Chapter Two
When he pulled into the garage of his townhouse, he noticed that a few things were different than they normally were. For one, all of the blinds were open, as well as the windows. Music...country music, to be exact, was floating out of the windows when he had listened closely, and he could see someone walking around. Of course, he wasn't used to coming home and seeing a teenager, either.
He stood in the doorway to the small kitchen, watching with a small smile as she danced around while stirring a few spoonfuls of granola into her yogurt, singing along with Jo Dee Messina's Lesson In Leavin'. He cleared his throat and watched with amusement as she turned around, startled. "Sorry, I forgot what time you were coming home," she said, walking past him as she crunched the first spoonful of her breakfast, heading into the living room to turn down the stereo. "We were only allowed to listen to music on Friday and Saturday afternoons, and it had to be at a really low volume, so I accidentally blasted it."
"That's fine," Grissom said quietly as the song abruptly changed to a Lonestar song. "I see that you still listen to country."
She made a face as she sunk down onto the couch and picked up the entertainment section of the newspaper, unfolding it with a snap of the paper. "It's better than a lot of the stuff out there today. Besides, it's what you and Mom raised me on."
"Actually," he said, opening the fridge to get a bottle of water, "your mom was the country music lover. I was the one that listened to rock. She loved to listen to Crystal Gale, George Jones, and the like."
Shrugging, she ate another spoonful of her yogurt and granola. "Now, it's the Dixie Chicks and Diamond Rio, but I like the old stuff, too. You're the reason that I get funny looks whenever I put on Dr. Hook or something like Brian Setzer. Do you listen to that stuff anymore? I still remember you and Mom dancing around to that stuff when I was little."
He blinked in surprise, wondering when they had started to talk like an actual father and daughter, especially after the conversation they had the night before. "Uh...I still have some of it around, but I don't really listen to it anymore. I have some of your mom's old records, too, if you wanted to listen to them."
Looking up from the paper, she smiled. "Really? I haven't heard some of those in a long time. Do you still have that old '45 that I used to make you guys play all the time? What was it...Elvis and the Space Invaders or something like that. The one that had all the little pieces of songs, when they came down and stole his teddy bear or something like that."
Nodding, he chuckled to himself. "I think it's still around. I don't know how you can listen to that and still not be able to watch E.T. The movie definitely scared you when you were younger. You slept with me and your mom for a week, before we found our old night light."
Her eyes darkened as she looked back at the paper. "Yeah, whatever," she said lowly, tapping one foot to the music as she went back to her reading.
He wasn't sure what he had said wrong, but he knew that Anastasia wasn't going to say anything. Either he had embarrassed her, or he had brought up a sore subject with her, but he knew that what he had said about her and that specific movie wouldn't have made her speak coldly to him. Normally, when he mentioned it, she just blushed and changed the subject. But this was different.
There was the thought that it could have something to do with her mother. He still had trouble thinking about her and what happened. In fact, the only time he talked about her was when his daughter mentioned her. He still blamed himself for her death, and he knew that, whether it was unintentional or not, Anastasia blamed him, too. It had taken her awhile to learn all the facts. Some of it came from old newspaper clippings that she found, little bits of information that either he or Sara Sidle had accidentally told her, and the rest was from what she remembered from when she was younger.
It didn't help that every time he looked at Anastasia, he saw the same girl that had stolen his heart when he was younger, and then just disappeared from his life. He had known Tara from high school, and had somehow ended up at the same college as she had. Their occasional friendship had somehow elevated to their first date, and eventually to their marriage. Anastasia had come sometime after that, the little baby that he had fallen in love with the moment he held her in his arms.
Now, he noticed, she looked more like her mother every time he saw her. In the time that he had sent her away, her chubby little body had grown taller and more slender. Her hair was just a few inches shorter than the length that Tara preferred hers. Their eyes were the same color and held the same depth that he lost himself in so many times when he was younger. Even their attitudes were alike, though Anastasia hadn't been around her mother long enough to adopt it, although she did like to follow her around and mimic everything that she did a few months before she was killed. But she had that same sarcastic, blunt tone of voice that caught you off guard, and the same quick, dry humor. The only way that you could tell that he and his daughter were related, he realized, was that they both had the same smile, though his wasn't as often seen as hers was.
