Chapter Three

"I'll be fine," Anastasia groaned, dropping her head in her hands. "Look, there's a baseball bat in the closet. Worse comes to worse, I bat for the cycle against this guy's head. Besides, he's not going to bother us. It's probably just some poor guy that had the wrong number, like I've been saying for the past hour."

With a shake of his head, her father crossed his arms and assumed the stance she had seen so many times. The one that meant that she wasn't going to get away with whatever it was she wanted to, whether it was stealing a cookie from the fresh batch that her mom had just made, or the tongue piercing that she had wanted last year. So far, she was zero for two. The only difference was, this time, her dad had a gun, and it frightened her slightly. "You don't know that for sure, Anastasia, and I don't want to take that risk."

"Oh, so you want me to spend a night in your office, while you go gallivanting around and dancing the tango with dead bodies, or whatever the hell it is you do? You want me to sleep on the couch in your office, staring at that God awful...whatever you have embalmed in that jar. And no, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I just want to know one thing about it. Is it in animal?" When he nodded, she turned her head and gagged. "I think I'm going to become a vegetarian, like Sara. That's sick."

Sighing, he leaned back against the wall. "Again, I have a feeling that you won't major in science in college. I was hoping that you would."

Raising a hand, she chuckled lightly. "One science geek is enough in this family. Dad, I had to run to the bathroom and throw up when they wanted us to dissect a sheep's eye. I just couldn't do it. I could barely do the earthworm one, and the frog...that was out of the question. I'm just not a science type of person...but we're getting off track here. We weren't talking about my sudden major that you've already picked out."

"We're talking about the phone calls, and what you're going to do. Which is come with me to the lab, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure that nothing happens. Even if I'm not there, there's plenty of police officers in the building-"

"And all I have to do is yell, 'Help, the son of a bitch is raping me', and boom, thirty guys with guns and beer bellies come to my rescue. I know that, Dad, but did you ever take MY choice into consideration? Maybe I don't want to sleep in a room filled with creepy crawlies that I would much rather attack with a can of Raid. If you make me go, I'm going to head down to the store and buy thirty cans of that crap. I'm warning you, right now."

Grissom sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Anastasia, please don't do this. You're being ridiculous."

Jumping up off the couch, she pointed her finger at him. "No, you're the one that's being ridiculous. I'm sixteen, almost seventeen. I can take care of myself. Like I said, all I have to do is leave the Louisville Slugger by the door, and if someone comes, I'll make sure that the bat lives up to its name. And would you take that damned thing off? You're going to shoot yourself in the foot or something."

Looking down at the gun, he spoke dryly. "It's regulation that we have them now, and it's nowhere near my foot. Besides, I have to go to the lab in twenty minutes, and you will be coming with me."

"When hell freezes over, and I'll make sure that I have plenty of rock salt with me, just in case that ever happens," she spat out. "I'm going to go lock myself in my room. And I'll be sure to barricade the door. And I'll be ready with the bat. Just try and get in," she warned as she headed towards the stairs. "Don't call me, either. I want to get some sleep. I'm not used to staying up all night," she added with a yawn.

A moment of silence enveloped the entire townhouse, before he finally shouted after her, his parenting skills finally kicking in, albeit a little slowly. "Anastasia Tara Grissom," he called in warning.

Her laughter floated down the stairs towards him. "Grissom-Davidson, actually," she shouted back before her door slammed. "Have a good night at work!"

With her jean jacket flapping behind her, Sara hurried to catch up with Grissom as he walked towards the entrance of the building. "Hey," she said breathlessly when she was walking side by side with him. "I know how Ana's doing with you, but how are you doing with Ana?" she asked curiously.

He looked over at her and shook his head. "Whatever happened to 'how's your day been'?" he asked himself. "How would you think I'm doing with her?"

"Is that rhetorical?" she asked before shaking her head as well, as he opened the door for her. She walked in and headed over to the front desk immediately, signing and noting down the time before waiting for him to do the same. As soon as they started walking through the familiar hallways, she brought up the subject again. "You know, she and I had a long talk during dinner."

His sigh was almost silent as they headed towards the break room. "And?"

Smiling, she looked away. "And what? Did you want to know what we talked about?"

