A/N: My first CSI Fic, initially published on 4/26/08.

UPDATE (10/30/2016): I am in the process of re-writing this fic. The underlying plot and events will remain the same, I'm just improving parts of it as I believe (hopefully accurately) that my writing abilities have developed quite a bit since I wrote this originally. I will note where I have replaced chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. Obviously. This is for entertainment purposes only.

"She would change everything for happily ever after. Caught in the in between, a beautiful disaster…"

-"Beautiful Disaster" by Jon McLaughlin

Sara stared blankly at her wall from her position on the couch in her apartment. His words were still ringing in her ears, producing fresh tears each time they infiltrated her mind.

"We can't Sara. I'm your boss. It wouldn't be appropriate."

"Isn't that the reason you brought me here though? I thought you cared about me..."

"I do."

"No. You don't. If you did you would have said yes."

"Sara…"

That's when she had left. Not even giving him a chance to explain any further. Now she was home, sitting on the couch getting ready to start her third beer. She still wasn't drunk, just tipsy and she knew the pain would not subside until she was so far from herself that she couldn't think coherently.

She grabbed the bottle opener from the coffee table and wrenched the cap off of the fresh beer so violently that some of the amber liquid slopped down the front of her shirt. Ignoring this, she lifted it to her lips and took several large gulps, attempting to still the fury inside her between swallows.

She wondered how many it would take this time. When she had begun drinking back in college one beer was enough to give her a pleasant buzz, and with two she became more than a bit silly. Anything beyond that meant getting sick or falling asleep and over the years she had learned to limit her consumption in order to avoid these outcomes.

However, due to a shift in her drinking habits over the past few months—an indirect result of Grissom's erratic behavior no doubt—her status as a lightweight had begun to change. In short, she had built up quite a tolerance. And this tolerance was beginning to make it difficult for her to achieve her aims with only a few beers.

Recognizing this fact, she drained the last drops from the bottle and decided to switch tactics. She knew better than anyone that it was unwise to mix beer with hard liquor, but tonight she was just too desperate to care.

She stumbled over to the kitchen, pulled open the cupboard above the sink, and pushed aside its various contents so that she could extract the large bottle of vodka hidden in the very back behind the cooking oil. Upon removing it successfully, she twisted off the lid, took a swig and gagged.

Not so smooth going down, she thought. But it will do the trick. She knew it would get easier too, once she became drunk enough to warp her sense of taste.

Settling herself back on the couch, she continued to drink from the large bottle, feeling dizzier and dizzier as the minutes passed.

It took less than ten minutes for a sickish feeling to begin in her stomach, expanding at a rapid pace and causing her to pause as she lifted the bottle to her lips once more. Changing her mind, she set the bottle down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes and willing the churning in her stomach to stop. A moment later, her cell phone began buzzing and vibrating beside her.

Without a single thought about who it might be or how inebriated she might sound, she flipped the phone open and held it up to her ear.

"Hello? Whosethere?" She answered, the slur in her voice unmistakable.

"Sara?" Came a confused female voice from the other end.

"Yeah, it's Sara… Sidle…" Her brain seemed to be going in slow motion, unable to process information at even close to its normal speed.

"It's Cath. Are you okay?"

"S'im fine I… wha?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Sara, are you drunk?" Came Catherine's voice, equal parts suspicious and concerned.

"I'm fine, Catherine, reallyfine. Go tell Grissom… I'm fine. Whas hened me for anyway?"

Sara was attempting to make herself sound sober now, but it was a useless effort at this point. There was a second pause and then...

"He wants you to help with a case but you don't sound like you are up for it right now. I'll just tell Grissom you're taking a day of sick leave and I'll call Nick in." Catherine said firmly.

"No!" Sara protested, "I really am—

"Goodnight, Sara. Sleep it off."

The line cut out.

For a moment, Sara stared blankly at the phone in her hand and then a lurch in her stomach sent her staggering, as fast as she could, towards the bathroom.

Catherine sighed as she set the phone down in its receiver. She was not looking forward to telling Grissom about the conversation she had just had. She knew it would upset him and he already seemed like he was on edge today.

She left her office to find Grissom. When she arrived at his office, she could see through the open blinds of his window that he was having a conversation with Ecklie and by the look on his face she could tell he was not enjoying it. Figuring that at least he would appreciate the interruption, she knocked sharply.

"Come in." Came Grissom's voice.

Catherine opened the door and peaked in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but I need to talk to you about something Grissom. It's important." She gave Ecklie a look that clearly said 'beat it'.

"Willows, Grissom and I are also having an 'important' discussion and I will need to ask you to wait outside until we are finished." He retorted.

"Actually, Ecklie I think we're done here. I believe we both understand each other."

The irritated look on Ecklie's face indicated that he did not feel like the discussion was over, but to Catherine's relief, he didn't press the matter and simply stood up and left the room.

"He's in a good mood." Catherine commented sarcastically, as she closed the door behind her.

"Yeah, when is Ecklie ever in a good mood?" Grissom gave her a wry smile.

"Good point" She agreed.

"So… what is so important?" Grissom asked her, gesturing to the seat across from his desk.

Catherine took a deep breath but declined to sit down.

"It's Sara, Grissom."

His eyes widened. "I'm listening."

"I just called her to ask her to come in and help out on the new case, like you asked."

"And?" He raised his eyebrows and she suddenly felt hesitant to continue.

For a moment, she considered lying and just telling Grissom that Sara was taking a sick day. Despite her personal feelings about Sara's behavior, she didn't want her to get in trouble. But she also knew Grissom would want to know the truth and given that Sara never took sick days, he would be highly suspicious anyways.

"And she was acting strangely on the phone. I think she was drunk."

"How drunk?"

"Really drunk." Catherine paused and then continued when Grissom didn't react.

"I'm going to call Nick and ask him to come in and help with the case instead of her… but I… I think someone should go check on her. I could do it or—"

"I'm on it." He interjected before she could finish. He got up immediately and took his coat from the back of the chair.

"Thank you, Catherine."

Swinging it around his shoulders he left the office without another word.

Catherine stared after him for a moment before remembering that she needed to call Nick.

Sara emerged from the bathroom still extremely drunk and unsteady, but without the feeling that her stomach might explode through her throat. Following her phone conversation with Catherine she had been horribly, violently sick in the toilet and she had rested on the bathroom floor afterwards for what felt like hours but could have perhaps been only minutes. Her throat was burning and her body now felt very weak and shaky. All she wanted to do was collapse into bed and perhaps stay there forever.

Unfortunately, she had barely moved one step in the direction of her bedroom when she heard a frantic knocking at the front door.

She groaned. She was confused, dehydrated and delirious. She was just going to ignore it. She was in no state for company. Whoever it was would just have to…

The pounding continued, its volume increasing and she staggered in her efforts to keep herself vertical while deciding what to do.

"Fuck." She muttered and she forced herself towards the door, making her way in an uncontrolled zigzag pattern.

When she finally got there she fumbled with the latch, her vision going temporarily black as she strained to pull open the door and remain upright at the same time. She held on just long enough to see the shocked and fearful look on Grissom's face as the door swung open the rest of the way. Then she collapsed into his arms.

TBC…