once everyone was settled, Sara gripped Grissom's hand, and he could feel her coiling into herself again. She needed to ask the questions to lay to rest those overwhelming childhood fears.
Laura offered, "Dennis and April can go out for awhile, if you like," to her daughter.
Looking at her step-sister and step-father, Sara shook her head, and said, "Dennis already knows what you did, as I'm sure April does, as well. If April really wants to go the route she's thinking, maybe it's best she stay. However, I'll leave it up to you."
April looked at her parents, and somberly said, "I don't know the details, and maybe I should stay. All right, mom?"
Laura nodded, and then restlessly stood. Opening a cedar chest, she pulled out several items and set them on the coffee table: a baby blanket, a tooth, and a folder. Picking up the soft wool, she handed it to Sara. "I wrapped you in this when I brought you home from the hospital," she said, a soft sad smile on her face. "This is the first tooth you lost. It was fairly loose, so you started wiggling it, until it finally just fell out," she said, handing the tooth to Sara.
Finally, kneeling beside the coffee table, Laura flipped open the folder. Sara's eyes began to dilate, and thunder roared in her ears, when she saw the picture lying on top. For an eternity, all she heard was a thin buzzing, becoming louder with each passing second, until everything began to tilt and swirl.
When her breathing became shallow, Grissom pulled her up, and started her walking around the room. "Breathe, honey. Breathe," he repeated with each step. When she stumbled, he walked her out onto the front porch and into unconstrained surroundings. Worry crept into his throat, although no one from the outside would have seen it in his expression. Stony-faced, Grissom walked her and walked her. He'd witnessed this before – the shock. He'd never seen it with her, though. Sara always stood. She may have gotten shaken before, but she stood firm.
Her hands were so cold; he gripped them harder, as he led her. Pulling her into his embrace, he flinched as her hands struck out, scratching and clawing, as she tried to get away. Now shaking her, Grissom started yelling, "Sara, stop! You have to stop!" His face firm, he shook her a couple more times, until her knees buckled, and he lifted her. Sitting down on the bench swing, he held Sara until the bitter weeping began, and rocked gently as she turned to him for comfort.
"Oh God," Laura tearfully whispered, "What have I done?"
For over an hour, the couple sat on the bench swing, and rocked, until her fears receded enough to allow her brain to process. Eventually, she said, "Are you sure you want to be married to me?"
On a humorless chuckle, he replied, "I'm married to one of the bravest, most compassionate women who ever lived. Neither one of us is easy to live with, but we seem to do okay together. Why on earth would I not want to be married to you."
"I'm feeling kind of like an idiot now," she replied, and for the first time got a good look at the scratch she'd placed on his neck. "I did that?" she asked, and when he just grinned at her, she laughed and whispered, "I think I've done worst in bed." When she kissed him, he relished the feel of her, and held her tighter, until the tilted world balanced.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked, leaving his features neutral. This needed to be her decision.
"No, Gil. I can't. I need to finish this," she said. Looking into his eyes, she was reminded a thousand times over why she'd fallen in love with him. He may tend towards being quiet and reserved, but if anyone ever bothered, his eyes showed the true power of the man. "I really, more than anything, want to go home. Our home," she quietly sighed as she leaned her cheek against his. "I really need to finish what I started here."
Slowly, he stood, with his wife in his arms. When she grinned and said, "Your back is going to kill you tomorrow," he laughed. Walking back into the house, the steel mask settled over him again, and they sat back down on the couch.
"I threw the picture away, Sara," Laura said, her voice pitched with anxiety.
It was part of the file, so it was part of the case, and it wasn't the picture that had bothered her, but the memory. "Please go get it," Sara requested. When Laura hesitated and looked at Grissom, he gave her a sharp nod. Within moments, Laura returned with the image.
Closing her eyes, Sara felt Gil's hand on her arm, and he whispered, "Stop and just see the victim. Don't see your parents, see a stranger. That's what he is to you. He's a stranger. It happened a long time ago. It can't hurt you. Okay?"
With a quick nod, she slowly opened her eyes, and looked at the photograph again. He was wearing a plaid shirt – button down. Picking up the photo, she began looking at the details of the scene, with a trembling hand. Suddenly, she dropped the picture and closed her eyes.
She murmured, "The blood all over the carpet isn't in this picture. There was blood everywhere – he didn't die right away. He bled out, and he crawled from the hallway to the living room. There was a trail, where the largest blood pool indicates he finally stopped right inside the living room. There's another blood pool in the hall, where he laid for awhile, gathering back some strength. In the end, he died just a foot away from the telephone. He was asking for help."
When Laura's eyes snapped up to Sara's face, she felt her very life force begin to drain out of her. She glanced at Dennis, then at April, before settling her gaze on Sara again.
"Sara, honey… how do you know he was asking for help?" Laura asked.
In a bare whisper, she replied, "I was hiding in the hall closet. When the worst of the noise stopped, and there wasn't screaming anymore, I came out. I saw it and heard it."
Grissom pulled Sara into him a little, and she smiled mirthlessly when she told him, "I was hiding, but I hid in the wrong place. I watched him crawl, and I did nothing. I watched him die, and I felt relief… and fear," she said. In a hesitant whisper, she looked at her mother and said, "I was so afraid of you. I saw you, covered in blood, and I was afraid you wanted to kill me, too."
