Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any of its characters.

A/n: Sorry this is late guys, but it's a long one, and it was pretty intense for me to write, I hope I did it justice.

Special thanks to Aussieforgood, aka Aussie for all her wonderfulness in helping me find my mistakes. You are the greatest! Even if you don't like Monk. :P:P

Chapter 7

The wind was cold as it blew Sara's hair into her face. She stood, staring at the wrought iron gate, she'd been standing there for almost twenty minutes. She shivered as another gust of wind whipped around her. Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, she paced in a circle. "C'mon Sara, you're delaying the inevitable. Either go in there, or leave." The sound of her voice spurred her into action, and she pushed the gate open and began to walk forward. Her steps were slow and measured as she walked among the dead. She read the names off the markers, telling herself that she was just looking for the correct one, but she knew this too was just another delaying tactic. Leaves flitted among stones as if in a game of catch. Stone and marble statues reached into the sky, some like angels ready to take flight to heaven. She dug her hands into her pockets as she walked. She was surprised at how cold the generally mild November weather was. She walked as though she'd walked the path everyday, but it had been years since she'd set foot in the cemetery. Her feet carried her ever forward, images raced through her mind. The happy times, and the sad. She rounded a corner and stopped, finding herself at the place she'd feared to come. Her knees wobbled as she stood there, and she had to sit down quickly on a nearby bench. She read the words on the stone, though they were burned into her mind.

William Fredrick Sidle

Sept. 17th, 1945 – Feb. 9th 1982

Loving father to Sara Bella and Brian William

A life too short, a life too hard, we hope that you can now rest in peace.

Only a year older than she was now, his life had been taken in a moment of sacrifice. Sara's heart pounded as she remembered that day, the day that her foolishness and thoughtlessness killed her father.

Sara stared ahead silently, her eyes focused on the undulating couple on the stage. The music swelled as they pulled apart, only to glide back together as if drawn by magnets. The music ended abruptly and the crowd erupted in applause. Sara blinked, realizing that the dance was over. She brought her hands together, applauding loudly. She felt a tug on her arm and she turned to see her friend Angela looking at her. She had tears streaming down her face, but her smile stretched from ear to ear. She grabbed Sara by the arm and pulled her through the crowd. They ran out of the building, their laughter blown away by the gusting wind.

"Oh my God! Thank you SO much for bringing me to this." Sara sighed, twirling around in the parking lot. She watched the stars in the sky as she twirled, the cold wind whipping her hair around. She stopped and looked around at the crowded lot. She couldn't remember a time where she'd been so happy. She had a friend, a real friend, not someone who said she was your friend, but turned her back on you when someone more popular came along, and she'd been allowed to come to the fair today with her, and they'd spent all day riding rides and eating cotton candy. Angela, who had moved to Tamales Bay from Los Angles in September, was unlike anyone that Sara had ever known. She'd ignored all the snide comments that the cool kids had made about her baggy clothes, and her hair that always hung in pigtails down her back. Whenever they started in on her she'd give them a cold glare and continue with whatever she was doing. Sara had been assigned to show her around the school on her first day and they'd struck up a fast friendship. Sara had even been allowed to sleep over at her house a couple of times, and they'd stayed up watching TV, something that Sara didn't get to do at home. Angela had introduced her to the Dukes of Hazard, and they each had crushes on the Duke boys, Angela going for Bo, whereas Sara had a thing for Luke.

Sara felt a thrill at knowing that she was out when she shouldn't be. They'd been at the fair when they'd seen a notice for a dance troupe performing a couple of blocks away. The dancers were Salsa dancers, and Sara had been mesmerized from the first dance, drawn by the fluidity of movement, small touches and caresses that the young Sara had never given thought to. It had stirred emotions in her, previously unknown.

She sighed and glanced down at her watch. She blinked at the time, not believing it. "Oh no! It's after eleven, we told your parents we'd be back by ten." She started to panic, thinking of what her parents, or rather her mom would do if she called and found out that her daughter wasn't snug in bed this late at night.

"Don't worry, my mom and dad always go to bed before nine, and they know that I'll let myself in when I get home. They don't get all freaked out if I'm a little late, and if your parents call they'll just tell them that we're asleep." She took Sara by the arm and led her to the payphone on the side of the building, making their way through the people now exiting the building. They had been given money to take a taxi home, and Sara hoped that it got there soon.

After they'd made the call, Angela turned to Sara. "So, you really liked the dancing?"

Sara grinned. "It was just so powerful. I've taken ballet for the last couple of years, and though it can be fun, it leaves me cold. I only do it because my mom would kill me if I quit. I never knew there was a dance with that much passion in it." Sara felt unable to articulate the feelings that the dances had inspired. "I guess it feels… free, unshackled. Ruled by emotion and, and… I don't know, hope… maybe."

