Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks to all who have been faithfully replying. I'd love to know your opinions, so please submit a review on your way out. Great thanks to Emmithar, for helping me with this chapter and unsticking me where I was stuck, and for giving me insight where I really need it. You rock, girl.

Reviews and positive wishes will get another chapter out by this weekend...

Jenny

Ten:

Greg paced around the break room, his hands clenched in worry. Sara had kicked him out of her apartment after their last outburst, and he had spent hours trying to call her, but had not gotten an answer soi far. Now, it was 5 minutes before shift was supposed to start, and she hadn't shown up yet. He had assumed she'd call in sick, but Grissom said he hadn't heard from her.

He punched in Sara's number on his cell phone again, sighing worriedly as he paced across the room, the ringing fading into her voice mail after five rings.

"Sara, it's Greg. I'm worried about you, you're not at work and you're not picking up. Please, just let me know you're okay. I'm sorry if I did something to make you mad; I just want to help you." He paused for a moment, hoping that she would pick up, yet knowing that she would not.

He ended the call with a sigh, tossing the phone onto the table, and dropped into a seat, resting his head on the cool surface. He had been worried about Sara all day, and while he was able to control it while in her presence, it had been escalating since she made him leave. Now, not knowing what was going on was driving him closer and closer to insanity himself.

Grissom walked into the break room then, a frown on his face as he realized Sara hadn't shown up yet. He raised his eyebrows at Greg, clearing his throat and pulling out a chair, "Warrick's going to be joining us tonight, since Sophia's still out and Sara hasn't shown up yet. Did she give you any indication whether or not she'd be coming in tonight?"

"She didn't say she wasn't. She usually doesn't miss work." Greg replied with a concerned look in his eyes, "She's not answering her cell, I'm worried about her."

Grissom looked down at Greg's cell phone, then at Greg's fingers, which were restlessly tapping on the table's surface, "Relax Greg, she's not even late yet. Give her a little while, then we'll try calling again. If we don't hear from her within the next hour, one of us can stop by her apartment to check on her."

"She's not doing well, Grissom." Greg said worriedly, his eyes focused on a dark stain that had been on the table for as long as he could remember, "She's not telling me everything, but you can see it in her eyes...she needs help, more help than any of us can give her."

Grissom opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. After a few moments of silence, he said quietly, yet firmly, "Sara's a strong person, a fighter. She can make it through whatever demons are bothering her; she just does it in her own way."

"I'm just worried that her way will be an entire bottle of Xanex and a fifth of whiskey." Greg muttered quietly, the words exiting his mouth before he could stop them. He stared hard at the table, unwilling to meet Grissom's eyes after that statement.

Grissom stared at Greg, his heart skipping a few beats. Surely, Greg was exaggerating. Sara would never do something to intentionally harm herself. Of course, Greg had spent the most time with her, so if anyone knew of her mental state, it would be him.

There was no denying that emotionally, she had been spiraling downhill for weeks, plummeting to the bottom at warp speed. Was suicide something she would consider? Try? He continued to stare at Greg, silently willing the younger man to meet his gaze. After several long, silent minutes, Greg lifted his tear-filled eyes to meet Grissom's, and Grissom had his answer.

"You head over to her apartment, if anything seems out of the ordinary, call me. If you need a hand, I'll find someone to cover our cases tonight." Grissom barked, the one statement sending Greg instantly to his feet, his blonde-streaked head a blur as he rushed from the room.

Sara sat on her living room floor, the curtains drawn and the lights turned off. Normally, she kept a beautiful floor lamp lit during the night; it had been a gift from one of her college friends when she was named valedictorian of her graduating class. Tonight, though, no light could be seen flickering from it's black surface.

She was enjoying the silence, the darkness, the feeling of being alive as she sat nervously on her floor. She wasn't scared of being alone, she never had been, but being alone in the quiet darkness had always stirred up trouble for her overactive imagination. A sound that was an everyday occurrence was morphed into a terrifying nightmare once combined with the stillness of the apartment, the fear of the unknown.

She knew she was late for work. She knew she was going to scare Greg to death by having her cell phone turned off. She knew it was unhealthy to be living like this.

She didn't care.

Her overactive imagination created tons of scenarios to flood her mind, each creak in the night a possible intruder, rapist, murderer. Each one made her body twinge with fear, made her heart rate elevate with unwarranted panic. She felt alive. The self-induced surge of adrenaline would keep her awake and on her toes. If she was awake, even in a slightly panicked state, she wouldn't be having awful nightmares about her child that didn't even exist. She wouldn't wake up sick and disgusted.

