AN: A bit more Sidle women bonding, and then road trip! Hope you like it…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI

Chapter 43

They talk about Shelby, and about Sara's job, and about a million other little things. What they don't talk about, though, is her father, his death, and Laura's parole hearing.

A correctional officer pops her head into the room after a while – Sara's not sure how long. "Just letting you know that Laura needs to be back in her cell in about half an hour, so you might want to wrap things up here," she says with a quick smile, and Sara glances at her watch. Already almost half past three, she didn't even notice.

"Time for count at four," Laura explains with a smile. "If I wouldn't get written up for not being there, I would stay longer."

"I don't want to get you in trouble. And I should get going, anyway."

"I'm so glad you came all this way." The sincerity in her mother's voice is almost too much.

"Me too," Sara replies, truthfully, swallowing down a lump in her throat. She pauses for a moment, but decides she needs to get it out there, no matter the outcome. "Listen, Mom, about the parole hearing…"

Laura shakes her head. "Don't you worry about that. I didn't even want to ask you about it, but this lawyer they get in to help with parole hearings insisted. I can't… I can't ask you to do that."

Part of her wants to say that she'll do it, but she still doesn't know if she can. She has no real knowledge of who her mother is now – the last couple of hours might have been promising, but they're not conclusive evidence in any way. And if they ask her about that day or about her parents' relationship… she's not sure her words would help her mother's case.

"But I… if they approve my parole, I… I would very much like to see you again. If you…"

"Of course," Sara promises without hesitation. "I assume you won't be able to leave California, at least not for a while, but we'll work something out, I promise. And you could… I assume you're allowed to use the phone? You could call, if you wanted…"

Laura seems to deflate, the relief evident in her eyes. "Thank you, I would like that. And I… I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm still so, so sorry for… everything. I just want you to know that."

"I know, Mom. I know."

They say their goodbyes, exchange another long hug, and then she's being escorted back through the building. A moment later, she steps out into the parking lot.

The sun is still high in the sky, and she turns her face towards it, closes her eyes and just breathes for a moment.

Even though he's been waiting for the call for the last forty-five minutes (OK, since he dropped Sara off at the prison, if he's being completely honest), Grissom still jumps a little when his phone finally rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey. I'm all done here, if you guys want to come get me," Sara says over the line, and he tries to analyze her voice, figure out how the meeting went.

She ended up staying past the end of the official visiting hours, which he assumes is a good sign, and she doesn't sound upset or like she's been crying. Again, a good sign.

"Sure, we're just hanging out in the hotel room, so we'll head out right away."

"OK, good. I'll see you soon."

"Bye." He hangs up and puts the phone in his pocket. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go pick Mom up and then maybe we can find something to eat, OK?"

Shelby tears her eyes away from the coloring book she's been focused on for the last twenty minutes or so. "OK."

When they get back to the prison, Sara's waiting on a bench near where he dropped her off earlier, and he pulls up next to her.

"Good?" he asks when she's gotten into the car, and she smiles.

"Good."

Grissom waits until later that night before he brings the subject up again.

"So, it went well with your mother?"

Shelby's asleep in one of the beds – after an appropriate amount of excitement about sleeping in a 'big girl bed' – and they're lounging on the other, Discovery Channel on the TV with the sound turned low.

"It did," Sara confirms, sounding pensive. "Better than I thought it would."

He frowns. "You were expecting it to go badly?"

"Maybe not badly, but…" She sighs, shifting a little closer to him. "I don't think I realized it, but I was expecting… the strongest memory I have of my mother is from… that day, and I guess I was expecting that person."

"I would say that makes sense," he says gently, tightening the arm he's got wrapped around her. "But that's not what you found?"

"No. She's… like I remember from the good days, sort of, but more… cautious, maybe. Careful. Like she was afraid I would bolt if she did something wrong."

"Maybe she was," he suggests.

"Yeah, maybe… but it was good. We didn't talk about the past, and I know we probably should at some point, but… she was sick, I know that. And she understands that she has to stay on her meds now, which was the big problem back then, and she's seeing a counselor." She pauses. "I don't know if there's any point in rehashing what happened, I would rather try to look to the future, you know?"

Grissom can certainly understand that, even if he also knows that to be able to move forward, they will, eventually, have to deal with the past. But maybe not right now. They've only just reconnected, that conversation can wait a little longer.

"If that's what you want, I think it sounds like a good plan," he tells her. "And did you talk about the parole hearing?"

"Oh, yeah. She said she didn't even want to ask me about it, but her lawyer insisted. She told me not to worry about it, so I'm not going to."

He lets out a relieved breath. "Good. Then I would consider this trip, and the visit, a success."

Sara chuckles a little. "I would too."

While Sara hasn't been stockpiling her vacation days – much – since Shelby was born, always taking at least two weeks off each summer and the odd day here and there throughout the year, they didn't really go on any holidays, it was more about spending time together and not having to worry about work. Back in April, they went with Jill and Eric and the kids to Eric's sister's vacation home up in Napa for a long weekend, but that's the first actual vacation she's had since… college, actually.

Now, though, she's determined to enjoy every second of their little road trip slash family vacation.

Monday, they head west again, cutting through green fields and yellowing hills until they see the Pacific glitter in the distance. They spend the afternoon at Monterey Bay Aquarium, where Shelby is fascinated by the turtles and penguins, calls all the clown fish Nemo, and is terrified of the anglerfish and barreleyes – not that Sara can blame her, they do look pretty creepy.

