A/N: I was able to watch "Committed" on Spike last Friday night all by myself without my husband or kids around, and, for the first time, I noticed Grissom and Sara's eyes throughout the entire episode. They are always watching each other. This episode was only halfway over before this idea was forming in my head. I usually get post-ep ideas everytime I watch CSI, but they never get any further than my head. This one, however, had to get out. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. Never have been, never will be.

Must get home.

The thought began pounding in Sara's head as she exited the lab and quickly walked to her car. She didn't stop, as she usually did to appreciate the rising sun, the rain from the last few day having finally ended. She only knew that she was about to fly apart into a million pieces.

Must get home.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly as she manuvered , almost blindly, through the early morning traffic rush. She could feel the tears beginning to well up, and she was afraid that if she began crying now, she might never stop.

Must get home.

She pulled into her parking space and stumbled up the walk, ignoring her neighbor's greeting. Her mind was focued solely on reaching her apartment, her sancutary, and the one place where she felt totally and completely safe.

Must get home.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to unlock the door. She cursed softly when she dropped her keys, but finally, she was able to get the lock undone.

As the door swung open, the tranquility of her apartment reached out to embrace her. But even that wasn't enough for her restless soul. Without looking, she dropped her purse and keys on the counter and walked to the refrigerator. Taking a deep breath, she opened it, and her fingers clasped the one thing that she believed could bring her relief.

Alcohol.

After her DUI, she had cleansed her apartment of all of the hard liquor. Her counselor had been right. She had spent too much time looking for comfort at the bottom of a bottle. Now, the only thing she allowed herself was a bottle of beer after work each day. Thankfully, she had purchased a new case after work yesterday. She had a feeling one bottle wasn't going to cut it today.

Two empty bootles stood neatly on the counter even before she walked over to her couch, pausing only to kick her shoes off before she curled up under a blanket. She tried to understand why she was so frightened today. The attack had happened yesterday. But yesterday, she had been fine. Grissom had even called her at home to check up on her, and, after she picked her jaw up off of the floor, she was able to honestly tell him she was OK. But not today. Today, all she could see every time she closed her eyes were Adam Trent's crazed ones as he stepped toward her. All she could feel was the bite of the ceramic handle as it pushed against her neck. All she could hear was his whispering in her ear as he threatened to kill her. And all she could feel was the same all encompassing fear that had overtaken her as she had been pushed against that cold floor. She downed another bottle, hoping that soon a drunken oblivion would cover her.

She was working on her fifth bottle when there was a soft knock on her door. Her heart leapt for a second, before she jerked it down. It's not him, silly, she told herself. He called yesterday, remember? He's probably already moved on to the next case. She slowly pulled herself from the couch and, without looking, yanked the door open.

And there he was. She gaped for a minute before finding her voice. "What are you doing here?" she snapped.

He gave her that slight smile, then. That little smile that had always made her stomach jump slightly, and her knees quiver. Is that even possible? she wondered. She'd fallen for that smile years ago, and even now she was still powerless to refuse it.

"Hello to you too, Sara," he answered. "May I come in?"

She gestured wordlessly and closed the door behind him. As she came around, she saw him staring at the four bottled lined up neatly like little soldiers on her counter. "You want to aske me if I"m drunk?" she asked, repeating her question from a month ago when he had last been in her apartment.

He sighed, frustrated. "And like I said before, we both know that's not your problem. You don't have anyone to be angry at here. " His voice softened slightly. "So what's going on?"

She knew she couldn't let him in, so she fought back with her only weapon, anger. "So what is my problem, huh? You think you know me so well. I fell for all the soft words last time, and now you know my whole story. No one else does, but for some reason, you get under my skin. Well, what do you think? Do I just draw the crazed lunatics to me? Is that what it is?" She swiped away the tears from her eyes.

He reached a hand tentatively out towards her, but she ignored it and wrapped her arms around her middle. He sighed, again and searched his brain for a way to reach her. "See, Sara, you're doing it again. You're letting your anger eat away at you and cover the emotions you're really feeling. And now, you're trying to hide it in alcohol, too. I want to know what's really going on." And he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She had known that if her touched her, she would break. And she did. Completely. Everything that she had been holding in for the last day and a half poured out. She felt the tears that she had wanted to cry when Adam Trent had first grabbed her. And she cried the tears she wanted to cry when the ceramic handle bit into her neck. And she cried the tears she had wanted to cry as she looked into Grissom's eyes and saw her own terror reflected in his. She cried them all, and now she was afraid they'd never end.

He pulled her close and let her cry as he stroked her hair and whispered reassurances into her ear. His own tears fell unchecked as well. He had almost lost her. For one terrifying moment, he had seen what his life would be like without her. And for that one moment, he had wanted to die as well.

As her sobs began to lessen, he gently steered her toward the couch. He sat and pulled her into his lap and held her close. "Shh," he whispered gently. "It's OK. You're safe now. He can't ever come and hurt you ever again."

"I thought I was going to die," she choked out. "I was so afraid I was going to die right there on that hard, cold floor with you watching. I told myself that if he killed me, at least the last thing I would see would be your face. It was the only thing that kept me from breaking."

"Oh, honey," he said softly. He tried to continue, but he couldn't with the tears that began clogging his throat again. He just continued to stroke her hair until her sobs finally quieted.

He tipped his head slightly to look into her face. Her eyes stared vacantly ahead, and he knew she had reached the point of exhaustion. "Come on, Sara," he urged quietly. "It's time for you to get some sleep." He slid her off of his lap and stood up, reaching his hand out to her.

She grasped his hand as if she were drowning and looked up at him, pleading. "Will you stay with me? Just while I sleep? To help keep the nightmares away?"

He looked at her for a long moment and realized that he could never leave her. His heart had been broken when he had seen her there, in the grasp of a crazed prisoner, and the moment she had broken free, he vowed he'd never know what it was like to be without her again.

"Sure," he answered softly.

The End