She could hear footsteps leading up to her apartment, and her mind tingled with the prospect of it being a gigantic, armed, dangerous intruder. Perhaps he picked the darkest apartment, knowing it would be the easiest to get into, unnoticed. Perhaps he chose hers because it was closest to the stairwell and had the easiest escape route. Maybe he had been watching her for months and assumed she'd be at work right now. Or maybe he knew she hadn't gone to work and was going to use this moment to not only rob her apartment, but murder her as well.

Would he use a gun or a knife? Would she scream or would she welcome the sweet release of death? Would he hold a gun to her head and force her to have sex with him? Would he just go ahead and kill her first, like she saw so many times with so many of her victims.

The thoughts that were sending her heart racing were interrupted by a familiar voice at the front door, "Sara? Are you in there?"

Greg.

Great.

Just what she needed, another guilt trip, another night of being under his worried eye. More nightmares, more explanations, more questions. She didn't have the energy for this, she would go insane if she had to shut her eyes again and see that precious little child brutally murdered.

The precious little girl with the long brown pigtails. The precious little girl with her ragged, tattered teddy bear. The precious little girl who loved her mother so much that it made Sara want to cry, now, thinking of it. The precious little girl who would never exist.

It was amazing how your dreams could tie to your reality. In her dreams, she had her own set of memories and knowledge of this 'dream Sara' and her 'daughter'. She knew the child's favorite color (green), the child's favorite meal (hot dogs and goldfish crackers), the routines they had established together, what was normal and what was not, everything she would know and remember if the events were taking place in real life.

Once awake, Sara found it hard to shake off this knowledge of her fictional child and their life together. She knew that this alone, was signs of a problem, but it was so nice to hold onto moments with the child, even if they weren't, even if the child's life always ended horribly.

Greg was still knocking on her door, but Sara hadn't made a move to get up yet. She'd let him wait a few more minutes, maybe he'd go away. Shouldn't he be at work anyway? With her not showing up, and Sophia out of town, who would be taking the new cases? The thought of Grissom magically transporting himself from one crime scene to another filled her head, causing her to quietly giggle, unable to contain the smile plastered on her face.

She was really losing it.

"Sara, I know you're there, your car is out front and I can hear you! Open the damn door!"

Sara rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to concentrate on the silence she had so gratefully been enjoying, which was not an easy task with the constant banging on the door. She rolled her neck from side to side, shaking her arm as the cracking that followed her movement sent a tingling sensation from her shoulders to the tips of her fingers.

She knew he wouldn't leave until he saw that she was okay, and Sara was eternally grateful that she had not been crying. She uncrossed her legs, planting her feet on the floor and unsteadily rising to her feet, having to reach out for the coffee table to steady herself as she started to feel dizzy. Her joints creaked and her muscles protested the first few steps, but after she made some progress through the living room, she didn't feel so sore.

She opened the door, the moonlight shining onto her face and causing it to look more pale than it already was, "What are you doing here?"

"You're not at work." Greg said uncertainly, trying to gauge Sara's current temperament. She didn't look as if she'd been crying, which was a good start. She also looked like she had gotten some rest, the dark circles that had been shadowing her eyes for days had reduced quite a bit. He inwardly cringed as he realized he may have disturbed her much needed sleep.

Sara tapped her foot impatiently against her doormat, anxious to get back to the darkness of her apartment, to the solitude that she craved. "Neither are you."

"But Grissom knows I'm here, he doesn't know where you are." Greg pointed out, noticing that her eyes were too alert for him to have disturbed her slumber. He also noticed she was dressed in black pajama pants and a long-sleeved black t-shirt and her hair was washed and brushed. It was as if she started to get ready for work, then just decided to get dressed for bed once more. "You didn't call in, that's unusual for you."

"Sophia never calls in when she's not going to show up, but none of us race over to her apartment. Do you trust her more than you trust me?" Sara questioned, her brown eyes devoid of emotion, "Or do you just think that I'm more irrational than she is."

Greg shrugged uncomfortably, "No one really compares you to Sophia. Or to Catherine, or to anyone else. We just know that you always call in, even if you're going to be 5 minutes late. When no one heard from you, Grissom and I wanted to make sure everything was okay. Obviously, you're fine."

