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Chapter 6

"What's that?" Shelby asks as they pass the Eiffel Tower, or, more accurately, the replica.

"That's a copy, but a much smaller one, of the Eiffel Tower in France," Sara tells her and Shelby nods like she knows exactly what she's talking about.

"Why is it here?" she continues, and Sara ponders the question for a moment. Why is there a replica of the Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas? And all the other copies of great sights from around the world, what are they doing in Sin City? Is it just delusions of grandeur, people with more money than they know what to do with trying to one-up each other?

"I'm not sure," she says after a moment. "Maybe someone wanted to be able to see it, but they couldn't go to France, so they built another one here."

"Oh." Shelby returns to looking out the cab window. After another ten minutes or so, when they've left the glitz and glamour of downtown behind and are gliding down residential streets, she apparently gets bored. "Are we there yet?" she asks in a whining voice, and Sara chuckles, looking out the window to see where they are. At that moment, the cab turns onto Catherine's street.

"We're here," she tells Shelby when the cab stops outside Catherine's house.

"Yay!" Shelby exclaims, clapping her hands. Sara laughs again at her obvious excitement, before getting out of the cab and rounding it to open the door on the other side.

"Hey guys, you made it." She looks up to find Catherine a few feet away, a welcoming smile on her face.

"Hey Catherine," Sara greets, lifting Shelby out of her car seat before expertly unhooking it from the car with one hand, the other in a firm grip around her daughter's wrist to keep her from taking off. The cab driver is kind enough to help with their bags, putting them down on the sidewalk next to her. She thanks him and pays for the ride, and he drives away.

"Was the flight OK?" Catherine asks, grabbing the two large suitcases and heading for the house. Sara follows with Shelby and the car seat.

"As OK as it can be with an over-excited kid," she says with a shrug, releasing Shelby's hand when Catherine has closed the door behind them.

"So, Shelby, do you like Las Vegas so far?" Catherine crouches down to get on eye-level with Shelby. The little girl nods a little before moving closer to Sara and hugging her leg.

"Tired, baby?" Sara ruffles Shelby's hair.

"Mmm-hmm," she mumbles in response, the excitement of the day apparently getting to her, and Sara lifts her daughter into her arms.

"Can I put her down somewhere?" she asks Catherine.

"Sure, we've gotten the guest room all ready for you." Catherine leads the way down a hallway to the last door. "Will this be OK?"

"This is more than OK, Cath," Sara says gratefully, looking around the room. There's a queen-sized bed against one wall and the rest of the room is filled with a child sized bed, a dresser, and a desk. "You didn't have to get her a bed, you know. We could have shared."

"Well, you said you weren't bringing any furniture from San Francisco, I figured she'd need a new bed anyway," Catherine says with a shrug. "Don't worry, you can buy it from me if you want when you've found a place."

"In that case, thank you." Sara offers Catherine a smile before walking further into the room and putting Shelby, who's fallen asleep by now, down on said bed.

"This is the closet," Catherine says quietly, depositing the suitcases by a door before opening it to show her an empty closet. "But I'm afraid you'll have to share the hall bathroom with Linds."

"That's fine, no problem," Sara says as they leave the room to let Shelby sleep. "Speaking of, where is Lindsey?"

"Hell if I know." Catherine sighs. "The mall, or possibly the local pool. If what she tells me has any semblance of truth in it, that is."

"It can't be that bad," Sara replies, following her into the living room.

"I guess it could be a lot worse," Catherine agrees. "She hasn't brought up the tattoo thing again, hasn't come home drunk yet, I haven't found cigarettes or any harder drugs in her room, and to my knowledge, none of her body parts have additional holes in them, so I'm counting that as a win."

"I can't wait until Shelby's a teenager," Sara says sarcastically. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

"Oh, it's not all bad," Catherine hurries to assure her. "We get along a lot better now than we did a few years ago when I was, apparently, the most embarrassing mom in the history of the world. I think most of her rebellious phase is over, thank God."

"That's good."

"Yeah." Catherine nods. "But I have to tell you, I'm glad you guys will be here for a while – now she knows she has to come home every night."

"Are you sure she's OK with looking after Shelby?" Sara asks for the fiftieth time since Lindsey agreed to watch Shelby while Sara and Catherine are at work. "I mean, she must have better things to do, she is sixteen."

"Believe it or not, there actually isn't much to do at night in Vegas when you're under twenty-one. And since I confiscated her fake ID last summer…" Catherine shrugs. "As long as she gets either Friday or Saturday off every week, which won't be a problem, she's fine. And it's not like she has to do much, just be there if Shelby wakes up during the night."

"OK, just checking," Sara replies. "Again."

