AN: I know the details of Sara's childhood in this chapter go against later episodes (more specifically, "Dead Woods"), but I've taken some artistic liberties since I feel like that picture doesn't match the one we get in "Nesting Dolls", and that is the starting point for this fic

Warnings: This chapter contains references to sexual abuse of a child, please proceed accordingly

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI

Chapter 38

Fourth of July is a clear, beautiful day, like every day since Sara's return to Las Vegas. She remembers the endless sun, interspersed with a few days of torrential rain, getting old in the long run, but for now, she's enjoying not having to worry about forgetting her umbrella at home. It only took a few days – and one uncomfortably red nose – to get back in the habit of stocking sunscreen in her car for cases dragging into the daylight hours.

Lindsey practically begged to take Shelby to breakfast and then some kind of celebration for kids that a local community center is putting on – apparently there's going to be a bouncy house, lots of games and some rides – so Sara follows Grissom back to his place straight from the lab.

After some sleep – and a nice wake-up call – they grab a light lunch before picking up Shelby and heading over to Nick's place.

"Well, hello there, Princess," he greets Shelby when he opens the door.

"Hi."

"You remember Nick, baby?" Sara asks, and Shelby nods.

"He made me a hamburger."

"That's right, I did." Nick smiles down at her. "You up for more where that came from?"

"Uh-huh."

He crouches down, giving Sara a mischievous glance before leaning in closer to Shelby. "I even have some gummy bears."

Sara rolls her eyes – she should have known he'd remember that.

"How about we keep burgers and gummy bears separate?"

Nick just chuckles, stepping aside. "Come on, David and Amy are here already and everyone else should be arriving soon. We're out back."

Nick moved at some point during the years Sara was back in San Francisco, so she's never been to his house, but she recognizes the style and some of the furniture from his old apartment. To her surprise, the patio doors open up to a pretty large backyard, sloping away gently from the house, the city in the distance telling her why Nick insisted on throwing the party – they're going to have an amazing view of the fireworks from the different casinos along the Strip.

The patio and the flat part of the garden closest to the house are covered with two marquees, offering shade to the two large folding tables and numerous chairs set up under them. At the far end of the lawn, next to the fence separating the yard from the neighbor, there's a traditional wooden garden swing, the kind that always makes Sara think of old plantations, of sweet tea and southern belles. David and his wife have found it and are swinging slowly back and forth, but get up to greet the newcomers.

"Hi guys," David says, putting an arm around his wife's shoulder. "This is Amy, Amy, this is dr. Grissom and Sara Sidle."

"It's so nice to meet you both," she gushes. "David's always talking about everyone at work, I feel like I know you already."

"It's nice to meet you too," Sara replies with a smile.

"And this must be Shelby," David continues, leaning down to smile at her. "Are you looking forward to the fireworks?"

She nods excitedly. "Mommy says we saw five-works last year, but I don't remember, 'cause I was only two, but now I'm three, so now I'll 'member."

"I bet you will," he tells her. "And do you like living in Las Vegas?"

"Uh-huh. Sometimes I miss my friends, but I have new friends at daycare."

Sara's about to try a gentle redirect before she goes into a full-blown rant about her friends, but the arrival of Greg, Warrick and baby Eli provides a timely distraction.

"The backyard's all fenced in," Nick says, putting down two platters covered in aluminum foil on one of the tables. "So you can just let her roam free. I got some toys and stuff last time my sister Michelle was visiting with her kids, it's all down at the bottom of the yard, by the playhouse."

Sara turns to see a colorful, plastic playhouse in the far corner of the yard. "Nick, you didn't go out and buy that now, did you?" she asks amusedly, and he holds up his hands.

"Got it for my niece, cross my heart. She'd just turned six when they were here, claimed she was too old for it, but I remembered I had it in the shed last night, thought Shelby might like it."

"Can I go play, Mommy?" the girl in question asks, as if on cue.

"I'll go with her," Greg offers, holding out a hand that Shelby immediately accepts. "Come on, kiddo."

