A/N: This was in my head for some time, so I thought I would give it a shot. This is not really usual to me, writing ehm... Cath Drama, but I think it worked out fine, at least for this chapter. This is going to be a two-parter, unless you all think: I am craving for more, then I will give it a second thought. Ehm... I hope you all enjoy it. And if you want to, leave a review for this girl. :)

Category: Drama/Angst.

Rating: M to be safe. Language and ehm... violence.

Summary: Catherine is going to a dark period of her life. Someone tries to safe her, bring some light to her. Is this person going to succeed?

Spoilers: Not that I'm aware of.

Disclaimer: Still hoping to get them for passing my exams sometime, but 'till now, nope, not mine.


Chapter 1

I have no idea how I ended up in this situation. Here, sitting down on the floor in the dark room, suddenly I realize that I have fallen deep. And I don't know if I will ever climb up, ever. I think I should try to explain this to you. The room is empty, all the stuff is taken. I'm about to leave. Leave this damn town. Leave my job. Leave everyone I love, but I know I have no choice. Saying good-bye to my baby girl was the hardest part though I know it's the best. Having no mother to love her is always better than a mom who can't handle her. Who had only cared about her job, and not about the girl who really needed her.

I'm holding the letter and look at it again. I flick on the lighter. I'm not a smoker… well, not an addicted one, at parties I do smoke from time to time. Another example that I'm worthless as a mother. I screamed at her when she had smoked her first cigarette, but eventually, I'm smoking myself. When she told me, I had no defence, and I know there is no defence. My 12-year-old was just fucking right, and I fucking couldn't handle her. I look at the little flame, coming from the lighter. I let it light the letter, so that I can read it. I don't have the strength to stand up and put on the light. I don't even know for sure that the power is on, maybe it's already off. I look at my own handwriting. I know what the text says, though seeing the text makes my cry again.

Not now. Not at this moment. I need to be strong. I need to leave, sobbing here makes no sense.

I try to tell myself to stop, and for some reason, it helps.

You have still no idea what this is about? I don't even know it myself. It's just... everything. They all see me as... the flirting woman. The woman who slept with every guy around. Partly, this is true, obviously. But they just don't know that I'm so much more... that I have feelings too. Especially for him... Oh no... why do I have to cry when I think about us? We made love, multiple times, but he still doesn't give a damn about me. It all was just because of the hot sex we both had. And it was hot, I can't deny that. And it wasn't about him, if I think straight now. It just is because I'm the supervisor and he's the employee. And... love between us is not tolerated.

When Ecklie found out, he just... did everything to make my life horrible. He didn't get the chance though; nobody can get me down, at least not Conrad Ecklie. Then Ecklie fired him. He... I have never seen him like that. He walked out, didn't even say good-bye to me. He just walked out, didn't even look back as I stood there, screaming at him, crying, begging him to come back. I sank on my knees; I couldn't hold the facade anymore. I... couldn't even cry. She... came to me, brought me back to my office, made me calm again. Or at least that's what she thought. I couldn't tell her everything, she thought that was okay.

It is not. And I know it isn't okay with me. Now, I'm holding the lighter close to my arm. I have put down the letter, the letter I have written for my baby girl. I can't cry anymore, I must be strong. I can do it. The thought flashes through my head, bounces around, over and over again. I stare in the flame, and look at my bare arms. What would the flame do with my skin? I have seen it so many times, burning marks, but I never thought of experiencing it myself. Still, I'm not afraid of what I'm going to do now. I look at the flame, and am sure what I'm going to do.

Let it hurt your skin. Let it burn you.

I accidentally let it slip on my skin. I don't feel anything, not even the touch of the flame.

Deeper. You must feel it, Catherine, you must feel it burning.

I let it burn my skin, it hurts, but I don't notice the intense heating feeling. It must burn. I turn the lighter off and look at the skin. It's sore, and I think its red, but the room is too dark. I swallow, feel the blister come up. It won't fill itself with fluid, I know. By the time it would, I will be dead.

I hear a knock on the door.

Not now. No-one is going to stop me.

I'm not going to open the door, no way. The person just has to leave, pity for him or her. Again, a knock. And a voice. It takes me only seconds to figure out who the knocker is.

Sara.

