Returning to the city by the bay was always a spiritual experience for Sara. She would breathe in that special san Francisco air and close her eyes tight as she let memories wash over her; dipping her feet in the cool water of the bay while watching the sun go down, riding the rickety trams, seizing every single second for fear of wasting her life, learning to surf and building bonfires on the beach, catching fireflies and sipping coffee with her now husband Mr Gil Grissom.
A smile tugged at her mouth as she pictured how they were back then, how the touch of his hand had sent her emotions into overdrive and her heart into turmoil, how she had spent the rest of her life completely under his spell.
The golden gate bridge came into view as her cab made its way to her hotel. Its might imposing itself on the horizon, the endless stream of cars crossing over it and the waves crashing into the shore at its feet were all so familiar to her it was like stepping back into another time in her life.
She had once called these streets home, she could recall that moment of excitement when she crossed the bridge for the first time on her own, when she cautiously rode on the trams to her first apartment. She could remember the joy that had swelled in her soul when she looked out of her tiny bedroom window and saw the sun setting over the bay. She could remember her neighbour Lenny and his almost obsessive love for the 49-er's. he had once took her to a game, even lending her one of his rather massive shirt's that she actually still had at the bottom of one of her drawers back home. She wondered briefly if he was still there, still supporting his beloved team with every breath he took.
She had always loved the freedom of this city. The laid back California attitude mixed with the eclectic individuality had suited her perfectly. She would spend her spare time reading in various coffee shops, they seemed to sprout out of nowhere and take on their own unique personality.
The cab slowed to a stop outside a fresh white townhouse with huge windows and a sign over the door welcoming guests. This was her go to hotel whenever she came to the city, the owners were the most welcoming and friendly men she had ever met. One of the first gay couples to marry in San Francisco, she had never met a couple more in love.
Oscar was the mother hen of the two; he wrapped her in a bear hug the second she stepped through the door. It caught her off guard, especially considering she didn't expect them to remember her at all.
"Sara Sidle, my sweet little flower…. This can't be good" he prized her bag from her hands and sought out her eye contact. Somehow he always managed to get the truth from her, when she had left Vegas she came here. This place was almost a sanctuary to her and while she had tried to remain stoic in her resolve not to divulge the circumstances of her visit Oscar had somehow managed to get her spilling her soul on the sofa over wine and some divine veggie Sushi.
"I'm fine, I just have some stuff to sort out in town" she smiled a weak half-hearted smile and knew immediately he didn't buy it. He waved to his husband in the bar and guided her into the sitting room with the gentle insistence she was so familiar with.
"Tell Uncle Oscar everything" he sighed, taking the seat beside her and passing her the glass of wine dutifully provided by Tyler.
Tyler was a whisper of a man. He barely made a sound as he shifted through the hotel but he was a gifted chef and could clean like Mary Poppins on performance enhancing drugs.
"My mother is dead. I'm here to handle her estate" she finally admitted.
The words seemed so hollow, they still didn't mean much to her. The impact was yet to sink through her skin. She wondered if she had become so desensitised to death that it no longer meant anything to her but statistics and cases and DNA.
"Oh sweetness I'm so sorry, what happened to her?" Oscar squeezed her leg gently, keeping his eyes firmly focussed on hers. He was looking for the emotion that should have been seeping out of her pores, searching for the tears in her eyes that weren't there.
"She… she took her own life" she stated slowly.
Tyler was suddenly by her side, sinking into the chair beside her and taking her hand with such emotion reflected in his eyes it almost broke her heart.
"My mother committed suicide too…." He whispered "It's hardest knowing that you might have been able to stop it... to change what happened"
She could almost see the guilt gripping his soul, his furrowed brow and tensed mouth aging him somewhat as they sat there in silence for a few long moments.
"I guess I should show you to your room?" Oscar finally stated, stroking her hand one last time before he stood and moved to the door.
She met Tyler's eye before she moved from the sofa.
"It's not your fault Tyler. It's not our fault" she reassured with a sad smile.
He simply nodded and she left him there, staring at his hands with the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. She knew better than most that sometimes the best thing you can do for someone who is grieving is to let them have their alone time. She followed Oscar up the stairs to the top of the house, she always requested a room with a view and this hotel never disappointed.
"Gave you the best room in the house, I know how you love that bay in the moonlight" he winked, placing her bags on the floor by the window. "You remember the rules I'm sure and breakfast starts at 7!"
He grinned and rubbed his hands together before enveloping her in a hug again.
