Title: Seeking Oblivion

Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

Rating: PG

Pairing: Sara/Warrick

Spoilers: Everything up to the end of season three

Feedback: Makes my day

Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.

Archive: At my site Checkmate () , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.

Summary: Sara needs to forget

Notes: For the LiveJournal CSReports "Forget" challenge

***

When it happens, it always happens like this.

She'll be going about her normal everyday business, when something will happen, will come out of nowhere and bring a memory to the surface.

Melissa in a hospital room, calmly confessing to lying and murder.

Catherine, the tiredness of grief etched on her face as she says "What a great bedtime story for my little girl."

Grissom, telling her to get a life, then coldly dismissing her when she tried.

Greg, lying prone and still on the ground as glass danced on her skin.

Nick, telling her she needed to get out more.

Grissom's voice; "Sara, I don't know what to do about this."

Her own voice. "I do. You know by the time you figure it out, it really could be too late."

Whatever causes it, whichever of the list it is, the memory will come, as it always does, and she will be powerless to stop it, as she always is. So she will turn to a force greater than her will; the obliviating power of straight tequila. The first will burn as it goes down in one gulp, the second will go down smoother, but not as smoothly as the third and fourth.

When she is sufficiently anaesthetised to realise that the tequila isn't all she needs, she will take out her cell phone, call him, the only one who, with the exception of Jose Cuervo, has never let her down.

She will think of that when she hangs up the phone, and it will surprise her, as it always does.

When he enters the bar, his green eyes will be dark with worry. His voice will be concerned when he asks her if she's ok, and it will be that concern that breaks down her defences, bringing tears to her eyes. He will put his arm around her, make his usual joke about her being a weepy drunk, and as he helps her to his car, she will think about how strong and solid he is at her side.

She will study him as he drives her home, will notice how handsome he is, and when he walks her to her door, she won't have to invite him in, because they will both know what's going to happen, will have known since the moment he answered his phone and hear her on the other end.

She will initiate the kiss, and he will respond, pulling back after a few moments to ask her if she's really sure. She will glare at him with a smile, but her only answer will be to pull him closer to her, kissing him again as she walks him to her bedroom, and there will be no more words that night. There will only be her and him and them, nothing else, as she holds onto him, loses herself in him.

His hands will roam her skin, and then and only then will she forget.