Ficlet 4

The house was dark when he got home, but that wasn't unusual. Sara always found it hard to sleep in a bright house, especially with the terrarium of spiders by the bedroom door. It was quiet, too, but that didn't trigger any unease. It had been a long shift, and he'd noticed dark circles under her eyes when she'd gone home.

He didn't suspect anything was wrong, really, until he saw the empty bottle of bourbon on the counter.

"Sara?"

The kitchen and living room were empty, as was the downstairs bathroom.

"Sara? Honey?"

She hated bourbon. Hated it with a passion. He made his way up the stairs quickly. She wasn't in the bedroom, or the guest room. He stuck his head in the master bathroom door, and was about to go back downstairs when he caught sight of the toes at the end of the bathtub, just beyond the edge of the shower curtain.

He didn't turn on the light, nor did he pull back the curtain. He just sat down next to the tub, and waited.

Eventually, he heard a faint voice. "I got a letter." To his relief, her words weren't slurred. She probably hadn't had enough of the bourbon to really hurt herself.

"Can-" He broke off before asking her to tell him what it said, or who it was from. Instead, he asked softly, "Can I see the letter?"

After several seconds, a folded piece of paper drifted down from under the shower curtain. Straining his eyes in the low light, he read:

Dear Sara Sidle,

We regret to inform you of the passing of your brother, James Sidle, at Mercer Penitentiary on December 3, 2006. Please contact my office at your earliest convenience, so that Mr. Sidle's personal effects may be distributed.

Sincerely,

Walter P. McElroy

Warden

Refolding the paper, Grissom pondered what to say. He knew that Sara hadn't talked to her brother in nearly ten years. But he also knew that, growing up, she'd regularly hidden in her bathtub to escape her father's abuse. All signs indicated she was in a seriously dire state.

Finally, he said the only thing he could think of: "How can I help?"

She sniffled a little, then reached out from behind the curtain, pulling at his shoulder. He took the cue, moving slowly and quietly into the tub. She scooted over, leaving just enough room for him to lie beside her. When he did, she slid easily into his arms, burrowing her head under his chin.

They lay together for quite some time. The cold porcelain was far from comfortable, but Grissom had long ago realized that loving a woman wasn't going to be comfortable, not by a longshot.

"I don't have any family left," she mumbled sleepily.

He just pulled her tighter. "You have me."