Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry once again for the long delay. From the length of this chapter, I'm sure you can understand why it took so long. Also, my dad's birthday was yesterday and at four in the afternoon I got a call in which my parents suggested we drive to a city over an hour away to meet them for dinner. :) It was nice, but understandably, took up pretty much my whole night last night.

CSIKathy, I doubt you'll need tissues yet. If it comes at all, it'll be the next chapter... but I'm not certain how that's going to play out. Maybe there won't be an entended funeral scene. We'll see. :)

GSRMania-I missed you! :) Welcome back. So sorry about that egg problem. Hehe. And here I thought I'd lost you... when I had Grissom and Catherine go on the cruise together, like ten people stopped reading because they were convinced I was going to have grillows, despite my adament assurances that I would not... I'm glad to know you didn't give up on me! Lol. Btw, what does your husband think of Jace now? How about the MILFFH? :)

Enjoy!

Oh! Sorry, one more thing. Sooo, the second memory details when Sara was attacked and almost raped, and it's a little bit graphic. If you want to not read it, skip the second set of italics. You don't miss anything plot-wise that would make you lost. :)

Okay, now you can enjoy...

Chapter Ninety Two:

When the sounds of more people arriving drifted back to our little hideaway, I sighed and stood, preparing myself for the ordeal. Gil and I wouldn't be able to hold hands or be close—we had already decided it would be easier to not have to explain or try to defend ourselves to the people mourning for Jace—but at least his family would also have to keep their glances to a minimum, and Susan would leave Gil alone. …He wouldn't tell me exactly what she'd said, but the look in his eyes told me clearly enough that it had been bad.

Before we left San Francisco, I vowed I would have words with the woman, because Gil was too respectful to have them himself, either in a church or in front of the rest of the family. …Today, for Jace's memory, I could understand refraining, but after…

We walked out together, Ayla once more on my hip, and were instantly bombarded… Jace had grown up in San Francisco, so the entire place was packed… old teachers, kids he'd gone to high school with, the guys at the garage as well as Al and Betty, both of whom hugged me until inhaling became a struggle and Gil stepped up to introduce himself as a friend of the family, simply so they would release me. And everyone kept telling me they were sorry… they were just so sorry and they were so worried about me and if I needed anything I shouldn't hesitate to ask. …Which was a nice sentiment, but it was extremely overwhelming.

And then, out of the crowd, came my utter salvation—Kyleigh and Michelle, hand-in-hand, eyes red. As soon as I saw them they were rushing to me, wrapping me up in their embrace, and I felt so relieved… if I couldn't seek comfort with Gil, then the next best thing were my best friends. I had called them, once we knew the plan for Jace's funeral, and though it had been a difficult conversation, I was glad I'd forced myself to do it—I wasn't up to answering questions just now, especially not about Gil. I pulled back a moment later, to introduce him, but they didn't need it—they flung themselves at him as well, hugging him tightly, his face adorably bewildered as he patted each of their backs. I smirked as they pulled back. "Oh, it's so good to finally meet you… We've talked, a little. I'm Michelle."

"And I'm Kyleigh!" Gil smirked at that—the two women looked nothing alike, Kyleigh blonde and blue-eyed, long and lean, Michelle with dark hair and eyes, shorter and curvier… If you knew anything about either woman, you would never mistake one for the other.

"It's nice to meet you, ladies." He responded politely.

Kyleigh giggled and glanced at me. "Oh, he's just adorable!" Gil blushed.

Michelle smiled and then her face slipped into a sympathetic look. "…Sara." That's all it took—my bottom lip quivered, my eyes burned, and then I was crying and they were both hugging me again.

I was extremely grateful when it became clear that it was almost time for the service to start and the entry area was clearing out. We still had not gone close to Jace's casket—I had when Gil took Ayla inside, but it had been too hard to see him that way… not looking real, his hands plastic, the makeup on his face too thick and a shade off his natural color. I was happy not to see it again… in my line of work, you learned to separate who the person was from the shell in which they came.

