Sara didn't know what to do. It was times like these that she'd head out to a bar and drink. She'd just drink all of her troubles away, but that wasn't an option now. She was getting counseling for that, she wouldn't let her whole team down by going out and getting drunk again. No.

Maybe she should just leave. She was so tired of getting hurt, so sick and tired of everything. She could go back to California, or better yet, somewhere else; somewhere far away. Maybe she could move up to the northeast, she heard it was nice up there in the fall. She could start over; try to live a better life. It would be better for everyone.

For now, though, she went into her small living room and turned on the television. She turned on the Discovery Channel; something she might be able to stand watching. Why did she even have a TV? She never watched it; it merely sat there all day and night, collecting dust. Every show constantly reminded her that the rest of the world had lives and had fun, but not her. She hated reality shows; since when did everyday people get left on an island for a month or have the chance of a lifetime to work for Donald Trump. She hated talk shows. Why did she need to listen to other people's problems? The news was no better. That was a constant reminder of what could happen to her; people getting drunk and ending up dead somewhere. She shuddered at the thought. For now, she watched a show about the prehistoric creatures. It was nothing of her interests, but it kept her mind off of other things.

Hours droned by and she hadn't moved from the spot. Her eyelids grew tired; she couldn't hold them open any longer. Sleep soon came over her.

In the noise, she heard a ringing. It wouldn't end; it buzzed highly over everything else, getting louder and louder. The phone.

She opened her eyes and reached for the receiver. "Sidle."

It was Greg, "Sara? Hey, you're late. Grissom gave out assignments and told me to give you a call. Are you coming in today?"

She looked at the clock on the TV, "Yeah, give me a few minutes. I'll be there soon."

"Alright, bye."

"Bye."

She hung up the phone and got up groggily from the couch. It was time for work again; time to go back to the heaven and hell of her life. She thought she would be able to forget it all; it's alright to make mistakes, right? No, because every day she was tortured and ridiculed for every stupid thing she'd ever done. And yet, being around the people that were her only friends and family was a secret solace for her pain.

She threw on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve black shirt, then put her hair up in a messy bun and grabbed her keys off the counter. Locking the door behind her, she headed out to her Black Denali. It took her a few minutes to walk there; her side still hurt from the wound, but she was strong, she could take the pain. A few minutes later, she was at the lab again and she found Greg in the hallway talking to Grissom.

"Feeling better, Sara?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, what've we got?"

"Murder?; It's in the River Springs development on the left side of the strip. Take Greggo here with you and after I file some paperwork that was left over, I'll get over there."

"Sure, come on, Greg, let's go."

Greg walked out of the room, along with Sara's keys that she handed him. Sara, however, stayed behind.

"Grissom," she started, "Can we talk, later though. I just… well, you owe me a cup of coffee."

"Are you alright?"

"Can I tell you later?"

"Sure, see you, Sara."

What was she going to go with him? Every time she tried to tell him how much she would love for them to have something, he never got it. Would this time be any different? Probably not, but she thought it was worth a shot. All she wanted to know was that he cared and that he loved her back.

Secretly, she felt that he never had and never would.

Greg and Sara started processing the scene. It was a quaint house; the sort of picturesque one that you see in million dollar movies where the most perfect people live so happily. However, Las Vegas was nothing like the movies and Sara knew that even in such a perfect looking neighborhood, terrible things happened. Inside, the house was all but a pretty scene. On the couch, laid the body of a young man, covered in blood and two bullet hole wounds in his abdomen. The TV was still on, playing an action movie that Sara didn't know the title of. She walked into the kitchen; the scene was not so different than the living room. A young woman collapsed on the floor, most likely shot to death.

Sara spotted a bullet on the floor. It didn't seem as though it was a missed shot; it was still completely intact and it just looked like it fell out of the gun or was even placed there by someone; trying to mislead them? She placed the bullet into a plastic bag and moved towards the body, taking pictures from several angles and then checking for any marks. There was only one; the woman had been shot once in the back of the head. She probably didn't even see it coming. Sara searched slowly around the scene, looking for anything out of place. There was tons of evidence; apparently, the killer was very careless. Sara bagged two hairs from the woman's body and found bloody finger prints in the doorway; whether they were from the Vic or the assailant, she wouldn't know for sure until she got everything back to the lab.

She finished up and some men came in to take the body to the morgue. They also took away the body from the couch in the living room where Greg was working.

"Find anything useful?" Sara asked.

"Actually, yes, footprints." He responded. "Size 11 by the looks of it and they don't seem to belong to our Vic in here."

"Great."

Sara pictured the scene using what evidence they had so far. She saw a man come in through the front door, holding a .38 handgun. He walked into the kitchen. Bang; the woman was dead, shot from behind. The husband heard the noise and sat up from the couch that was down the hallway from the kitchen; he probably didn't even hear the gunman come in. He looked up and before he could even register what had happened, was shot in the chest, twice, before he died as well.

"Uh, Sara?" Greg saw her staring at one of the walls and sensed she was thinking something important.

"Yeah, I know what happened, but we still don't know who are killer is and why he killed our Vics."

"Well, I think this is as good as it gets. Let's take this back to the lab."

Grissom had never showed up, but Sara was a bit glad. She didn't want to talk to him yet; not that she knew what the she was going to say. She couldn't even think of anything; her mind was blank. Sara had never been good when it came to people skills.

"Hey, Grissom, we need to talk, but I'm not sure what to say." She imagined how stupid it would look if she said that. What else was there to say? Would he understand her if she just said that? She'd have to find out later.