"That would generally be the idea after you say something like that." Seeing her stubborn expression, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I faintly remember you being this bad when I tried to pay you double for baby-sitting on New Years Eve. You didn't take the money, either, did you?"

"Nope. Besides, I didn't have a date. When do I have a date for New Years?" she asked herself. Shaking her head, she hurried to catch up with him. "Besides me asking about where she went on vacations and what it was like, since I never get a chance to go to Paris or Hawaii, we talked about the two of you." He opened the door to the break room, allowing her to enter before him again. "Actually, that was the majority of the discussion. Remember, I never said any of this to you."

He nodded, his interest piqued. "Sure, go on."

Walking over to the coffee machine in the corner, she grabbed her usual mug and poured herself a cup, watching him curiously. "She's...confused, and with good reason. I mean, she knew who you were when she was younger. And then she got to know a different side of you when you started to ship her off all around the country. Now, she doesn't know who you are, and you're not helping matters anymore."

Raising his hand, he cut her off, knowing what she was going to say. She always brought up his wife at this point in the discussion, and he didn't want to hear it. He had managed to avoid it the last four times that Anastasia had come up in seemingly innocent conversation. "Sara, please. Not tonight."

"Why not? Look, she knows how much it bothers you that she looks so much like Tara, and it bothers her that it bothers you. She's just trying to understand who she is. It's a tough age. I remember. You may not, but I do, and it wasn't a walk in the park. But she has to deal with the fact that her mom was killed right in front of her, and that you won't even mention her." Her head turned when the door opened again, and a mischievous smile spread on her face when she saw who it was and where they were heading. "Besides, Ana's living with you now."

Catherine Willows slid to a stop, her eyes as wide as could be as she looked between the two of them. "Whoa, wait a second. Someone's living with you?" she asked her shift supervisor with a surprised look. "How come I wasn't informed of this?"

Sara only smiled more brightly, knowing that as soon as Catherine knew, the news was going to be around the lab quicker than she could whistle 'London Bridges'. She wouldn't have been surprised if it made it all the way to the police side of the building, either. Grissom, on the other hand, didn't look as happy about the news being out. "Yes, someone is living with me."

"Someone named...Anna, did you say, Sara?"

Shaking her head, she smiled again. "Ana. Like 'awning', but with an 'ah' at the end, instead of an 'ing'. Short for Anastasia."

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she nodded. "Judging by the name, she sounds like your typical Barbie doll. Blonde hair, big boobs, and a lot of space between the ears. I never knew that you were seeing someone. Why am I always left out of the loop?"

"Because you have the biggest mouth," Grissom sighed.

Both of her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? I didn't deserve that."

"Ana's not his girlfriend. In fact, that thought frightens me," Sara added with a grin. "And she's not a roommate, either."

Rolling her eyes, Catherine sighed theatrically. "Don't tell me that you're picking up strays. If this is just the name of a spider or some other insect of yours, I'll kill you."

Shaking her head, the brunette answered for him. "No, she only has two legs, and she's human. Come on, take a guess. This is so much fun," she added with a chuckle. "I'll give you a hint. She's not a friend, either."

"The only other thing that I can come up with is family member. What is she, a niece? An aunt with bright red lipstick that you absolutely hate? Tell me. I hate not knowing anything."

"No wonder you're in such a bad mood all day," Sara coughed. "Family member, yes. Niece or aunt, no. Get this, Grissom has a daughter."

Her mouth dropped open. "Daughter?"

"Daughter."

"Teenager or toddler?"

"Sixteen."

"Ouch," Catherine said quickly, taking a sip of coffee. "I take back my comment about the Barbie doll. Wow, a daughter. A teenager no less. That's got to be rough. I remember what it was like to be that age. All the parties, and sneaking around behind my...well, you probably don't want to hear about that."

He shook his head firmly. "No, I most certainly don't. It's bad enough that I have to watch out for her now. To know that most teenagers do what you were about to say is frightening enough. If she isn't going to give me a heart attack, you two will." Frowning, he looked away. "I don't remember acting like that when I was a teenager."