Tuesday, they follow Highway 1 south, the ocean their constant companion. They stop to look at the sea lions and elephant seals sunning themselves on the beaches and cliffs, and finish the day at the children's museum in San Obispo.

They reach Los Angeles just before noon on Wednesday, and get checked into their hotel before heading out on foot to explore Marina Del Rey and neighboring Venice. Grissom takes them by his childhood home, the gallery Betty ran when he was a kid – which is, somehow, still a gallery, though focused on modern art that neither of them really understands – his old school, and favorite haunts from his childhood and adolescence. It's a glimpse into this man that she has known for so long, has loved for so long, that she knows she will cherish forever.

Thursday brings a bright blue sky without a single cloud and the temperature climbs above ninety before they even finish breakfast. Since they don't have any actual plans, and they did bring swimwear, they spend the morning by the hotel pool, Sara mostly lounging in the shade of a large umbrella while Grissom and Shelby splash around in the pool until she crawls onto Sara's lounger to take a nap.

"What do you want to do this afternoon?" he asks after claiming the lounger next to hers, shaking the water out of his hair carefully.

"I know it's pretty tourist-y, but I do kind of want to check out Santa Monica Pier," Sara replies, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. "Is it too hot, you think?"

He shrugs. "The heat here's much more pleasant than the heat in Vegas," he says. "Besides, it's supposed to be even hotter tomorrow, so we might as well get it done today."

"Is there anything you want to do?"

They haven't really talked much about it, beyond him saying he wanted to show them the places he remembers from his childhood.

Grissom's quiet for a long moment, but she can tell that he's thinking. "I would like to go to my dad's grave," he finally says quietly.

"Of course." She reaches over, and he takes her hand with a small smile. "Where is he buried?"

"Holy Cross. It's not far, maybe a mile or so from the hotel," he tells her, before frowning. "I would like it if you wanted to come with me, but I don't know if it's a good idea to bring Shelby, which complicates things a little."

She considers his words for a moment, understanding why he might be worried. "We have talked about death and dying," she then says. "A boy from her daycare in San Francisco lost his mother a few months before we moved. They talked about it some there, and then we got some information about talking to kids about death. I don't know how much she really took in, or remembers now, but if you want us to go with you, we will. If she has questions, we can deal with that, right?"

"I think so, yeah." He squeezes her hand. "Thank you."

Sara squeezes back and offers a smile. A moment later, her stomach ruins the moment by rumbling loudly, but he just laughs. "Time for lunch?"

So, they wake Shelby and go back to their room to change before finding somewhere to eat. After filling their bellies, they stroll along the beach, slowly making their way to Santa Monica Pier, where all three of them ride the Ferris wheel before Sara and Shelby watch as Grissom tackles the roller coaster.

They gorge themselves on ice cream and popcorn, and stay until the sun dips below the horizon and darkness starts to fall.

"Come on," Grissom says, lifting a sleeping Shelby a little higher on his hip. "Let's get a cab back."

Holy Cross Cemetery hasn't changed much since Grissom was last there, which, he realizes, was almost a decade ago. He does occasionally go with his mother to mass at her church in Vegas, where they always light a candle for his father, but he still feels a little guilty over how long it's been since he visited the grave. He knows his mother goes at least four times a year – his father's birthday, the day his parents met, their wedding day, and the day his father died – but it's been too long since he went with her. He makes a promise to himself that he will do that more in the future.

Shelby seems to pick up on the solemnity of the place – she was talking during most of their walk from the hotel, but falls silent soon after they enter the gates. He has to check the directions from his mother about how to find the grave once, but soon, they reach the simple stone.

His mother pays a monthly fee to have the grave maintained, so it looks neat, but it's been about two months since she was here last, so the cemetery issued vase is empty. He probably wouldn't have thought about bringing flowers himself, but Sara suggested it over breakfast, so they stopped by a florist on the way. Initially he didn't know what to get, but Sara's gentle prying revealed that he remembers more than he realized about his father's flower preferences – how the greenhouse in their small garden was full of orchids of every color imaginable, and how he always brought Betty carnations, instead of roses, on her birthday. The girl working at the store was happy to tell them that pink carnations, according to the language of flowers, mean that you will never forget someone, so the decision was made.

Now, standing in front of the gravestone with the bouquet in his hand, Grissom's glad Sara thought to pick some up – he would have felt incredibly stupid standing there empty handed.

He feels a small hand in his and looks down to see Shelby looking up at him, a serious look on her face. "Are you sad, Daddy?"

He smiles. "Not sad, just… reminiscing."

"What does that mean?" she asks with a frown.

"It means remembering," he explains.

"Oh." She's quiet for a moment. "What are you membering?"

"My dad. You see, he died when I was little, and he's buried here." He crouches down next to her and touches the name on the stone. "This was his name."

Shelby plops down on her knees in the grass and touches the stone too. "So, he's in heaven?"

Grissom looks up at Sara, who's a few feet to his left, eyebrows raised – he hadn't expected her to go the heaven route, considering she's not particularly religious. She just shrugs, a half-smile on her face, and he returns his attention to Shelby.

"Some people think you go to heaven when you die, yes," he says.

"Do you?"

He considers the question for a moment. "I don't know."

Her hand finds his again. "I think he's in heaven."

He's not sure why the simple conviction in her voice would make a lump form in his throat, but it does.