A/N - sorry it has taken me so long to write and post this chapter. I spent too long thinking about it. I decided it was going to be a kind of character/relationship between characters development plus it gives more of a clue about what the heck is wrong with Rachel all the time LOL. I hope those of you who have followed the story thus far will enjoy it and I promise things are going to start to take shape very soon.


(C) CSI_Dork 2009

FOUR

Rachel bowed her head over the basin in the women's bathroom. The blood pumped loudly in her ears with every harsh thump of her now erratic heartbeat. She tried in vain to disconnect herself from the feelings that came flooding back with each memory. Humiliation, anger, guilt, despair. Too many emotions for one person to handle at once. The opportunity to transfer to Nevada from Sacramento had not come at a better time. She had been hoping that distance would help her heart grow colder, help her to forget everything.

Lifting her head to look in the mirror she felt her heart give another uncomfortable thud. Thinking back to an appointment with the department shrink a week before she transferred she wondered if turning down the anti-anxiety medication had been a wise choice.

'Rachel, taking something to help you cope is not a crime. Post-traumatic stress is different for everyone. With therapy and medication we can help you manage in a healthy way to come to terms with –'

She cut him off there and then. 'Don't patronise me! I'm not taking any drugs; I don't need to come to terms with anything. What's done is done.'

'Rachel,' the soft, calm voice that seemed just a little too condescending for her liking began to grate on her nerves even more. 'You've suffered through a great deal. Let someone help you.'

'You know what would help?' Rachel stood and glared at the man in the chair before her. 'Is if people would just let me be. I don't need any help!'

She turned and headed for the door. Within a split second of the psychologist's hand reaching out to touch her arm, she had him pinned against the floor – to – ceiling bookcase, her own hand wrapped around his throat. It took a moment or two for her to realise the harsh, angry breaths were coming from her.

'Of course,' the man said as she stared bewildered into his face. 'You don't need any help.'

The tapping on the door to the restrooms regained her attention and brought her back to reality. She wondered when her life had gotten so bad that returning to reality brought her as little joy as reliving the past. The door slowly opened and Greg stood in the doorway, a cautious enquiring smile on his face.

'You want to grab a beer?'

Being the last thing she expected to hear from him after what he had just read, she didn't hesitate to respond with a startled but urgent nod.

* **

The bar was stereotypically lit by dim lights with a couple of pool tables located on the far side by the juke box. She half expected to see a group of bikers placing bets but judging by the attire of the majority of the patrons, the pub was frequented by several members of the LVPD.

'I think this place is the unofficial, official drinking place of the entire police department,' Greg leaned close to her ear to whisper, taking the thought right out of her head. 'Probably the safest bar in Las Vegas.'

'Then why are you whispering?'

Greg chuckled and moved away. 'Just one of those things you don't announce in front of the bar man I guess.'

He walked towards the bar, nodding a greeting to a couple of drinkers sitting around a table. Rachel dubiously followed him. As calm as the place was, it felt too sociable for her liking. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone for a drink with a colleague.

'Hey Sanders, how things?' The barman shook Greg's hand before asking 'The usual?'

'You know, same old,' Greg smiled and perched himself onto a bar stool. 'Two of the usual today, Mac.'

The barman eyed Rachel curiously as she slid herself onto the next stool. He glanced back at Greg and raised an eyebrow suggestively but turned to get two bottles from the cooler without saying anything.

'Don't mind him,' Greg shook his head amusedly.

'I'm a big girl, I'm sure I can cope,' Rachel shot back sarcastically.

Mac placed the two beers down on the counter and took the money Greg handed him. Greg rose from his seat and nodded his head in the direction of a quieter part of the bar. Rachel heard a chuckle from the barman behind them. She was preparing herself with a comeback before Greg beat her to it.

'Grow up, Mac. We're talking shop and you bartenders have big ears, get what I'm saying?'

Mac threw his hands up in mock-intimidation. 'Point taken.'

Greg laughed and led the way to the table at the back of the bar. Rachel couldn't hide the smirk that crept onto her face. Greg took a swig of his beer before shooting a puzzled frown in her direction.

'What?'

