Disclaimer: I don't own them. But that's okay, because in two days-TWO DAYS-they'll hopefully being doing good things again.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy! I rewrote it a couple times, with my ah-mazing beta's help. Pati, I owe you. But I'm pretty happy with how it turned out so...

Let me know what you think!

Chapter Twenty One:

He wasn't in his office or the classroom when I got there, but it didn't necessarily worry me. Sure, he'd been acting differently, but things had changed—it made sense for him to feel nervous and to act strangely and to feel the need to make sure I knew the risk he was taking, especially since it was a risk he'd never taken before. And, hell, he'd been in his car—there was every possibility that he was going to pick up a quick bite to eat before class or that he'd had trouble finding parking or that he'd gotten halfway to the building and had to go back for something he'd left in his car. It wasn't until other students were filing into the classroom around me that it occurred to me.

He really should be here by now.

I didn't have time to start worrying, much, before a young T.A. moved in, introduced himself, and said he was a senior in the Anthropology department. And that Professor Grissom had had a pressing family emergency arise and that he was going to be done for the semester—but not to worry, they'd still be following Dr. Grissom's lesson plans and his syllabus, and using his keys to correct any assignments or papers, so very little should change.

Everything had changed. The earth had tipped on its axis. My center of gravity had shifted, and I felt myself on the verge of sliding out of my desk and into an abyss.

He ended this reality-altering speech with a rushed, "So, any questions?" It took everything in me to keep rooted to my seat; I couldn't cause a scene, even if I felt as though the floor had been pulled out from beneath my feet. This had been what he wanted to tell me, and I hadn't let him and…

What the fuck was he doing?

I was dizzy and confused and… and this changed everything. Didn't he understand that part of his appeal—No, most of his appeal—came from the forbidden nature of their relationship and the fact that she wanted approval from someone who qualified as an authority figure? Didn't he realize that fucking a teacher was safe, but dating a man…

Well, I'd misunderstood the distinction between the two the first time, and I'd gotten hurt, hadn't I?

With a teacher there were rules and limits and a ticking clock that kept you from getting too invested. I was a master at psychoanalyzing myself—all those years listening to counselors do it—and I knew exactly what I was doing, choosing teachers.

I clearly hadn't communicated this little detail to Dr. Grissom. Intentionally, I guess. Because he was new to this and that kind of information would have scared him away. It just… It had never been a problem before. Every other man I'd ever been with had understood without explanation, because my primary appeal lay in the fact that I was a student. It was reciprocal. It made sense. It was easy. The fact that Dr. Grissom needed this explanation—had a made a fatal mistake because I hadn't given it to him—it also changed everything.

I felt nauseous.

It was an overwhelming thing to realize that for Dr. Grissom… things were different. That he wanted me not because I'm a student, coming with both a power structure and an expiration date built in. Not because I'm the sexiest and the smartest of his potential choices of a student lover.

No, he just wanted me. As a woman. His choice out of everyone, not just the girls who'd enrolled in his classes this semester.

I was sick with the overpowering weight of such a thing and I knew I was sweaty, clammy, pale. I felt like if I didn't get out of this room I would lose it, and the T.A. noticed. With a concerned frown, he asked if I was okay and when I shook my head—What? Was I going to lie and say that green was just my natural color?—he told me to go ahead and be done for the day.

He probably didn't want me vomiting on his shoes.

I took the out, packed up my things with trembling fingers, and left, but I didn't make it very far. I bolted into a bathroom less than twenty feet from the classroom and puked like I'd been drinking hard for twelve hours straight. I felt weak and shaky when I was finally able to stand, flush the toilet, and force myself back out to the sinks. A girl I didn't know was there, popping her gum and applying her eyeliner too heavily, completely unaffected, apparently, by the sounds and smells of me being ill.

"Morning sickness?"

I scowled, moving to the sink to wash my hands, rinse out my mouth, and finally pat my face with cool water to get rid of the cold sweat clinging to it. "I'd have to be getting laid for that."

She flashed me a grin and turned back to her make up while I perused my appearance, trying not to think about what had upset me, at least until I could get into my own home and my own bed. Anni would know what to do. Anni would help me.

I took a deep breath and pulled out my own make up, thinking that I needed to fix my own eyeliner—tears had poured down my face while vomiting, and it had run and faded and been smeared away. After a second, I stopped and pulled the pencil down, glancing between eyeliner girl and myself. Did I really wear as much as she did?