Angela smiled. "I'm glad you liked it. That's what I want to do when I get older, dance with passion and intensity. But if I don't dance, I want whatever I do to be filled with passion for my job. I don't believe you should do something that leaves you cold, you know what I mean?"

Sara nodded, though she didn't know if she did understand. She'd never given much thought to what she would do in the future. If pressed she'd probably say she'd be running her parents Inn, but it wasn't something that she looked forward to. The Inn was her parents place; well actually it was her mom's place. Maybe if her dad had more of a hand in it she'd feel closer to it, but all she ever felt when she thought of it was obligation. She was still mulling this over when the cab pulled up.

The ride back to Angela's house was quiet, they were each sleepy from the long day, and the cab was a warm haven from the cold air outside, so their eyes were drooping by the time the cab pulled up to the house. Sara got out, yawing as Angela paid the driver. Sara wrapped her jacket around her and waited for Angela to find the key. After several moments Angela turned to her and whispered. "I can't find the key."

Sara blinked. "What? Why not?" She looked around as if the key would appear out of thin air.

"I don't know, it's always under this rock." She motioned to the large rock in the flower bed beside the door.

"Well, if it's not there maybe you should just wake your parents." Sara suggested the only logical thing she could think of.

Angela was quiet for a moment then whispered. "I can't do that."

Sara hugged herself more tightly and shook her head, trying to understand. "What do you mean, why can't you do it?"

"Well, what I said is true, and they don't care if I'm a little late, but… but by a little they mean ten, maybe fifteen minutes, not two hours. They don't expect me to be that late."

"But you called them… from the fair, you told them that we were going to see the dance troupe, and that we would be home a little later, right?"

"Uh, well I called, but they said that I needed to be back by ten thirty at the latest." She rushed on to explain. "I knew that they wouldn't know when exactly I came in, and I really wanted you to see the dancers, so… so I thought it was worth the risk."

Sara's mind raced, trying to figure out what they should do, deciding to deal with everything else later. "Well we have to get in. For one it's freezing out here, for another… well that's enough for now. So, when was the last time you used the key?"

Angela was quiet for a moment then said. "Yesterday, I used it to get in after school, and then I went over to your house."

"And what did you do with the key?" Sara asked, shivering.

"Uh, well if I didn't put it back under the rock, I would have put it in my pocket." She hopped around, trying to keep warm.

"So that means it's probably in your room." Sara sighed on discovering that the key would be no help to them.

Angela shook her head. "No, remember, you let me try on some of your clothes and your mom called that it was time for dinner, so I left wearing those denim overalls you gave me. The ones you never wear anymore. Well I left my other jeans folded on that chair in your room, so…"

"That's where the key is, my house." Sara finished glumly, knowing they were at an impasse.

"Is there any way to get into your house?" Angela shivered, and dug her hands into her pockets.

Sara turned and began to pace, thinking. "I don't think so. I might have left my window unlocked, but if I didn't I don't know if there is a way. The doors are locked at nine, and though the guests are given a key for if they get in later than that, we only have one guest at the moment, and she doesn't go out at night." Sara stood still, her breath fogging in the air. "Are you sure you can't wake your parents?"

Angela sighed. "I'm sorry, but if they knew I'd come in this late, they wouldn't let me go out at night by myself for who knows how long, and I don't know if they'd let you come over anymore."

Sara paced a couple of more seconds then turned with a sigh. "Okay, let's go to my house. I think my window is unlocked, but if it's not, maybe I can find another way in."

It was a ten minute walk to Sara's house, but they hurried as quickly as they could, hoping to get there quicker. The wind was howling louder as they walked up to the house. They walked around until they could see Sara's window, and Sara stood back, trying to see how to get into the house. She'd never had to sneak in before and she wasn't entirely sure she would be able to. Luckily her father had been painting the trim on the house earlier that day, and he'd left the ladder lying next to the house. Between the two of them, Sara and Angela managed to prop it up against the back the house, her widow being at the very top. Sara took a deep breath and started to climb. She made it all the way up, having to pause now and then when the wind would whip by shaking the ladder. She reached her window, and took a deep breath before pushing up on it. To her relief, it slid open easily. She climbed in, and tiptoed over to the chair that Angela had left her jeans in. She found them and quickly searched the pockets, finding the key. Sighing with relief, she turned back to the window, and was about to climb back out when she heard a noise at her door. She turned around and found her mother standing there. Sara gasped, and gripped the window seal.

"Young lady, you'd better have a very good explanation for this." Her mother stood there, hands on her hips, fire in her eyes.

"Uh, uh, I… I forgot something…" she trailed off lamely.

"You forgot something? I fail to see what you could need at this time of night, when you should be in bed. Do the Oliver's know you're here?"

