A/N: Thank you to all who have been reading and/or reviewing this far! I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter :)

Sara ran off the stage, feeling her heart pounding in her ears and her blood racing through her veins as she took the stairs three at a time. Her skin was still tingling from where he had touched her; she felt like she was on fire. Her nerves were screaming at her to get out of here, even the little angel and devil on her shoulder- that came out only on occasions where she was making a decision that could possibly cause someone else harm or have some consequence of some sort- were screaming at her to get as far away from the man up on stage as possible.

Sara Sidle may not have had the basic woman instincts some people had, but she sure was smart enough to know when to get the hell out of dodge.

The hallway leading up to the outside area of the stage- to safety- seemed never-ending as she tried her hardest to reach it. She was going to push anyone and anything that got in her way. As she was about to reach the end, she felt her heel get snagged in a very evil thread on the carpet, sending her tumbling to the floor. Ignoring the sweat dripping down her face, Sara tugged on her shoe to try and free herself, but when she caught a glimpse of Trey waving at the audience on the stage that was motivation enough for her to leave her god-forsaken shoes behind.

Scrambling to the floor, Sara kicked her shoes off and almost tumbled to the floor once more as she tried to regain her balance, crawling on all-fours. She dashed past the bathrooms, almost knocking over a man who had just opened the men's bathroom door only to discover a black blur rushing past him, but she didn't notice him. All she noticed was the sound of her own heart beating and the fear she felt inside of her that was growing bigger by the second.

"Is… that one of dem dern roadrunners…?" the club manager asked, adjusting his glasses as he caught a glimpse of Sara as she ran past the bar area.

"What was that, Sir?" the bartender who usually was the first one to greet Sara at the door asked, putting down a glass he had just cleaned. Spotting Sara running past them, he slowly shook his head. "No, Sir… I don't think that's a roadrunner… it's a person."

"Nonsense, I've seen one of them there rodents more than once in 'm lifetime, don't you go tellin' me that ain't it!" the old man persisted, pointing a bony shaky finger at Sara as she headed toward the door.

Warrick, back at the seating area with the rest of the confused audience members, was trying to look over people's heads to catch a glimpse of Sara. She couldn't have gone far, but… he saw her, and she was terrified. He was sure she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, and he couldn't blame her. Leaving his half-empty drink at the table he was sitting at, Warrick made his way through the maze of people and tables in the seating area to try and find Sara. He figured she must be around the area behind the velvety red curtains.

"Sara!" Warrick said, running around the curtains to the small hallway leading up to the stage. "I—" But just as he was about to continue his sentence Warrick noticed that there was no one in sight, well, that was, no one except for the son of a bitch on-stage. But he would deal with him later- right now he needed to find Sara herself. Looking down at the floor, Warrick noticed two high-heeled shoes lying abandoned on the carpet.

Now more worried than ever that something had happened to her, Warrick jogged toward the front of the bar, ignoring the cloud of smoke that he was hit with as he arrived. Waving it away from his face with his hand, he tried to get the bartender's attention. "Sir! Excuse me, Sir?"

"What can I do for you?" the bartender asked another glass- that he had probably wiped dry for the tenth time now- and white rag in his hands.

"Did you see one of your performers run past here just now?" Warrick asked. Really, he didn't want to say 'your performers', as that showed possessiveness, and he knew damn well Sara didn't belong to these people; she didn't belong to anyone. And she sure as hell wasn't going to be coming back to this place anytime soon if he had anything to do about it.

"Oh, you mean Sara?" the bartender asked. "Yeah, she ran past her just a few minutes ago. She looked pretty upset," he explained, still wiping the glass. "Poor kid; she must've been nervous; it's her first time up on stage here, y'know," he told Warrick, finally putting the glass down on the bar.

You have no idea, Warrick wanted to add, but instead nodded. "Where did she go?"

"She ran right out the door," the bartender informed him, "Didn't even bother saying goodnight."

Outside, Sara had run to her car, almost plowing herself into it like another oncoming car as she tried to open the door. Remembering that she locked the doors- a smart thing that anyone would do that at the moment seemed to be the work of the devil- she reached into her pockets only to remember that she didn't have pockets on this damn thing she was wearing. Then she discovered that she didn't even have her purse with her. She was so determined to get out of that building that she didn't grab any of her possessions.

Looking back at the building as she contemplating going back in to get her keys or not, she made her decision when she felt the bile forming in her throat as the thought even crossed her mind. Going back inside that building would mean seeing Trey again… and she definitely did not want to do that; she didn't want to ever see his face again. Shaking her head, she dashed down the sidewalk and crossed the street, the adrenaline coursing through her body numbing the pain from her bare feet touching the jagged edges of road (among other things).