Dr. Grissom liked to say that the evidence never lies. I was looking between the pair of us and, despite my initial reaction that she looked like a trashy raccoon… there weren't any noticeable differences. I put the eyeliner away and hitched my backpack up on my back, keeping my eyes on the ground as I moved out of the building and back to my vehicle. I didn't let myself think on the ride home, turning the music up and reciting the periodic table for good measure, and when I got home, I didn't go to Anni, but to the shower. I didn't collapse or sit with my knees to my chest, enduring burning heat until it faded into an icy cold cascade… I washed my hair, my body, my face, I soaked up the heat, and then I stepped out.

I avoided the large mirror while I dried off, toweling the excess water from my hair and then sliding the terry cloth down my limbs, just enough so that I wasn't dripping. And then, I did turn around and look. Sara Sidle, naked. Not just unclothed, but unmasked and uncovered and more vulnerable than I'd been in a long time.

I didn't recognize myself. Not really.

Same eyes, same nose, same mouth—same dental problem, same freckles, same dark hair. But my lips were stained darker than they ought to've been, unable to attain a natural shade even after the shower. I still had a dark ring around my eyes from the eyeliner, thin and frail, and maybe even a little mocking. And the rest of my face lacked… life.

I didn't know when filling up my holes had started giving me new ones, but I knew even as the realization fell upon me that I wasn't going to change, exactly. I still wanted to be worshipped like the sex goddess I believed myself to be, because it did make me feel powerful in a life in which I'd had all too little control. But maybe, just maybe… it wouldn't be so bad to be worshipped by someone who didn't see me as a dime a dozen. It was scary, and hard, and… scary. But so were the shadows under my eyes and the lost look inside them.

When had my sexual liberation become a bondage?

I moved to my room and locked the doors to keep Anni out. I had wanted her help, but now I felt… I didn't think there was anything she could say to me, right now, that would help. And I knew that she had just as many holes as I did, and she was busy filling them up too. After a moment of hesitation, I called Eddie to tell him I'd gotten sick in class. It was a Friday night and he wasn't happy about it, but he didn't question me. I must have sounded awful, actually, because he offered to pick me up some soup and medicine if I didn't feel up to leaving the house. I wanted to say yes, but I didn't think I'd be able to keep myself awake long enough. I was exhausted.

As soon as I'd hung up, I burrowed down into my bed, buried deep, covers up to my face. My eyes were scratchy and my limbs tired and my heart still racing. It hadn't really been beating normally since the T.A. had stepped into the room and changed everything. Despite the overwhelming fatigue, I tossed and turned, uncomfortable and uncertain and… frightened.

I picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Grissom's number, thinking that I'd ask him to come over with soup and medicine to snuggle up with me and help me sleep. On the first ring, I panicked. Would he know that I was this way—weak, emotional, sick—because of him? Because of what he'd done? What would he say and how would I explain? Seeking his comfort when I couldn't sleep was natural now, a sedative after a long night of too many people and too many drinks and too many come-ons. I'd dialed without even thinking.

"Hello?"

I put on a false cheery voice and made myself smile, even as tears slipped into my eyes. "…Hi."

"Sara. Hi. I tried to explain before you went into class—"

"No, I know. I figured it out. I, ah… can't say I wasn't surprised."

They were rolling down her face, into one ear and along the side of the phone she had pressed to the other, and she kept the grin fixed, feeling like a broken clown.

"I know. I'm sorry about that. I wanted to explain to you that…" He paused, and I held my breath, fighting off the need to sniffle that my tears were causing. "That I'm not taking this lightly. I know you're not either," he rushed to explain, "I know that. I just… I want to give this a real chance."

I wiped my cheeks, breathing heavily, blinking wet lashes at my ceiling. "I know. I… I wish I hadn't been, uh… blind-sided by it, but… I want that too." I whispered the last part, afraid of it as much as I was of him, and I was pretty sure the tears sounded just below the surface of the whisper.

He sighed softly. "You heading in to work soon? Maybe I'll come see you…"

I swallowed. Shit. "Oh, no, I… Eddie called. He doesn't need me tonight. So, yeah… just… hanging out at home."

"Oh. …Did you want to move our date up? I'd love to see you tonight."

I gnawed on my bottom lip and shook my head. "I don't have a dress picked or… anything. I kinda just wanna spend the night in bed."

"Oh," he said again, and I could hear his disappointment. My heart hammered. "Okay. Great. Ah… did you want me to let you go so you can… relax?"

There was something in his voice—insecurity, maybe?—that struck a chord with me. It was achingly familiar. "No. …No, it's not like that. Do… do you want to come over? Just cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, and I wondered why—he'd spent the night with me just two days ago—but before I could ask him, he was agreeing. "Yeah… that would be nice. Give me an hour and I'll be over. Chinese?"

I smiled, despite the renewed trails of tears. It was too natural, too comfortable, too normal. "…Get me an extra egg roll?"

"Of course."