"All I really gotta do is live and die, but I'm in a hurry and don't know why," she sang under her breath, breaking her father out of his thoughts as he stood leaning against the wall, staring blankly at this daughter. "Okay, is there a reason that you're looking at me like that?"
He shrugged, still looking at her, as the medley of Alabama songs turned into a fiddle solo, her foot still tapping out the beat. "I just realized how much you look like your mother. You're almost identical to what she looked like back then," he said quietly, watching as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
Slowly, she put down the section of the paper she was reading and met his eyes. "I know. That's why you never invite me to come back home, besides a few days for Christmas break."
If that wasn't a kick in the ass, he didn't know what was. "Anastasia, I'm sorry that-"
"Don't bother," she said smoothly, breaking him off. "I'm used to it by now, Dad. I see you once a year, I get a phone call every month. It doesn't bother me like it used to, when I was little. I mean, I basically lost my mother and father within a few months, but whatever. If anything, I'm more mature than I should be, and that can't be too bad. Besides, you can't change who you are." She dismissed him by picking up the paper again and reading the next movie review as he turned away, defeated, heading upstairs to the master bedroom.
He just didn't know how to go about telling her that the father that she knew wasn't the person he really was.
When Grissom woke up later that afternoon, he had expected to see his daughter stretched out in front of the television, a luxury that wasn't offered in her private school. On the weekends, they had the opportunity to watch a movie or two in the lounge, and with their curfew of ten o'clock on Saturdays, they could go out to a movie theater if they wanted, but television shows was something that she didn't get to watch. When she had been younger, she used to sit down with her mom whenever Tara watched a soap opera during the afternoon, and he knew that when she was in private school on Oahu, she had a friend that invited her over to her house every weekend to watch television with her, but she really didn't get to see much.
Instead, he had heard country music, yet again, coming from the closed door to the guest room, along with the sounds of Anastasia unpacking her luggage that had come a day early. He remembered the phone ringing once, and her answering it, but the call obviously wasn't for him, judging by the amount of time she had spent talking and laughing with whoever it was.
For the past hour, he hadn't seen his daughter, but he could hear her moving around before the door to her bedroom flung against the wall and the music became louder as she ran down the stairs. "Hey," she called over her shoulder as she dug into her backpack for something.
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked her curiously, as she pulled out both a tube of lipstick and a tube of lip gloss.
She nodded, throwing her hair out of her face. "Yeah, Sara called earlier and wanted to know if I wanted to catch a quick dinner with her, so that we could do a little catching up with what's been going on lately. Actually, my taxi should be coming in fifteen minutes. Damn, I have to hurry up," she said as she hurried back up the stairs and, from what it sounded like, into the bathroom. A few minutes later, the music turned off and she was back downstairs, straightening out the black tank top she was wearing. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked suddenly, looking over at him as he started to read the same paper she had finished that morning.
Looking up, Grissom shook his head. "No, I know that you and Sara haven't seen each other for awhile. She was on vacation last time you were out, right?"
"I'm surprised that you even remembered," she mumbled, as she slipped on a pair of black sandals, looking around. "Do you know where I left my wallet?"
"Ontop of the microwave," he told her, before turning the page. "Take a jacket with you. The sun'll be down by the time that you come home, and it'll be cool then."
Her eyes rolled as she threw her wallet in her purse, snapping her gum. "Thanks, Dad, but it gets cool in Orlando at night, too. Well, sometimes. I'm not stupid enough to forget my jacket, anyway. Oh, that distance education school called, and said that I have to come in tomorrow to meet with my counselor. You don't have to come, though, because I'm sixteen. This is the cheapest school that I've ever been enrolled in. They want the cheque for a hundred dollars tomorrow, too."
He nodded, engrossed in whatever article he was reading. "I know. I'll drive you down tomorrow. When is your appointment?"
"Two in the afternoon. I have to pick out what courses I'm taking, too. They said that I can only take two at once, so I'll most likely get science over as quick as possible. That and math," she said, making a face as she picked up her leather jacket from the back of one of the dining room chairs, folding it over her arm.
"You're definitely your mother's daughter in that aspect," he said dryly. "I think it's safe to say that you're not going to major in any type of science in college."