Warrick ran outside expecting Sara's car to be long gone by now, but was surprised to find it still parked in the exact same place from before. Confused, Warrick looked down at the ground spotting a stepped-in wad of gum sticking to the pavement and something else he had seen much too often in his life- blood. Swallowing hard, Warrick looked on only to see that there was a trail of footprints, like the trail of bread crumbs in Hansel and Gretle, one of the storybook tales his grandmother used to read him when he was just a boy.

Almost afraid of what Warrick would find when he finally got to the end of the trail Warrick crossed the street, almost getting hit by an oncoming car in the process. Ignoring the obscenities the man in the car threw his way, Warrick followed the bloody footprints hoping that they would lead him to wherever Sara was. If this trail led him to Sara and if this was her blood… he was just hoping that she wasn't bleeding too badly. What the hell did that bastard do to her…?

Warrick continued to follow the trail of bloody footprints for about another block until he noticed a figure limping along not too far ahead of him. This was one of the nights where he was glad Vegas had all the flashing lights on all the time as he was able to determine whether or not the figure ahead of him really was indeed Sara. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught a glimpse of her face as she turned her head from side-to-side.

"Sara!" Warrick called, trying to get her attention.

Sara was whimpering quietly to herself, still not slowing down or stopping even when she heard Warrick behind her. She still needed to get away from Trey… and she wasn't far enough away.

"Sara, it's me!" Warrick said, slowly picking up his pace when he noticed that his previous comment didn't seem to faze her the slightest. When she continued down the sidewalk, Warrick jogged up behind her, "Sara!"

Sara finally turned around, not looking where she was going and tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. Landing on the ground, she looked up to see Warrick towering over her, kneeling down slowly beside her and offering her a hand to help her get up. "Sara…" Warrick whispered, "Are you okay…?"

Sara remained silent, slowly inching her hand toward Warrick's as if it was an animal about to bite her.

"Sara…" Warrick slowly said. "Are you okay…?" he repeated.

"…Yeah," Sara finally replied, bringing her hand back to her side. Nodding slowly, she said once again for reassurance, "Yeah."

Warrick bit his lip, slowly looking down at her feet that were lying gingerly on the pavement, the bottoms no longer touching the ground revealing how torn-up they were. "Ooh…" Warrick winced, slowly lifting one of her feet into his hands. "Sara… this looks bad, girl…"

Sara slowly looked up at Warrick, wincing and feeling the pain from her feet for the first time as the adrenaline left her body.

"Sorry…" Warrick apologized as he looked her foot over. There were various cuts and scrapes and the biggest cut was in the very middle with a piece of green glass sticking out of the cut. Warrick winced once again as he observed her injuries. Damn, Sara… you were really running, weren't you…? "Sara… this really looks pretty bad," Warrick told her.

"…Sorry," Sara whispered, not really knowing what else to say.

"It's okay," Warrick told her. "You have nothing to be sorry for… but you need to get these cleaned and bandaged," he said. "So do you want me to take you to your place…?" he asked her. Sara just nodded. "Alright," Warrick said, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and under her legs. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you to my car… you shouldn't be walking on those feet right now," he told her, starting to walk back down the sidewalk.

"Thanks…" Sara quietly said, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and resting her head against his chest. "I really appreciate it, Warrick…"

"No problem," Warrick told her. "It's no trouble…" No trouble at all. Walking back down the sidewalk leading to his car, he looked down at Sara every now and then to make sure she was still okay and comfortable for that matter. He smiled a little when he noticed that she had closed her eyes and was probably drifting to sleep. He knew that was good, because she must've worn herself out running away from the club physically, and he was sure she must be exhausted mentally.

About to reach into his pocket to retrieve his keys, Warrick frowned when he determined what it was he was going to have to do in order to do so. Normally this wouldn't have been a very hard thing to do… actually, normally he probably would've been all over it, but… considering what just happened to Sara Warrick didn't think touching her where he was going to have to touch her was going to help her feel better.

"Sara… I need to get my keys out of my pocket," he told her. "Can you…?"

Sara just nodded slowly, reaching into his front pocket and handing him his car keys.

"Thanks," Warrick told her, quickly unlocking the passenger's side door and beginning to set her inside as gently and as carefully as possible. Sara squeezed his neck a little tighter, hesitating before she finally let go. Making sure her feet didn't bump against anything, he set her down and grabbed a towel he had in the backseat and placed it under her feet. "If you want to wipe off some of the… blood…" he frowned, "From your feet, just use that towel," he told her, closing the door and jogging around to the driver's seat.

Sara buckled herself in as Warrick sat down in the car beside her. In a way Warrick felt a bit strange being the driver with Sara in the car. Normally she was so aggressive about those things and practically took his hand off as she snatched the keys from his hands. Smiling just a little, Warrick put the keys in the ignition and immediately cursed when deafening hip-hop music blared through the speakers. "Shit!" Warrick mumbled, reaching over and hitting the eject button on the CD player. "Sorry…" he mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Sara looked over at Warrick, well aware of the redness that was flushing his cheeks. Unable to hide her smile, Sara burst out laughing.

