A/N: this is the second chapter. I don't know if this is any good, usually my first and last chapters are the best ones. I'm on holiday now so I had some time to write, but the next update will be a bit further in the future since I still have school to concentrate on.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never will be unless I pay the creators of CSI lots and lots of money.

Sofia's POV

I sigh. It's been harder than I thought it would be; getting Sara out of the car and back to bed. I had an even harder time getting her out of the dress. Drunk as she was she clung to it like she'd die without it. I hated myself for seeing her so vulnerable when I practically forced it off.

Even though she had stopped crying soon after I got in and calmed her down a bit, she felt more lost without the dress than being caught in her desperateness.

But she's so drunk I'm scared she'll have alcohol-poisoning or something when she wakes up in the morning. So far she hasn't thrown up yet, but I'm sure that it's not long before she'll get sick.

I've been by her side most of the time, laying next to her and slowly stroking her back as she shivered under the blankets. She was so..so..I don't know, but behind her eyes was a storm going on that night. Like she was trying to keep all the rotten things of the world hidden inside of her.

I'm scared.

I know who caused her this pain, but I don't know how, and when. I know Sara, she might as well been hiding this for the past years. What has happened that made her blow? She's asleep right now, nothing I can do until she wakes up.

I take a look around. I've been at her place before, but never had a reason to go into her bedroom. It's nicely decorated, but what shocks me is to see the empty whisky bottle and the scars on her arm. I've seen glimpses of them before, but to see them up close is something new. I let my head rest on her shoulder for a second before I get up with a grunt. I'm tired, so I can only imagine how she must feel right now.

I shed my clothes and go to bed in my top and underwear.

But I can't sleep.

I've offered her help before, tried to talk to her. Seems like ages ago we really talked. I look at her, her face with those gorgeous lips and her marvelous eyes. Her lithe body and her endless legs. She could have every single man at the lab, and most of the women too, but the one that SHE wants doesn't see her.

I lay down with my head on her shoulders and the last thought that surfaces is how good she smells and how soft her skin is.

Sara's POV

My head…..Why is there a marching band playing at this hour?...Wait, where am I…Aah, my head is killing me. Jesus, I'll never drink again, I can't remember a thing of last night.

Whoa, hold it right there….Why am I being cuddled?

Someone is holding me, I can feel an arm around my waist, a head on my shoulder, nice soft hair on my arm. I'm too scared to open up my eyes. What if I've done something I'll regret. Or something the one who's with me will regret? I can't remember, but I'm sure that I was drunk. Very drunk.

I run a hand over my face and feel that my eyes are swollen and sensitive. Shit, have I been crying? I go back to what I last remember: coming home, feeling like hell. I remember thinking Catherine was a slut, and regretting the thought the instant it surfaced. That's all I can remember. I try not to look at the person next to me as I slowly open my eyes and try to recognize the ceiling. It's my own………..

But who on earth is there lying next to me?

My eyes travel over all I can find of the mystery women. Her hair is a golden blonde that feels wonderful against my arm. Her face is buried in my shoulder so I can get a nice look at her back. The covers are just covering her, her torso, her long legs, her arms around me. She feels familiar in a way, it's a shame I can't see her face. I'd like to know who I'm with. She's not Catherine, I know that very well, but she's someone who's caught my interest by just one look and touch.

What made her go home with a messed up brunette who's not that pretty and not that special? Why did she come? She's wearing an expensive silk tank-top and nice Victoria's panties so she's not cheap. But why would she come with me to my small apartment?

Appearantly I've gone out yesterday, because I can see my dress on the floor. Where did I go?

But my semi- happy mood disappears as soon as I see my scarred arm and the bottle of whiskey.

Memories come crashing back and I start to shake. I can remember now: the crying, the yelling and the whole disgusting rest of it.

I remember the drinking.

I remember the pain.

I remember Sofia.

Holy shit! I've slept with Sofia….. This can't be true, I just can't have slept with Detective Curtis!?! Did we do something last night? I am a bit sore, especially my shoulders, but that could've been from my interlude with both the wall and the floor. I slowly look down my body, relieved when I don't find any marks that indicate we've had sex.

I take another glance at Sofia before the whisky after-effects take over and my stomach starts to do somersaults. Not caring about waking her, I jump out of bed and hurry to the bathroom.

Through out this whole night I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed as I am right now; vomiting, cold, and Sofia who's rocking me back and forth after the cramps have ceased. She's not even grossed out by me, softly murmuring that everything's gonna be ok.

And desperately I try to believe her, crying in her arms.