Both women gaped at him for a moment before they broke into laughter. "Please," the brunette began. "It's safe to say that she acts more like her-"

His head snapped back up as she was speaking and he quickly broke her off. "I have to get something from my office. Excuse me," he said quietly, walking out of the room quickly. Sara sighed and shook her head. She knew better than to mention Tara in conversation, but she tried anyway. To attempt to mention her in front of anyone else...well, that was a mistake that practically meant the end of the world.

"What was that all about?" Catherine asked, tilting her head towards the door as she spoke. "I have a feeling that this is going to be a hell of a strange night. I never knew that he had a kid, and a teenager at that. Damn, what's next? Don't tell me that he's i the middle of a custody battle, too."

"I wish," Sara said quietly. "It would definitely make this a little easier to understand." Looking up, she smiled and gestured to the door. "Go spread the rumor. I know you want to. I'll give you first shot at it, but I'm not answering any more questions. Grissom will never forgive me if I say anything else, and he already thinks that I've said too much."

Nodding, Catherine grinned. "So I noticed. If you'll excuse me, I think I just saw Nick. He'll help me spread this a little further," she said with a little laugh before heading out the door.

Anastasia smiled, pushing her hands in her jeans pockets. That was the number one rule, no matter where she went when they were shopping. If her hands were in her pockets, she couldn't touch anything. If she didn't have pockets, her hands had to be behind her back. The elderly woman at the small craft store always gave her a lollipop when they were leaving, because she was such a well behaved child.
"Mommy, look at that," she cried in a tiny voice, nodding towards a display a few feet away. After all, it was impolite to point, something that her father taught her awhile back. "Can we buy one?"
Tara laughed, struggling to take her wallet out of her purse, trying to keep an eye on her young daughter the same time that she was watching the bags she had put on the ground. "Stand right here, Ana. I'll be just a second, and then we can go over there and look, all right?"
"But it's blue. It's a blue teddy bear. I always wanted a blue one," she pouted, kicking one foot on the ground.
"You just got a new teddy bear, remember? Grandma just gave you that pretty white one," she said, as she finally pulled out the leather wallet, and started to work on the clasp of the change part, cursing under her breath when she chipped a nail against it.
Anastasia looked from her mom to the display of stuffed animals, a mischievous smile spreading on her face as her head turned from side to side. She watched as her mom started to count out shiny coins, sliding back a few steps, but keeping her eyes on her mother. When she didn't notice, she moved back a little quicker, before turning around and moving her little sneaker clad feet quicker, running towards the display.
When she turned her head to say something to her daughter, Tara noticed she wasn't standing there, and immediately, panic went over her like a wave, before she saw the little blonde haired girl running towards the stuffed animals. "Anastasia," she called over the din of voices around here. "Get back here."
Just as Anastasia turned to look at her mother with an apologetic look on her face for running off, something that sounded suspiciously like the fire crackers she heard around their neighborhood around Hallowe'en, echoed throughout the mall. Her mouth dropped open as someone grabbed her from behind, tugging on her tee shirt to pull her back, before a strange woman held her back. She remembered what her parents had taught her about "the bad people", and started to squirm from side to side. "Let me go. My mommy is over there," she cried, beating at the hands that were holding her.
All around her, screams and shouts sounded. Tears started to fall when she heard someone call someone else a son of a bitch, the words scaring her. She had only heard her father swear once, and it had frightened her before. "It's all right," the woman tried to soothe her.
The child only cried harder. "No, I want my mommy. You're not my mommy. I want my daddy," she screamed, hitting the woman's hands harder in a vain attempt to get away.
"I'll help you find your mom in a minute. Just be quiet for a little while," the woman said, trying to calm her down. Anastasia made her hands into fists and started to rub her eyes, wiping away the tears as a group of security guards started to run by them. The woman saw them go by, and saw everyone else starting to stand up and look around. As she stood, Anastasia slipped out of her grasp and started to run away.
She followed behind her, before the child stopped in her tracks, looking at where she had been standing before. "Why isn't my mommy getting up? Is she sleeping?" she asked, her little chest heaving as she took a deep breath. "I need to go to my mommy."
As she started away, the woman grabbed her from the back of the shirt again, pulling her back. Anastasia made a face as she rubbed her neck, thinking about how mad her father would be when he heard what happened to her. "That's your mom?" the woman asked, crouching down to look the girl in the eyes, turning her away.
She nodded, blonde hair bouncing. "Yes, that's my mommy. She...she has a...she hurt herself. Did she cut her finger? That's what mine looked like when I cut mine." Looking over her shoulder, she turned back to the woman, a frantic look entering her dark brown eyes. "Why isn't Mommy getting up?"
A security guard that had been passing by stopped and looked down at the little girl before turning to the woman. "Did she say that the woman over there is her mom?" he asked. When the woman nodded, he bent down beside the girl like she had done. "What's your name, sweetie?"
Shaking her head, she crossed her arms and frowned. "My daddy said that I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, and you're a stranger, so I can't talk to you."
He had obviously been expecting her to say that, and he reached up to slip the gold badge he wore away from his shirt, showing it to her. "Do you know what this means?"
This time, she nodded. "You're a police officer. My daddy works with police officers. He said that he helps them with the bad guys. Are you looking for a bad guy?" The man hesitated for a second before nodding. "Maybe my daddy is going to help, then."
"Well, I need your name so that I can get your dad to help me. My name is Ted, so what's yours?" he asked.
She smiled brightly. "It's nice to meet you, sir," she said politely, the way she had been taught. "My name is Anastasia Tara Grissom, but my mommy and my baby-sitter call me Ana or Stacey. My daddy calls me Princess. My baby-sitter's name is Sara. I can spell all of them, too."
"Do you want to come with me so that we can call your daddy, Stacey?"
She was about to look over her shoulder again before the man stopped her, keeping her facing him. "But what about my mommy? I...I need to stay with my mommy."
"My friends will stay with your mom, all right? They're police officers, too. They'll be with your mom, and we can call your dad to come and see you. Come on, sweetie," he said, taking her hand and leading her away.
With a gasp, Anastasia opened her eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. She kicked at her blankets, trying to get her legs untangled as she sat up and ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. Ever since her father had dropped the bombshell that her mother's killer was out of jail, she had the same dream every time she fell asleep, whether it was in her room or just nodding off when she was watching television.

