A/N: Thank you all again for the great reviews and encouragement :D This is the chapter where everything starts to go downhill. I warned you.

Damn it Cath, why did you have to go and say something like that now of all times? Sara's obviously not in a very good place mentally or she wouldn't have reacted that way! She's convinced that her only friends are treating her differently now because of what happened in the lab. And that's not true, knowing Nicky he's worried sick and Warrick's confused out of his mind- they both know Sara wouldn't do something like that.

But she's dealt with so much over the last few days that I'm not so sure she knows.

I turn around to look toward the back of the Denali for Sara only to discover she's long gone, already having retrieved her kit from the back. I quickly scramble out of the car and grab my kit from the trunk, closing it behind me and following her up to the taped-off house in front of us. There are blood pools in the driveway- but not as much as you'd expect- and the victims are lying on the pavement next to each other right underneath the spray-painted signature of the Snakebacks.

Sara goes straight to a uniform stationed next to the crime-scene for information and I choose to stand back and let her have the authority right now. She needs to let off some steam. "What do we have?" she asks.

"Jim Krotoski and his wife Jane owned this place," the officer explains, motioning to the disheveled house in front of us. "He was a big-time stock-broker; he's got millions in the bank. His wife stayed at home and did the paperwork."

"Who called 9-1-1?" Sara asks.

"The neighbors," he explains, "They said they heard the gunshots and called the cops, but by the time they looked out the window the perps were already gone."

Sara nods and looks over at me, mentally asking me if I think that's enough information about the scene for now. Warrick and Nick will tell us more about the victims, so I nod. Just as I'm about to tell her where to look around, she beats me to it.

"I'll take the perimeter," she says, and without another look or word, she turns and walks off.

"Right," I sigh, lifting my kit back up and lifting the tape up over my head, heading for the front of the house. This place is huge—it's going to take hours to cover. I hope Sara's planning on coming back to help me when she's finished with the perimeter if she doesn't still hate my guts in three hours.

I shine my flashlight into the entryway and immediately notice signs of struggle—a knocked over vase (expensive-looking), shattered mirror hanging on the wall, picture frames lying on the floor. The rug is turned over and there's a shoe impression in what appears to be blood. That's the thing about gang crimes—there's a lot of evidence. More than enough evidence; you'd think with the many times they have to deal with the cops they'd wise-up and start being more careful, but they never do.

After taking a few shots of that, I continue my scope of the house, hearing Sara's camera clicking off a few shots outside. Normally what I said probably wouldn't have affected her this way. She probably would've laughed it off and forgotten all about it. But considering everything she's been through, everything she's told me about, that damn case that got to her so much, it's understandable that she took it the way she did. I made it sound like she was a dog Ecklie had to keep on a leash.

I wince at the way that sounds in my head. God, Sara…

Not even thinking about the crime-scene anymore, I continue to subconsciously snap photos of blood smears and trails through the house with my camera as I start to plan how I'm going to make it up to her. I'll take her out for drinks, maybe. I'll be there with her, so I can control her alcohol intake. God knows she needs a beer or two right now, I don't blame her, I sure could use one.

So that's it—drinks after shift, I know just the place. There's a nice relatively quiet bar just off the Strip. It's sort of in a strange place, so it doesn't get a lot of tourists or foot traffic. Hey, maybe if I'm lucky, I can even talk her into a dance or two.

I start laughing aloud- Sara Sidle is not the dancing-type, I know. Although she sure has the right body for it.

And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way for her to slip in that sexy little pair of black leather pants I have hanging in my closet. They'd sure look nice on her… tight, but that's the whole point.

I slowly start to revert back to CSI-mode as I snap more pictures of a continuous blood trail, starting from the kitchen and leading to the front door. Just as I walk into the kitchen, I spot blood pools, and this is definitely more than we saw outside the house. This is obviously the initial crime-scene. So the suspect must've shot both of them in here and then dragged them outside.

Just to humor myself, I turn around and head out of the room in search of a murder weapon. I mean, the guy couldn't have been that stupid, right?

I freeze when I notice something glistens in the light from my maglite. Metal. I take a step closer and kneel down beside a small cabinet only to discover a .9 millimeter pistol lying in a flower pot, the safety still clicked off. This was our lucky day! I try not to smile too, too big as I take multiple photos of it. Now I can steal Sara away earlier…

"Sara!" I call out a little too enthusiastically. I like my job, what can I say?

No answer. I figure she must not have heard me and try again. "Sara!"

Still no answer. There was a lot of noise outside, so maybe she still doesn't hear me… or maybe she's still mad. "I found the murder weapon!" I call over my shoulder. That has to get her attention, even if she's still mad. I've never seen someone else get so excited about finding a murder weapon at the crime-scene than her.

There's footsteps behind me, and I'm about to start rambling on about the evening I have planned for her and I before I realize that the person who just entered the crime-scene is not Sara. I know her footsteps, and these are not hers. These footsteps are too heavy.

Instinctively I move my hand toward my holster, but I feel something round and hard against my back that says otherwise. "Drop it," a male voice hisses.

Shit. Damn. Hell. Son of a—

"I said drop it!" they shout.

I slowly and reluctantly comply even though now I am a bit scared, letting my gun drop to the floor. I watch from the corner of my eye as the person behind me leans down and grabs it and I can hear him stuffing it in his pants.

"Now turn around," he growls, "And slowly, or I swear I'll blow your head straight off!"

Well when he puts it that way, I really have no choice. Slowly I turn myself around, my hands in the air at my sides. When I see his face I try and memorize every detail- this kid can't be much older than Lindsey. I look down and realize there's a black bandana tied around his leg and a bloody patch of denim on his jeans.

