Author's Note: The first two paragraphs are meant to be fractured and incomplete, reminiscent of Sara trying to piece together what had happened. They are meant to be a bit confusing, but I promise that it will all be cleared up. As always, thank you to everybody who reviewed, and I do hope you will continue to read and review future chapters (including this one).

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of rape.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Not mine. And you all just love to rub it in my face, don't you?

"The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend." Aristotle

Where am I? was the first thought that crossed Sara's mind. She sat up straight and realized she was lying in a bed. Sunlight streamed in through the slats in the blinds, and, when her head started pounding, served as a rude reminder that she may have had a little too much to drink last night. Wait a second, thought Sara, straining to remember the previous evening's events. I only had one cocktail last night. She wasn't hung over, so why did her head hurt so much? Last night, she thought. What happened last night? Highball. Nick. Drink. Blonde guy. Another drink? No. Only one drink. Concentrate, Sara commanded herself. No. No other drink. Just one. Her frustration escalated when she tried and tried to remember something, anything from the night before, but couldn't.

Closing her eyes, she brought her hand up to her forehead in an attempt to ease the persistent throbbing. After a second, she opened her eyes again and noticed her wrist. Bruise. Sara's heart nearly stopped. That bruise hadn't been there yesterday. She stared at it in disbelief for a minute, and flipped it over to check the other side. Four plus one –the exact shape of a hand. Somebody had grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise it. The other one, too, she saw. Horrified, she realized that she was naked from the waist down. She placed her hands on the edge of the blanket and prayed she wasn't about to see what she knew she would. Slowly pushing down the comforter, she looked down to see her own bruised thighs.

She almost cried.

Part of her wanted to go home and wash him off her; whoever he was. Just to scrub and scrub and scrub until he was all gone. But Sara knew that if she did that, she let him win. Also, she knew that there would be no greater satisfaction than seeing the bastard locked away. She understood that she would need to go to the Crime Lab and be processed. It meant that she would have to admit that she had been raped. Someone was going to have to take pictures of her body. The thought made her sick, but she knew it had to be done.

But who could she call? Grissom? No, definitely not Grissom. Nick? Yeah, Nick. After finding about his babysitting incident, she knew he'd know what she was going through. But Sara wanted a female there, too. Nick was a wonderful, caring, supportive individual, but he was still a guy, and frankly, she didn't want him to see her naked.

She found a phone next to her and, hands trembling, she dialed the Crime Lab.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab, how may I help you?" Sara recognized Judy's voice.

"May I speak to Nick Stokes, please?" Sara asked, trying to sound composed.

"One moment, please." Sara heard a click as she was put on hold, and then a moment later, heard the phone start to ring.

"Stokes," Nick answered on the second ring.

"Nick?"

"Sara." He heard the shaking in her voice. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to find Archie. Have him trace my location."

"What's wrong, Sara?" Nick asked as he walked through the halls to the A/V lab.

"Please just have him do it. I'll explain everything later," Sara promised.

"Okay…hey, Arch. Can you do me a favour?"

"Yeah, sure, Nick," Archie replied. "What do you need?"

"I'm going to give you to Archie now, okay, Sara?" Nick said into the phone.

"Okay," she agreed.

"I need you to trace the location of this call," Nick told Archie, and handed him the phone. Archie got to work right away, and thirty seconds later, a location popped up on his screen.

"Budget Motel off Flamingo, room 212," Nick read off the screen into the phone.

"Thanks, Nick. Now I need you to go somewhere alone, where nobody will hear you," Sara requested.

More worried by the second, Nick obeyed and went into the empty layout room. "Okay, I'm alone."

"Nick, I need you and Catherine to come to where I am. Bring your kits and cameras, and you have to treat my room like a crime scene," she directed.

"Sara, please tell me what's wrong," Nick pleaded. "Are you okay?"

A pause. "No," she admitted. "But I'm not in immediate danger. I'll explain when you get here. Come soon, okay?"

"Of course," Nick promised. "I'll just grab Catherine and we'll leave right away."

"Thanks, Nick," Sara said.

"I'll be there soon," he vowed. "Bye."

"Bye."

Nick snapped his phone shut and went to find Catherine. He found her reading a magazine on the breakroom couch. "Hey, Catherine?" Nick said.