Sighing, she went into the kitchen to get rid of her gum. "If I go to college," she reminded him.
"When you go to college," he said in return, smiling to himself when he saw her look. "Wasn't that part of the deal? If I let you go on that trip to France with your friend's family, you'd at least go through one year of college." She made another face as her words as she picked up her purse. "Your taxi is here."
"I noticed. See you later," she called as she walked out of the townhouse, to the waiting yellow car.
With a frown on her face, Anastasia looked across the table at the brunette. "I don't know. I still think that it would be better for me to stay in Florida, but he won't hear any of it," she complained, taking a sip of her cola before putting down the glass and stirring the slice of lime around with her straw.
Sara Sidle grinned across from her. "You're just not used to Grissom being concerned about you. You might as well get used to it if you're out here."
"All he used to be concerned about was my bank account before. I think I liked that side of him better. You can totally tell that he doesn't want me around, if only for the fact that I bring back all his memories of Mom, and I'm sure that he'd like to forget about her and what happened. That's the way he's always been."
With a shrug, the woman speared a piece of cucumber from her salad and chewed it thoughtfully for a moment. "At least he's making an effort, Ana. You said that he mentioned Tara. That's a huge step, considering that he never talks about her. Not even to me, and I'm the only one that knows that he was married before."
Sighing, the teenager looked out the window next to her, watching a group of laughing tourists walk by. "I know, but he talks about her like he never met her, just heard about her. He never calls her by name. It's always 'your mom'. I know that she's dead, but at least I can talk about the memories I have of her."
"You don't remember that much about her, though. You've told me that before. You were the really young when it happened. I mean, I still have trouble talking about it, and you were there when it happened. That really freaked Grissom out. I still remember how he was shaking when he opened the door to let me in."
Throwing her hands in the air to show her frustration, she looked back at her old baby-sitter. "I know, Sara, but he basically abandoned me a few months later. He could barely look at me when I was there. Even I remember that. Yes, I remember more of the aftermath than before it happened, and it still bothers me, but...this is just ridiculous. It's like we're too strangers. He has no idea what I'm like, and I don't know how to act around him. I have no idea what I can get away with, for Christ's sake."
The woman laughed lightly. "You don't know if you can swear, or if you have a curfew. Does he even know that you smoke?" Anastasia shook her head. "Oh, he's going to flip when he hears that. Do you know that he used to smoke? He told me that both him and Tara quit when they found out that she was pregnant the first time, and never started up again."
Her brow furrowed. "Mom was pregnant before? I never knew that."
Sara nodded. "Yeah, but she lost the baby really soon. Like two weeks after she found out. The doctors told her that there was probably something wrong with it, so it self-aborted. But when they found out that she was pregnant with you, they were supposedly really careful. But, as far as I know, there was nothing wrong with you when you were born." As she spoke, she started to hunt around in her salad for another piece of cucumber.
"You know more about my past than I do. And I have no intention of telling Dad that I smoke. He probably thinks that he can still take me out to the woodshed for a couple of minutes."
Wrinkling her nose, she laughed. "You don't have a woodshed. Maybe over his knee, but you'd fight back as much as possible." Pointing her fork at the teenager, she warned her, choosing her words carefully. "I may keep a lot of your secrets, and there's a lot that I would do for you, Ana, but there is no way in hell that I'm going to keep this quiet. He's going to find out eventually, and it's better if you just come out and tell him, because I'm not going to be supplying you with cigarettes. I quit about a year ago myself."
"I probably should, but I know that it's ninety nine point nine percent willpower, and point one percent Nicorette. I just can't see myself doing it right now, really, especially since I've suddenly got someone playing the role of the concerned father, something that I'm not used to."
Leaning across the table, Sara lowered her voice as if someone was going to overhear them. "Want to know a secret? Grissom's been concerned about you the whole time that you've been gone. I've heard him talking to himself every now and then about calling the headmistress of whatever school you're at, and finding out how you're doing. I'm the only one that ever knew what he was talking about, but a day doesn't go by that he doesn't wonder about who your friends are, or what you did on the weekend. He's stopped himself from calling you a lot of times, because he knows that you only expect a monthly call. Anything else would mean that someone died."
