Disclaimer: Not mine, as usual. One day, though, if I'm lucky, I'll save enough to be able to take over CBS...

Author's Notes: This is a short chapter, but I think it was necessary to show the point Sara's at, that way when I start the next chain-of-events, it will flow smoother. For some reason this always seems to flow better after a really bad day at work, and since today was good (not surprising since I got to assist on a decomp earlier this week, which was NOT fun at all, making anything an improvement) I found it difficult to get into that dark place that I need to be in to write this...I'm babbling, I need to stop that...

Hope you enjoy...Please let me know what you're thinking...

Jenny

Four:

Sara slid the lock on her door to the horizontal position, resting her head against the door as she let go of the knob, her body sore and exhausted. Greg's visit had been short, he had brought her an adorable bear and a beautiful arrangement of flowers, but knowing that he came out of his way after being so exhausted and working so hard, just to check on her, made her feel alive inside.

Her thoughts had been grim when he had shown up and she hadn't been in the mood to visit, which she had subtlety made clear to Greg, but now that he was gone, she felt more horrid than she had before. She walked back to the couch, carefully sitting down as she tried to find a position that helped her forget about the aching in her abdomen and the reason behind it.

Giving in to the nagging voice inside of her head, which had been telling her she was too close to teetering off into the deep end, she popped open the bottle of Zoloft. She took one pill out, swallowing it dry, and while she knew it wouldn't fix the gaping hole of sorrow in her chest, she desperately hoped it would at least take the edge off enough for her to remember how to shut off her emotions and move on with her life.

She hated herself for feeling so out of control. She prided herself on being in total control of her entire life, and now she was at the mercy of her hormone-induced highly-emotional mood swings. The tears were going to come again, and she was angry that they were. More than anything, she wanted to shut everything off, find the 'system shut down' button for her mind and short-circuit everything that involved feeling. She longed to be detached, to have the self-control to feel only the things she wanted to feel, to separate herself from the pain and the grief. Instead, she was dangling by her feet in a bay of guilt, anger, sorrow, and misery. Any of those were strong enough weapons to take down Sara Sidle once and for all.

The ringing of her cell phone enabled her to build up her tough facade, and by the time she answered, the quiver of tears was almost completely gone from her voice. "Sidle."

"Sara, it's Grissom." Pause. "How are you feeling?"

Sara stifled a groan. She had hoped it wouldn't be Greg, because she didn't think she would be able to hide the pain from him, but even more she had hoped it wouldn't be Grissom, because she didn't want to hide the pain from him. She knew he was a good listener, but she wasn't in the mood for pity or questions, not even a simple caring gesture such as a hand to hold on to.

How was she feeling? Angry, depressed, lonely, wounded. Could she give him that answer? No.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him, she had confided in him once before, not too long ago. Looking back, she had been upset that while she relived her past, he had only offered his hand in support. At the time, it was the only thing keeping her linked to the present, the only thing holding her back from plunging into darkness.

She really couldn't face any more sadness, any more loss. She had taken all of the beatings life had offered her so far, and she was too exhausted to continue to fight the losing battle with the anxiety pounding through her veins.

Why wasn't that damn medication working yet?

"I'm doing better, Gris." Sara managed to reply, hating to lie, but not wanting to give him the details on what happened. She wasn't sure she'd even be able to speak the words.

There was a moment of hesitation, and when Grissom spoke again, she could tell by his voice that he felt guilty for calling when he thought she was home sick. Of course, she was sick, at least mentally. Physically, she was afflicted. She couldn't say sick, because it wasn't an illness. She couldn't say injured, because she hadn't had an accident. Yet. Afflicted seemed to sum it up nicely, despite the sickening feeling she had when she realized she was now manipulating words to cover up what was going on inside of her. Why did it make her feel so warped?

"I'm sorry to bother you, and I don't want to pressure you, but I've got a hot case. Catherine was only able to spare Warrick, and she called me in to assist. We could really use a third pair of eyes, and Greg and Sophia have only been off for a few hours, so I was hoping you'd feel up to a fresh case. If you aren't feeling up to it, though, I completely understand."

Sara was certain he had only called her because she'd be the only one willing to work. Usually, she was. Today, however, she wasn't sure she'd be able to move around the scene, much less focus on the evidence. Was it fair to Grissom to work to half of her ability when he could call in someone who could give it their best shot?

Even though she knew her work wouldn't be up to par, and even though the doctor had told her to rest for 48 to 72 hours, she was contemplating going to the scene. She wasn't oblivious to the fact that she was hanging on to the edge of sanity, and she was fairly certain that work would be enough of a distraction to channel some of her anger and depression into something productive. If nothing else, she'd be so exhausted when she got off of work that she wouldn't have to tempt fate with the sleeping pills.

"I think I can handle it. I need to shower and dress, though." Sara said, apprehension building as she wondered if she was making the right decision.

