Summary: For 23 years Sara's past has been steadily pushed behind her. But a phone call from an old friend sends her reeling. She's been accused of her father's murder and can't even recall her own innocence.
A/N: Sara's past in this story is derived from my other story "Cold Uprising" which is a detailed account of Sara's past until the age of 18. Certain characters and scenarios described are taken directly from CU, so I guess you could call this a sequel. (Even though CU isn't completed) But you do not need to read CU in order to understand anyway. My thanks to Rosie for indirectly giving me the idea for this. Also, there will be a fair amount of S/OC.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. I am not affiliated with CBS or anything like that.
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Chapter One
An abrupt flash of white light followed by a booming clap of thunder shook Sara from a deep sleep. The bedroom was dark—a slight anomaly, considering it was 10:00 in the morning. For a split second, she wondered if she had horribly overslept and it was evening already until she spotted her bedside clock and the bright red A.M. Rain and wind was pelting her open window, blowing cold water in through the screen. The blinds flapped wildly and smacked against the sill with each gust of wind.
Sara pulled the covers from herself and slipped her bare feet to the soft, burgundy carpet. She slowly trudged around her queen-sized bed, winding her familiar way around a basket of dirty laundry at the foot of her maple bedstead. With a yawn, she reached around the blinds and roughly pulled the heavy windowpane down, an eerie silence falling with it.
She flopped down onto her bed, maneuvering under the deep red sheets and pulling them up to her chin, trying to fall asleep again. After working for three weeks straight, she had finally burned out. Exhaustion filled every limb, and it was with little effort that she fell back into a light slumber.
Thunder suddenly shook her walls, and her eyes opened once more, staring out through the cracks in her blinds at the flashes of white light. Mother Nature didn’t think her excuses were enough, it seemed. Sara sighed and pulled a pillow over her head, lying like that until sleep encumbered her body for a third time. And again, her eyes were forced open. She was about to curse the storm that invaded her precious time alone, when she realized that it was her telephone’s persistent ringing that had awakened her and not a clap of thunder.
She tore herself away from her mattress and headed out into the kitchen, flannel pants swishing around her legs, baggy cotton t-shirt pulling on her shoulders. The phone was on its fourth ring when she picked up, hoping it wasn’t Grissom telling her she was needed at work, for whatever reason. Did that man ever sleep? Making an effort to sound as tired and uninterested as possible, she answered with a groggy, “Hello…?”
“Wake up sleepyhead—it’s 10:00.”
She blinked, stunned. This certainly wasn’t Grissom. The voice belonged to a much younger man. She recognized it…but…she hadn’t spoken to him in ages.
She was suddenly transported back six years, and without hesitation she responded as she would have that long ago. “Yeah, 10:00 for you, but on my time, it feels like 3 a.m.,” she replied snidely, no longer trying to sound tired. She was certainly awake now. Her sense of humor was quickly running out of steam, however. The shock was setting in, and her words were choppy after that. “W-Why are…you of all people—I…Why are you calling me?”
The man on the other end cleared his throat, his chipper tone gone. “Hey, trust me; I wouldn’t be calling unless it was important. I respect your wishes and everything but you need to come back to Frisco today, so I can talk to you.”
Sara meandered over to her couch, easing herself down onto it. She wrapped her left arm around a pillow, setting her chin on it, while her right hand held the receiver to her ear.
“You know I can’t do that. If it’s important, you can tell me over the phone.”
He made a perturbed noise from the back of his throat, and Sara remembered it as the same noise he had always made whenever she was being stubborn. She failed in an attempt to stop grinning. This time though, she knew she wasn’t being stubborn—she was being reasonable. He couldn’t expect her to just go, not after they hadn’t spoken in over six years, not after just suddenly popping in after those six years of silence, not after...well, especially not after that stunt he pulled.
“I just…I want you to come here.” He paused, and attempted to speak up several times before he finally managed, “I haven’t seen you, or even spoken to you in years. And…it’s…”
Sara scoffed inwardly. No kidding he hadn’t talked to her in years. She prompted him further.
“Sara…Just this once, could you come without—”
“You know I’m not going to go back to San Francisco just like that; it’s rainy enough here.” She glanced out the window on the wall in front of her. Streams of water poured down it, the downpour so heavy she could only see blurs of color beyond the glass. There was a greenish hue to the deep blue clouds, the world beneath them a dull gray.
“Sara, you don’t understand. It concerns you more than anybody. You need to know.”
She was growing annoyed now. “Then maybe you should tell me what it’s all about before I even consider visiting.”
“It’s about your mother.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and her heartbeat was suddenly louder than the rain outside. She searched her mind for the words to reply to this, but none came. Though she was certainly considering a quick plane trip now. She pushed herself off the pillow, into a seated position on the sofa. Her fingers felt numb as they gripped the phone. What could she possibly say to that?
“Sara?” came his feeble voice. “You okay?”
“I…”
“You need to come here. I’ll meet you at the airport and we can head to Zorba’s and talk.”
“No, no, what about her? Is she dead? Is she being released? What?” She put a frantic left hand to her forehead, pushing the hair off her face.
He didn’t reply, but she heard him sigh.
“Sara, just come. Please?”
She shoved her tongue into her cheek and bit it lightly. It was obvious she was getting no more information from him over the phone. A slight dilemma, since this was certainly something she needed to know as much as possible about. “Alright, okay,” she said after awhile, the awful feeling of defeat lingering with her. “I’ll meet you there, sometime later tonight. I’ll grab the earliest flight out of here and call you back to tell you the time.”
“Thank you, Sara.” He gave her his number, which she mentally repeated to herself. She could sense his ever-present grin through his words, and if they were under different circumstances, maybe she would have smiled too.
“Get a good…umm, morning’s sleep,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
She said goodbye, and ended the call. Staring at the glowing green buttons on her phone, she heaved a sigh. She would need to call Grissom and tell him she needed a day off. How would he react to that? How would everybody else react to that? How many questions would she have to face when she got back, and would she even be able to answer them?
A headache was slowly making its way to her temples, and as thunder sounded again, she walked over to set the receiver back on its stand. She scribbled his number down on the message pad and then headed over to her desk and sat down. There was no way she would be able to fall asleep now, what with the storm and now this hanging over her head.
She glanced over the flights from Las Vegas to San Francisco quickly, spotting one that left at 6:00pm. With a deep exhale, she booked it and printed off the boarding pass.
She stared at the piece of paper, her throbbing head gaining in severity. Nothing good could possibly come of this. Folding it, and setting it on the side of her desk, she muttered to herself, “See you soon, Max.”
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