Over the next few weeks Sara worked hard to lean into her new shift. To find her way to a more workable attitude. She found that the more cases she closed, the better she began to feel about her new team—even Roni. But every time she bumped into anyone on grave, the longing for what once was would return. She would see Greg and Nick laughing together in the break room before their shift would start, or Catherine walking down the hall with Grissom. Warrick on the other hand, seemed to be struggling. She could see it from the distance she stood, with only passing moments to evaluate him. But she didn't have the capacity to reach out to check in with him. She was having enough trouble keeping her own head above water.
And then, on her first jog since the incident, she felt the sudden surge of intensity that served as her reminder, her ribs were not fully healed. At some point during her jog, each down step resulted in a more intense pang then the last. She made it back home with Hank who immediately nudged at her legs as they entered the house together. He knew something was up.
Sara steadied herself against the side of the couch and tried her best to shallow her breathing.
"You okay?"
Grissom appeared out of seemingly no where.
"What are you doing home?"
"I needed a book." He held up a thick forensic chronicle. "What's wrong?" He watched as she she evened out her breathing. "Your ribs?"
"I'm fine." She waved him off, "I should have eased back into jogging. That's all." But each time she blinked she saw the scenes of her original rib injury. The blade coming toward her, her mother's eyes empty and strange, the sound of the knife as it went through her ribs.
"Sit." Grissom ushered her to sit on the cushion as he went and grabbed her some water.
"I'm fine." She urged again as he handed her the glass of water.
"Okay." He spoke, still waiting for her to take the glass. She finally did. "I had filled the medication from the doctor, so if you're in pain… it's in the medicine cabinet."
She simply nodded, "Thanks. Really, I'm okay." She gestured toward the door with her head, "Go head, really. I'm fine."
"Alright…" He left hesitantly, unsure what he should do. He knew he couldn't convince her to let him help her when she wasn't ready for it. And she was so skilled at pushing people away, even him, sometimes. Years of practice made her a pro.
Over the next few weeks, Sara's status changed back and forth. She would be doing well for most of the days. Until her ribs began to flare in pain, or a case got under her skin. And instantly, like dominos, it would all crumble. Every carefully laid brick she was building back up would topple. Forcing her to start from scratch again and again and again. But around Grissom, everything felt okay. The only problem was, she didn't see him nearly as often as she once had, as she wish she still could.
Sara gently knocked on Grissom's office door frame.
"Hey." He looked up and stood, taking his reading glasses off as he did.
"Ready for lunch with your mother?" She signed in reply.
"Did you just sign?" He spoke and signed himself, an impressed grin curled his lips.
She smiled knowingly, "Working on it."
They drove together to Gilbert College's Campus where they would meet Betty and walk to lunch. As they walked through the main campus Sara was immediately struck by how peacefully quiet it was despite the numbers of students peppering the green. You could hear the trees sway and the birds chirp. Their footsteps too.
She missed being a student, she realized. Consumed by books and curiosity. Thought exercises, assignments, the atmosphere of learning, the smell of a bookshop.
She snapped out of her daydream as her peripheral vision caught Grissom Signing, "hello, mother." Her head turned to see the woman just a few strides away. A smile crept onto her lips as she saw the resemblance. Most notably the eyes.
Grissom embraced his mother. She pulled back and kept a hand on either side of his shoulders. "This is Sara." He signed and spoke like he would for the duration of their visit.
Betty turned her direction toward Sara now. She didn't go for a familiar hug nor a cold handshake but instead just smiled politely and signed, "hello Sara."
Sara signed back but was immediately hesitant as Betty's demeanor suddenly changed. She seemed upset, and was signing something very quickly to Grissom. Too quickly for Sara to really pick up any of it. She began to worry that she signed something wrong.
He signed back just as fast before speaking directly to Sara, "She's upset you're not wearing the ring."
"Oh." Sara spoke as she pulled the delicate necklace chain out from under her shirt, the ring dangling like a pendant. "It's safer this way, with the job." She did her best to sign, Grissom still translated. But to Sara's surprise and dismay, the answer didn't satisfy Betty. She continued to have a sour look about her.
"C'mon, Mom. Let's grab lunch."
The three walked across the street to a cafe. The lunch began on slightly better footing. Sara asked about the fundraiser and her involvement with Gilbert College.
"Is that why you named him Gilbert?"
Betty laughed, "No."
