He caught her staring at herself in the mirror one day, checking out the scar on her face, tracing it with her finger. "It's terrible," she murmured to herself. "It's ugly. I'm ugly."

"No, you're not." She started at the sound of his voice. "It does not change you, Sara."

"Yes, yes it does."

"I thought you didn't care about it."

"I do." She turned back to the mirror. "People are going to stare at me."

"They probably will, but you shouldn't worry about it."

"People are going to ask what it means. They'll think S is for stupid, S is for shocking, S is for . . ."

"Smart, sexy, super, stupendous, superb, amazing."

"Amazing doesn't start with an S."

"So? It doesn't make you any less of a person, Sara. It's a scar. It's proof you are a survivor."

"It really is ugly, isn't it?"

"No!" He turned her away from the mirror, putting his hands on her shoulders, they locked eyes. "Look, I don't care what you look like, you are still you, I'll still love you. You are stronger than any person out there who thinks they have to judge you based on a scar. You are beautiful, no matter what he did to you."

She wrapped her arms around him, buried her face into his shirt. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Yeah, you're right. Did it work?" he asked, mock-seriously.

"No," she replied, equally mocking.

"Damn, I'll have to try harder then." He pretended to think for a minute, making appropriate thinking noises, then said, "Maybe this will help."

Grissom brushed his lips over her face, spending what seemed like an eternity on the S-shaped scar, then dabbled down to her lips. They held their lips together until she ran out of oxygen; she grinned. "That helped."

-------

A few days later, they were playing Hearts in Grissom's living room with Nick and Catherine. Warrick was scorekeeper, he would switch roles with whoever was in last at the end of the game. The game had been going fine, until Sara became one card away from shooting the moon. Catherine had received the heart by accident, and now Grissom was watching Sara's face get progressively tighter, her jaw setting in frustration. It hadn't helped that because of this, Sara had been shoved out of first place into last place, Catherine taking over her spot. After they tallied this shift from first to last, Sara stood up quickly, looking at her almost complete hand, and flung the cards down at Catherine. "Fucking bitch!" she yelled, and stalked off towards Grissom's bedroom.

They all stared wide-eyed at the cards, not understanding the outburst. It was clear Catherine was fighting back her own anger; she was not going to let anyone call her a bitch without some kind of reaction. Nick and Warrick turned to Grissom, who said, "I'm so sorry, Catherine. It's the pills she's been taking, and you know how she hates to be wrong. . ."

Catherine exhaled. "It's fine, Grissom."

"Excuse me," he said, and rose from the table.

She was sitting on the bed, breathing hard, trying to control her anger. "Hey," he said quietly, and Sara whirled around. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes, and moved to sit next to her. "What's going on?"

She wrapped her arms around him and cried. He held her while she spoke. "I don't know, Grissom. It's like it was just a game, and then I lost, and I was so mad!"

"I noticed," he commented dryly, and she laughed.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. "It's just the pills, and sitting across from her and she's perfect, and then to top it off, she took my win away!"

"Catherine is not perfect," he told her. "You know that."

"But she doesn't have this," she gestured to the scar. "She can work, she can go out, she can stay awake longer than four hours! She doesn't have someone telling her when to eat, when to sleep. I hate this, Grissom. I want my life back."

It was at this point when he realized just how much the man responsible had taken away, both physically and emotionally. "You want to go back to your apartment?"

"I don't know, Grissom. I want to stay, but then I don't. I honestly don't know what I want, and it's not helping that these goddamn pain killers are giving me mood swings."

"That's it," he said firmly. "Monday, you better sleep during the day, because you're coming back Monday night."

"I don't know if I'm ready!" she protested.

He shrugged. "I guess you'll find out. And you never know until you try. All I know is you're going crazy in this apartment, and even if you don't do anything, the change of scenery will do you good."

"I guess you're right."

"You know I am."

She closed her eyes, pulling herself together. "I should apologize."

"Let's go." He helped her to her feet and together they walked out to the living room.

They were met with three pairs of expectant eyes, the people behind them ashamed of their expectations. "Catherine, I am so sorry, I don't know what to tell you, but I am so sorry," Sara rushed.

"Hey, it's all right," the older woman said. "I know what drugs can do to your emotions." She left it at that, and suggested they get back to the game. Sara requested scorekeeper duty, which she stuck to until she got too tired and disappeared to bed.