When: 7:00 pm
Where: outside San Francisco/home
Sara Sidle walked the empty stretch of beach back to her home, carrying the recyclable bag of organic food, thinking about calling Grissom again. She got tired so easily these days, and she was tired already, but she missed his voice. Just the sound of it comforted her in ways that nothing else could. She wished things were different. She had loved her life in Vegas, until she found herself stranded in the desert, left for dead. Before then there were risks she and Grissom had both taken that she never thought twice about. Since that day, every time she sat foot in the field, she had an overwhelming fear that she would die. Her therapist called that fear 'post-traumatic stress disorder', although when Grissom asked, she always referred to it as simply 'burn out'. It was more than that, much more.
A flutter of her stomach brought her out of her darker thoughts and she put a hand on her stomach to reassure herself as she stopped a moment to rest. She smiled, feeling the baby kick, a new feeling to her, one that never got old. She was panicked at first when she discovered she was pregnant, afraid her body hadn't healed enough from her ordeal, afraid she couldn't handle being a mother, much less by herself. She had even thought about adoption, briefly, for just a day. She hadn't told Grissom yet, but she was taking everything moment by moment, day by day.
She stood again, resumed walking, seeing the house she'd rented in the distance. It was small, repairs needed to be done, but it was quaint, peaceful, and the only real home she'd ever known. The bed and breakfast, with all the different strangers running and out constantly, never felt like home. The apartments she rented over the years, just a place to sleep when she wasn't at school or work. Even Gil's apartment, the only other place she'd been happy, was his, not hers. This time, she finally had a home.
She saw a car parked out front, not the mail truck, not her rental car, but a small sedan she was unaccustomed to. She walked closer and saw the figure of someone sitting inside it, reaching instinctively for her gun, some form of protection, before remembering she'd locked it away during one of the saner moments of her breakdown. As if they knew she was afraid, the person got out and she smiled, tears threatening to run down her face.