We slipped into the sanctuary, me sliding up next to Tom with Gil on my left, Kyleigh and Michelle in the row behind us, Ayla sitting on the pew between us, drawing a foot up into her lap and trying to unfasten her shoe and pull it off. I sighed softly, letting my eyes close for a long moment when the minister began speaking—not the one who had married us, who I still had not entirely forgiven for disregarding my requests on the wording of the ceremony.

I should have paid attention… but this didn't feel like Jace, and so I felt my mind wandering instead to moments in the past that we had shared. Not the recent ones, though there was the rare moment here and there that in the past year or two I could say I remembered quite fondly… but I focused on ones that weren't tempered by the reality of all we'd done to one another.

"Shit!" I climbed out of my car and kicked the wheel of my piece of shit car that somehow managed to make it across the country, but not the few miles between my apartment and the grocery store. I ran my hands through hair that was already slightly damp with sweat—my air conditioning only half worked anyway, but I'd turned it off when the car started to make strange sounds, hoping that it would help.

I glanced around me, thinking that I would have to walk to the nearest gas station and use their phone or see if they had a tow truck… but a glance at the following exit showed me an area covered in warehouses. I didn't have a cell phone, so I would just have to find someone who would pull over and give me a lift to a gas station. …I mean, with this many cars passing me, it couldn't be that hard, could it?

…Twenty minutes passed before a dark blue vehicle passed me, but did slow and pull off just before the exit I was in front of, flashers on. I swallowed hard, reminding myself that it was broad daylight and very public… if this guy was creepy, I could always refuse to go with him. He wasn't going to do anything right here.

The driver side door opened, and one of the sexiest men I'd ever seen stepped out. He was in jeans that fit snugly in the right places and hung just right in others, making him look simultaneously sexy and rebellious. His black hair was parted in the center and fell onto his forehead, and even from a distance his eyes were striking. The black t-shirt he wore only emphasized that he was in peak physical condition, and the concerned look on his face was absolutely genuine… disarming. I immediately trusted him.

"Car trouble?"

I sighed, embarrassed. "Yeah… I probably just pushed it too hard. Any chance I could use a cell phone or catch a ride somewhere that can tow me?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Pop the hood."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I can probably at least get it to get you home… save you some money. Pop the hood."

I paused, bewildered, but moved to my door, waiting for a slight lull in traffic before attempting to open it and grasp around for the lever. I tugged on one and the trunk opened—he chuckled softly and I blushed, opening the hood and then slamming my door before going and slamming the trunk as well.

He was already bent over, under the hood, peering in, and I moved up the passenger side of the car, avoiding the busy interstate, leaning against the cement guard rail and watching him. The muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped the edge he was leaning on. He murmured something about something overheating, which I didn't understand, and reached into the depths of the engine. "Jace Wendt."

I blinked in surprise, my eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. "Huh? …Oh. Sara. Sara Sidle."

"You put a lot of miles on this car recently?"

"Oh… yeah. I… I just moved to town from Boston, actually."

"You drove… this car… from Boston?"

"It's… the only car I have."

He shook his head, muttering something else about random car part A and random car part B and how that explained what was wrong… he went back to his car, retrieving a tool set from his trunk. Within half an hour, he had me try to start it, and though it whined feebly when I did, it did start. He grinned, closing the hood. "Do you have far to go?"

"I, uh… No, not really. It's a couple of exits down…"

"Address?" I told him the street, and he nodded. "No, that's not too far… the important thing is to get off the interstate. The car should be fine, short-term, as long as you don't take it up to high speeds again."

"…Like, stay below seventy five, eighty?"

He grinned. "No, like… thirty, thirty five."

"What?"

He pursed his lips, trying to stave off his laughter. "It's not in good shape, Sara." It was the first time he'd said my name, and I liked the way it sounded coming from his mouth. It gave me butterflies. "Listen, at the risk of sounding like a stalker, I'd like to follow you until you get to your apartment… make sure it doesn't break down on you again."