Warrick quickly shot his head to the right. "What?" he asked, a small grin creeping around the corners of his mouth.

"Nothing, Home Dawg, just drive," Sara grinned, turning to look out the window.

Warrick just laughed, pulling out from his parking space. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," he told her, shooting her a smile, "Because that sounds strange coming out of your mouth."

Sara just smiled, looking out the window as he headed toward her apartment complex. She had momentarily forgotten about what had just happened to her in the club. The stinging and burning sensation along the places Trey had touched her had suddenly disappeared, and… Sara could only wonder if it was because Warrick had inadvertently touched her in those same places as he carried her toward his car. There was something calming about Warrick, and she actually felt the safest she had ever felt during all her time in Vegas whenever she was around him.

"Alright, we're here," Warrick said as they pulled up in the parking lot of her apartment complex. "Let me come around and get you, okay?" Warrick asked.

"Okay," Sara immediately replied, looking down at the floor. She was actually looking forward to Warrick picking her up. She liked the feeling of Warrick… his warmth, his scent, his… everything.

Closing the driver's door Warrick got out and walked around to the passenger's side door, opening it and unbuckling Sara. Holding his arms out to her, Sara linked her own around his neck as he hoisted her up into his arms. Closing the door, he headed into the hallway of the apartment complex, looking down at Sara. "Which one's yours?" he asked her.

"Right over there," Sara said, pointing to a door around the corner. "Number 23; there's a spare key under the mat."

Warrick just nodded a they arrived at the right door and he maneuvered his body in such a way so as to be able to bend down in order to retrieve the key, but not having to set Sara down on the pavement in the process. After getting the key, Warrick let out a sigh as he unlocked the door, slowly moving through the doorway and closing it behind him.

"This is nice," Warrick observed, heading into the living room to set Sara down on the couch.

"Thanks," Sara smiled as he set her down on the couch.

"Where's your first-aid kit?" Warrick asked her, brushing his hands against his pants.

"Bathroom, down the hall," Sara directed, pointing to the hallway behind her.

Well that was obvious, Warrick thought to himself, nodding as he headed down the hallway. Walking into the bathroom, Warrick kneeled down and opened the cabinet under the sink, spotting the white kit behind some soaps and… other… things. Walking out of the bathroom, Warrick set the kit down on the coffee table and headed into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Sara looked down at her feet, for the first time realizing how torn-up they really were. When she was running- when the carnage her feet sustained took place- she wasn't thinking about anything else other than getting away from that club. There was dried blood on the tops of her feet and she didn't bother checking to see what the bottom of her feet looked like… she could tell Warrick was right when he said it was pretty bad.

"Alright…" Warrick sighed, heading back into the living room. Sitting down in a lounge chair across from Sara, he gently lifted her left leg up into his lap, opening the first-aid kit and immediately slid his hand inside for the pair of latex gloves.

Sara cleared her throat, shooting Warrick a small smile.

"Oh…" Warrick said, noticing for the first time that he had the gloves already half-way on his hands. "Sorry, habit…" he told her, returning the smile. Setting them aside, Warrick grabbed a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton swabs from the kit, also grabbing a pair of tweezers to remove the small pieces of glass and other things sticking out of her feet. "So how much did you get this place for…?" he asked her, trying to make conversation as he knew the next few moments were going to be painful ones for her.

"Not too, too much," Sara said, wincing as he rubbed some alcohol over the biggest cut in the middle of her foot.

Warrick just nodded, grabbing the pair of tweezers from the kit and slowly moving her foot into a different angle. "I'm going to get the glass out, okay…?" Warrick asked. "Squeeze my hand if it hurts," he told her, holding his hand out to her. Sara immediately took his hand even before the tweezers had grabbed onto the piece of glass lodged in her wound. Warrick winced himself as he felt Sara squeezing his hand as hard as she could as he took the glass out of her foot. "Okay, I'm done, that was the worst one," Warrick told her. "The glass is out… no more Mr. Tweezers," he assured her, shooting her a small smile.

"Thank god," Sara sighed in relief, still not letting go of his hand just yet. "Would you mind if I take a shower…?" she asked him, realizing that it was sort of strange asking him that in her own home.

"Yeah, go ahead," Warrick told her. "And I'll finish up when you come out. Do you want me to carry you?"

Sara slowly shook her head, getting to her feet and putting her weight on her heels so as not to hurt herself further. "…Thanks Warrick," she told him, shooting him a smile. "For everything."

Warrick just smiled. "No problem, Sara. Go get cleaned up," he told her, motioning toward the bathroom.

Sara just nodded, limping toward the bathroom, and she couldn't help but smile when Warrick lifted her into his arms despite her previous comment that she didn't need help.