"Well, you can relax," Catherine assures her. "Again. Besides, I'm sure you'll have plenty of offers to baby-sit once the guys meet Shelby."

"Yeah," Sara agrees absentmindedly, her gaze escaping out the window for a moment.

"Sorry, sensitive subject?" Catherine asks.

"A little, I guess." Sara shrugs. "There's no way they won't be at least a little pissed at me for not telling them, is there?"

"I'd have to say no," Catherine agrees easily, but she does offer a smile. "But when they see that adorable little girl of yours, all will be forgiven."

"You think so?" Sara asks, insecurity audible in her voice.

"Of course," Catherine promises. "Look, the guys love you, you have to know that, and they will love Shelby too. They were upset when you left, mostly because they didn't understand why, but they're all thrilled that you're coming back. Trust me, it's all Greg's been able to talk about since he found out."

The last sentence makes Sara smile, despite the churning in her stomach.

"All of them?" she asks, leaving the unspoken name hanging in the air between them.

"All of them," Catherine repeats firmly. "I mean, at least I think he's excited to see you, I'm not as good at reading him as I used to be. But he's been a lot more accessible over the last week, taking part in the everyday work at the lab for the first time in ages. I even managed to drag him to breakfast after shift the other day, which hasn't happened since you left."

Sara considers Catherine's words for a moment. She hopes the other woman is right, that he will be happy to see her. At least at first…

"How do you think he'll take it?" she asks after a moment.

"Good question." Catherine sighs. "I mean, it'll be a shock, but you must have figured that out by yourself, that's a given. He won't be happy that you didn't tell him, that's for sure, but other than that… it could really go either way."

"Either way how?" Sara asks.

"Either he'll be furious, or he'll understand," Catherine expands. "No matter how he reacts initially, I think he'll do the right thing."

"Yeah, I'm not doubting that, that was never the issue," Sara replies with a sigh. "I'm just not sure if I can deal with having him in my life if he never forgives me. If he hates me for what I did."

She's been thinking about that a lot, in the last few weeks. What to do if they can never get back to at least the friendship they had when she first came to Vegas. If he can't get over her lies, if they end up two strangers trying to co-parent.

"He could never hate you," Catherine assures her with more conviction than Sara can feel in that moment. "That much I can promise you. As for him not forgiving you… I guess that's just the risk you'll have to take. Not to sound harsh or anything."

"I know." Sara offers a crooked smile.

"Look, if you want me to guess?" Catherine continues. "He'll be mad for about five minutes, until he realizes that he only has himself to blame. What happens after that… well, that's up to the two of you."

The words make something stir deep inside Sara, feelings she's long since pushed down, suppressed, ignored, but never managed to actually get over. She hasn't dared think about them, not even after she decided to come back. Her focus has been, and remains, her daughter. Shelby's innocent in all of this, and she deserves a father that doesn't blame her for something that was never her fault. Or a father that considers her entire existence a mistake.

But if he doesn't, then what? If he forgives her, embraces Shelby with open arms, becomes a part of their life? She'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she would hope for more.

But one thing at a time.

"So, when are you going to talk to him?" Catherine asks when Sara hasn't said anything for a long moment.

"I was actually thinking about going over there later today, after Shelby wakes up. If you're OK with watching her for an hour or so?"

"Sure, no problem," Catherine replies. "Lindsey should be home pretty soon; they can get to know each other while I get dinner ready."

"Thanks, that would be great. I want to talk to him before we accidentally run into each other or something, and give both of us some time to figure things out before we actually have to work together again," Sara says. "So, distract me for a while. What's new at the lab? What's happening in your life."

Sara takes another deep breath and raises her hand to knock on the door in front of her for the fourth time. She's been standing outside Grissom's townhouse for five minutes, trying to work up the courage to actually knock on the door. Once again, she chickens out and lowers her fist.

Taking a step back, she tilts her head back and looks up at the sky.

"You can do this," she mumbles encouragingly, losing herself in the endless blue sky of Vegas for a moment. "Just knock on the door. It's easy. Knock on the door. Knock. On. The. Damn. Door."

Taking another breath, she looks at her watch. She really has to get herself together soon – even though it's Saturday and neither Grissom nor Catherine have work tonight, she did promise to be back for dinner at six. With a determined look on her face, she knocks on the door before she has a chance to change her mind again. Holding her breath, she waits for some sign that he's actually in there.

After two minutes – which feel more like two hours – without a sound, she decides that he's not home. Maybe he went into the lab even though he's off the clock, Catherine did say that he spends a lot of time there these days, even on his days off. Feeling satisfied that she at least tried, she turns to walk back to Catherine's car, which she borrowed to drive over, when she hears the lock turn and the door open behind her.