"Um, no." Sara's mind was a blank. She stared wide eyed as her mother advanced.

"So what is it you needed?" Laura advanced on her, her hands now clenched at her sides.

Sara's mind raced. "I-I – um wanted to um, show Angela something, and um, I, um didn't think it could wait for uh, morning." Sara stammered so badly that she could barely understand herself.

"And what was it you needed to get so badly?" Laura asked, her voice ominously even.

"Ms.- um, Ms. Jenkins gave us an assignment today, and uh, she was having some trouble with it, so I wanted to get my notebook to show her how to figure out the problems." Sara crossed her fingers behind her back and hoped that she bought it.

"Interesting, but I'm not sure I believe that. You see, earlier tonight I called the Oliver's' to remind you that you needed to be here by nine tomorrow morning, and they said that you were still out. Now, I distinctly remember telling you that you couldn't be out past eight, so do you mind telling me why you were?" Laura clasped her hands together in front of her.

Sara winced. "Well, Angela called her parents to ask if we could stay out a bit later, and they said it would be okay." Sara could see that this argument wasn't going to work.

"And since when do you get to do what someone ELSE says? If I say be in by eight, your butt better be in by eight. Why exactly did you two want to stay out so late, hmmm? Did you meet up with a couple of boys? Did you let some boy touch you? Have his way with you?!" With each syllable her voice grew louder until she was shouting. She grabbed Sara's arm. "Did you let some boy put his hands down your pants?! Did you touch some boy? Wrap you mouth around…"!

"LAURA!" Sara's father appeared in the door, his face contorted in rage. "Let her go Laura." He said, not sounding like the father Sara knew. His voice was cold as steel.

Laura barely spared him a glance. "Stay out of this Bill. Go downstairs, I'll take care of it."

Sara was quivering, freezing cold and not from the air coming in the open window. She watched her father come closer. "I said let her go." His eyes were glued to Laura.

Laura still paid no attention. It was like he wasn't even there. She gripped Sara harder, pulling her toward the door, never sparing Bill a glance. "I won't allow a little slut in my house. You're going to have to learn how to keep you legs closed." She pulled her into the hall, towards the back stairs, but they didn't make it. Bill strode forward and stopped Laura by standing in front of her.

"You won't talk to my daughter like that. Let her go!" His voice had risen, but it still sounded deadly calm. Laura let go of Sara, and gave him a push.

"I said leave this to me. Go to your shop or something." Laura reached back for Sara, who had shrank back against the wall, but her father grabbed her mothers arm before she reached her.

"I can take a lot from you, but you WILL NOT TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!" He pulled her towards the stairs. Sara stood immobilized against the wall. She could hear her mother screaming obscenities at him as they went down the stairs. She could hear her fathers voice too, but not what he was saying, just the cold contempt that vibrated in his voice. Sara shook uncontrollably, she slid down the wall and huddled into a ball, tears streaming down her face. She heard several sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen. Flesh hitting flesh, screaming, furniture being knocked around, and then silence.

Angela paced in the cold, looking up occasionally to see if she could see Sara. She thought she'd seen her at the window, but she hadn't come out. Finally she decided to climb up and see what was taking so long. As she reached the window, she could hear noises coming from inside the house. Cautiously, she clambered through the window, careful to watch out for anyone hanging around. She didn't see Sara, so she crept towards the door, and that's when she heard the yelling coming from downstairs. She slipped into the hall, and was startled to find Sara on the floor, rocking back and forth. She looked up when the noise from downstairs stopped. She cocked her head, listening. She couldn't hear anything. She knelt down beside Sara. "Sara, what's wrong?" She whispered.

Sara didn't respond. She just kept crying, and rocking back and forth. "Sara?!" She said in a harsh whisper. "What is happening?" Still Sara didn't say anything, or give any indication that she knew that Angela was there. Angela reached to shake her, but was startled by a clanking noise from downstairs. Hesitating, she got up and started down the stairs, her knees shaking. She got to the bottom, and peeked around the corner, at first seeing nothing, but then she saw the red dripping down the hall. She looked further in and found Sara's mother kneeling beside her father, who was slumped on the floor. Blood was seeping from the wound in his neck, and Mrs. Sidle was sitting there, staring at him. She must have made a noise without realizing it, because suddenly Mrs. Sidle looked up, and Angela shrank back at the crazed look in her eyes. The look was gone is a second though, and Angela was left to wonder if she'd imagined it.

