Hi guys. This is proving to be a difficult story to write. Not that it's mind-bending or anything, just frustrating. I will not give up. Thanks for your reviews. Again, I expect about three to four more chapters.

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Sara stood under the hot water, trying to clear the mental fog. Ben was dead. Good. No, it wasn't good, but it was better. Better than him continuing to live and breathe while Keith… She willed the thought from her mind.

First things first, she silently chided herself. She knew Grissom would ask about the call. About why she was so upset last night. Damnit. This was why she didn't do relationships. As much as she loved being with him, accountability to another human being scared her to death. She wasn't certain that would ever change.

Drying quickly and throwing on a T-shirt and jeans, she ran her fingers through the damp curls on her head. "Whatever, I'm not up for the blow dryer." Great, Sara, now you're talking to yourself."

Taking a deep breath, She walked into the living room. Grissom sat on her sofa, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Her coffee cup had been filled and was sitting on the table.

She managed a half grin. "I don't smell waffles."

"Afraid not. The ice crystals made them a lost cause."

"Yeah, I need to get to the store."

"Headache?" He shoved the cup of coffee toward her and gestured to the seat next to him.

"A bit. Grissom, don't make last night into a big deal."

"The call bothered you enough to get drunk."

"What are you, my guidance counselor? My life is not an after school special, Grissom."

He looked at her, taken aback.

"Forget it. I know how you need to dissect things," she said sharply.

"What'd I do to deserve that, Sara?" He stood, confusion contorting his face.

"Nothing," she sighed, giving him a dismissive wave of her hand. "I said it wrong. Damn, can't you even give me the space to digest that someone I know has died?"

Grissom took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen counter, his back to her as he ran his fingers along the cold tile. "I can give you space, Sara. But, I become concerned when you won't even give me the barest of information about something that's affecting you. When you push me out of your life."

"Payback's a bitch, huh?" She couldn't believe the words had actually left her mouth. She saw him flinch and her stomach hurt. They had agreed, weeks ago, to put the past to rest.

Grissom was somewhat stunned, but not altogether surprised. Still, he thought, hadn't they been over this? He felt her shutting him out, driving him from the room. Well, no one ever said relationships were easy. Pulling a twenty from his wallet and tossing it on the counter, he turned again to the living room.

"I'm not sure why you're dredging up old issues, Sara? Unless it's to avoid talking to me about what's really bothering you." His features softened as he watched her sit down on the sofa and clutch a throw pillow to her chest. "I'm willing to listen if you want to tell me about your friend."

Her head shot up, anger igniting her brown eyes. "Ben wasn't my friend. In fact, I'm glad he's dead."

Grissom took a chance and crouched in front of her. "Who was he, Sara?" His voice wasn't more than a coaxing whisper.

She studied her fingernails and hugged the pillow tighter.

Trying a different tact, Grissom moved back to sit on the coffee table. "Obviously this person meant something to you. Good or bad. I just want to help."

"Listen, Ben is nothing to me or my family. I don't need or want your pity."

Grissom sighed. "Okay, I won't push you. I'm gonna leave. You want to take the night off?"

Sara shook her head. "I'll be in."

"I uh, ordered a pizza. It should be here soon. Money's on the counter."

"Thanks."

"You know where to reach me." He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease a burgeoning tension headache.

"Yeah."

She felt Grissom's eyes on her as she heard the doorknob turn. He paused.

"Sara, it wasn't pity. I've never pitied you and I never will."

She exhaled forcefully, but it simply wasn't in her to ask him to stay. The door closed and she wondered vaguely about this cruel person who seemed to have taken over her body.

Try as he might, Grissom couldn't put their earlier conversation out of his mind. He had a handful of mundane errands to run before shift, but the minute the task was completed, his thoughts slipped back to Sara. Had he tried too hard?

'…I'm glad he's dead.' Those words haunted him more than anything. That just wasn't the Sara he'd known all these years.

He struggled to wrap his brain around what connection she could have had with this Ben person. Each scenario seemed worse than the first. His heart fought the urge to return to her apartment and wait out the stubborn silence. The investigator in him realized he needed to be patient.

Finally, convinced that he would lose his mind if he gave the situation any more thought, Grissom made a U-turn and headed for the lab. At the very least, he reasoned, it would give him a jump on work and maybe let his emotions rest.

Sara's hangover was beginning to get the better of her. Grabbing a cold bottle of water, she pushed the untouched pizza to the far end of the coffee table. Lowering her body onto the sofa without jarring her throbbing head proved all but impossible. She growled in frustration and pain, but sleep soon got the better of her. It was a restless exercise in futility as one nightmare after another had her twisting and turning. A particularly disturbing image sent her arms flailing. The momentum carried her body from the sofa to the floor, with Sara's forehead cracking loudly against the leg of the coffee table. She was wide-awake. Sitting upright against the couch, she let the small amount of blood trickle down the side of her face. The memories flooded back to her, playing out as if on a screen in front of her. Too tired to fight them any longer, Sara let the images come.

The giggles reverberated. She was sure they could be heard on the next block. It must be nerves. Benji was actually paying attention to her. He wanted to hear the new U2 tape she'd bought. Sara couldn't believe he was actually paying attention to her. Ben was seventeen and a senior. If she could just kiss him, like she'd dreamt about. Oh, god. It happened so fast. His lips were rough. Not how she had imagined. No. No. They should be smooth and gentle. And what was he doing with his tongue, trying to choke her? It wasn't supposed to go this far. Get off me. She felt him pressing into her through her clothes. "No, Benj, get off me!" Sara remembered screaming before Keith came in and all hell broke loose.

She visibly shuddered at the memory. Pushing herself upward, her stomach started doing flip-flops. Shit. As much as she hated to call in sick, Sara resigned herself to the inevitable. Looking at the clock, she realized that shift actually started fifteen minutes ago. Damn.

Just like ripping off a bad-aid, she thought. The phone was answered on the second ring.

"Grissom."

"Griss, I, uh don't think I can come in." A wave of nausea hit her and she struggled to control her gag reflex.

"You okay? I was going to give you five more minutes before I started to wonder where the hell you were. And, you know, that leads to a worried Grissom," he smiled, hoping she would return his humor.

"Sorry, I'm a little unwell."

"Do you need anything? I'll come by during break."

"Pepto-Bismol please." The words were out of her mouth before she could even decide if she wanted to see him. Well, she thought, seeing him doesn't mean spilling my guts to him.

"Gotcha. Why don't you try to catch a nap?

"Been there done that. Didn't work out"

"I'm not even going to hazard a guess as to what you mean."

"Good," she replied.

"Do you need me to come by sooner?"

"No, Griss. I'm gonna take a bath or something."

"Okay, see you soon."

"Thanks." She hung up without waiting for a reply. Sara couldn't quite figure out why Grissom put up with her. Feeling quite a bit more than pathetic, she went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Four bottles of Corona that had been there forever caught her attention. She knew the old saying about 'the hair of the dog,' and felt miserable enough to grab a bottle. Opening it, Sara tried to keep the memories at bay. They flooded in as she poured the beer into a mug. The foam swarmed over the top, as she became lost in the images playing out.

What the fuck are you doing? Let her go! Sara heard the voice and felt a moment of relief. Keith was here. Keith would protect her. Benji's body pressed hard into hers as he hoisted himself to his feet. Thank God I wore jeans, she thought. Keith would handle everything.