A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I apologize for the wait in updates, my grandpa recently got into a car accident and that gave us quite a scare (thankfully he's just fine, but the car sure isn't!). Hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Oh this was a tough decision indeed…

Monica looked upon her extensive knife collection with eager eyes. She was excited and determined but she dare not rush herself. This had to be perfect.

Should she use the black-handled serrated edge single-blade or the ivory-handled stainless steel serpentine jack? Decisions, decisions. No, she wasn't going to waste such a beautiful knife on such a person. She was going to use that knife. The one knife he used that would make this the most haunting and traumatic experience of Sara Sidle's entire life.

Soon she would suffer what she had to suffer.

"I'm still so sorry, honey," Grissom's apologetic tone of voice but sweet but starting to become a bit redundant as he helped Sara out of the restaurant, a steadying hand resting on her back.

"Its okay, Grissom," she assured him, wiping her mouth off with her sleeve. "Just… don't talk about the mating rituals of the dung beetle again during dinner, okay?" she asked him, scrunching her face up in grossed remembrance.

"Deal," Grissom told her as he led her to his Denali in the parking lot. "Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up something to eat, though? You didn't get much to eat at dinner…"

"Ugh, no food," she quickly shook her head in protest, "I can't stand the thought of food right now," she told him, fighting back the bile forming in her throat again as he unlocked the car and she got inside. "I appreciate the sentiment though," she told him, shooting him one of her wry smiles.

He cracked a smile in her direction and joined her in the car, getting buckled and backing the car out of the parking lot. "I just apologize for ruining such a nice evening," he explained, "You know how I am… I don't want to be this way anymore. I want to do something right for a change."

"Be what way?" Sara asked, shooting a confused look in his direction.

"I want to do something right… take you out to a nice romantic dinner, take you to see the sights, sit under the stars with you and not make a fool out of myself," he explained, not noticing the car following behind them, "I always manage to screw everything up."

"Grissom…" Sara started, shaking her head, "No one's perfect. I just vomited on our waiter tonight. Don't you think I feel pretty stupid right now?"

"But I caused that, honey," Grissom pointed out.

"But I don't care," Sara told him, "I may not be into bugs as much as you are, but it's what makes you, you. And personally…" she added, reaching over and putting a tender hand on his shoulder. "I think it's really cute."

He flashed her a real smile as he pulled up in her apartment complex parking lot. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" he asked her.

"Positive," she answered, "I'll be fine, I'm just going to relax for a little while, take a shower. I'll be over at your place later, I needed to grab more clothes," she said, leaning over the seat and pecking him on the cheek. "I'm a fan of your t-shirts, but…"

"I understand," he smiled, "Get some rest."

"I will," she called over her shoulder as she got out of the car and walked onto the sidewalk outside. "Go catch some bad guys!"

With a nod Grissom turned the car around and drove off. She stayed standing on the pavement looking after him for a few moments until he disappeared around the corner and she turned and headed for her apartment. It was times like these she was thankful she had an apartment on the first floor, she was exhausted and a mango chutney salad and dung beetle mating rituals did not sit well together in her stomach.

With a sigh she unlocked her door and stepped inside, throwing her bag and jacket on the floor as she opened her mouth wide with a tired yawn. She just wanted to take a shower and go to sleep.

When she had disappeared into her apartment, the scowl that had been on Monica's face slowly turned into a sneer of excitement. She just had to wait a little longer now. She just had to wait a little bit longer and then she would experience true pain.

Humming along to some song she had heard in the radio in the car one day Sara emerged from the shower wrapped in a long white towel heading to her bedroom in search of some comfortable clothes. After picking out a simple pair of old gray sweats she had bought god-knows-how long ago and a tank top she got dressed and walked toward the kitchenette to get something to drink.

She inspected the contents of her refrigerator with a sigh. She reached inside and grabbed a beer from a leftover six-pack now reduced to four, scolding herself as she did so. Bad Sara. She knew she shouldn't have it, especially after the dinner fiasco earlier that night but she really wanted it. And she knew it would help her sleep better.

She hadn't told Grissom but the last case they had was one of those she knew would haunt her the second she arrived at the scene. It had been a bloody mess- the air was thick with the smell of iron and the walls and floors of the house had been painted a ghastly shade of red. A man had completely lost it and had slaughtered his entire family before killing himself. He killed his wife, his two sons and daughter all in cold blood.

