"Sara?" Doctor Weinberg raised her voice only a little bit to get Sara out of her thoughts. She had stopped calling her Miss Sidle since Friday and Sara was fine with that. They talked about very private things of Sara's life and she felt strange to tell any person things to a person, who called her Miss Sidle.

"Sorry, I was…how do you psychologist call it? It's not disorientated."

"Dissociation."

"Yes. Why do you have so difficult words?"

"You mean, you prefer easy words like deoxyribonucleic acid?"

Sara laughed. "Okay, your point. I'm impressed you know the real name of DNA. But then, you're a doctor."

"I came across DNA during my university time, yes. Can you tell me where you've been before I called you back?"

"I thought about what you said. The connection between the event two weeks ago, the angry man and Don…it was a shock when they pulled me out of bed, but I had worse experience, as strange as it might sound."

"You think it sound strange when you say that?"

"Most people would think it was a terrible experience."

"You think else."

"No, but like I said, I had worse experience. Being trapped under a car in the desert during a thunderstorm, water running down the hill, you feel how it rises, you can't really move, know if you don't do anything, you'll drown because nobody knows where you are. That was worse. I never thought my life was in danger when they took me to the department, I feared for my life the whole time under the car."

"You want to tell me about how you ended under the car?"

Sara sighed. No, she didn't want to talk about this night, it was nothing she wanted to think about. Then again, she was here to talk about bad things, to get them out of her head, to have a chance to live free of them.

"We worked a case of a serial killer, maybe you heard of the miniature killer. A woman, who killed a few people in Vegas… Izzy Delancy?"

"The former rock star."

"Yes. He was her first victim. No, her first victim was her own sister when they both were children." Nathalie had pushed her sister off the tree house and killed her. Something they didn't know at that time, something a lot of people forgot, for Sara, it was Nathalie's first kill. "He was the first victim we had as a case. She left a perfectly half inch scale miniature of the murder scene in the kitchen, where she killed him, even used his blood to create the blood pool. Grissom, my boss, I was involved with, at that time, tracked down her foster father, who committed suicide before anybody could talk to him. She blamed him for her foster father's death, the only person, who ever loved her. To make him pay, she took me away, to make him suffer. Left me under the car to die. I was able to free myself, almost died when I broke down in the dessert, dehydrated." Sara stopped. She had been through this story so many times, with the police, with Grissom, most times alone with her herself. Every time it was hard, it scared her because she felt like she was right back under the car.

"There was a little smile in your face, just for a second."

"I just thought, Nick and Sofia found me there, she had been there for me, rescued me. Like Friday. Looks like she's good at that."

"Looks like. Something good."

"Yes. Anyway, that was worse than the SWAT team in my room."

"What happened after that event?"

"The relationship with Grissom became public, I left night shift, changed to swing shift so we had no problems with our boss. A few weeks later I left. I couldn't stand the violence anymore. It was like every day got worse, no matter what I did, the evil was everywhere, never stopped, not even hesitated. I wrote Grissom a letter that I was sorry, left, went to San Francisco to see my mother and started to go on excursions. Grissom, to whom I was engaged at that time, was supposed to come with me. In the end, he was never able to leave Las Vegas, to leave his work. We had been in love, he called me the only one he had ever loved, but the love wasn't stronger than the love or the need to be at his work. We split, it hurt, but I got over it. There are no bad feelings left, in fact, I'd like to see him when I go to Vegas to visit my colleagues."

"Leaving Vegas, starting a new life, helped you to get over the experience in the desert."

"Yes."

"Why are you in L.A. and not in San Francisco with your mother?"

"She is…" Sara stopped. Not a good topic. Not one she wanted to talk about. "We're not that close."

"You don't want to talk about her."

"No."

"Alright."

"Don't say it's alright, you're supposed to make me talk."

"To make you angry? Close up? No, I won't do that. I'll wait until you trust me enough to talk about her yourself. When you feel like talking about her, we can do that." Doctor Weinberg smiled a bit.

"You don't react the way you should as a psychologist."

"That's why you come to me."

"Yes. And because you gave me the muffins. We've frozen a dozen of them in case we want muffins and the bakery is closed or we're too lazy to go there. Sofia is addicted too. Don tries to pretend he doesn't care for muffins, but I saw him putting two in his bag for work."

"You and Sofia are friends for a long time?"

"No." They were friends since…yes, since when? One week? "No, we know each other for a couple of years, worked together in Vegas but we weren't friends."

"That has changed."

"Yes. Somehow. She came to me when I was in interrogation, never had a doubt that I wasn't innocence. She was there when I got the sunburn, she made sure I got lotion, she helped me because I couldn't reach my back, offered me a room to stay and she was there when I had the first bout. Somewhere on this way we became friends."

"You trust her."

"As guess I do. More than most people at least."

"It's not easy for you to trust people."

"No. But she saved my life twice, she can't be too bad, don't you think, doc?" Sara chuckled.

Doctor Weinberg smiled again. "I think she's good for you, she likes you, worries about you."

"She makes sure I come to you."

"A smart woman."