"Obviously."

"Do you want some company?" Greg suggested, already thinking of ways to bribe Nick to work a double so he could stay here and keep an eye on Sara. She was definitely acting strange, a complete opposite of how she had been acting since the miscarriage. As much as Greg wanted to believe she was healing, he found her newest personality much too empty for Sara. He knew she was keeping something from him, he just had to figure out exactly what it was.

Sara's eyes narrowed, and Greg instantly wished he could take his question back. He added meekly, "Or I could just head back to the lab, I'm sure Grissom could use a hand."

"I don't need a babysitter, Greg. It's nice that you're worried, but hovering over me isn't going to do anyone any good. I'll call you, okay? And I'll call Grissom and let him know I'm not coming in. I didn't mean to worry anyone," Sara said cooly, her foot still impatiently tapping, "Can I do anything else for you?"

Greg shook his head, growing more uncomfortable with every second he stood on Sara's doorstep, "No, that's all. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I should be in tomorrow." Sara replied, stepping back into her apartment and letting the door shut. She knew she could have been a lot nicer to Greg, but she knew that if she showed any emotion towards him, all of her emotions would bubble to the surface, and she couldn't allow herself to have another emotional breakdown tonight. Tonight, she needed the silence.

She sighed heavily, knowing she did need to make the call to Grissom, especially now since she told Greg she would. If the call wasn't made, and Greg found out, he may start to worry again and appear on her doorstep once more.

She turned her cell phone on, dialing Grissom's cell phone as she leaned against her front door. She couldn't talk to him in the living room, her living room was to be saved for her quiet contemplation time.

"Grissom."

Sara leaned her head against the door, her energy suddenly drained. Of course, talking to Grissom usually had that effect on her, "Hey, it's me. I don't think I'm going to come in tonight."

"Are you alright?"

Sara could hear the mixture of relief and worry in his voice, but she refused to allow herself to feel guilty over it. "I just need some time alone, I should be in tomorrow. I'm sorry I waited so long to call, I must have lost track of time."

"No problem, Sara, and take all the time you need. If you need anything, please let me know."

Sara quietly clicked her phone shut, pressing the power button and placing it on the counter as she walked past her kitchen. Taking a few deep breaths, which she hoped would clear her mind, she resumed her position on the living room floor, closing her eyes and once again surrounding herself with silence.

Greg stood in front of Sara's doorstep for a few minutes, barely able to hear her voice while she told, presumably, Grissom that she wouldn't be in. He waited for a few more minutes, slightly disturbed by the fact that no lights were on in the apartment, from the lamp down to the TV.

There was no denying that he was worried about her, they all were, but tonight it felt more intense than it ever had in the past. Her eyes had been cold and empty, her voice devoid of any emotion. She seemed unfazed by his presence, yet something in her words and demeanor showed she wanted him to go.

Last night, she had reached out to him, she told him horrible details about her life, about her instability, and today it was as if nothing had happened. He knew she was trying to push him away, in her own way, but he couldn't understand why.

He traced her changes back to the last nightmare she had experienced. He could see it had affected her, although she didn't want to talk about it, and since then she had pulled away from him, made him leave, refusing to talk.

Pulling away was something Sara did quite often. She didn't trust many people, and after learning of her past, Greg could see why. What unnerved him the most was that she opened up to him, trusted him, and suddenly took her trust back. He couldn't figure out what he had done to make her change her mind so drastically.

For weeks she had been bouncing back and forth between crying and hysterical to sad and withdrawn. Never had she seemed so cold and detached as she did tonight. He was starting to really worry that she was falling over the edge. If she didn't trust anyone else enough to tell them what had happened to her, would she trust anyone else enough to let them pull her back to this side of sanity? It was clear she didn't want him around, but who would she talk to?

Shaking his head sadly, he turned and started to walk back to his car. Maybe he and Grissom could come up with a way to get Sara to open up to them, to get her some sort of help. It was killing him to see her this way, he didn't want to lose her; he cared for her too much.

Looking up at her dark windows one last time, he said a silent prayer that she would be alright and started his engine, distractedly making his way back to CSI.

Grissom, Greg, Warrick, and Catherine sat around the break room table, all wearing the same worried looks on their faces.

"Do you think we should call Nick in on this?" Catherine asked, tapping her nails against the table, glancing down at her cell phone, "He and Sara were always pretty friendly."