When Mrs. Sidle spoke, her voice was calm. "Angela dear, I think we need to call the police." She placed a hand on her neck, where a red hand print was glowing against her pale skin. Angela didn't know what was going on, but she knew that Mr. Sidle wouldn't be getting up. She turned and ran up the stairs, running into Sara, who had pulled herself up and was heading towards the stairs. She tried to stop her, but Sara didn't seem to even notice her, and she was stronger than she looked. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she stopped and stared. Mrs. Sidle had stood up, and was talking on the phone to the police. Sara stared down at her father in silence for several seconds. Suddenly she blinked, and seemed to come out of whatever fugue state she'd been in. Her eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in the blood spattered walls, and her mother standing by the phone. Then they returned to her father. Angela covered her ears at the keening wail that came from Sara. It rose in volume until the house was filled with her screams. It was only cut off when she fell to the floor, her mind protecting her from the horrible reality.

Sara blinked and her eyes cleared as she stared down at the stone marker. By the time she'd came to the police were there, and her mom was telling them that her husband had attacked her and grabbed her throat, so she'd done the only thing she could think of . She'd grabbed a knife and stabbed him. She didn't remember how many times, but the coroners report would say that he'd been stabbed at total of six times. Four times in the stomach, once in the chest, and the final cut, the one that had lacerated his carotid artery and would be the one that actually killed him, through his neck. Sara had been numb. Angela had sat beside her, crying. She hadn't left her, and when the police asked her what she'd seen, she'd had to tell them what she'd seen and about the hand print on Laura's neck. The police had questioned the people around town, and they said they didn't see much of Mr. Sidle, but that Laura would be in town a good bit, and from time to time she'd have bruises on her face, or arms, and sometimes she'd limp. Most said that they'd suspected that she'd been abused, but without proof, they didn't feel they should say anything. Years later, when Sara had read the transcripts of the interviews when she'd gone to work for the San Francisco Crime lab, she'd been disgusted. Her father had never laid a hand on her mother, but Laura had arranged it, rather by happenstance or design, that the town would side with her if anything ever happened. Sara sniffed and wiped the tears from her face. "I'm SO sorry daddy. I should have said something. I should have told them that you couldn't hurt a fly, and what living with mom was like." Sara wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. Those weeks and months following his death, Sara had been nearly catatonic. What was going on around her barely registered. The trial, being sent to a foster home, her mom being sent to a mental institution, it had all happened in a blur. Her brother had come home and arranged the funeral, and he was the one responsible for the inscription on the stone marker, but that was the last time she had seen him. She'd thought of finding him since, but hadn't for one reason or another.

She sat there for over an hour talking to her father, reliving the good times, crying over how she didn't stand up for him. By the time she left she felt a little lighter, but wasn't sure she was ready for the next step in her journey. She let herself into the hotel room she'd checked in a few hours earlier. She'd left her phone charging and the first thing she did was check to see if she had any messages, and was surprised to find that she did. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and picked up the bedside phone. It rang twice before he picked up, and when he did, he sounded harassed.

"Grissom." Grissom's voice was terse when he answered.

"Hey, I'm just returning your call. You sound stressed." Sara leaned back against the headboard, and crossed her feet.

Grissom gave a relieved sigh. "God, am I glad to hear your voice."

"You sound stressed." She toyed with the phone cord. "Difficult case?"

"Yes, actually. It's a serial and the guy seems to want to make it personal. But I don't want you to worry, it's nothing I haven't seen before. What I want to know is how YOU are doing."

Sara wanted to talk about the case he was working, and find out just how this guy was getting personal with Grissom, but she knew that he wouldn't talk about it unless he was ready, so she sighed and told him about going to see her father. "It was draining, but I did feel more at peace afterward.

"And, where do you go next?" Grissom asked gruffly.

"Well, now I have to find the courage to go see my mother and confront her with what I feel. She killed my father, and she made it look like he was to blame, when he was just standing up for me." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "But I don't really want to talk about that right now. Where are you right now?"

"I'm sitting in my office, buried under paperwork, waiting for Catherine and Warrick to bring me some news." Sara heard a creak as he leaned back in his chair.

"Well, while you're waiting, how bout we talk about something a little more lighthearted." Sara smiled as ideas raced through her mind.

"Exactly what did you have in mind, Ms. Sidle?" Grissom responded, a purr in his throat.

"Well, Thanksgiving is only a few days away, and it brings to mind how we celebrated last year." Sara stretched out further, fluffing the pillow behind her so that she could be more comfortable.

Grissom was silent a moment, then he chuckled. "Well, if I remember correctly, dinner was a disaster, but afterwards was really nice."

"Well, I was thinking about the afterward. When we snuggled up together on the couch to watch that Monk marathon, but we didn't make it though the first episode."

Grissom cleared his throat. "Hmm, yeah I remember. Pumpkin pie never tasted so good."

Sara smiled, and her voice was husky when she returned. "Well, dinner was a wreck; I had to make dessert spectacular."

"And indeed you did." Grissom murmured

TBC…

A/n: Soy sorry to do this to you, but the conversation will be continued in Masquerade, so you don't have long to wait. :D:D