Hi guys. I tried to post this a few days ago, but ff.net wouldn't let me. I'm sure many people have had difficulties. It kind of worked out okay, because I ended up writing more and that lead to re-writing. I think that's a cool thing and I hope people are still willing to read it. Thanks again for your reviews. You guys rock. I swear I'm going to wrap this story in one more chapter, with maybe an epilogue.

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Sara leaned hard on the bedroom door, catching her breath. She'd panicked in the living room; the scene of Keith so vivid in her mind. Grissom was calling for her to open the door. Sara barely registered his voice much less took note of the fear in it. Ignoring the knocking, it was all she could do to breathe properly and fight off the images flashing in her mind. She wasn't certain how long she remained braced as she was. Time seemed to speed up or slow down as her brain processed individual pictures: the accusation on her mom's face, Keith dribbling the soccer ball down field, Benji's shirt full of sweat as he leaned over her, the blankness of her brother's face after he'd been…

Sara shuddered violently before noticing that the apartment had grown still. No knocks at the door, just the slow in and out of her breathing.

Grissom's voice broke the quiet. "Please let me in?"

It was said with such gentleness and concern, Sara had to choke back a sob after the initial startle. In a move that surprised her, she reached for the lock and twisted it clockwise. Having granted him entrance, she stepped back. A moment later, the knob turned and she found herself facing a very tentative Gil Grissom. If so many buried memories weren't vying for her attention, she would have cried at the mix of utter bewilderment and fear on his face. His normally clear eyes were clouded and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him. What she did was continue to stand where she was, arms plastered to her body, her gaze breaking from his.

Grissom was at a loss as he stared at Sara. He wasn't good at this; never had been. At least she'd unlocked the door, he reassured himself. He had no idea what he would have done if she hadn't. He did know that she was scaring him. Grissom noted her posture and that she would no longer look him in the eye. It wasn't really a defensive pose; rather more a sagging defeated posture.

While the analytical side of Grissom's brain continued to process information in order to reach a rational conclusion, the emotional side made him take two steps forward and wrap Sara in a strong embrace. He wasn't entirely certain who was deriving more benefit from the hug. She hadn't reciprocated the action. Maybe it was selfish of him; this one sided taking of comfort. Grissom was about to pull away when Sara slowly wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him tightly against her body. He let out a gentle sigh and raised one hand to stroke the back of her head. They held the embrace for several minutes.

Sara turned her mouth toward his ear. "Are you okay, Griss?"

"Yes," he mumbled, not certain he trusted himself to say more. His brief puzzlement at her asking after his welfare was tempered when he remembered that this was Sara. Sara who felt others' pain more acutely than her own. The woman who would stay up for days on end to ensure that every victim had a name. The CSI who pushed herself so hard that one either kept up or was swept aside.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

Grissom pulled back slightly so he could see her face. "I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard…made you talk about…"

"You didn't…please…you didn't make me talk about anything. I did this thing that...that…" She had to stop as her eyes welled with tears.

"What, 'thing' Sara?"

"This," she removed her arms from him and met his eyes before gesturing toward his face. I did this thing that's causing you pain."

"You talked to me, Sara. You told me about something horrible that was inflicted upon you. You didn't cause me pain."

"I shouldn't have told you. It was a mistake that happened a long time ago and I don't want you to think less of me."

"Sara, listen to me. Hearing your story hasn't hurt me or us," his hand moved quickly, gesturing between their bodies. And I certainly don't blame you or view you any differently."

"I can see it in your eyes, Griss."

"What you see is me not knowing how to help you; me not knowing how to be the person you need. That's pain I created myself, Sara.

"I don't know what to do next," she whispered.

"What do you need to do next?"

"I need to…I think I need to finish the story."

"I'm right here."

"And still willing to listen?"

"Always." Grissom reaffirmed this by leaning his forehead into hers, then placing a kiss on the top of her head. He took her hand in his and began to lead them from the bedroom. Sara resisted and pulled him toward the bed.

"I feel more comfortable in here," she explained, letting go of his hand and sitting back against the headboard.

