They walked together in an easy stride. I had been sitting on my deck all afternoon; Sara immediately knew where to find me. I had once told her that my deck was the only reason that I bought this house. It was spacious and afforded me the view of all the houses nestled in the hills on the outside of the city. I often came out here to think. I spent the entire day trying to think . . . think about what comes next. Unfortunately, what came next was a twelve pack of beer.

In a lot of ways I had become like Sara. I needed Grissom's approval, I needed to feel that I had mastered my work, and I began to hide all my emotions away. I began to feel nothing when I was at work. When I got home, I normally was confronting a tidal wave of emotion that often threatened to sweep me away. I never realized just how hard being a CSI was. Sara tried to make things easier by being a good and patient teacher; the most important thing she did was listen to me talk about the bodies and victims. She said it got easier with time.

"Greg," Sara said as she sat in a chair next to me. Nick stood uncomfortably at the end of the deck. I didn't really know what to say to them. I knew what to say to Sara only because she had seen me in this condition before; Nick had never seen anything other than the professional me . . . well, as close to professional as I could ever muster. Sara was a much more accomplished drunk than I was. She held her liquor better than anyone else I had ever met. Sara always took on somewhat of a motherly role when she was drunk. She took care of me when I drank to the point of near poisoning. I wasn't that great of a drunk; I was sullen and slurred my words into an unrecognizable language that was all my own.

"Sara, I haven't been drinking all afternoon . . . I spent most of it sober," I replied addressing only the party that I was comfortable with.

"Let's get you something to eat and some water," Sara said as she helped me stand up. We had done this dance before; we had become very proficient at this dance. Sara had taken care of my several times when I had managed to incapacitate myself with alcohol; surprisingly, she had also taken care of Sophia a few times.

"You need some help?" Nick asked as he opened the sliding door for us. I was surprised that he was still with Sara. I thought Sara would push him away as Sara pushed most people away. I was even more surprised that Sara was sober.

"Could you start making Greg something for supper?" Sara asked as I swayed against her. She knew what came next; I would spend what felt like an eternity vomiting before Sara would make me drink water and eat.

"Okay. Greg, are you okay?" Nick asked. I had rested my head on Sara's shoulder as she all but dragged me to the master bathroom off my bedroom.

"He'll be okay in a little while," Sara said as she helped me into the bathroom. The smell of beer on my breath was enough to make me gag; Sara told me to go throw up at least half of the twelve pack that I had downed. She knew how fast I was able to suck down alcohol. I heard Nick ask her if I needed to go to the hospital. Sara said that I'd be fine; I was embarrassed to hear her say that she knew what to do.

Sara sat next to me while I retched; she said that I would feel better once it was all over. I usually did. She said something about wanting to stop doing this. She told me that I was a good CSI; Sara told me that she's been meaning to say it more often. Sara told me that she meant it. She gave me aspirin and water when I was done. She said we can't torture ourselves because we cannot get the approval of a man that is emotionally stunted. I wanted to believe her, but I wanted to please him more than anything.

"We didn't have the luxury of having fathers around, but we cannot expect Grissom to understand that right now. He's got other stuff going on," Sara lamented as she handed me a washcloth.

"Are you sure you're Sara?" I asked as I pulled myself off the bathroom floor.

"I'm sober Sara . . . a little wiser than drunken Sara," she commented as she started the shower, "I'll go find some clothes for you to wear."

She left the clothes on the counter. I stood under the hot water trying to cleanse my mind. I didn't like what happened when the hangovers faded. I remembered what I tried to drink away; I remembered feeling inadequate . . . I remembered the faces of the victims. I wondered why exactly I wanted to be a CSI. There were so many days that I would gladly give up my CSI job in favor of a job in my DNA lab. In DNA, the victims didn't have faces that would haunt my sleep.

I wondered when Sara had this epiphany. I was glad that she went home with Nick; I don't think I would have been able to keep her sober . . . I hadn't been able to keep myself sober. I'm glad he cared enough to see that there was a problem. Catherine had seen us walk around like zombies, but I never heard her ask why.

"Greg, eat something before we go," Sara said as I padded out of the bathroom feeling slightly better than I did an hour ago. I nodded.

"Come stay with me tonight," Sara said. It was more of a demand and less of a question. Years ago I would have jumped on this with horny abandon, but tonight, I wanted to fall into a dreamless sleep by myself.

"Sara, I'm tired," I complained as I pushed around the neon orange macaroni and cheese. Nick watched us silently.

"Greg, he has an acoustic neuroma," Sara said after drawing in a huge breath. I dropped my spoon and looked up at her. I had no idea what to say.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked still surprised.

"The tumor won't kill him, but without his hearing . . . he won't be a CSI anymore," Sara said slowly. I think I nodded before lowering my head to stare at the neon orange concoction.

"Greg, are you okay?" Nick asked speaking directly to me for the first time.

"It wasn't us?" I asked no one in particular.

"It wasn't you . . . it wasn't Sara . . . this was all Grissom," Nick replied. I suddenly lost my appetite. I hurt for the man that I always looked at as the sole father-figure in my life. He may have treated me badly, but in this moment, it didn't matter.

"Did he tell you?" I asked Sara as I pushed my bowl away without taking a bite. She pushed it back at me with threats of going to get my stomach pumped if I didn't eat something.

"Sophia found the doctor's report on his desk. He's doesn't know that we are wise to the situation," Sara replied.

"How's Sophia?" I asked. I didn't think I would like Sophia as much as I did. She was cold, but she did that to protect herself from seeing the victims. Sophia was the consummate professional. Sophia told me that I did a good job. One night in trace, she grasped my hands because they were shaking so badly. Sophia held them until they stopped shaking. Sophia said that I should move slower; she said that I shouldn't be listening to Grissom. She said that Grissom shouldn't be the role model that I should aspire to. I nodded and smiled. She took me out for breakfast that morning; she even invited Sara. We bonded over pancakes and beers. I think that's how it all started.

"I don't know. I'm sure she's going to be okay," Sara replied trying her hardest to smile, "Get packed up. We can try to detox together."

I didn't know what to say to Nick. I felt like I had let him down. I knew that he had been instrumental in getting me a job as a CSI in training.

"I'm sorry. Nick, I'm really sorry I let you down," I said as I lowered my head.

"Don't be. Eat something so we can get going," Nick said. I think I nodded again.

Two hours later, we were all in Sara's apartment. I had called Sophia to make sure that she was okay. Sophia had guaranteed me that she would survive. Sophia said that we were obligated to meet her for breakfast in the morning. Nick told me to try to rest. Nick said that he would stay the night to make sure that we were okay. Only later would I find out that he was afraid that Sara and I might go through withdrawals the next day.

I fell asleep on the pull out couch. I fell into an uncharacteristic black abyss where I was alone without any thoughts.