Greg shook his head, "He doesn't even know about the miscarriage. I think she'd want as few people as possible to know what's going on."

"So let's start with what we know." Grissom said quietly, the grimace of his face showing the first warning signs of a serious migraine to come, "Sara's been going downhill, quickly."

"She was pregnant, she had a miscarriage. It wasn't her first one, and it's causing a lot of old memories to resurface." Greg volunteered, "She probably feels like she failed her baby."

Warrick nodded, "She's been out of it for awhile, mood swings and a hot temper, and then she lost it at that scene a few days ago, with the 11 month old in the suitcase."

"Which was basically a slap in the face to her, someone had a child and didn't want it, as opposed to her wanting one and having it taken from her." Catherine supplied, "She's been taking anti-depressants, but it doesn't seem like they're working."

"Is she still drinking?"

Greg knew the question was directed towards him, but he couldn't meet Grissom's eyes. This very well could be partly his fault. Why didn't he try to get her help sooner? He nodded slowly, "Not binge drinking, but more than once I've stopped by and she's had a few beers. Hell, I've had beers with her a couple of times. I didn't think it was a problem."

"The night I went to check on her, she had drank 3 or 4." Catherine added, "But I snooped while I was there the other day, after I took her home, and I didn't find anything to suggest she's been drinking heavily. I don't think drinking's her problem, it's got to be hard losing a child, she doesn't have anyone to help pull her through this."

Greg's eyes flew to Catherine, his jaw dropping slightly, "I've done everything I could to help pull her through this. Sometimes one friend isn't enough. She's had a shitty life, Cath, and it doesn't ever seem to get any better. I've done all I could."

"She didn't mean to imply you haven't." Warrick said gently, "We should have all been there for her, we should all have been keeping an eye on her. I knew she was off, but I just didn't know it was this bad."

Catherine was now tapping her pencil against the table, an uncontrollable nervous habit of hers, "She's mentioned some things to me that possibly sound like she's been having suicidal thoughts. I don't know how serious they were, and I called her on it, but she just blew me off."

"She's mentioned some things to me too, not directly coming out and saying she'd kill herself, but some offhand comments that sort of point that way." Greg added, "I didn't think she was capable of that...she's always said she could never take a life. I just assumed she meant her own too...but she has been acting very differently lately."

Warrick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "She needs to be seeing a therapist or something. Could we really help her?"

"We can't force her to talk to someone, we're her next best shot." Catherine said softly, "If she lets one of us in, maybe we can convince her to see a therapist."

Greg sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. She had let someone in, him, and somehow he had blown it. If anything happened to her, he knew it would be his fault.

Sara's eyes snapped open as she let out a terrified shriek, jolted from yet another nightmare. This time she could hear the child's cries as she forced her small head under the water, until eventually the cries and the kicking stopped.

It took her a few moments to remember why she was sleeping on the living room floor instead of her bed, and she instantly started to silently berate herself for allowing her body to go to sleep. The thought of sleep brought back the horrifying nightmare, and she started to panic once more.

Her body began to shake, her head throbbing, her breathing shallow. She felt the familiar wave of nausea and she darted for the bathroom, knowing it was pointless since she hadn't eaten anything to bring up. After sitting on the cool floor for a few minutes, she shakily rose to her feet and walked to her sink, rinsing her face with cold water, trying to suppress the trembling in her hands.

The nightmares were getting more painful, more vivid, and more terrifying with each occurrence, something had to be done.

Still fighting the hysteria that was trying to rise back to the surface, she unsteadily walked back into the living room, her eyes coming to a rest on her gun that was sitting on the coffee table. Coming to a stop she just stared at the object, contemplating the new thoughts that were entering her mind. It was amazing, that something so small could change so much…but could she actually do it? She had done so once, and the thoughts in her mind were beginning to twist and turn, morphing into the unthinkable.

The thoughts in her mind were beginning to twist and turn, morphing into the unthinkable, but in her pain she hardly noticed. The guilt, the sadness, the unrelenting pain that was eating her up was too much, and there was nothing she could do about it…nothing, that was, but this. A few more steps inside the room and she reached over, retrieving the gun, bringing it up to her eye level. After a pause, she brought the gun against her head. All it would take, all she needed to do, was to pull the trigger, and everything would be over. Laughing softly, Sara drew in a deep breath, lowering her head as she closed her eyes one final time.

TBC