I blushed, but felt my heart fluttering at his words. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

He did follow me until I managed to park in outside my apartment, and then I got out of the car, moving over to his open window.

"Thanks again. It was really… so nice of you."

"My pleasure… My dad taught me you never leave a lady in distress. If you can help, you should."

I smiled, thinking that I had just found the most amazing guy in the world, and I had to find a way to keep the conversation going… make sure I would see him again… something. "…How do you know so much about cars anyway? Something you learned from your dad too?"

He shook his head. "No, I've been working in a garage since I was sixteen… learned everything there was to know about cars the first year or so I worked there. Al, the man who owns it… he's really a genius when it comes to cars."

I felt a wave of disappointment that was followed rapidly by guilt. I hadn't worked my whole life to end up with a mechanic. I mean, they made good money, but how intellectually stimulating could one be? …I had worked my ass off to avoid having a working class life. But damn, the man was beautiful…and sweet… and a gentleman. I bit my bottom lip and realized I had yet to respond to him. "…Well, anyway, it was nice to meet you… Jace. I can't thank you enough."

I turned to go, and his hand caught mine. It was large and warm and exceedingly gentle. "Hey… I know that, uh… we just met on the side of the road and that this… might seem weird… but is there any way I could call you sometime? Take you to dinner? …Show you the city?"

I wanted to say yes, but I reminded myself of the way I'd grown up, before foster care, and grit my teeth. "I, uh… I don't think so. I'm sorry. …Thanks again." And I hurried away from him, into the building, ignoring the thudding in my chest.

I smiled softly, lifting my head at the mention of my name… the minister had just said something to the effect of, '…his grieving wife, Sara.' I realized that smiling demurely was perhaps not the best thing I could be doing in this moment, with all eyes turning to me… but I felt like remembering the very best of Jace was a better tribute than this lengthy pomp and circumstance. The minister continued, and I let my mind drift again…

My goddamn car had stalled, again. I had been putting off buying a new one, because I really didn't want to spend the money. I had just moved across the country in the last month or so, just started a new job, and just started a new semester at school… I wasn't exactly rolling in cash. I mean, I had some money in savings that I could spend if I had to… but I would really prefer to not spend it as long as possible.

I slammed my palms against the steering wheel and glanced at the empty parking lot around me—I'd just finished a night class and, being the overachiever that I was, had stayed late to ask the teacher some questions. She had humored me for almost forty five minutes, and we'd walked out together. Her car was in the teacher's lot, just outside the door… and mine was a five minute walk away. She waved to me and even offered me a ride to my car, but I had already taken up so much of her time… I told her I'd be fine and that it was just around the corner.

I mean, it was dark, but the campus was well-lit and it wasn't that late.

I had reached the parking lot just fine, but now… I would just have to call Jace. I didn't want to… he liked to tease me that I refused to get a new car simply because I wanted to keep having an excuse to see him. Which wasn't true, although I did like to see him, despite my brain telling me that I should not like or want that at all… I'd run into him a week after he helped me, on campus, and despite warning myself that spending time with a sexy mechanic was exactly how one fell hopelessly in love with a sexy mechanic, we'd grabbed some coffee together and talked a little.

I had reluctantly given him my number, under the understanding that we would just be friends, and we'd invited me out to a bonfire on the beach the weekend before school started. I met some of his friends and spent some time with him, although I might have been a little colder to him than necessary to dissuade him—it was just such a romantic setting, and I didn't trust myself not to kiss him when he kept looking at me like that. And, we'd become friends. I slammed my car door and made my way over to a payphone on the sidewalk, beside the bus stop, depositing quarters and dialing the number I embarrassingly knew by heart already. This would be the fourth time I'd called him to fix my car, and if we hadn't spent so many other moments together, I knew he would think I was just using him for his mechanical skills.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jace."