It wasn't a dream that she liked to have, and it always stopped at the same spot. But she could remember what happened afterwards, very clearly. She had waited in a small room with the security guard who wasn't really a police officer, asking to see her mother every few minutes. It had been twenty minutes, but it felt like hours, before her father came in to see her, immediately picking her up and holding her so tight she thought that she wouldn't be able to breathe.

She didn't understand at the time why Tara wasn't going home with them, and why a police officer drove them back to their house, instead of taking their car. They had went home, and she remembered crying from her mom, asking why she wasn't there with them, but her father never answered her. Instead, Sara had come over and taken her in her room and told her what had happened. That someone had hurt her mom, that she wouldn't be coming back. She didn't really understand why she wouldn't be coming, but it had been Sara that had stayed with her when she cried, not her father.

Usually, it was something that happened in the past for Anastasia, but now it felt like it had just happened yesterday. She felt her eyes filling with tears as she fell back against her pillows, staring at the white ceiling, as she tried to think of something else, anything.

It had really been the beginning of the end for any relationship that she may have had with her father. It was then that he started to act different, almost impassive whenever he spoke to her or looked at her. It hadn't been long after that, that she started her years in boarding and private schools. That had only furthered the indifference between the two of them.

Now, it was like they were two strangers that were forced to live together. He knew the basic things about her that anyone else would know after spending a week with her. What music she listened to, what she liked to eat, what she liked to wear. But he didn't know that she dated a guy last year that had broken her heart and made it feel like it was the end of her world. He didn't know that she preferred lime lip gloss to anything else. He didn't know that she carried a worn picture of her and her parents in her wallet, hidden behind her student identification card.

Those were the things that Sara knew, because she wrote her, called her, and asked. He never asked about those things. He asked how she was, and expected her to say that she was fine. How her grades were, and expected her to say that they hadn't changed. If she needed any more money, and expected her to say no. And that was it.

Sara had made a comment about how the two of them would finally have a chance to get to know each other. She was starting to doubt that it could ever happen.

"I feel like I'm trapped in some God awful soap opera," she groaned before throwing the blankets off of her and standing up. The last thing she wanted to do was go back to sleep and dream about her again.

Chapter Four
pepsicolagurl@shaw.ca