They take off down the slope, Greg faking a fall halfway down and rolling to the bottom, making Shelby giggle.

Grissom looks after them with a thoughtful expression. "I'm honestly not sure who's the more mature of those two," he muses after a moment.

Sara elbows him lightly. "Hey! Shelby's way more mature than Greg."

Warrick bursts out laughing, which makes the rest of them laugh too.

"I think I'll…" Grissom then says, nodding at the playhouse where Shelby's taken up residence and is, by the looks of it, offering Greg tea through a window.

"Have fun," Sara tells him, and he lopes after the two.

Amy turns to Warrick, cooing over Eli, and Sara takes the opportunity to go back inside to locate Nick in the kitchen. "Need any help?"

He looks up from another covered platter. "This is the last for now, but if you want to grab that bag, there's drinks in there."

"I thought we weren't eating until later," she says, grabbing the bag in question. "We had lunch before coming over."

"This is just snacks, the real food'll be later," he replies, leading the way out to the backyard again.

"How many people are coming to this thing exactly?" she asks, putting the bag down between the two tables.

"Well, the team, so that's six plus the princess and Eli, not that he takes up much space," Nick replies. "Brass, doc Robbins and his wife, David and Amy. So… eleven adults and two kids."

"I still can't believe none of us had to pull the holiday shift," she notes, moving towards the wooden swing.

"Yeah, lucky there were enough volunteers from days and swing," he agrees, following her and taking a seat. "Come on, it's pretty cool."

Sara sits down across from him and he gets them moving a little. "You know, this isn't what I would imagine in your backyard," she says with a smirk.

He laughs. "Apparently, at some point when I was… I don't know, six or seven? My parents had friends who had one of these, and I loved it, talked about wanting one for months. So, when I bought this place, Mom surprised me with one as a housewarming present."

"That's sweet."

Raised voices announce the arrival of the last guests, and Nick flashes her a smile before going to greet them. Sara moves to the side of the swing he vacated, so she's facing the yard, smiling at the view – Warrick has joined the others, and he and Greg are throwing a plastic ball with Mickey Mouse on it between them, while Shelby, in Grissom's outstretched arms, is trying to intercept it. All of them cheer when she manages to catch it.

The rest of the afternoon and evening is filled with food and laughter, more play, and conversations with friends. Shelby takes an instant and intense liking to Eli, trailing behind Warrick and asking question after question, and Sara mentally braces herself for the inevitable question about a sibling.

Fortunately, it doesn't come during the party.

As 9 PM approaches, Nick and Warrick move chairs out from under the marquees to give everyone a better view of the night sky and eventual fireworks, and Sara somehow ends up on the swing again, this time with Grissom next to her. Shelby, high on sugar and wide awake despite the late hour, is sitting on Greg's shoulders some ways away, pointing up at the stars and bombarding him with questions.

Soon, colors start to fill the sky in the distance, drawing gasps from the people around them, and Sara slides one hand into Grissom's, interlacing their fingers. He squeezes back, eyes still locked on the sky, and she waits another moment.

"Hey," she then says, keeping her voice quiet. He turns to be able to meet her eyes, one eyebrow lifting in a question. "I love you."

There's a beat as her words register, then a smile spreads on his face and he's kissing her, really kissing her. She reciprocates just as enthusiastically, ignoring the wolf-whistling from someone – probably Nick or Warrick, she'll deal with them later. Then Catherine yells "get a room", and they reluctantly break apart.

"Later," he says, the word a promise that makes heat curl in her stomach. Tomorrow's Saturday, but Betty has been asking to get some alone time with Shelby for weeks and is taking her to breakfast and then the children's museum, giving them some alone time.

"Good."

For a disorienting moment after he's pulled from sleep, Grissom's not sure what woke him. Then Sara shifts next to him, and he realizes she's clutching the sheets to her chest, throwing her head from side to side and mumbling in her sleep.

When the mumbling turns into whimpering, he grabs her shoulder and shakes her gently.

"Sara, honey, wake up. It's just a dream."

It takes a moment for her eyes to open, and another for them to focus on him. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Are you OK?"