I could hear his smile through the phone. "Sara. …I can't imagine why you would be calling me from a pay phone."

I frowned. "How can you tell it's a pay phone?"

"For some reason, my phone always rings differently when it's a pay phone… like one really short ring, before the regular rings… So, car won't start?"

I sighed. "No… I'm really sorry. Can you help me?"

"Of course. We both know it's why you insist on keeping that pile of junk car…it's an excuse to spend more time with me."

"Yeah, yeah." I said, glancing around myself, trying to remain aware of my surroundings. As empowered a woman as I liked to believe myself, I still got nervous being out alone at night, especially on campus.

"Where are you?"

"The student parking lot closest to the physics building. It's behind the—"

"String Bean." He replied, naming the coffee shop we'd grabbed coffee at. Realizing, I glanced over at the building hopefully, thinking I'd wait for him there… but the lights were all out. They were closed.

"Exactly. Thank you so much, Jace."

"Not a problem. I'm leaving right now, okay?"

"Great… Bye."

"Bye."

I hurried back to my car, unlocking it with shaky hands and sliding inside, locking the doors behind me and letting out a sigh of relief. Jace would be here soon, and then I'd be safe at home, in bed. I tried to pass the time by tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. If traffic were right, he would be here in less than a minute. If not, it could be up to five… heck, he could probably walk it in five, if he cut across lawns and the courtyard. I wished I could turn music on… sitting in a locked car in a deserted parking lot in silence… made me feel on edge. Like I was being watched.

I sighed and pulled out the paper I'd just been given back today—I had been anxious to read the comments my teacher had written in the margins, but I hadn't wanted to while walking the dark. But if I was stuck, and my doors were locked… It was a large paper—20 pages—and by the time I had gone through, deciphering her handwriting and evaluating each compliment and criticism, I realized that several minutes had passed. I looked around—there was no car in the parking lot still, but there was a man of Jace's size and height walking towards me, from the direction of his home.

I opened the car door just as he walked into the trees lining the side of the parking lot, and he stopped. I bit my bottom lip, opening my car door, thinking that maybe in the dark, he wasn't sure if I was in here. He didn't move. …I couldn't be certain, but it almost looked like he'd gestured me over. I stood up, keeping myself tucked between my car and the door, watching him… uncertain. Why would he want me to come there? Why wouldn't he come here?

My heart rate accelerated, wild ideas flashing through my head. What if while I was reading my paper, someone had snuck up behind me… was hiding back behind my car. Maybe he thought the person wouldn't attack if I acted like I didn't know he was there. …Or maybe my car was smoking or something, and I hadn't noticed…

I knew these were unlikely ideas, but he gestured more clearly to me, so I reached down and grabbed my backpack, slung it over my shoulder, locked my doors, and hurried over to him, thinking that I wasn't necessarily comfortable going over to him… but I was scared to stay in the car. It had to be serious if Jace wouldn't come over to me, right?

I couldn't see his face clearly, but the shape of his body I knew, and I walked into the trees, finally feeling relaxed for the first time since I'd started walking tonight. Whatever was going on, in a moment he would explain, and no matter what it was, I would be safe with him here. It wasn't until I was within feet of him that I realized the shape of the hair was wrong, and my eyes were adjusting… it wasn't Jace! I took a hesitant step back, wondering whether I should run or play it cool or see what he'd wanted…

He'd already lunged for me, and before I could even make up my mind I was falling to the ground with him on top of me. I landed on my books, and they hurt, but it gave me an idea. I kicked at him and managed to scramble away, tearing the backpack from my shoulders and swinging it around as hard as I could. It hit him hard and his resounding "Oof!" made me feel good. I tightened my grip and backed away, swinging the heavy bag again—but he caught it, yanking it forward and me with it. I stumbled, let go before I fell, and tried to run back towards my car… but he grabbed my ankle. I smacked my face on the ground this time when I fell, and pain shot through me. I didn't know if I'd broken my nose or not, but it hurt…

He roughly flipped me over and I was kicking again, frantic, my hands smacking and pushing and trying to drag my body away from him… but he was just so strong. It felt like an eternity, but I knew, even then, that it had only been a matter of seconds, and I was pinned. He was kneeling, straddling me, his calves over my thighs, restricting movement. He'd lifted me and slammed me down hard by my shoulders, my head snapping back against the ground, dark plumes blossoming in my vision briefly. I tried to keep struggling, but he didn't need to let my hands free to remove my shirt… he ripped it open down the center of my chest with one hand, the other keeping my wrists pinned above my head.