Grissom, not quite sure how to respond or even where to sit, remained standing.

"I'm sorry, Griss. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You're more than welcome to sit on the bed or you can pull a chair over."

Once again surprising himself, Grissom stepped to the foot of the queen size bed and sat on the edge, angling himself so he faced her. He reached out to grasp her hand but she pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I guess I should get a chair."

"No, no, you're fine…it's okay you're on the bed. It's me. I just can't hold your hand if I'm going to finish this. You might pull away."

His face contorted briefly. "You said that before. I won't pull away and I won't leave you. Do you believe me?"

"It's not whether I believe you, Griss. How can I explain…damn, I can't explain it." Sara ran a hand through her hair. "I just need to get through this and it's, I don't know, easier if I don't set myself up for more pain."

Grissom felt as if his stomach had turned to ice, but he took a deep breath and tried to give her a look of reassurance. "It's okay. Start whenever you want." He hoped his voice hadn't wavered as much as he thought it did.

She nodded and pulled an extra pillow against her chest. He saw the now familiar glaze cross her face and knew she was reliving the event.

Gently, so he wouldn't startle her, Grissom pushed off his shoes and crossed his legs beneath him. Knowing his knees would ache later he nonetheless adopted the more casual position. If it made Sara relax even a bit, it was well worth the price.

"My mom was screaming. More like shrieking. She didn't move. I looked around for my shirt but couldn't find it. I must have opened a dresser drawer and grabbed a tee and shorts. It's kinda funny, because I have no recollection of doing that, but I remember that my hands were shaking as I pulled the shirt over my head. I knelt by Keith. He was so still. I knew to check his pulse. It was really rapid. There was no blood. Did I tell you that? There was no blood, just a dent outlined in bluish purple. Keith had…there was this indentation on his upper forehead, beyond the hairline. I ran my fingers along it…it was…. there was a hole. Skin covering a hole. I thought I'd be sick. I uh, yelled at my mom to call an ambulance, but she didn't move. I pushed past her and used the phone in the hallway." Sara shivered noticeably and hugged the pillow tighter.

Grissom pushed his shoulders into the headboard as he began to picture the scene. These people he'd never met were suddenly quite real to him. Mrs. Sidle screaming from the doorway, Keith unconscious, and a battered Sara forced to take charge of a real life nightmare. Grissom could count on one hand the number of times in his adult life that he'd cried. He felt his eyes growing heavy with unshed tears at the thought of the pain and guilt inflicted upon a teenage girl. Rubbing his forehead, he realized Sara had been silent for awhile.

"You all right?" He cleared his throat when he realized his words had cracked a bit."

She snapped her head around to him as if being startled out of a trance. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just got lost in thought for a minute."

"Me too," he admitted.

They locked eyes, each trying to gauge the other's emotions. He saw raw pain and bewilderment on her face and she noted that his slightly reddened eyes were filled with a mix of compassion and a flash of something she couldn't quite pinpoint, but it made her uneasy.

"Are you upset with me, Grissom?"

"God, no, Sara. What gave you that idea?"

"You looked for a second like…I don't know…kind of mad, pissed-off."

He marveled again at her ability to read his emotions, but castigated himself for allowing any anger to show in the first place. Grissom considered his response carefully, not wanting Sara to misinterpret his words.

"Stop thinking and just answer me," she shifted uncomfortably while watching him.

"Sara, I'm not upset or angry with you in any way shape or form. Yes, I am angry about the man who tried to…"

"…He was just a kid, Griss."

Fighting back the string of slurs that came to mind, he gritted his teeth before replying. "No, he was a man. A cowardly young man who took advantage of your naiveté, beat you and attempted to force himself upon you."

"Grissom, I invited him to my room. I should have known what would happen."

"No, your behavior was that of a normal teen and his was that of a social deviant."

"Stop being so damned scientific, Grissom! Can't you just, I don't know, talk from your…can't you just talk to me like I'm someone that matters to you and not a psyche experiment gone wrong?"