"Really?" Grissom furrowed his brows, "I always thought—"
"You really don't know this story?" Betty signed with shock, "Your father was studying a species of algae on the Monterey Peninsula the same year I was finishing an art residency there. Gilbert Morgan Smith, was his mentor during those years, and the man who introduced us. His wife was sisters with my roommate, Francy."
Grissom was surprised, "I've never heard about this."
Betty quickly shrugged him off, "Anyway, Gilbert Smith passed the year Gil was born. You father felt strongly about naming you after him. He was like a father to him. Especially since he lost his own father so young."
"That's beautiful." Sara spoke and signed. "How old was he when he lost his father?"
"Nine." Betty signed.
"Not Gil—"
"Nine." She signed again, "Howard was nine when his father died, just like Gil. Heart attack."
Sara glanced at Grissom, surprised that had never come up before and by the look on his face, he clearly found it to be an insignificant coincidence.
"What about your parents?" Betty signed.
Sara gave Grissom a quick glance before speaking for him to translate, "My father passed when I was 13 and my mother lives in San Fransisco still. That's where I grew up."
Betty then signed something that Grissom did not translate for her, instead he replied with quick signs. While she was unable to decipher Betty's original message, Grissom's was clear, "Drop it."
The car ride back to the lab was mostly silent until Sara finally spoke.
"It was nice to finally meet your mother.." She paused for a moment, "I'm not sure she likes me very much though."
Grissom waved off the thought, "That's just how she is."
She nodded slightly in an attempt to understand. There were elements of Betty that felt like carbon copies of Grissom, even from this brief meeting she could see it. The literary quotes, pensive facial expressions, the tendency to be cold toward someone new… emotionally reserved and distant.
"What did she sign to you toward the end? The bit you didn't translate?"
Grissom kept his eyes on the road. He fidgeted slightly and she could see the unease in him. "She was asking about our future."
"She knows we plan to get married…" Sara spoke with confession.
"I'm an only child." Grissom managed through thick layers of hesitation, "She wanted to know if she should expect grandchildren. Well—" He thought a moment and amended, "Actually, she wanted to know when."
"Oh." Sara became speechless. It was the last thing she expected for some reason. The last thing she'd thought about. Honestly, she'd never once considered them having kids. If she had given it any thought, she would have quickly assumed that wasn't part of their journey. But here she was, confronted with the idea for the very first time.
"Is that something you want?" Sara turned to him, her voice full of nothing but curiosity.
"I didn't think so." He turned into the lab's lot. "I never imagined that for myself. But—" Sara found herself caught off guard by his conjunction, "But I—I find myself with a desire to experience all aspects of the human condition…with you. And now, with that in mind… I guess.. maybe that is…It's no longer fully ruled out."
Sara nodded his way with raised brows, "Wow. I am a little shocked."
"Is that something you might want?" He finally asked, parking the car and turning the engine off.
"I don't think so. No." She shrugged, and noticed how she was able to use both shoulders to do so now, "I don't have much of a maternal instinct."
"As long as I have you, dear, I have everything I need. But for whatever it's worth, I think you'd surprise yourself in that role."
She gave a small smile. It would be a very long time before the topic ever came up again.
November 2007
"Alright, I'm out of here." Sara spoke evenly, trying hard to mask her feelings. She left the AV room where she had been watching a scene from a horror film with Henry, Wendy, Mandy, Greg and Ronni. She found her way to the locker room and took a seat alone. She couldn't breathe. The dark spaces of her mind slowly consumed her peripheral. She needed solitude to try to will the ghosts away. Her rib ached again and she began to wonder if it was turning into a psychosomatic issue as they should be fully healed by now.
She sat there staring at her hands, trying to ground her self in their familiarity. In their adultness. Reminding her she was not a child. But a deep sadness continued to pour into her psyche.
"What's up?" Greg appeared in the doorway, having followed her out of the AV room to make sure she was alright. From her appearance sitting there, he was fairly certain that she was not.
She looked up to see him there and paused briefly before answering, "You know, in those slasher movies, when they go after the dark haired girl, she always dies." Her voice was small and laced with profound sorrow and detachment.
"Well, aren't you glad it wasn't a movie?" He moved to sit next to her.
"I think I'm sick of having my face shoved in death everyday." She looked up at him now, "The murder rate has gone up every year since I've been here. It's totally out of control. And we're not even slowing them down."
Greg nodded, a small but sad smile crossed his lips, "I like to think we're still making a difference. Regardless of what the numbers show." HE paused for a moment, looking into her eyes, "We're still giving a voice to the victims and closure to the families."