"Yeah." She takes a deep breath, relaxing back against the pillow.

Grissom gives her a few seconds to continue, but when she doesn't, he asks, "Nightmare?"

She just nods, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, and he gently loosens her grip on the sheets to be able to take her hand in his instead.

"Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to." He doesn't want to push.

Sara sighs. "It's been… I can't even remember the last time I had that dream."

"You used to have it often?" Her childhood, he surmises. She hasn't mentioned it, apart from the conversation about her mother, since she came back, and even though it's been in the back of his mind occasionally, he's been telling himself very firmly to let her bring it up.

"On and off for… ten, fifteen years maybe?" she says, almost a question.

"Why do you think it's back?"

There's no hesitation. "The case last night."

A murder/suicide, a man shot his wife before turning the gun on himself. Three children with big, empty eyes, hospital records detailing years of abuse.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sent you out on that," Grissom apologizes, even though he hadn't known, couldn't have known, from the assignment slip.

"You didn't know," she points out, as if reading his mind. "And I could have asked to be reassigned when the case started unfolding, it's not your fault. I thought I could handle it. And I did. I guess my subconscious is just… processing everything."

He rubs his thumb against the back of her hand, trying to offer some support. "I'm still sorry. So… your mother?"

Sara shakes her head. "My father."

Her words make his assumptions about her childhood rearrange themselves.

"You didn't say much about him, when you told me about what happened," he says. "I guess I assumed your mother was the abuser."

"Oh, no, they were a team." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Mom, she… she was fine, a lot of the time, but when she had one of her episodes, it was like… I didn't exist. Everything around her disappeared. When I was little, I survived on crackers and whatever else was in the pantry while she was zoned out, which could be hours or days… she could get mad out of nowhere, though, part of her condition, I've understood later… she could slap me, shake me, but nothing too violent…"

"And your dad?"

Her eyes slide from his, and his stomach drops in the second before she speaks, because he knows what's coming. "He was a… classic abuser, I guess. Physically, especially when he was drunk, which was most of the time. Emotionally…"

Part of him wants to leave it at that, let her glaze over it, but he has a feeling she's never really talked about this, and he knows what keeping things bottled up too long can do. "Sexually?"

"I don't even remember when it started, it was just… the way things were, you know? I didn't question it."

Grissom has to take a steadying breath before he can respond. "You were a child, of course you didn't question it. He was your father, he was supposed to keep you safe."

She still won't look at him, but she moves closer, hesitantly. When he shifts to accommodate her, she rests her head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around her. "Whenever Mom left the house for a few hours, or was passed out on the couch. Until the day before he…"

"Did your mother know?"

"I don't know, I never… Dad said she'd be mad if she knew, that I couldn't tell her, it had to be our secret, so I was too afraid to bring it up. And after… I tried to forget, you know, put it behind me." She pauses for a moment. "It wasn't until much later that I started thinking about it… you remember Brenda?"

The name doesn't ring an immediate bell. "Brenda? I'm sorry, I don't…"

"The Collins case, a few months after I came to Vegas," she elaborates. "Parents and two sons killed, a teenage daughter, Tina, and a little girl, Brenda, were the only survivors."

The details pull the case from the recesses of his mind – the little girl whose mother was also her sister, her father her grandfather.

"The buffalo," he says.

"Yeah." Sara sighs. "Working that case, I couldn't really get away from the memories, you know. And I started thinking… I got my period a couple of months before she… before it happened. And I thought that maybe she did know. Maybe, in her own twisted way, she was trying to protect me. Maybe she was afraid he'd…"

"She was afraid he'd get you pregnant."

"Yeah."

He remembers another case, not so long after the one with little Brenda. A body on a plane, a group of virtual strangers acting together against a perceived threat.

He'd avoided the question then by turning it around, twisting the narrative, because he honestly hadn't known the answer. Or maybe he'd been afraid to study that side of himself too closely.

But now, there's no doubt in his mind.

If Sara's father wasn't already dead, if he tried to insert himself into her life again, into Shelby's life… he wouldn't even hesitate.