Situation Normal

She woke up before Mark and slipped quietly out of their bed. After running a brush through her hair and throwing on a robe, she walked outside of their bedroom.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" she whispered after feeding her daughter.

"Not at all," Collins whispered back, holding her with already-practiced hands. "Me and Miss Laura will be just fine. I'll behave."

"For once."

"You have no faith."

~ ~

Seeing him walk out the door with her child hurt more than Sara had expected. They'll be at the Inn, she mentally reminded herself, returning to her bedroom. They'll be fine for a couple of days.

She kissed Mark gently on the forehead. "Good morning, Mr. Cohen."

Sara Sidle was missing and Natalie wasn't responding to interrogation.

Gil Grissom found himself walking through a door into Milliways and he saw Jack Bauer sitting near one of the windows.

He has investigative experience. He's a friend.

Her words echoed in his mind.

A hand clenched. After many years of hurt, he and Sara had finally managed to find a friendship comforting and comfortable.

I will not lose her.

Remembering the darkness in Jack's eyes from their one, brief conversation, Grissom decided to head over to him.

Somehow, I think he won't either.

"Sara is missing," he said to him without preamble.

Date: September 16, 2000

Location: New York City

Alias: Center of the Universe

A lively group makes its way out of the Building (after a tour is given, of course, and several newer TFY members faint at the sight of Angel) and down Avenue B.

It's unlikely that this group will be harrassed. Reputations are useful on occasion.

[Placeholder for Scarsdale Ceremony Link]

Who would choose to marry twice in the same day?

If and when their future children should ask, Sara will just say the first had been a practice run.

Certainly this ceremony has been more highly anticipated than the other.

The weather is beautiful and all other preparations by the lakeside have been taken care of.

Anyone who tries to object will be tied to cement blocks and dumped in the lake.

The farewells had been brief; the party thrown by lab personnel not unexpected, nor unappreciated.

Her locker was cleaned out. Her name added to the Wall of Escaped Criminalists.

"I never envisioned this when I asked you here to investigate the Gribbs incident," Grissom said quietly, helping her carry things out to her car.

"Me neither," she admitted with a sigh, folding one of the backseats down. "I...don't remember what I was expecting."

Eschewing his normal reticence, he pulled her into a hug, feeling the wiry strength contained within her. "I will miss you. No one...could ever be you, Sara."

Her arms tightened minutely, but her voice was steady, peaceful. "You forgot to add 'thank God'."

"A careless omission." His voice went dry. "You and Mark will come by for dinner?"

"Of course. Give Jack my love."

She got in the car, starting it, and pulling out of the parking lot. The lab faded in her rear view mirror, and she resisted the urge to look back.

~

She had gone through the Loft before moving in, carefully disposing of old needles, forgotten stashes of drugs, other paraphernalia. Better security measures were in place, and already it felt....right.

Home, almost.

Documentation in hand (and she knew she'd be owing Collins the rest of her life), she went to the Manhattan lab, becoming acquainted with the personnel there, and her new supervisor, Hendricks. Though she would not officially start work until after her honeymoon, she thought it best to know where she stood.

"You have an impressive solve rate for one your age," Hendricks commented at one point, reading through her file.

She started to say, Hey, I'm 35, and caught herself. 29. I'm 29.

~ ~

She recognized the woman she saw in the mirror. It was her---and not her at the same time. The lines were eased, the marks of fatigue had disappeared. Even the scars from the lab explosion weren't as visible.

"A fresh start?" she wondered out loud, mouth twisted in wry amusement. "Guess I can handle that."

"Mitchell, I'm not going to ask you again where you put your son," Sara said flatly, closing the casefile and standing up from the interrogation table. "Enjoy your time in lock-up; the other felons don't look too kindly on people who harm children."

She watched the blood drain from the man's face, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Wait--he's---"

An officer opened the door at that moment. "We found the boy. He's alive."

"Impossible!" Mitchell said, sitting straight up. "He was---"

"Do continue for this outstanding officer," Sara said softly, heading toward the door. "It might enable your release in time to collect your Social Security benefits."

~

"Want to grab a beer?" Warrick asked, not liking the tension in his coworker's frame.

"Not really," Sara said absently, rubbing the back of her neck. "I can't believe....he did that for the hell of it."

"Thought you said that people never ceased to amaze you," Warrick teased cautiously.

"I wish they would," she said softly, walking out of the locker room. "I really wish they would."

"Seriously, Sara. Come out with Nick and me tonight."

