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Chapter 2

"It's your birthday, really? Huh, I had no idea." Sara fakes a confused frown and Shelby rolls her eyes, a glimpse, perhaps, of the terrible threes that Jill has warned her about.

"Yes, you did!"

"Oh, right, now I remember." Sara tries to sit up in the bed, which isn't an easy task with a recently-three-year-old on your chest.

"Do you have to go?" Shelby scoots down onto the floor and puts on her best puppy eyes. Luckily, Sara's had three years of practice and is more or less immune to them by now.

"To work? Yes." She gets up and lifts her daughter into her arms. "Birthday kiss!" Shelby obliges and plants a wet kiss on her cheek. "And you have to go to daycare."

"But it's my birthday," Shelby pouts as Sara puts her down on the floor again.

"Well, look at it this way – you'll get to celebrate your birthday with your friends at daycare first, and then we're having a party here tonight, with Aunt Jill, Uncle Eric, Evan and Aiden, and your friends from the park," Sara reasons. "That sounds good, doesn't it?"

Shelby seems to think about it very carefully for a moment before nodding.

"Good. Now, I need to take a shower and get ready, why don't you watch some Dora until I'm done, OK?" She reaches for the remote to the small TV on the dresser at the foot of the bed, turning it on and finding the right channel. Shelby climbs back into the bed, perching on the end to get as close to the screen as possible, attention immediately fixed. Sara smiles to herself as she goes into the bathroom and turns the water on, the sound from the TV drifting in through the cracked door.

She had heard other parents talk about that instant connection, love at first sight, that you felt when seeing your child for the first time. She had always figured that they were exaggerating. Needless to say, she had been completely unprepared for the rush of love and need to protect that she had felt the second the nurse had placed Shelby in her arms. It had been the most overwhelming feeling she had ever experienced. And what amazes her even more is that it only grows every day. Thinking back to the day she found out she was pregnant, she strips her clothes off and gets into the shower.

She didn't really need to look at the pregnancy test in her hand to know that it was positive. She had known, more or less consciously, for a couple of weeks now. She had just been afraid to take the test, to have it in black and white, that she was in fact pregnant.

Not that she wasn't happy. OK, she wasn't over the moon about the situation, but that had nothing to do with the actual pregnancy and more to do with the surrounding complications. Like the fact that Grissom had hardly looked at her in almost two months. Granted, she had done her fair share of avoiding him, but if she had to, she would face him. Only he would never meet her eyes, would leave the break room within minutes if they ever found themselves there at the same time, made sure to always keep furniture or people between them whenever they had to be in the same space for longer than a few minutes. They hadn't worked a case together in months and, putting all else aside, she missed it. She missed their back and forth during difficult cases, throwing theories around, discussing evidence and suspects. They always worked so well together.

Sighing, she glanced down at the plastic stick before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. OK, now what?

She knew that she should tell him. He deserved to know, right?

But did he really want to?

He had said that what happened between them had been a mistake, something that shouldn't have even happened, something he regretted. What if he thought this, a baby, was an even bigger mistake? What if he didn't want anything to do with them, then what would she do? Or worse, what if he told her to get rid of it?

Realizing that she didn't want to hear him say those words, Sara made a decision. She would do this on her own. She would leave Vegas and her life here behind and start over somewhere else. He never had to know.

There hasn't been a day since then when she hasn't wondered if she did the right thing. One thousand, two hundred and ninety-two days. She's stopped counting how many times she's picked up the phone and started dialing the familiar number, only to hang up half-way through.

Turning the water off, she reaches for a towel and steps out of the shower.

She made a clean break, leaving everything and everyone behind. Nick and Greg tried to stay in touch for a while, but they both gave up when she didn't return their calls and only answered their emails very shortly. She did actually call Nick a week or so after his kidnapping, but the call had been short – he was still in shock, she's pretty sure, about to head back to Texas with his parents for a while, and she was adjusting to life with a newborn, so the barely rekindled connection trailed off. He sent her a Christmas card last year, but that's about it these days. The others… it's not like she can blame them. She didn't give them any reason as to why she suddenly took off, and she made no effort to stay in touch, even when they tried.