Her face ash, Laura tremulously said, "I thought you were at Rachel's. You were spending the night." Silent tears tracked down the woman's face, as Dennis laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Shaking her head, Sara replied, "We got into a stupid fight, so I came home. I'd just walked in, and I could hear the screaming, and I saw you fighting, so I hid. And when…" she faltered, "when it happened, I ran and ran until I was back at Rachel's. And I cried when I begged her to let me stay, and I scared her. I know I scared her, because she was hugging me tight and told me I could stay. I was shaking, and then the police came… and she never broke her promise not to tell…" she left off.
Tears pouring down, Laura began to reach her hand up, and pulled back. "I don't know what to say or do," she finally said. Looking at her husband, she rasped, "I've done so much damage. I didn't know how much damage I'd done."
"I didn't say anything," Sara suddenly said, "I heard him calling for help, and I didn't do anything." Looking at Gil, she asked, "What does that make me?"
Holding her tight, he murmured, "It makes you a survivor. Think about it. How often have we had kids experience things this bad or worse? How often have we left those kids to the counselors, because we knew the trauma it would cause to relive it? How many times have we seen the looks on kids' faces that have experienced this, and done nothing?"
Pulling back, he looked in her eyes, when he asked, "Tell me this – have you ever blamed a child for not acting?"
Shaking her head, she indignantly replied, "Of course not. Kids aren't responsible for the adults around them."
With smug satisfaction, he said, "Precisely."
"Our job has always been to see the evidence through to the end, and not judge. How can you possibly judge yourself for something that is considered acceptable and understandable?" he asked. "How can you possibly expect me or anyone else to judge you for it."
"It's a part of the shame I've always lived with," she murmured, every part of her body suddenly aching and raw.
The dark circles under her eyes stood out against the pale skin, and he said, "Follow the evidence, Sara. See where it leads you. I can guarantee it won't lead you to the end you anticipate. You're too close to this case."
Sara sighed, and suddenly felt in her element. She understood cases, and she understood how to work them. Smiling, her eyes closed as she leaned in him, she said, "The evidence takes it back to the parents. Facts: Both abused drugs and alcohol. The male figure dominated the house with fear tactics, usually involving physical abuse. The female figure became submissive, trying to disappear. The child became the target on many occasions. Standard MO for domestic abuse, where the wife enabled the abuse to continue. There are a multitude of common scenarios, and only one that ends well. Case 1: Family stays together and abuse continues, Case 2: Abuser kills those he or she abuses, or a target of the abuse kills the abuser, Case 3: Abused family members leave the situation, and Case 4: Family is killed by abuser, who then turns the weapon of choice on himself."
"Very good, you remember the basic principals. You also remember we see these cases every week if not every day. How often do we get that happy ending?" Gil asked, closing his eyes, and settling into a typical conversation in the Grissom household. The irony struck him that they were talking about her case in the same way they'd made a game of talking about other cases.
"In general, fear is the lead emotion in the household. The victim of abuse often uses the excuse of loving someone, and it plays a part. However, fear of the unknown is a strong influencing factor. Another major factor would be the victim's feeling of self-worth," Sara intoned, and continued to add factors into the list.
As they bantered the facts of domestic abuse back, and forth, the other occupants of the room became morbidly silent. Like a show, they watched the volley of words, and could only imagine other scenarios they'd done this with. Eventually, Grissom and Sara had exhausted the topic, each finding some nugget of new information gleaned from the other, and they opened their eyes and smiled at one another.
"We haven't done that in awhile," Sara said. On a sigh, she added, "I miss playing that game with you. I forget how much it centers me when I have to deal with the victims." As the exercise faded away, and they came back to themselves, Sara sat forward, and looked at her step-sister.
She quietly said, "Do you understand now? Do you understand the risks involved? Cases like this happen all the time in our lives. I've seen children raped and murdered by parents. I've seen teenagers beaten and abused. I've seen husband and wives beat and stab each other. But I've also seen wives get help from the resources available. I've seen children recover and flourish. There are good sides and bad to working in forensics. Make sure you really know what you want, before you make the decision."
April looked at Laura apologetically, when she said, "I can't imagine what got you to that place. However, I see the pain it's caused Sara. If I can do even some small thing to help, I want to do so. I don't know if I'll end up in forensics or not, but if this is where I decide to go, I'll deal with it."
"Just don't hide," Sara said. Her face expressionless, she added, "I've hidden away for so long, I sometimes feel like nothing more than a vapor – a ghost."
When she looked at her mother, she wanted to ask why she'd killed him. Sara wanted to know why at that particular time had she stab him. She hadn't meant to ask, "Was it my fault again?"
On a sob, Laura finally reached up and gathered Sara into a hug, feeling her daughter stiffen at the embrace. Even after all these months, Sara didn't allow herself to get too comfortable with Laura. It was something her mother had come to accept. "I'm sorry," Sara murmured in a monotone voice. "That's not the right question."
"Maybe it is," Laura whispered, fiercely. Shaking her daughter slightly, she frowned and said, "We always blamed you for our faults, because we couldn't blame ourselves. You took the worst of it. You took beatings meant for me, and I let you. You were the one that were given cruel words. And in the end, you were the only one innocent in all of it."
Wiping at her eyes, Sara stood and held her hand out to Grissom. "I need to walk," she said, and gripped his hand. Turning back, she said, "We'll be back in awhile," and set off down the street.
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A/N – Ahhh… a nice long chapter. I'm sure it deserves a nice long review, don't you? Hit the little button down there. Yep, that's right. Put the mouse pointer right over it, and click. Now, type away. Thanks!