'Nothing,' Rachel laughed, rubbing a finger on the label of the bottle, watching the condensation dribble onto the hardwood table top. 'Not what I expected from you I guess.'

He exhaled an almost silent laugh and became preoccupied with the label of his own beer bottle. He picked at the edge of it until it became ragged and the cold of the water made it soggy.

Rachel began to wonder exactly why this drink had been suggested. At first, she had thought perhaps it was his way of telling her she didn't need to explain anything – a distraction from the awkwardness – but now she was considering that maybe he was waiting for her to talk. Despite the reasonable volume of the few drinkers' conversations and the throb of the bass from the juke box, the bar felt oddly quiet.

Whatever Greg's motive, Rachel was not in the mood to talk about anything. She could not muster even the most mundane of subjects to distract from having to discuss more serious things.

'Look, we all have our demons,' Greg said suddenly, causing Rachel's breath to catch in her throat. Here it came; he was going to make her talk.

'Greg – 'she began desperately thinking of something to say in her defence before he could get her to open up.

He held up his hand and stared hard at her. 'No, let me finish, please.'

Rachel refocused her gaze back to the table top as he continued to speak.

'We've all got something in our past that haunts us, you know. We've all experienced things we can't help blaming ourselves for - '

'So?' Rachel shot back suddenly interrupting him, feeling the heat of anger begin to warm the back of her neck.

'So you don't have to feel like you're the only person in the world who's gone through this,' Greg said quietly, his voice wavering as he picked up on her change in mood.

Rachel stood abruptly, her seat moving back noisily. The heat that had slowly crept up on her now seemed to have encompassed her entire body and she was aware that if she opened her mouth again she was going to cause a scene. Holding on to what little composure she had left, she turned and walked hurriedly towards the exit. The drinkers Greg had waved at when they first came in looked at her curiously as she stormed past their table. She heard Greg's voice calling to her to wait as she slammed the door behind her and strode into the parking lot.

The rain which had stopped between the ride from the station to the bar had returned with a vengeance. Large drops pelted down and she was drenched in a matter of seconds, the same amount of time it took her to realise they hadn't got here in her car. At a loss at what to do, she stood in the middle of the parking lot allowing the rain to drench her even more. She wondered if perhaps she were hoping that if it rained on her enough, it would wash everything away.

'Rachel,' She heard Greg behind her but didn't turn.

'What?' she snapped whilst wishing that he would just go away.

'I was trying to help. I meant what I said, there's always going to be someone who can understand – '

She whirled around to face him so quickly she almost lost her balance.

'You condescending son of a bitch!' her voice carried over the sound of the rain. 'You have no idea, you know nothing about me!'

'I'll bet I know a lot more than anyone on the team now. How long were you hoping to keep this quiet?' Greg countered, the wary expression on his face out of synch with the determination in his voice.

'It's nothing to do with you,' Rachel shouted before internally scolding herself for not coming up with something more original to say.

'Now it is!' Greg took a step forward before lowering his voice. 'I'm not asking you to talk about it but we can't ignore it. It's relevant to the case.'

'Whatever!' Rachel could hear herself almost screaming now. 'Just don't throw that 'I know how you feel' crap at me ever again, alright? This is my problem; I'll deal with it my way!'

She turned and began striding across the parking lot again. She didn't care how long it would take; she was going to walk back to her car. It would give her time to calm down, to convince herself that this anger was no different to all the other outbursts she had had since everything changed, that it was nothing to do with the fact that Greg Sanders – a man she hadn't ever heard of twelve hours ago – was close to getting her to crack.

'I doubt that very much!' Greg shouted after her, sounding genuinely incensed.

Rachel stopped in her tracks, the fury thumping in her veins. Who the hell was he to question her? He didn't know her. She turned around to tell him just that as he started to speak again.

'You will never deal with it until you stop blaming yourself.' He crossed the space between them quickly and stared hard at her.

'You didn't kill your sister.'

She responded in the only way she knew how, the way she had trained herself ever since being called to the crime scene two years ago and seeing the bloody mutilated mess that had once been her younger sibling.

She slapped him hard across the face.


PS - Please don't hate Rachel too much - she has issues!! :) Hope this cleared up a bit of the mystery. More to come very soon. Watch this space....