It was just easier that way. If she didn't talk to any of them, then she wouldn't slip up or, worse, break down and reveal everything. Which she knew she couldn't.

Now dry, she goes back into the bedroom, where Shelby's still watching the TV intently.

"Mommy, why is Boots blue?" she asks, pulling her eyes from the screen. "He doesn't look like the monkeys at the zoo."

"That's because he's a cartoon, baby. He's not a real monkey. It's like Nemo, he's not a real fish either," Sara explains as she digs through her closet for something to wear.

"OK." Shelby seems satisfied with that explanation, though Sara has no doubt there will be more questions coming. She has an inquisitive and – at times too – curious daughter.

Sometimes it amazes her that her kid can be so smart. Sure, she's not exactly stupid herself, but Shelby definitely gets at least part of her intellect from her father. She's only three, but she's well ahead of other kids her age. During their last quarterly meeting, the manager at her daycare center said that mentally and verbally, Shelby was on the same level as five and six-year-olds.

She started walking when she was only eight months old and said her first word, "mama", when she was ten months. By her second birthday, she was talking in simple sentences, and now, a year later, she's pretty much fluent.

"OK, time for breakfast," Sara announces when she's dressed, turning the TV off. Shelby pouts a little, but obediently follows her out of the room and down the stairs to the living area, where she quickly finds the remote for the TV in that room and picks up Boots and Dora's adventure again.

Sara goes into the kitchen where she gets a box of waffles out of the freezer. Shelby loves chocolate-chip waffles, but Sara doesn't want her eating too much junk food, so the waffles only come out on special occasions. Popping two into the toaster, she starts a pot of coffee and prepares a bowl of muesli with sliced bananas for herself.

The coffee is finished around the same time as the waffles pop up from the toaster, and she pours herself a large mug before transferring the waffles to a plate.

"Do you want syrup on your waffles, baby?" she asks, putting the plate down on the table, and Shelby nods.

"Can I have cho-co-late milk too?" she asks, getting up from her spot on the floor and wandering over. Sara has to suppress a laugh – Shelby loves everything involving chocolate.

"Your wish is my command." She bows deep and Shelby giggles.

"You're funny, Mommy!"

"As I live and breathe, it's Sara Sidle!" Sara feels a smile spread on her face as she turns around at the voice, despite the nervous, sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Well, well, well." She looks him up and down, cataloging the little differences from the last time she saw him. "If it isn't Nick Stokes. Long time no see."

"No fault of mine." He only sounds a little accusatory and Sara offers him an apologetic smile.

"I know, I was a jerk. I had good reason, though."

"Sure you did." Nick nods. "Care to share?"

Sara looks around the Trace lab, which is pretty much deserted, except for two lab techs. She motions for Nick to follow her outside and they go into the empty break room.

"Can I get a proper hello now?" she asks and Nick obliges, pulling her into a crushing bear hug that she returns just as tightly, clinging to him for just a moment.

"I've missed you, Sar," he mumbles.

"Missed you too. More than you know." Sara has to struggle to keep her voice light as she feels a lump form in her throat.

"So, why'd you leave?" Nick asks, pulling back.

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" she manages a small laugh, sitting down at the table.

"Haven't got all day to sit around and gossip."

"I had to," she starts, trying to explain without lying or saying too much. "I needed to get out of there, had to move on, for my own wellbeing. I couldn't do that in Vegas."

"Grissom?" Nick assumes.

It maybe shouldn't be a surprise that that's his first guess, but she did think she was a little better at hiding her stupid, school-girl crush.

"What did he say?" she asks.

Nick shrugs.

"Since you left, not a lot. He's pretty much been keeping to himself, not really talking to anyone. More than usual, even. He holes up in his office most shifts, doing 'paperwork'." He makes air quotes. "We all just assumed something happened with you two."