Shaking her head, she looked down at her empty plate, where her grilled sea bass had been. "I figured as much, but it was sort of disheartening to think that he wasn't concerned. I told him that it didn't bother me, but it does. I could understand if I didn't have a father, but I do. He's the only family that I have left, really. I never see my cousins or my uncle and aunt. They both think that Mom's death was his fault, so that means that I'm just another black sheep of the family."
"Well, it doesn't help that he has all of those little treats in his office, either."
Anastasia raised her hand to cut her off. "I know. I can't stand being in there. He, at least, keeps the townhouse somewhat normal for when I come by, but that office belongs in a circus sideshow or something. I never understood his fascination with bugs. I take pride in every spider that gets flushed down the toilet, every ant that I step on, every mosquito I kill, and every crushed fly on the windshield. If I asked Dad if he knew who...Alien Ant Farm was, he's probably say that it was a bug museum in Milwaukee or something."
Laughing, the woman pushed her plate to the side. "Where did you learn that one?"
"One of my roommates loved that song they covered. I prefer the Michael Jackson version, myself, but Alan Jackson is more my speed," she giggled. "I'm serious, though. Usually, the generation gap is pretty bad between a father and a daughter. For us, it's more like the width of the Grand Canyon. And it'll never get smaller."
"You have a chance, though, to get to know him finally," Sara told her with a smile. "Come on, let's order dessert, and you can tell me about France. I've always wanted to go there."
Humming to herself, Anastasia walked up the brick steps that led to the front door, listening as the taxi driver pulled away, before she tried to turn the door knob. Frowning when the door didn't open, she knocked on the wood loudly. "Dad, it's me," she called, hearing the lock unsnap before the door opened to let her in finally. "I really need to get a key or something," she said, as she slipped off her jacket and walked into the living room, dropping it on an armchair. "You know, we really...okay, what are you doing, living our your Dragnet fantasies or something?" she asked suddenly, turning around to look at Grissom.
"What are you talking about?" he asked innocently, even though she could tell that it was forced.
Her hands rested on her hips as she nodded towards the gun. "If I was on a date or something, I would figure that you'd either want to fingerprint them, or pull out the double barrel shot gun, but this was just dinner with Sara. Or is there something that you're not telling me? Have you been watching too much Law and Order again? Last time you did, you wanted me to become a district attorney."
As soon as she finished talking, the phone rang, making both of them jump. Rolling her eyes, she went towards it when he didn't move. "Don't answer that, Anastasia," he warned her.
"It's probably Sara, or someone that you work with," she said, cutting off whatever else he was going to say as she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
A man's voice greeted her on the other end. "Hi, there. May I speak to Gil Grissom, please?"
She raised her eyebrows at the movement her dad was doing, motioning for her to hang up the phone. "May I ask who's speaking?" she asked as politely as she could muster. When she got her answer, she smiled brightly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hill, but I think you have the wrong number. No one lives here by that name. What number were you trying to call?" Nodding her head, she waved her father away with one hand. "No, you definitely have the wrong number. You must have dialed 5429 instead of 5428. Bye." Hanging up the phone, she turned to look at her dad.
"I told you not to answer it," he said, when the phone rang again.
Her eyes rolled as she picked up the phone. "Hello?" She paused and smiled again. "No, you've got the wrong number again. That's all right, Mr. Hill. Have a nice night. Bye now." Putting the phone down, she raised a single eyebrow, a trait she had picked up from Grissom. "The only Hill that either of us know is Faith, and I personally haven't had the chance to meet her. Have you?"
Looking confused, he shook his head. "What...no. What are you talking about?"
"The fact that there's definitely something that you're not telling me." Smirking, she motioned to the couch. "Un-holster the gun and sit down, because you can't keep me in the dark if this involves me. Maybe it's time that we talked," she added sarcastically before sitting down herself.
"Lesson In Leaving" by Jo Dee Messina, and the Alabama Medley are both found on Country Heat 2000 (but the Jo Dee Messina song is found on about ten other CDs, too). And yes, there really is an old '45 called "Elvis and the Space Invaders" or something similar. I used to have it around when I was younger. If you can find it, or have it, it's great for a laugh.
And E.T. is scary.
Chapter Three
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