What is she doing here? If she misses me at work, she should know that I have taken a day off. Unpaid. It doesn't matter anymore. Three knocks now, she really wants to contact me.

"Catherine, I know you're there. You think you can fool me?"

Yeah, I think so, Miss Sidle. Go away, please. I pray it, hoping that someone up there would answer me.

Bad luck. The door flies open when she bangs with her shoulder against the wood. Crap. I let my vision scan her, and then look back to the lighter. I can't watch her. Maybe she will go away when she notices that I don't want to see her. I slip my thumb on the button, the fire presents itself again.

I'm not going to give up now.

Stubborn, I almost held it against my wrist. I feel that her eyes widen, but she remains silent. From the corner of my eyes, I see that she sits down on the floor, cross-legged. She looks at me, intensely, without blinking. I hate it, and she knows that I do. I try to focus on the lighter; it is going to hit my wrist soon.

Or not?

Some voice comes from the back of my head. I try to shake it away; I can't use those thoughts right now. I can. The fire is dangerously close to my skin now, just a few millimetres left. I can feel panic in the air from her side. She inhales deeply.

"This is not what you want. Put the lighter down, Catherine."

Put it down? No, not now.

"Put it down, Catherine, put it down."

No, I am not going to.

Or am I?

God, the fact that she is here now makes it a lot harder for me to go on.

"If you don't put it down, I'm going to grab it out of your hands. Do you want me to burn my hands? It's your choice, Catherine. Put the lighter down."

You won't do that anyway. You will burn your hands, Sara. You won't do that.

Still, I don't move, I won't give in. Focusing is the best. I focus on my hand, I must control it. They do not shake, I do not shake. I don't know if I do that because I can't move or because of my calmness.

"Okay, you let me no choice."

She rushes forward, and before I realize, she has snatched it out of my hands. I try to stop her, I'm too late. My glance catches her, she stares back at me. The coldness of her eyes sticks me the most. She doesn't even look at her hand, though I know damn well that it hurts. She places the lighter next to her, plain in sight. I can grab it if I want to and she knows that.

"So. You have to talk to me."

I don't want to. I want her to get out of the room.

If I just be silent, she's going away herself fairly soon. Just patience, Catherine. She will go; she is not going to change your mind. Never.

I press my lips against each other and stare at the door, hoping she will get the hint. I try to focus on my own heartbeat, just to forget that she is there. God, Little Miss Sidle is so hard to miss in a room. She just makes me look at her, even in silence she is very much present. I swallow.

After a while of sitting together, I know I have to give it up. I have counted: 721 heartbeats since I started counting. I have no idea what my pulse is right now, usually it is about 75. About 10 minutes, if my mind still can calculate. Sara has not moved, has not said anything since she told me to talk to her. Accidentally, my glance meets hers. No expression visible at her face. Pity, I wanted to know what she was thinking, I wanted to know how I could make her go away.

Don't give in now, Catherine; you can make her go away soon.

She shakes her head. "You have two options. You can talk to me or to someone in the hospital. It's your choice, Catherine."

I have two options? What the heck? This is my house, my place, my rules. Now she just fucking makes up her own rules? What is this? I almost want to scream this to her, but I remember that, as soon as I start to talk, the sooner she gets me wherever she wants. And I don't want to talk. Not with her, not with a shrink, with no one. She's not going to make the decisions. I am and she needs to know that.

"You have two options left. Talk to me."

"You probably know everything already."

It slips out of my mouth before I realize it.

Fuck.

I know she looks at me pretty awkward. My voice was shaky and weak. I know she's analyzing it, I know her brilliant brain is thinking how she can reach me. And I know that she is going to get me wherever she wants. I close my eyes and sigh.

"I want to hear it from you. Your side of the story." She's trying to be really nice to me; I know I have to be careful.

My side of the story, uh? Tempting, Sidle.

I bit on the bottom of my lip. I know I want to talk this time, and she's offering me a chance. Why am I not answering it?Sarcasm. That's the key. If I try to be sarcastic, it might throw her off.

"And, Sidle, what do I know more than you do? What do you know about love?"