"I don't know if that's enough for me anymore."
He put a hand on her shoulder, "Sara," His voice was soft and full of compassion, "Are you talking to anyone?"
"I'm fine." She shook her head.
"Okay." He thought a moment, knowing he was treading on difficult waters, "You know, I saw a therapist for a while after I was attacked. It helped a lot. I learned ways to manage my panic attacks."
"I'm okay, really."
He simply nodded in response, knowing when to quit. He wrapped his arm around her now in a side hug, "Well whatever you need, I'm always here for you."
She was surprised at how comforted she was by his embrace, she let her head lean to the side and rest of his shoulder. They sat like that for a while in comfortable silence.
"You got a minute?" Greg entered Grissom's office and closed the door behind him causing the supervisor the scrunch his brows.
"Everything alright?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Sara." He began as he took a seat opposite Grissom, "I'm worried about her. I think she needs to come back on Grave."
"Unfortunately, that's not an option."
"Look, I know there's a weird line here and I'm trying not to cross it. But we can't keep an eye on her when she's not on Grave. And Mike? The swing supervisor is a clueless idiot."
"I'm sure she appreciates your concern Greg, but I think she's adjusting to the new shift."
"No Grissom, she's not." He pushed, "She's not fine. You really don't see it?"
"Greg." His voice softened now, "I'm keeping an eye on her. She went through a lot, it'll just take her some time to get back to herself."
Greg shook his head in response, but in the end, he knew he was overruled, "I think not having her with us on Grave is a big mistake. But in the end, I guess that's none of my business."
"No, it's not." Grissom confirmed.
A week passed. Grissom took more time to check in with Sara since his conversation with Greg, but each time he did she seemed truly fine. And she was, actually. Grissom's presence had a soothing effect on Sara, she felt so much better when they were together and therefore, there wasn't much for him to see if anything was wrong.
"Grissom stirred awake to the sound of his phone ringing. "Grissom." He spoke groggily. Sara now sat up in bed next to him. "I'll be there soon." Grissom swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood.
"Lab?"
"Yeah. There's something going on with Catherine and Greg's case. FBI. I've got to get down there." He leaned in and kissed the top of her head. "You should go back to sleep. I'm going to take Hank to the groomer, could you pick him up before you head in?"
"Sure thing." She smiled as Hank trotted after Grissom.
Yesterday Grissom and Sara had spent the day off together. It was the first one in a couple week's, actually. The last two Monday's they'd both been called in. So when yesterday came around, the two gladly spent a quiet and intimate day together. They went on a hike with Hank in the morning and spent the evening curled up on the couch watching a documentary together.
But now, she found herself unable to go back to sleep. Grissom's absence created a safe space for the bad thoughts to come creeping back in. Each time her eyes closed, the ghosts of her past whirled around her. She could hear her father yelling. The dishes breaking. The doors slamming. She could feel the fear she felt then. The tension in her small body. When it was particularly bad she'd go outside to the front of the house where she had carved out a small space for herself to hide inside the hedges. She even kept a couple books hidden there in a small metal box and had dug some of the dirt out to create a makeshift chair back. She could feel the dirt, cold and dry. She wondered what that spot looked like now.
Eventually she abandoned her attempt to sleep. The assaulting memories were too much to bare. She needed to get moving, to do something with her hands, pre occupy her mind. So when she was called into shift early, it was a very welcome request.
"You know, I've learned that sometimes you can go faster by going slow." Grissom spoke a bit condescendingly to the FBI agent who had flown in from NY to run the case.
"Well I like to go fast by going fast." Jack Malone countered.
"You know, maybe you should go back to your hotel. Take a nap."
Malone ignored him, pulling his glasses on to get a better look at the trinkets and jars that lined Grissom's office, "Is this your office? Really? By choice? It's not some sort of surplus overflow issue?"
"What's wrong with my office?"
Malone leaned in to see the radiated fetal pig, "Uh, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
"That's an irradiated fetal big. I use it to determine the effects of radiation on tissue."
"For what?"
"For fun?" Grissom scuffed. Unsure how two men so vastly different could play for the same side here.
"Hey Gil. I uh—Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Sara walked into the office surprised to see Grissom was not alone.
"No, no. It's fine. Jack Malone FBI. Sara Sidle, CSI." Grissom introduced the two.
"Hi." She spoke to the FBI agent, "I hear your abduction case is now a serial murder."
"Yeah." Malone spoke monotone.