I wanted to throw up… or scream… I was trying to scream, but I was so disoriented from the blow to the head, and then he'd stuffed part of my shirt in my mouth. His hands on my body made my skin crawl, his teeth on my nipple so painful I thought he was surely going to bite it entirely off… but when his large, dirty hands moved down my stomach, I got all my strength back. I screamed and kicked and bucked my body to try to knock him off me, my hands twisting and shaking, trying to break his grip… but he was so strong. I got one hand free, and received a punch to the face—I saw stars in my vision, and before I even got my bearings back, he had my jeans open, and his hand was attempting to drag them down. No… not attempting, I realized, as he lifted my hips forcefully and my suddenly-cold thighs fell back onto the grass.

I couldn't believe it. …I was always so careful, so wary… and I was going to be raped, on campus, by a complete stranger… no matter how hard I fought it. I struggled as well as I could, but I felt overwhelmingly disoriented and my muscles were weak. I was crying and sobbing and then I was choking on the piece of cloth he'd put in my mouth. He tugged it out impatiently when he realized, after I'd struggled for breath around it for several seconds, and I took the air in a desperate rush. And then I screamed like I had never, ever screamed before.

I was punched again, but it didn't matter… because within seconds the sound of someone running entered my awareness and then I felt something collide with my assailant and he tumbled off of me. I gasped and struggled to sit up, my head spinning, and it took me several long moments of staring at the mass of arms and legs before I realized that Jace had arrived… and he was pummeling the guy. I looked down at myself, realizing that my underwear had been ripped from my body, probably while I was choking. With shaking hands, I dragged my jeans up over my hips and pulled the sides of my shirt over my exposed breasts.

"Jace…"

He stopped, turning to look at me, the rage in his eyes clear… he probably would not have stopped until the guy was unconscious if I hadn't intervened. And then my attacker had scrambled out from under him, taking off at a run, and Jace hesitated, glancing between me and him… and finally turning away from his retreating form, coming to me and wiping tears I wasn't aware were still falling from my cheeks. I winced in pain and his voice broke. "Oh, Sara… I'm so sorry, honey. I can't believe… traffic was awful because there's a frat party down the street… I would have been here sooner… I tried… God, tell me he didn't… tell me you're okay honey…" He was crying too, I realized, and without warning he pulled me tight to his chest, apparently needing the reassurance that I was there and safe as much as I did.

I don't remember walking back to his car, or him setting me gently into the passenger seat, or the drive to my home, except for his vehement statement of, "You're getting a new car, Sara. You can't wait any longer." No, I numbly agreed, I couldn't. I don't remember being led inside, or him taking my keys from my hand, or him leading me to my couch. I remember hearing him in my kitchen, and then in my bathroom. I remember him sitting on the coffee table in front of me, wiping my face gently with a warm, wet washcloth. I remember his gentle hands moving through my hair and his soft intake of breath when he encountered the lump on the back of my head. I remember him putting a homemade icepack on the back of the couch and gently leaning me back until my head rested on it, and placing a second in my hand to hold over my face… I'd taken at least three blows to the face, if I was remembering clearly.