"A smug one too."

"There's a difference between being smug and being self-assured."

"Does she pay you to say that?"

"No and you know that. I'd like to ask you something that has to do with her, Sara."

"Okay."

"Could you consider Sofia as your safe person?"

"What is a safe person?"

"A person, you feel safe with. Somebody, you makes you go through different things easier or possible."

"Do you want me to get her here and hold my hand while we talk?" It was one thing for Sara to call Sofia a friend, it was something different to have the blonde here in her sessions and hear about all the things, that had happened to Sara.

"No. I wondered if she makes you feel safe in situations, you feel scared."

"If I'm not having a stupid bout I'm not scared." Sara said with a little bit of anger in her voice. She didn't want a babysitter, she was capable to handle her own life.

"Okay."

No, it wasn't okay, she wanted the psychologist to fight with her. Why was is impossible to fight with this person? That was annoying. Every time Sara thought, she was mad, had a reason to yell at doctor Weinberg, to tell her, therapy was stupid, the doctor agreed and took the anger away. That wasn't fair.

"I can't say I felt safe when I was in the car last Friday and Sofia was there." Sara continued a little bit calmer. "I didn't realized she was there until I was here in your office and you gave me the sedative."

"Can you remember anything of the event?"

"She got the pastry, was on her way to get into the car…the end."

"Sofia didn't tell you what happened?"

"No. She said, that's something we've to talk about. That she isn't a therapist. I felt like strangling her when she said that and refused to say a single word."

"Do you want me to tell you what happened after she put the pastry on the backseat?"

"Yes. Please."

"There was a man on the other side of the sidewalk, who yelled at his daughter because she dropped her ice cream. It looked for a moment like he was about to slap her, Sofia got his attention, made him understand that she'd send him to prison if he touches the child. They exchanged a few not nice words and he moved on. She got into the car and found you trembling… you look pale now, Sara. Sara?"

Sara could almost feel how the tremble started, she heard words, yelling at somebody. At her? She felt hands. In her face. Her head. Her upper body. Hands slapping her.

"Sara!"

The hands she felt now belonged to doctor Weinberg, who shook her, strong but without hurting her.

"Sorry. I was…somewhere else."

"You were at the event of Friday."

"No. Yes. No. I don't know. Fuck." She grabbed the chair to make her hands stop trembling. Why couldn't she control her own body? What was wrong with her that she lost it all the time? That had never happened before? Was she on the best way to lose it?

"Even if it's hard, try to relax, let your hands tremble. The more you try to fight it, the more you're tensed and it won't stop. Close your eyes."

"I want this to stop."

"It will. Close your eyes, lean back."

Sara tried again to stop her hands before she did what she was told.

"Close your mouth, take a deep breath through your nose and try to keep the air in your stomach for five seconds."

She felt the hands of the doctor on her temples, starting to move them around in little circles with low pressure. Slowly she inhaled, felt like the air arrived in her stomach and held it.

"And now exhale. Slowly and through your mouth until you feel like there's no air left. Then start to inhale again the same way like before."

Sara did like she was told. She felt like wringed something out when she made sure, there was no air left in her stomach. Trying not to gasp for air, she inhaled again slowly. Meanwhile doctor Weinberg didn't stop her massage to Sara's temples. She repeated this exercise three more times when doctor Weinberg stopped the massage.

"That's alright, you can open your eyes again." She sat back on her chair.

Sara looked at her hands. They laid steady on her lap, comfortable and didn't tremble. Like nothing had happened.

"It worked."

"You are full of tensions, Sara. When did you have the last massage?"

"Never?"

"A massage is a good way to relax, you might want to have one once a week. Do you do any exercise?"

"No, nothing regular. I walk with the dogs."

"If possible try to fit some exercise in your morning schedule, best before you go to work or start with the day. That makes you more relaxed."

"Okay, I can do that. A morning jogging tour around the reservoir."

"That would be perfect."

"But it won't stop these bouts."

"No, but it might make them less severe. Something of the Friday event, something that has something to do with the man yelling at his child, makes you feel scared."

"I don't know why. He yelled at the child, he didn't notice me. It wasn't about me, not my business."

"And yet it got into you."

"Apparently. You're the psychologist, tell me why."

"I can't tell you why, Sara."

"Why not?"

"Because the reason for that is something, you haven't told me yet. I can only guess and make conclusions when you tell me about you and your past."

"There must some kind of associations you have for things like that."

"I wouldn't help you if I start to make guesses. The opposite, it would be bad. A therapist, who puts pictures in the head of her client, is a danger for the client or even the society."

"So I've to figure it out alone. Why am I here then?"

"I can help you to figure it out when you talk to me, I can support you by working things out, getting through things."

"I'll end up in a loony bin."

"Why should end up there?"

"I'm crazy."

"No, you're not."

"I am. You just saw it. And you want a reason for it? I inherited it!" Sara jumped up and left the room before doctor Weinberg could stop her. She had to get out of here! She needed some fresh air! She needed…anything but not this! She had to leave. Fast. Far, far away. Before she lost it all.