She shook her head, continuing on down the hall. "Got too much to do. Cases to wrap up and all..."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I'm really going to miss you," Warrick said softly.

Sara squeezed his shoulder softly. "You'll be fine. I won't disappear completely."

"Better not, girl. Bad enough you won't even let us attend your wedding--"

"I know my friends way too well, 'Rick."

"........guess you do."

If I woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?

Paul - Life Support (RENT)
Ali Salvatore - Life Support (RENT)
Sara Sidle - CSI
Tom Collins - RENT
Lady Celebrian - LOTR
Gil Grissom - CSI

"Hey."

Sara looked up, her expression remaining neutral. Catherine hesitated on the fringe of the locker room. "You said anything you wanted to say to me would--"

"--would be in private. Yeah." Sara glanced around the small room, noting the presence of several onlookers behind Catherine. "This isn't exactly private."

"Want to get a beer? We can talk." Her words were hesitant, and an unwitting nod to ghosts of years past. Of course, the last time they had been uttered had been at Sara's pain, not Catherine's. A subtle difference, yet no difference at all.

"Not really," she said quietly. "And...I'm not ready to talk yet."

There was pain in Catherine's eyes, pain that would have, under other circumstances, made Sara relent.

Not this time.

She didn't trust easily. She never had. The fact that she and Grissom had managed to salvage such a good friendship from a bond so thoroughly destroyed a few years earlier was persistent testimony that trust could be kept even in the face of apparent betrayal.

But Catherine wasn't Grissom, and didn't have the excuse of pleading obliviousness. She should have trusted her team. Keppler was a stranger and expecting such consideration from him wouldn't have been realistic.

Nick's words echoed in Sara's mind. We trust you with our lives. You could have trusted us with this.

"Find me when you are?" The question abruptly brought Sara back to the present.

She offered Catherine a faint smile, surprised to find the tight knot of pain easing the slightest bit. "I will."

Eventually.

But for now, she planned to grab her jacket and get some sleep after taking care of one errand. She slipped back into Grissom's office and returned the key to his desk drawer, ignoring the brown package on the surface of the desk. It can wait.

It all can wait.

The first picture shows Mark hiding behind Angel, his Yoda pajamas sticking out and his small hands clutching at one of Angel's legs.

The second shows Angel laughing and trying to coax him out.

The third is blurry, showing another small figure grasping Mark's arm and beginning to pull.

The fourth, very clear, shows Mark and little Sara crowded on either side of Angel's lap. Sara is beaming widely and Mark is grinning bashfully, pizza sauce on his chin.

Another picture is focused on Collins. He has Sara sitting on one knee and Mark on the other, and both children are clearly enthralled with whatever he is saying.

The next picture shows Sara making a face and Mark grinning hugely. Whatever is being said is clearly gross.

Three other pictures are also blurry, showing the two kids engaged in a tug-of-war over the stuffed Wookie, from which Sara is the clear winner.

The last is one neither Angel nor Collins took--possibly it was done by Bar. Sara is leaning against Collins' side, and Mark is on Angel's lap. Both children are asleep.

It stands to reason that since she had one dream (was it really just a dream?), Sara would have another.

She opened her eyes, taking in the familiar shoreline outside of the bed and breakfast. She was resting against a tree she had claimed as her own when she was five or six years old. Breathing in deeply, taking in the humidity, the salty tang of the air, feeling both homesickness and muted devastation.

"Sara! Come inside and help me with the cinnamon rolls!"

"Coming, Mom," she said obediently, automatically, heading into the two-story house. The kitchen was cheery--almost too cheery. The scent of cinnamon, yeast, and icing was too prevalent for her to check for blood, as she had ever since That Night.

She capitalized the words even in her own mind.

"Careful, sweetheart, it's hot."

"I know." She reached for oven mitts and her mother grabbed her left hand.

"Sara!" The shock and joy in Laura Sidle's voice could plainly be heard. She smiled widely, and Sara returned the grin.

They had each others' smile.

"Is he good to you?" Does he hurt you?

"So good, Mom. He loves me.......he would never hurt me. Never." The words are quiet, but heartfelt.

Laura pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good. I knew you would do well for yourself. I'm so proud of you, Sara."

She ducked her head, busying herself with the tray of cinnamon buns. "Thanks, Mom." If her voice was rough for a moment, both ignored it.

"Let me pour us some coffee and let's have some breakfast. I want to hear more about this man."

"Well for starters, I met him completely outside of work....."

When she woke up this time, Sara's pillow wasn't wet.

And she was smiling.