"Thank you Oscar, for everything" she smiled, she loved how homely this hotel felt and how welcome they made her feel. "You know… there are over 100 suicides in San Francisco every year, Tyler doesn't have to feel responsible"
Oscar nodded as he left the room and Sara exhaled long and slow. She crossed the dimly lit room and opened the full length windows, stepping out onto the tiny rooftop balcony with the glorious view of the bay. The sight never failed to take her breath away; it was something you simply couldn't find in Vegas. That city was go, go, go all the time. The serenity of nature simply didn't feature and even although San Francisco was a buzzing bohemian city it still possessed the ability to make her sink into her seat and sigh.
A light knocking at the door broke through her thoughts and she found Tyler on the other side with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. They sat in companionable silence on the balcony, watching the orange sun make its way slowly across the sky until it was almost kissing the surface of the water.
"I barely knew my mother" he began quietly, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "But she called me the day before she died - I refused to speak to her."
Now Sara knew where the guilt had come from but she was well aware that parental relationships could be strained to say the least.
"Why wouldn't you speak to her?" she sipped the drink in her hands, casting her eyes over the tiny stars beginning to appear in the deep blue sky.
"We didn't have much of a relationship. She pretty much disowned me when she found out I was gay… I never took her calls; they were usually drunken rambles and abuse"
"Then you were justified, sometimes it's better to walk away" she said sadly.
She had walked away from her mother for a long time. When she was struggling with her own demons she ignored every call from the hospital, she ripped up every letter. She was lucky that she had learned to deal with her mother before this happened, she was lucky she had been able to salvage something of a relationship with her before it was too late.
"I just wish I could have taken that call, maybe she was calling looking for forgiveness…" tears shimmered on his eyes, threatening to fall any moment.
"Even if she was, would you have been able to give her that?"
Tyler shook his head and surrendered to the tears. It was a little intimidating dealing with someone else's grief like that; she recognised that that was how she should feel. They should be comforting each other, sharing memories and regrets but she couldn't seem to open that vault. She comforted Tyler who apologised before leaving the room. It was genuinely the most she had ever spoken to him.
With an exhausted sigh she threw herself down on the soft bed, satin sheets slipped under her body, fur pillows tickled her fingers and the fresh cotton of the duvet brushed her cheek, it felt like lying on a cloud. She was instantly drifting away, having to force her body off the bed and into the bathroom to get changed.
It would be another few hours at least before Grissom arrived; she cleaned her toothbrush absentmindedly as she caught her own eye in the massive mirror above the sink. She stared at her reflection, wondering if she looked like her mother at all. She had never seen a photograph of her as a young woman, although she would have been around her age when Sara was taken away.
The images she had of her mother back then were always distorted somehow, she would picture coming home from school to find the house a hive of activity and her mother dancing around with a smile on her face but she could never see her tortured eyes. No matter how hard she tried she could never find a whole image of her mother.
Genetics predicted that she probably did look a little like her mother, they had the same hair colour. Her mother always let her hair flow freely down her back, sometimes twisting delicate braids into it or lacing daisies through it. She had a vivid image of tying daisies in her mother's hair one sunny afternoon; she must have been about 5 or 6 years old and so contented and happy. It was one of the last memories she had of a happy time, it had all gone downhill from there.
A shiver snaked up her spine as she continued to stare at herself, with a sigh she twisted her hair into a hairband and went back into the bedroom. The bay was still shining in the distance, the cool breeze drifting through the open windows suddenly making her feel cold and uncomfortable.
Pressing the doors closed and latching them together she checked the bedroom door was locked and glanced at her cell phone, a message from Robyn blinking in the dim light. She couldn't help but smile at the image of Greg sleeping soundly beside little Joel, he would make a great father one day. He had a natural ability to bond with young children and a sentimentality that lent itself to being a loving, nurturing father.
As she felt her body sink into the bed the last thought that floated through her mind was her own father, she often wondered how he would feel about her life choices. Would he be proud of her achievements? Would he approve of her husband? Would he be disappointed that she hadn't followed his footsteps? Would she even care?
It was easy to create an unrealistic memory of someone when they weren't around. Her father had never been a massive part of her life but the few memories she had of him were happy ones. That could always be down to the traumatic way she had lost him, holding onto good memories and supressing bad ones was a defence mechanism. One that she was incredibly talented at.
She drifted off into a torturous sleep, soothed by the sound of the waves and the lavender scented pillows. As the sun filtered through the thin curtains and birdsong filled her ears she found herself waking slowly and naturally, something she had never done in Vegas.
A steady knock at the door forced her to climb from the soft sheets and approach the door, the form of her husband shadowed the doorway and the tension that she hadn't even realised had been present in her body for the past two days escaped her in a long drawn out sigh. She collapsed into his arms, breathing in his scent and clinging to the warmth of his body and she finally felt the loss that had been evading her. She finally felt the tears straining at her eyes and the loss filling her soul.
She finally felt the emptiness she had been waiting for.