Catherine turned her attention from the pages to Nick. "Yeah?"

"Sara needs us. ASAP. Grab your kit and your camera, and I'll explain everything on the way," Nick promised.

"Umm…okay," she said hesitantly. "I'll be at your car in a minute."

"Alright," Nick agreed, and went out to his Denali, where his camera and kit were already taking up space in the backseat. As promised, Catherine appeared in a moment, her gear under her arm.

"So, what's up?" Catherine asked as Nick pulled the SUV into gear.

"Sara just called me. She didn't know where she was, and when she had me trace the call, it came back to a motel. I'm worried about her, Cath," Nick confessed.

"This can't be good," Catherine stated, and they both knew they were thinking the same thing, though neither wanted to say it out loud.

"No," Nick agreed. "It can't."

A few minutes later, they pulled up to the Budget Motel – a seedy-looking low-cost place. They went to the front desk and asked for the key to room 212. Once they had it, they approached Sara's room and Nick knocked lightly. "Sara?" he called. "We're here. We have a key, can we come in?"

"Yeah, come in. But remember, treat it like a crime scene, guys," she reminded.

"Got it," Nick assured. They snapped on their gloves, and then Nick unlocked the door and they entered cautiously. The sight of Sara sitting upright on the bed, tearstains on her face, was enough to make Nick cry himself.

"Hey," Catherine greeted softly. "What's the matter?" she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew why they were there.

"Guys, I think I was raped," Sara came out with it.

Nick took the news like a bullet to the chest, and somehow felt responsible. If only I hadn't left her at the bar… Nick tried to shake the thought. Right now, he needed to be there for Sara and not worry about his only feelings.

"Catherine, I need you to photograph and process me," Sara continued matter-of-factly, trying to appear like she was in control of the situation. "Nick, can you process the scene?" she asked.

"Of course," he promised. "Catherine, do you want to take her to the hospital and process her there?"

"Yeah. Let's go, Sara," Catherine said.

Sara, a bit embarrassed, said, "I'm not wearing anything except this," motioning to her black T-shirt.

Nick, taking the hint, said, "I'll be outside." He excused himself while Catherine and Sara tried to figure out what to do. Catherine found Sara's pants at the foot of the bed and handed them to her, but neither was able to find her underwear.

"I'll just go without," Sara resolved, frustrated and just wanting to get it all over with. She stepped out of the bed and slid on the slacks, but before they left for the hospital, she said to Catherine, "Test my clothes for fibres."

Catherine knelt down, opened her kit, and took out one of the sticky cards. She unfolded it and stuck it all over Sara's pants. Before she folded the tape onto the card, Catherine held it up to the light and inspected the hairs and fibres. There wasn't much, but there might be something. She tucked it into her an envelope and labelled it. "Okay, let's go to the hospital now."

The two women left and took Nick's Denali with them, while Nick re-entered the room and started processing.

"Sara, I know this is embarrassing," Catherine started, "but I'm going to need to photograph your injuries." The two women were at the hospital. Sara sat on the gurney and Catherine stood next to her, the curtain around them closed.

"I know," Sara acknowledged. She took a deep breath and pulled her shirt over her head. She unclasped her bra and slid off her pants. Catherine gasped when Sara took off her bra. Sara looked down and was horrified to see at least twelve bite marks all over her torso.

"I know it's hard," Catherine said. She poised the camera and started to photograph Sara. Every so often, she would look up at Sara's face to see how she was doing, and Catherine could tell that she was trying hard not to cry.

Suddenly, Sara spoke. "We process so many victims that this happens to, we say the same words over and over. Now, I hear you say those words, and it…it just hurts so much," she confessed, and a tear fell down her cheek.

Catherine took a few more photographs, capped the lens of her camera, and said to Sara, "I'm sorry. I really am sorry."

"You should call the nurse in now to take the vaginal swab," Sara suggested, trying to distract herself, trying to concentrate on what needed to be done to get the bastard who had done this to her.

Catherine held out a hospital gown to Sara so she could put it on while the nurse was in there. Sara reached for it, but before Catherine let go of it, she met Sara's eyes. "We're going to get him, Sara," she promised. "We're going to get him."

Author's Note: Well, there's your second chapter. I apologize for the angstiness of it all, but I think that's the worst of it. Please review!