2004-10-27 - 12:57 p.m.

Remember Grissom's Hands? The story that's sprinkled in all over the diary? Here's the next chapter, because people over at Fanfic.net were bugging me for it.

Chapter 11
Sara tucked her chin and tilted her head, examining the dusty remains of the pantry.
“Well?” the less than patient voice from behind her urged. “Dust and spiders mostly. A few old boxes of oatmeal.” “I don’t think there’s much else to see in here. Let’s have a look at the bedrooms.” His disinterest in the spiders made her heart sink a little.

They crossed back the way they came and took the alternate side of the hallway. “First door. Our room.” No stick in this door it slid open easily and the room was filled with sunlight. Red and white dominated. There was one bed, on the wall furthest from the window. It had been painted white, though dark wood still showed in places. The spread was a child’s baseball pattern, white baseballs, bats and caps on a red background. The walls and single bureau contained child sized baseball trophies and team photos. Red and white pennants hung from the ceiling.

“Your brother played little league?” “No.” Grissom picked up one of the photos and pointed out a date on the bottom corner “6-23-04”. He pursed his lips but said nothing more. Sara examined the trophies, “They’re all for the same team, maybe he coached?” The theory earned her an arched eyebrow but nothing more. Gil opened dresser drawers and discovered them full of boys clothing. “These weren’t his, this is taking the reliving your youth thing a little far.” The hamper proved clean. Under the bed there were a few mad magazines with the current year dates on them.

Sara couldn’t help but continue to voice her thought process. “So, okay, he continues to grow while you stop. His dishes remain in the kitchen but yours are gone. There is evidence of him sitting in the living room but not of you, and now you’re completely gone from this room and he has, what, reinvented himself as a child?”

“Maybe. Could be he wanted to create the illusion of a happy childhood. Could be that he was reliving one. Hard to tell.” “Weird.”

Gil left the room and opened the next-door down. It had been his mother’s room and looked much as it had when she lived in it. He moved in tentatively and breathed in the must. It would seem that his brother hadn’t spent much time in here. Sara came in behind him and placed her hand in the small of his back as she stood next to him. “Your mom’s room.” “Yes.” He looked at her, she seemed so strong it was hard to imagine what she had been though. “It looks like it always did though. I don’t think he came in here very often.”
She bent, first at the waist and then dropped to her knees. “Uh…Gil? Your mom into bondage?” His eyebrows shot up even as he got down to her level.

Attached to the underside of his mother’s bed were leather restraints in a crisscross pattern. The pair followed the straps to arm and leg cuffs positioned on the top of the mattress. Gil sat back on the floor, his knees to his chin. “There’s no wear on them.” Sara reported from the foot of the bed. He leaned back to rest his swimming head on his mothers chair and hit something hard. Another restraint. The chair was set up in the same method as the bed.

“He was going to keep her here. He was going to finish whatever was in his head for us and then he was going to bring her here and pretend everything was the way it should have been.”

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