A/N: I hadn't expected to write another story as my schedule for the month is a nightmare. But this story has been keeping me awake, swimming around in my head since I read a story a while back from Mouth2mouth entitled You Look So Beautiful. It is my total inspiration for this story. Reminder that it is GSR all the way, so don't let the first chapter or two get you downhearted. It's sure to run only a few chapters, but unless I get it written it will continue to haunt my dreams. Hope it pleases. Reviews are always welcomed, but thanks to all who take the time to read. Updates will probably be weekly. –Kathy
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She was definitely out of her element.
While the lilting strains of an Allegro drifted softly from the state-of-the-art sound system, the bustling activity coupled with the excited screech of a few delighted shoppers made Sara cringe.
Hiding behind some dresses hanging from decorative ceiling hooks, she thought about an old Saturday morning cartoon character that used to carry a "portable hole" in his pocket.
She sighed to herself as she imagined how she would give her right arm to own such a ridiculous item at this very moment.
Her ironic smile morphed back into a tight-lipped attempt to regain the practiced expression that strangers would mistake for happiness.
Glancing around at the designer creations encroaching on her airspace, Sara wondered if a portable hole was really all that outlandish of an idea.
"Breathe in, breathe out," she murmured to herself absently, a forlorn twist of her pink-glossed lips mirroring her memory of Grissom repeating that exact mantra as he stroked her back to soothe her when she became so emotionally caught up in the murder of a young boy by his mother.
Shaking herself from the unbidden walk down memory lane, Sara stopped to lean against the tri-fold mirror refusing to allow a single tear to fall.
Briskly rubbing her hands over her face, she wished there was a backdoor to exit from this nightmare of "the feminine dream".
Continuing down the sea of white, she could hear her name being called impatiently.
She glanced at her watch. The tiny rosebuds on the minute hand mocked her.
She had been AWOL for almost half an hour.
Realizing they might have been seeking her for some time, Sara grabbed the first see-through plastic garment bag that beckoned from a lower rack, and moved towards the gaggle of people creating the commotion.
Turning the corner, she found the four sisters practically overdosing on giddiness, babbling on about the merits of satin vs. lace, clambering about long trains vs. princess tiaras – all speaking at once until Sara thought she might pass out just for some peace and quiet.
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She had secretly always wanted to belong to someone, always wanted to be welcomed into the comfort and security of someone's really big, noisy family.
She had secretly always wanted to sit around the fireplace with someone, drinking hot cocoa with marshmallows, listening and laughing about "remember when" trilogies.
She had secretly always wanted to spend holidays with someone, opening Christmas presents from them that were full of funny trinkets and baubles laced with sentimental tidings.
She had secretly always wanted someone to tuck an engagement ring within the confines of a stuffed teddy or a box-within-a-box-within-a-box.
She had found that someone.
She had been so overwhelmed that she simply nodded her downcast head before being enveloped in the tightest bear hug she had ever experience.
She was sure he had never seen the flash of regret that had quickly been masked by smiling lips, hiding eyes mirroring a heart's quiet resignation.
She would be grateful to marry someone who really loved her – and whom she…cared about deeply.
Before they could kiss to seal their betrothal however, she found herself standing on the sidelines of the complete chaos that had erupted before her.
His family had whisked him away – his father proudly shaking his hand and slapping him on the back, his sisters all huddled around him hugging him like he was leaving for the battlefront – and then, there was his mother.
She began kissing him tearfully and going on – and on – and on – with reassurances that they were never going to lose him, that they would be happy to welcome Sara into the family if that's what he really wanted.
Sara continued to stand alone on the outside of this family celebration.
Was this what she really wanted?
At that moment, Sara stood remembering feeling this lonely only one other time in her life.
That was six months ago, when she had watched him from the safe cocoon of the observation room.
He hadn't known she was there.
He had looked so tired.
He had seemed so - haunted.
"I couldn't do it."
Those words spoken, her heart had seized. She stood there, in shock, as her entire existence up to that point came crashing down around her.
Loneliness overwhelmed her.
Her hope for a happily-ever-after died that day.
The real Sara Sidle had died that day.
By the time she had walked out of that room, she was just an empty shell of herself.
She didn't even mourn. Isn't that funny?
The man she knew would be the only man who would ever really know her, who would ever really see the frightened little girl that still resides deep inside her, who would be the one with whom she could let down the walls and really be herself…he was dead to her now.
And she didn't even mourn.
Six months later, Sara had found herself standing outside the fray as she clutched the platinum band housing what she expected was a 2-carat solitaire diamond.
Her first reaction, as she fingered the shiny smoothness of the ring's surface, (if she were brutally honest), was – gaudy.