Grissom drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Okay, Sara. I'm more than pissed that this Ben son-of-a-bitch beat you and tried to rape you. I'm goddamned incensed that your mother attempted to blame you and that your brother was seriously injured…and I…I just want to take away your pain, but I can't!"

"I never asked you to take away the pain."

"I know." He grasped his head with both hands, massaging his temples forcefully. "I didn't mean to raise my voice."

"You're human. I think it's allowed."

"It may be allowed, but it wasn't appropriate. I'm sorry."

"I'm telling you my worst nightmare, Griss. I don't think Miss Manners has any guidelines about which reactions are appropriate."

He felt her hand envelope his forearm. She pulled until their fingers were intertwined.

"You don't have to, Sara."

"Yes I do. I trust you, Grissom."

He nodded and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. "Please, don't think you don't matter to me. I couldn't stand that."

"Thank you," she whispered, before lowering her gaze and continuing in a soft monotone. "The ambulance arrived along with the police. An officer took my mom and me downstairs while the paramedics stabilized Keith. I started telling him what happened and he radioed for a female officer. I think he knew it was difficult for me to talk to him. He had me sit on the sofa and got an ice pack for my face. The paramedics brought Keith downstairs on a stretcher. His eyes were still closed and my mom started screaming again. One of the cops…I think one of the cops took her outside. I started to follow Keith, but the female officer walked in and made me sit down again. I got angry that they wouldn't let me go with him. The cop must have been frustrated with me, because finally, she stopped asking questions and said I needed to go to the hospital." Sara shrugged, but gripped Grissom's hand tightly.

"You were badly beaten, Sara." The words were soft and had a subtle undertone of pain that he hoped she wouldn't notice. "And the police must have wanted to do a rape kit."

"No, no I told them he tried but…uh, Keith stopped him."

Grissom swallowed hard, willing himself to remain strong for her. "Still, the officer was trained to recognize shock. You were injured."

Without acknowledging his words, she continued. "Someone must have bagged the clothes that Ben ripped. One of the cops had them at the hospital. I don't even remember the ride there. A doctor sewed up the cuts on my face. He wouldn't tell me anything about Keith. My mom came into the room to sign the discharge papers, but she didn't even look at me. The doc told her I had a concussion, but no broken bones. He said I was lucky. My mom told him that she needed to go and find out about my brother. He was in…uh, they'd taken him to surgery right away. She left and I followed."

A tear rolled from the corner of Sara's left eye. She didn't seem to notice. Grissom gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and fought the urge to rub his thumb across her cheek and wipe away the small trail of pain.

Sara jerked her head suddenly, as if shaking away bad memories. She focused intently upon Grissom. "Keith was in a coma for eight days. Part of his skull was pushed into the frontal lobe. His brain had swelled and they didn't know if he was going to wake up. If he did, the doctors said he wouldn't be the same. Keith would…uh, he would function as a six-year-old. Of course, I really didn't understand all the medical terms they were throwing at my parents. I learned quickly though. Keith wasn't going to be Keith anymore."

A sob escaped Sara's throat and Grissom moved forward and gathered her in his arms. She buried her head in his chest as the tears came.

"I'm here, Sara."

"I prayed for him to die," she choked out between sobs. "Grissom, I prayed that my brother would die."

He stroked her back softly and pulled her closer.

"I knew he wouldn't want to live like…I just wanted him to die…then I wanted to trade places, so I was lying in the bed hooked up to all the machines…I wanted to die. I hoped and prayed that I would die and Keith would be Keith. I didn't get any of my wishes," she said so softly that Grissom strained to hear.

He felt her relax into his arms as the crying was replaced by sheer exhaustion. Grissom tried to turn-off his emotions as he pulled them both toward the head of the bed and angled Sara's back against his chest. He heard her deep even breathing and pulled the quilt up over them. Kissing her cheek, he alternated between guarding her sleeping form and agonizing over what she'd been though. Grissom's eyelids grew heavy and he fought a losing battle as he adjusted his arm around her stomach, and melted into the pillow.

TBC