I know this hit her pretty hard. But in fact, it's true; it's what I am thinking of. What does she know about love? She's been hunting Gil Grissom since the day she came across him, she followed him like a lovesick dog and never thought about anyone else. No man is as unromantic as Gil Grissom. She might have had a couple of boyfriends in her life, but love? She doesn't know it. She won't understand the love Warrick and I had. Talking to her wouldn't make any sense.

It is about love.

My lips tremble, the word Love, in combination with Warrick makes me weak and sick. My hand touches my forehead, though I manage to continue thinking.

"This isn't about me, this is about you."

Stubborn Sara. Stupid Stubborn Sara.

I have to hurt her a little more, I know it. Maybe she will go away if I start talking about Heather. I think carefully about what I'm going to say, when I get it clear, I clear my throat. I look at her, icily.

"You know, Gil has had the best sex in his life with Heather. I'm sure you know about her. He fucked her, really nicely. He will never do this to you, Sara, ever. He could do this with her; he can't do this with you. You never had him, you will never have him. And I'm sure you know."

My words hurt her, exactly as I have expected. For one moment, she's distracted; her mouth opens and closes again.

"This isn't about me. You need to talk to me, Cath. This is all about you."

One last straw. I know I have to give her one last thing, one last hurting issue. Lindsey. I know I can hurt her with my girl.

"You're trying to save me? You must have caught the killer of the father of my girl. If you really care about her, you must have done that. You just don't give a damn about other people's feelings; you're just here to see me suffering. And you are enjoying yourself, aren't you? Is it fun to see me having pain? I'm sure it is to you. If you just give me the lighter, I will make you feel a little better."

I stare at the door, whispering the word 'leave' to her or actually to nobody in particular. I have hurt her, for sure. She shakes her head, and in some way she has found the strength to shake away the thoughts.

"I really tried to catch the killer of Eddie, and you know that. Damn well, Cath, you know that. But that isn't the subject. You must stop this. You need to talk to me, and you know that too. This is not about me."

I made it a little too personal for the brunette. If I continue this way, she's the one who is going to break down soon. I swallow again, my mouth is dry. I haven't drunken anything since… yesterday. I bend forward and grab the lighter next to Sara. She doesn't do anything to stop me; she looks at me like I'm not making any movement. I turn it on, but realize that I don't feel the urge to burn myself. Not now. She has changed something in me, but I feel that I'm not done yet. I place it next to me, I may need it sometime.

"Talk to me."

And then I break down. I start sobbing so hardly that it hurts my head. I don't want her to comfort me; I don't want her to hold my hand. I just want her to leave; can't a woman just sob in private? Tears are dripping on the floor, on the skin of my hands. I don't know what is happening to me, I just feel that all the pain I have gone though is coming out of me in a second.

Stop it, Willows. This is foolish. Stop crying, you have some unfinished business.

I weep away the tears by the back of my unburned hand. I sigh. I have to talk to her, I have no choice.

"I… it's about… you goddamn know well where this is about, Sidle. You have heard all the rumours; you know perfectly well how we fucked. How Warrick Brown and I fucked in the locker room, how we were caught in the middle of it. How Conrad Ecklie fired him, how he left me, screaming his name. Crying, pale skin, sobbing. It was you who brought me back to my office. You know that it is about Warrick and me. Why are you still asking it?"

She is observing me. God, it's almost like Grissom is watching me, and that irritates me. I am not her project.

"Because I want to hear your side of the story?"

I calm down again, and know she is right. I sigh, heavily. A frown appears in my forehead, I'm thinking hard how I am going to start. Because actually, I want to talk about what happened. Knowing that it will be very painful, I'm preparing myself for the bitter feelings I am going to have. I want someone to know my side of the story before I'll leave this world for good.

"I... I don't know where to start."

She is not rushing me, she let me take as much time as I need and I appreciate that. She doesn't move and her expression doesn't change. Still, she looks at me, fascinated. I expected her to say something like 'Start at the beginning', but she didn't. She is waiting for me. I close my eyes, and feel like I'm close to breaking down, again. I manage to hide my tears.

"It all started... weeks ago. He asked me out to dinner. It was all nice, and when we went home... we made love. It seemed all good, and it was good. It was just one of the best things I have ever experienced. We... when he left, we promised each other to continue the things we had. Sometimes the tension at work was too... too intense to handle. It all went fine... at least I thought so. It was physical mostly, but... I thought he cared about me. I really believed that he did..."