"You cut yourself?" I ask him, motioning to his leg. He must have gotten it during the struggle with the victims. "Or did you slip up and let one of them stab you?" What am I doing? And where in the hell is that officer from earlier?

"Shut up, bitch!" he hisses, clicking the safety off his gun. I didn't know gang members even kept the safety on. "Take out your wallet, and do it slowly…" he adds. "I want everything you have on you before I kill you."

"No wallet," I reply. "And what's killing me going to solve? It's just going to land you into even mo—" Before I can finish he's whacked me across the face with the butt of the gun.

"I said SHUT UP!" he screams.

"LVPD, drop it."

…Where did Sara come from? God that hurts…

Grasping the bruised skin on my jaw, I look over the suspect's shoulder only to see her standing in the doorway of the house, her gun held in front of her and hand on her radio. The light behind her shining on the silhouette of her body makes her look like an angel. My guardian angel.

"What the hell?" the kid hisses.

"This is CSI Sidle, I need immediate back-up at 1113 Fremont Street near Henderson, the suspect has returned to the scene and is armed," she expertly says into her radio. It would turn me on at any other time but right now I'm too scared to exactly be aroused by anything.

"Roger that, back-up is being sent."

"What are you doing here, bitch?" the kid hisses at her.

"That's funny, because I'm wondering the exact same thing," she coolly replies, slowly circling around the room, her eyes trained on the suspect. What the hell are you doing? I want to shout at her. She's moving closer to him, she should be running away!

"I have some unfinished business," he spits on the floor next to him and I can see something in Sara's eyes light up. Free DNA sample.

"That's basically all we need for a conviction, you know," I butt in. I finally realize what Sara's doing—she's trying to move in front of me.

"Catherine, stop talking," Sara orders, finally stopping when she's standing right in front of me as a shield. "He's already killed the officer outside, he won't hesitate to kill you too." …Sara… She's trying to sound confident but her voice is wavering on pure fear and panic.

"Sara, what the hell are you doing?" I finally hiss at her.

"Cath, he will kill you, so don't you dare move!" she practically shouts at me as she hears me trying to move behind her. "I'm not going to lose you too!"

Then it hits me- she doesn't care what happens to her, she wants to protect me.

"Goddamn it Sara, why do you have to be so stubborn?" I growl into her ear. I know now's not necessarily the best time for our regular antics but I don't want her to get hurt. She may not care what happens to her, but I do.

"How sweet is this, we've got the Dyke Sisters," the kid cackles at us. "I wonder if you two have ever actually had a good fuck," he starts moving his hips in a mock-hump movement and it's enough to make me want to gag, and as if Sara senses this she moves so I can't see him anymore.

Sara's trying her hardest to stay calm and collect but her muscles are so tense right now I think if a fly landed on her she'd end up squeezing the trigger on her gun.

"Do you hear that?" she finally speaks, motioning with her head to our left. I can hear the sirens she's indicating. "The cops are coming, and you'll be doing a whole lot of this where you're going," Sara finishes, mimicking the movement of the suspect.

Oh my god did Sara really just do that?

"Bitch! I'm going to kill you both before they ever put me away!" the kid shouts. But his voice sounds a bit nervous now, and as he turns his head away for a brief moment to look for the sirens, Sara makes a move.

I don't exactly know what happened next.

I watched, glued to the floor as she lunged at the suspect and wrapped her arms around his midsection, trying to tackle him to the floor. As they began to fall onto the floor, Sara on top of the suspect who was cursing her out the entire time she was able to knock the gun from his hand and I watched as it fell to the floor.

He kicked her off of him and she flew across the room, hitting one of the walls as he made a dash for the gun.

"Sara!" I'm not sure what to do. There's my gun- that he obviously dropped- lying a few feet away from me but at the same time I want to make sure Sara's okay. I didn't make my mind up fast enough, and the next thing I know I'm staring down the barrel of a .9 millimeter pistol, the same make and model of the murder weapon I was about to bag before this whole hellish nightmare began…

I hear the hammer click and I shut my eyes closed as tight as I can. This is it, I know it. The sirens are still what sound to be a few blocks away. I don't have any chance of fighting back. I don't know where Sara is…

God Sara, I'm so sorry for all of this.

I brace myself for the gunshot but quickly open my eyes when I don't hear one. I'm just in time to see Sara struggling with the suspect, fighting for the gun. I've never seen that look before in her eyes… there's fire in her eyes. Anger, fear, pain, and the most powerful sense of protectiveness I've ever seen.

"Sara!" I shout to her, trying to tell her to hang on as I move to get my gun. Damn it, where is it? It was here a minute ago! They must have kicked it somewhere else during their fight.

I spot it in the far corner of the room and scramble to get it, before I hear a bang.

Gunshot.

All coherent thoughts leave my head as I turn around with wide eyes, looking at both Sara and the suspect. They're both not moving, but they're both still on their feet.

"Shit," the suspect curses and turns to bolt for the door as the sirens grow closer. But I'm not concerned with him right now. Brass will get him.

I run over to Sara and put a hand on her shoulder, starting to worry now more than ever at the shaking of her body. "Sara?" I whisper, studying her face. All color quickly drains and she's pale as a sheet. "Sara, say something!" I order her, "Right now, you hear me?"

She slowly turns to look at me and that's when I see the blood beginning to cake her vest near her chest. She starts coughing up blood and collapses onto me, the force of her fall knocking us both to the floor.

"WE NEED HELP!" I shout as the back-up finally arrives. I hold tightly onto her with one arm as my other hand presses against the wound. She looks up at me with wide, fear-filled eyes and I can't hold back the tears that are quickly forming in my eyes. "Sara, stay with me, you hear me?" I ask her. She opens her mouth to reply but only chokes on her own blood.

I did the only thing I thought to do. I screamed.

TBC