Grissom's eyes softened as he looked at Sara. Her presence caused the tension in the air to dissipate.
"Well," Sara turned her attention back to Grissom, staring into the blue orbs that were already on her, "I got called into work early but I did pick up Hank and take him to the sitter."
"Thank you. I'll see you when I see you." He smiled as she gave a small nod in turn and left.
"Is hank your kid?" Malone spoke once Sara had left.
"Hank's my dog. She walks him for me sometimes."
"Oh yeah. That's how it starts." Malone walked closer to Grissom now, having found some common ground for the two men to share, "I have some experience dating in the workplace myself."
"Really?" He paused for a short moment, "And uh, how did it work out for you?" Grissom was genuinely curious.
"Undetermined."
He nodded in turn. And watched as Malone's attention was drawn back to the irregular items on his shelf.
"Can't imagine she's a fan of your decor choices."
Grissom laughed, "She actually designed that experiment you're looking at."
Malone's brows danced up, "Hu. Well. I guess there's someone for everyone, hu?"
Sara walked into the house behind the officer. There was a clear blood trail leading to through the dinning room toward the kitchen.
"Sara, over here." Sara followed the officer's voice to the living room and saw the woman on the ground, bludgeoned. A planked hastily covering her body. She scanned the room from that spot to see the contents of two wallets neatly stacked on the counter.
She pulled out her phone.
"Hi." His voice came through. She could always tell when he had his work foot forward with her. His voice now, more intimate.
"Hey." She lingered just a moment, "I'm at a scene that has a similar M.O. to your serial murder."
"Really? Text me the address."
About twenty minutes later both Dr. Robbins and Grissom arrived at the scene. Sara had already begun to take photos and collect swabs and hairs. It had been a long time since the two worked a scene together. It felt nice at first, but the moment was fleeting.
"Drivers licenses on top like before."
"He likes to know their names." Sara looked up from her camera at Grissom.
"I heard the husband died at the hospital." Robbins added. "But the killer was definitely here a while. According to her liver temp she died a couple hours before the husband."
Grissom saw the color drain from Sara's face as she spoke, "So, the husband was here and alive while his wife was being raped and killed?" Her voice was so small and defeated. Grissom looked at her now and suddenly saw the pain behind her eyes. Perhaps a glimpse of the very pain Greg had been trying to communicate to him last week.
"It looks that way." Robbins confirmed with empathy. He could see Sara's struggle too.
She fought back tears as she looked through her camera's lens. Trying desperately to keep herself together, but it wasn't working. She walked out of the house without saying a word. Grissom Quickly followed just a step behind her.
"Sara. Hey, Sara." His voice was soft as he finally approached her. Worry was evident. She turned to face him as she walked down the driveway. "You okay?"
"I don't know." She said honestly, her words rasp with unshed tears. Any response outside of I'm fine was a justifiable red flag. Grissom's heart sank. "Do you have any idea how he selects his victims?"
"No. He picks houses with no security systems or dogs" They had both, "Enters at night when most people are asleep," something that didn't fit either of their schedules, "through open doors or windows. Easy targets." Grissom finished off, trying hard to frame it in a lens that let her feel safe. But he soon realized his attempts were futile.
"So basically at random." Water filled her eyes but she would't let them fall. He nodded, he could see the tears pooling there. He wanted to hold her, but he knew he shouldn't. She turned to walk away from him, from the scene, "It's just wrong."
He watched her walk off toward her car. His heart tugged as his chest. For the first time since she was found, he saw the emotional struggle she was enduring. Had he been so hellbent on her being okay, that he had refused to see the clear evidence that said otherwise? Was this what Greg was warning him about?
Two shifts later and the case was wrapped with Jack Malone headed back to NY.
"Sara." Grissom saw her passing his office. She hadn't heard him though, her headphones were in her ears. She continued down the hall.
"Sara." He tried again as he caught up to her. His hand touched her shoulder. In a series of extremely fast movements Sara spun herself around, throwing a punch directly to Grissom's chest, which he caught before it could make contact.
She pulled her earbuds out, "Grissom?"
"Jeeze." He responded to her violent startle.
"I'm sorry." She quickly took her hand back, ashamed at her instinct.
"I wanted to see if you were wrapping up your shift."
She simply nodded in return.
"Let's go for a ride."
She knew what that meant. And within half an hour the two were seated on one of his favorite rollercoasters in the city. But as he coaster pushed and pulled, dipped and climbed, it did nothing for her. She felt numb.