"Yeah, well…" Sara hesitates again, picking her words carefully so as not to reveal something she can't take back. "Let's just say that he finally pushed me over the edge to where I realized that I couldn't spend my life waiting for him to decide what the hell he wanted."

"I get that." He nods. "To be completely honest, I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence!" She playfully slaps him on the arm.

"So, you weren't really surprised to see me, were you?" he changes the subject.

"Not really, no," she admits.

"Keeping an eye on the conference?" he asks.

"Just on the participants," Sara replies with a smirk.

There's a forensic science conference in San Francisco this week and as soon as she heard, she called the coordinator to find out who would be attending from the Las Vegas crime lab.

"So, Catherine's not with you?" she asks now.

"There was some seminar she wanted to go to, she said she'd stop by later," Nick explains.

"OK. So, tell me what's been going on since I left? I want all the lab gossip." She listens intently as he tells her about the continued rivalry between the day shift and night shift, how Ecklie is still as much of a pain in the ass as he always has been, and Greg and Hodges' prank war.

She's not sure if he's consciously staying away from the one person she simultaneously wants to know everything about and not even mention, or if there's just not much to say.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Shelby, Happy Birthday to you!" the grown-ups in the room sing as the kids try to keep up with varying success.

"Blow out the candles, baby," Sara encourages, and Shelby blows for all she's worth, effectively putting out the three candles on the cake shaped like a butterfly on the table. She beams at the result, and everyone cheers.

"OK, plates this way!" Sara starts cutting the cake, handing pieces to the kids and their parents. When everyone has finished eating, it's time for presents.

"I want this one first!" Shelby announces, grabbing the largest present from the pile in front of her as the doorbell rings.

"You start opening while I get the door," Sara says, wondering briefly who it might be. Everyone invited to the party is already here.

Opening the front door, she finds herself face to face with Catherine.

"Hey!" the older woman greets her with a smile.

"Cath, hi," Sara replies, glancing behind her. "What are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?"

"I'm a CSI," Catherine jokes. "Just kidding, I went down to the lab and asked for you, and the guy at the front desk gave me your address."

"Oh, OK." Sara's desperately trying to figure out a way to get rid of Catherine without making a scene.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asks, frowning.

"Actually, right now isn't really…"

"Mommy, Mommy, look what I got!" Shelby comes running down the hall from the living room, holding up a huge, stuffed Eeyore plushy, almost as big as her.

"That's great, baby. Why don't you go finish opening the presents, I'll be there in a minute, OK?"

"OK." Shelby's about to turn on her heel when she spots Catherine and her focus shifts. "Hi. Are you coming to my birthday party too?"

"Can I?" Catherine asks, and Shelby nods vigorously. "Even if I didn't bring a present?"

"That's OK." Shelby says magnanimously. "But we already had cake."

"I don't really like cake anyway," Catherine replies, and Shelby's eyes grow wide.

"You don't like cake?" she asks, as if the mere idea that someone might not like birthday cake is completely crazy to her. And to be fair, it might be, to a three-year-old with a serious sweet tooth.

"Nope. But I would love to see the rest of your presents."

"OK. It's this way." Shelby disappears down the hallway in the direction of to the living room and Sara opens the door wider so Catherine can enter the apartment, bracing herself for the questions that must be coming.

"I'm guessing that was Shelby?" Catherine assumes as she steps past her.

"How did you…"

"That guy at the lab told me you left early," Catherine interrupts. "I said that we couldn't be talking about the same person, the Sara Sidle I know would never leave work early. He said that that was probably true, but that today was Shelby's birthday."

"Oh." Sara kicks herself mentally for not thinking of the possibility that Catherine or Nick would stop by the lab after she left. She should have… done something. What, exactly, she's not sure – it's not like it's normal to ask someone to not mention your kid to people who are supposed to be your friends.

"So?" The older woman raises her eyebrows in a questioning look.

"Later."