Her first reaction, as she continued to view the congratulatory scene displayed in front of her, (if she were true to herself), was – escape.
Her first reaction, as she stared at the dark-haired Texan who was the object of his family's adoring attention, was – I wish it was Grissom.
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"Sara, dear," Mrs. Stokes intoned a bit harshly for Sara's taste, "we really can't have you taking off like that. My Nicky will worry his sweet heart out if you keep doing things like that."
Nick's sisters shook their heads, agreeing with their mother as the whole family always did.
No one messed with this matriarch.
Mrs. Stokes had run her household with a firm hand. She was not to be trifled with.
She did have her sweet side, however, and was much beloved within the community of friends who continued to remind Sara at every opportunity how lucky she was to have a mother-in-law like Lillian.
Sara decided she would like that Lillian, the one who ran benefit auctions for the Ladies' Guild and volunteered at the local hospital three afternoons a week.
Always the consummate criminalist, Sara was unfortunately very adept at reading between the lines, and observing behaviors when suspects were out of the limelight.
Lillian Stokes was going to be a real thorn in Sara's side.
But Nick loved his mother, and Nick professed his love for Sara at every opportunity.
For his sake, she kept her opinions to herself, quietly acquiescing as the rest of the family modeled.
The least she could do was fake it. For now.
After all, the family ranch in Texas was a long way from Vegas. And their work schedules really didn't allow for frequent visits.
Sara sighed inwardly, wishing everything that was hurtful was a long way from Vegas.
Seeing his reaction to Nick's announcement after their return from their Christmas break had almost done her in.
Nick had his arm wrapped so tightly around her, Sara found herself unable to breathe.
She couldn't bring herself to look directly at her supervisor, preferring instead to keep her eyes on the chair in front of where he stood.
She had watched his fingers tense, gripping the crimson leather back so tightly that his nails creased and then cracked through the tightly wrapped covering, releasing some white strands of stuffing to coat his work-tempered fingernails.
She was glad Nick held onto her so tightly. Like that chair back, she felt herself coming apart at the seams.
Crashing through the fog of her daydream, she heard the annoying caterwauling continue closer to her.
"Sara, dear," Mrs. Stokes intoned again, almost exasperated. "If I can have your attention," and her four daughters immediately stopped talking, "since you can't seem to find what you are looking for, I took the liberty of having the shop's owner take several dresses into the fitting room for you."
She paused, waiting for Sara to express her gratitude for this helpful gesture.
Instead, Sara produced her garment bag, stating blandly, "Actually, I thought –"
She paused as the bag was unceremoniously taken from her grasp and laid across a nearby settee.
"I'm sure you will love these better," Lillian drawled, placing her hand on Sara's elbow pushing her forward to meet with the waiting dressing room assistants.
"We'll be waiting right here, that's a good girl now," she finished in a tone that would brook no arguments.
It hadn't taken Sara long to rid herself of the over-eager "assistants" who suddenly remembered some vital chores that they needed to attend to. They apparently were not used to clients who could silence whole rooms of LVPD officers with a single glare.
Alone in the queen sized dressing room, smartly outfitted in trendy interior design, Sara slumped down on the overstuffed easy chair.
She fingered the exquisite beading of the satin train that hung before her, absently imagining walking down the aisle, excitement sending her heart into arrhythmia as she sauntered closer to the end of her lonely life, closer to being cherished by someone who would love her forever, closer to becoming the next Mrs.-
She closed her eyes, her heart controlling her thoughts.
Mrs. Grissom.
She found herself unable to breathe, panic setting in.
What was she doing?
Nick had saved her from drowning in her sorrow after Grissom's pronouncement.
He had professed his love for her after their third night together.
She found herself buying into the dream of a new life with someone she cared for.
Nick had offered her a new life, a home, children, a family.
Grissom had wanted none of that with her.
Dammit! She was going to marry Nick and she was going to have the life she always dreamed of.
Even…if it wasn't with the only man she would ever truly love.
Sara forced herself from her padded shelter and called for the assistants to return.
They deftly unzipped the first bag, removing the frivolous garment as Sara beginning to shed her street clothes before slipping inside the cool taffeta underslip.
This wasn't the type of wedding she had always thought she'd have.
"Arms slide into two sleeves, Miss Sidle."
She had imagined a twilight ceremony on a desert plateau with intimate friends.
"Side zipper raised comfortably?"
Instead, his family had invited half of the Texas judicial system and every shoestring relation that Nick had (and some he didn't even know).
"Slip your feet into these medium height heels to help get the idea."
There would be no family on the bride's side, save a few of their coworkers.
"Turn towards the mirror now, dear."
Will Grissom even attend?
"Stunning! You're going to make some man very happy, my dear!"
…oh, Gil…