I feel a tear slipping down my cheek, but I don't want to wipe it away.

"When we got caught... when Ecklie found us... joined... in the locker room... I swear that it was just a one-time action. He... Warrick came to me, I was redressing myself and he came there, started kissing me, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't resist the passionate tension between us. It was quiet in the lab so I figured that it was safe. Then Ecklie came in, I was so afraid. He... first talked to me. He told me that I... had no responsibility, was a lousy supervisor, that he hated me since the day he saw me, that I... was worthless, as person, as mother, as lover... He told me so many things, I knew that. I wasn't thinking straight. I just wanted to slap him, but that would only make things worse. He locked me in his office, said that he was going to fix things with the sheriff. I was so frightened. I banged on the door and he opened it. I begged him not to fire me. The smile on his face was so cruel. He told me that he wasn't going to fire me. But him... He left me there, and I couldn't do anything. Nothing. I sank on my knees. When he finally came back, he opened the door, let me out. I walked to the locker room. I crossed Warrick. He didn't look at me; he fucking acted like I wasn't there. I screamed at him. I cried. I begged. He walked out. I couldn't run strangely. I didn't have the strength to move. I fell down. On my knees, I sat there on the floor until you got me to my office."

I feel relieved now, for some reason. Seeing things in perspective makes me feel a little better, though I know that this isn't the whole story. She nods. She knows that this isn't it and I try to give her a wry smile.

I must confess that Sara Sidle is a good listener. She doesn't ask questions, she just sits there, observes me, nods and listens. I must continue.

"He didn't come back. I... was in so much panic that something had happened to him, I called him. He didn't answer. I went to his home, it was a mess. Clothes everywhere, our photograph, the photograph of our first date, torn apart in many pieces. He wasn't there. He hadn't been there for days. I kept looking for him, downtown, desperately. I found him, at the back of the casino. Using drugs. He was... using drugs. I felt sick. I felt so sick, weak and I knew that it was all my fault. I was frozen, I couldn't even move. I wanted to scream his name; I wanted to run to him. I wanted to throw the drugs away, wanted him to embrace me, telling me that everything was going to be okay. The only thing I could do was whisper. I felt so weak, so ill. I don't know what I did, but the next thing I remembered was that I was lying in my bed, at my place. I have no idea how I got there. I thought everything is my fault. Lindsey... I can't handle my little girl. She yelled at me, that I was evil, that she wanted another mother. And I didn't know what to say. I screamed back, I told her that it was fine, that she had to look for one. I never... thought that she would do it. I remember looking at her closet. She had taken all the stuff that was important for her. She's gone, she's really gone. I called her, she didn't answer. I searched for her, she's gone. She's not coming back."

The thought of my little girl, yelling at me, gives me the creeps. I shiver, and stare at Sara. There's nothing left for me to live for. It is all my fault. The only good thing I have to do for this world is to leave. And never come back. I put on the lighter, look at the flame.

Do it.

I see panic in her eyes, again. She knows that my plans will become action, in some minutes time, and she knows that she can't stop me.

"I saw him."

What?

For one moment, I don't know what to do. I stare at her, I feel completely blank. Is she saying this to me to make me change my mind? If she is lying, she's a good liar, for sure. She knows she has my attention and continues.

"I saw him; he... has taken an OD. He's fine, he's asking for you."

He is asking for me? After all the shit he has gone though? Because of me? He can't be, I don't believe Sara. She's just wants me to change my mind. And she's not going to succeed.

It's all my fault. Everything is my fault. I swallow. The only thing you can do is leave this world, Catherine. It's the best for all of us. No pain, no love. Emptiness, forever. Do the world a favour, leave your life.

I close my eyes, and nod quickly. I place the fire on my wrist, it burns. It hurts, but I don't care. I'm going to be free. She throws me aside; I scratch her face with my hand. She is not going to undo my actions, never. I held the lighter in my hand, my grip does not weaken. I even manage to let the fire cross the skin of my neck. She's holding my hands now. She feels that she can't get grip on the lighter.

I'm winning.

I feel it, I feel my skin burning. She loosens her grip, takes my head and smashes the wall with my head. That hurts. The last thing I remember is the world, fading to black.