"Sara?" He sounds surprised, and maybe a little… happy to see her? She doesn't dare examine that thought closer as she turns to face him, pasting a smile on her face.

"Hey," she says, surprised and relieved that her voice doesn't give away how nervous she really is.

He looks mostly the same as when she left, a little thinner maybe, a little more gray in his hair and beard. He's wearing a t-shirt and a pair of too long sweatpants, bare feet sticking out at the bottom, and she realizes that she must have woken him up.

"You were asleep, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she quickly apologizes. "I can just come back later, tomorrow maybe?"

"No, no, I was just getting up anyway," he assures her. "Would you like to come inside?"

"Thanks." She offers another weak smile and walks past him into the house. He closes the door behind them, and they stand there in silence for a moment, carefully not looking at each other. He's the first to snap out of it, motioning for her to follow him into the living room.

"I didn't think you would be here until next week," he notes, gesturing for her to sit down on the couch opposite the armchair he has chosen himself.

"I'm not starting work until next Monday, but I wanted to get settled before that," Sara explains, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. "So, how have you been?"

"Good, I've kept busy with work," he replied.

"Good, that's good." She nods, looking at the floor. An uncomfortable silence settles over the room.

"This is stupid," Grissom says after a few minutes, breaking the silence. "We used to be able to talk, I don't want things to be awkward, especially not if we're going to be working together again."

"I know, I guess I'm just a little nervous about coming back here, how people will react," Sara replies. "I know that I hurt a lot of people when I left the way I did."

"Yeah." He nods and from the look in his eyes, Sara realizes that he's one of those people, something she hadn't really considered. She figured he'd be happy to not have to see her every day, not be reminded of the 'mistake'.

"I'm sorry," she half-whispers and he shakes his head.

"It's not your fault, I understand why you left," he says, even though there's no possible way he could. Most likely, he's referring to his brush off, to saying that it never should have happened. He probably thinks he hurt her feelings enough she couldn't be around him anymore. "Considering what happened, I don't blame you. I'm the one who should be apologizing." He looks up at her, eyes soft, and for a moment, she thinks that maybe. Maybe they can get a second chance.

"It's OK," she assures him, trying out a smile and getting one in return.

"No, it's not," he replies, shaking his head. "It's far from OK, but there's really nothing I can do except apologize."

"I guess not," she agrees. After all, apologizing doesn't make the words magically disappear. She can forgive him and move on, but she doesn't think she'll ever forget them.

"Maybe we can try to… start over?" he suggests, and for a moment she lets herself believe that he's talking about something more than friendship.

"I'd like that." She takes a deep breath, looks away from his earnest gaze. "But there's actually something I need to talk to you about."

"OK?"

"Me leaving back then didn't have anything to do with what happened between us," she starts, searching her brain for the little speech she prepared on the drive over. She should have written it down, because she can't remember a single word now. "Or, not directly, anyway. But before I say anything, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't have any right to do what I did, but I only did what I thought was best for everyone involved. I need you to remember that, even if you never want to talk to me again."

"Why would I not want to talk to you?" he asks, a look of confusion on his face.

"Just… listen, OK? Please?" He nods and she takes a deep breath before continuing. "The day I put in for the transfer to San Francisco, I had just found out that I was pregnant." She glances up at him, trying to decipher from the look on his face how he's reacting to the news, but his blank expression gives nothing away. "I was afraid that you wouldn't want anything to do with me or the baby, so I decided that I would do it on my own. And we've been doing OK. But then Nick and Catherine showed up, and I guess she made me realize that I couldn't run from my past anymore. That I don't want to."

She looks up at him again, but his eyes are focused on something on the floor in front of him. Closing her eyes against the tears that are threatening to fall, she takes a few deep breaths.

"There hasn't been a day that I haven't picked up the phone," she adds quietly.

"But you never called," he replies, still not looking at her, his voice flat.

"No, I didn't," she agrees. "You have every right to be furious with me, I didn't really expect anything else." She opens her bag and rummages through it, finding the picture of Shelby she brought to give him. It was taken at the birthday party a few weeks ago. Carefully, she places the photo on the table in front of him, in his direct line of vision, before standing up. "Her name is Shelby, she just turned three. She loves bugs, hates apple juice for some reason, and she's too inquisitive for her own good. And mine. You can be as mad as you want at me, but please don't take it out on her. None of this is her fault."

She walks through the living room and into the hallway, where she pauses for a moment, wiping away the few tears that have escaped despite her best efforts and trying to get her breathing to start working properly again. As she reaches out to open the door, she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't go."