Sure, she was still sore, but wouldn't getting back into her normal routine help her heal quicker, mentally, at least? And if she wasn't able to go in, she knew he'd call Greg, and the poor guy had just gotten home, it wouldn't be fair to him for her to turn down Grissom and cause him to have another day without sleep, especially since he had spent so much time taking care of her. She could handle it, after all, she'd been through a lot worse before. What was the worst that could happen?

She jotted down the address and walked into her bathroom, wincing slightly in pain as she undressed and stepped into the shower, the warm water only barely soothing her tender body. After quickly washing the essential parts, she carefully dressed in a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved grey shirt. As she slid on her socks, she realized just how sore she was. She tied her shoelaces and walked into the kitchen, taking half of a demerol pill and drinking a glass of water. She wouldn't be able to function without something to control the pain, hopefully, she'd be able to function even with the pain medication in her system. Hopefully, the half-dose would keep her focused enough to get her job done, while taking the edge of the physical pain, just as the zoloft took the edge of the mental.

Half an hour later she arrived at the crime scene, her lower body aching miserably with each push of the pedals the drive required, her face paling visibly as she got out of her vehicle, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from wincing, or even crying out, in pain. She didn't remember hurting this badly after her first miscarriage, and she briefly wondered if something was wrong. Seeing Warrick and Grissom talking to a detective (that she didn't recognize) she decided 'what-if's' would have to wait. She had a job to do.

"Sorry it took so long." Sara said as she walked up to Warrick and Grissom, taking the place of the detective who was walking away, "What do we have?"

She hoped the cheeriness in her voice didn't sound as fake to them as it did to herself. Seeing the brief look of concern pass through Grissom's eyes, and the lasting one on Warrick's, she knew she hadn't been able to pull off a cheery mood.

Luckily, they didn't voice their concerns, and Sara made a point not to allow the subject to come up. Again, she asked what sort of situation they had.

"It was reported as a murder/suicide, but I called for reinforcements once I found that the gun found next to the body didn't even closely match the type I found in the sofa." Warrick said, motioning to the blood-stained sofa. "So now it looks like a double homicide with a weak attempt at a cover up."

Sara nodded, surveying the room though the light fog that was starting to settle over her brain, distracting her from her normal skills at spotting possibly clues. Grissom had moved over to the bodies, and as Sara studied the deceased couple, she found herself glad she hadn't eaten since coming home from the hospital. The female had been shot through the head, blood spatter and brain matter covering the wooden floor in a sea of red. Upon closer observation, Sara was able to see there were three more bullet holes in the chest. The male was sitting against the sofa, his eyes open and still, his shirt soaked in dark red blood.

Looking away from the bodies and towards Grissom, she said softly, "I'll check the perimeter."

"I'll walk out with you." Warrick said, shaking his head at Grissom's questioning glance.

Sara could feel Warrick's eyes on her as she carefully walked out of the house, slower than her normal pace, and although she was touched by his concern, she was worried he'd start asking questions. She decided to cut him off before giving him a chance, "I'm fine, Warrick."

"You're shaking." Warrick pointed out, watching as her body trembled slightly. The concerned look on his face intensified as he realized she hadn't even noticed the shaking. "Are you sure you're feeling up to working?"

Sara shrugged, "It's better than staying at home, alone, and wallowing in self-pity."

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Warrick said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder, "We're still friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we are. I'm just down, that's all. Don't worry about it, we all get down sometimes." Sara said softly, squeezing his hand with a soft smile. She was grateful for his concern, and it was nice to know she still had an ally, even if they weren't working together anymore. She might have opened up to him, if they weren't standing in a victim's yard, on the clock.

Then again, she wasn't even comfortable talking to Greg about what had happened, and he had been there through the whole thing, she trusted him more than anyone else in her life at the moment.

Seeing Warrick still wasn't convinced, she flashed him what she hoped was a genuine-looking smile, "Really Warrick, I'll be okay. Work helps, really, it does."

"If you say so." Warrick relented, although he didn't sound completely convinced. "We'll be inside if you need anything."

As Sara was left alone in the back yard to look for evidence, she couldn't help but wish she had stayed home, where she could cry in peace. Everything was starting to overwhelm her again, leaving her feeling like she was suffocating in her own misery, unable to reach the top of the darkness surrounding her to escape.

She started to search faster for any clues as to what had happened, knowing that she was going to break, and wanting to be at home, away from everyone she was afraid of disappointing when it happened. Pushing harder through the pain that was now searing through her abdomen, she forced herself to be tough and take it, anything to get her away from the crime scene as soon as possible.

She wasn't willing to let the others see that Sara Sidle, was in fact, destructible. She wasn't going to have them worry over her and her sanity, she wasn't going to have prying questions and uninvited guests. She would simply take the night off and wait for this pain and turmoil to pass. When it did, whether it be tonight, tomorrow, the next day, or even next week, she'd pick up the pieces and rearrange the puzzle, coming up with some story to explain her actions, anything but the truth.

No one could know that she was losing it, no one.

TBC, but only if you let me know you want it...