The two sons were well into their teen years.

The daughter had been seven-years-old.

The little girl's autopsy had revealed that she was being abused by her father, which only made Sara's nightmares become more real and terrifying.

Heading into the living room, she sat down on the couch and opened her guilty pleasure, taking a long sip. God it seemed like forever since she had last had a beer. She hadn't been home lately and the six-pack she had kept in her fridge was something she kept out of a spite. She wanted to remind herself of her achievement and that she wasn't going to give into temptation… but tonight, just for tonight, she was going to take a free pass, not pass Go and not collect $200.

Just one wouldn't hurt.

Three and a half beers later Sara was cursing herself for keeping that damned beer in the fridge and at the same time rejoicing that she was slowly forgetting the events of that haunting case. But lifting the fourth beer up lazily to take another sip, she jumped when she heard the doorbell ring and it fell to the floor, its contents slowly pouring out onto the carpet.

Sara immediately tried to sober herself up enough to answer the door. Come on Sara, get a grip. She wasn't very steady on her feet and she probably slurred her words a little but she was sober enough to form a coherent thought: Please don't be Grissom. Oh she didn't need his condescending speech right now…

After using the walls for support to head to the front door, she opened it without looking in the peephole. When the door opened she was confused and it immediately sobered her right up. "Monica?"

The other woman outside her door did not say a word.

"What are you doing here so late?" Sara asked her, noticing the look on her face. It was relentless, full of rage and anger and hatred which only served to confuse Sara even more. "Is everything alright?"

Again, no answer.

"What do you have in your hand?" Sara asked, noticing her balled up fist for the first time.

"Does this look familiar to you?" Monica finally spoke, raising the knife she had firmly clenched in her hand up for Sara's eyes to see.

Sara was still confused, but then she realized what this was all about. 10 years ago Jay Edward Stevens had been charged and convicted with the murder and rapes of three women in San Francisco. Sara had handled the case. He was only 19 years old and was quickly escalating into a serial.

His little sister, 11 year old Monica Stevens had been placed in Child Services because her parents were seen as unfit to raise their daughter. Her brother was her only next of kin, and he was in jail.

Instinctively Sara raised her hand up to her left cheek, her fingertips brushing against the skin the girl- now woman- standing in front of her had scratched all those years ago.

"Good, you do remember," Monica hissed, "I apologize for not leaving a scar."

"What do you want?" Sara asked, trying to remain calm. The knife Monica was holding was far-too familiar, giving the saying 'like brother like sister' a whole different meaning. Jay Stevens had used a particular hand-crafted knife for intimidating his victims before he finally slashed them across the throat to silence them once and for all when he was finished. And now his little sister held the same knife in her trembling hands.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Monica hissed, taking a step forward. Sara immediately backed up. "You ruined my life, you bitch! You put my brother away for life, you ruined everything!"

"Your brother made a mistake," Sara said, trying to remain calm. Oh why hadn't they covered this in weaponless defense training, "And it cost him. It cost him his life."

"Shut up!" Monica screamed, holding the knife out in front of herself pointed directly at Sara.

Sara bit her lip, watching her body language. Her hands were shaking, and her voice wavered on both anger and fear at the same time. Was she afraid of what she was becoming? "Monica, you don't have to do this," Sara told her, "Just put the knife down, and we can talk."

Monica laughed dryly, "You think we can just have a nice little tea party and everything will be back to normal, huh? You think you can just ruin someone's life and then try and play your little police mind shit to get out of it?"

"Monica—" She interrupted her.

"Not this time!" Monica yelled, walking into the apartment as Sara backed up. Shoving the door closed behind herself, she motioned to the locks with the knife. "Lock the door."

"Listen—"

"DO IT!" Monica screamed, waving the knife at her again.

Cautiously Sara walked around Monica to the front door, trying to keep her mind from panicking as she did what she instructed her. She wanted her to lock the door so she wouldn't leave prints behind. She closed the door with her shirt sleeve so she wouldn't leave behind any trace that she had been there.

"Now what?" Sara asked, keeping her hands up in the air at her side so as not to panic Monica.

"Now what?" Monica repeated her question. "Now you experience all the pain my brother and I had to experience."

After that, Sara's world went black.