I remember the gentle, absolutely caring and respectful way he parted the sides of my shirt, and the pain in his voice when he'd asked me if he could move my bra… there was blood on it, and he wanted to make sure I was okay. I nodded numbly, just trying not to think about it, and drew in a sharp breath when he tried to pull the fabric from my body. He stopped, hesitating, and then gently reached around behind me, unclasping the item and pulling down just the one side with more ease… though I still gasped at the pain of the lace pulling away from where his teeth had broken my skin. I felt the washcloth again, and chanced a glance away from my ceiling, back at him. He looked… so angry. And disgusted. …Like he couldn't even wrap his head around how upset he was.

"You saved me." I murmured softly.

His swallow was the only sound in the room, and then, "I was almost too late. …I should have just walked, but I didn't want to carry my tools. …How fucking lazy is that?" He shouted, and I flinched, and then he was softly whispering his apologies, the grief and guilt evident in his voice. I shook my head, reaching my arm out until my hand came in contact with his cheek.

"It isn't your fault. …You saved me." I repeated, and I wiped at the tears on his face.

He stood up quickly and moved away from me, returning a moment later with the first aid kit from the bathroom. He put gauze and tape over my breast and then sighed, heavily. "…Can I get you something… to change into?"

"My…pajamas… second drawer of my dresser." He nodded and stood, moving around the couch to head towards my bedroom. With a wave of shame, I remembered… "And… a pair of underwear. …Please."

He paused, his heavy breathing filling the room, and then I heard him go back into the bedroom. When he came back, he was a little more in control. He took the ice pack from me and helped me to stand, sliding the shirt and bra from my shoulders and averting his eyes entirely, even the gentleman. He passed me the long sleeved shirt and helped me guide it over my head without upsetting any of my wounds, and then turned away again until I had pulled it down my body. He handed me my underwear, turning away again, but when I stumbled and almost fell trying to step out of my jeans, he turned and caught me, sitting me down and gently removing the garments. He took the simple, modest cotton underwear onto my ankles and then looked decidedly away while he helped me stand and steadied me as I pulled them up.

He held me steady while I pulled on the pants, and then eased me back onto the couch, my head back on the ice pack. He disappeared again and I trembled, wondering where he'd gone… and when he returned with a mug of coffee. A sip told me it contained something stronger, but I welcomed it… it was just enough to clear my senses, not dull them. I sat up and looked at him.

"…Do you want to go to the hospital? I… I really think you should report this."

I blinked, and then shook my head. "No. I… there… there's nothing they can do. He didn't… do anything… so there's no DNA or… hairs." I swallowed hard, focusing on my minimal forensics knowledge. "It wouldn't… help anything."

He pursed his lips, and I could tell he wanted to argue… but he also didn't want to do anything to upset me. After a long moment, he sighed. "Let's get you to bed, honey…"

I nodded, leaving the coffee on the table and standing on shaky legs… my hands were shaking too, I realized a moment later, and I tried to steady them. I grit my teeth, trying to disguise how upset I was… how close he'd come to… he guided me to my bed, tucked me into the covers, and wished me goodnight… and then went to leave. Which baffled me. I mean, I guess I hadn't necessarily expected him to stay… at least my mind hadn't gotten there yet… but I absolutely didn't want him to leave.

"Stay. …Please?" I didn't like the tremor in my voice, and he clearly didn't either. He shook his head.

"I'll just be out on the couch, okay? I promise, I'm not leaving you alone…"

"No." I said, disliking the fright in my breast or the tears in my eyes. I hadn't been afraid to sleep alone since I was very little… a few months in foster care toughens you up. But I was absolutely terrified for him to leave this room. "Stay… here." At his skeptical expression, I swallowed and clenched my fists, willing my hands to just stop shaking. "Please."

He reluctantly nodded, saying he'd be right back. I listened as he double checked the lock on the door, stopped in the bathroom, filled a glass of water in the kitchen, and then turned out my lights from doorway all the way back to bedroom, before slipping into the open side of the bed.

"Jace's father would like to say a few words..." I glanced up in surprise, not realizing how long I'd been out of it… tears were in my eyes, and I blinked them back, watching Tom stand and slip past me to go up to the pulpit. This part, I wanted to hear.