"No man can ever change how beautiful you are."

It suddenly occurred to Gil Grissom what he had just said, and he wished he could take it back – he knew as soon as it had exited his mouth that it was definitely not the right thing to say. Feebly he began to try and recover lost ground.

"I-I mean, figuritively, I didn't mean-" He sputtered, dropping the sponge and sitting back on his heels, giving Sara some space. She didn't know how to react.

The Old Sara would be flattered, The thought crossed her mind. But you aren't the Old Sara any more, are you? Confusion sunk in almost immediately after he had said it. And then more foreign emotions…guilt, even fear. What she was afraid of exactly, she couldn't tell. But she felt dirty. A man was telling her she was beautiful, and that was why Adam Trent had raped her, because of what men felt towards her. She no longer enjoyed their attentions. She hated whatthey had caused.

Fighting a sudden urge to curl up and be fully clothed again, away from eyes that could leer and enjoy the sight of her such as Adam Trent had, she lowered her eyes and folded her arms over her front, and quietly requested that Gil would leave her alone for a bit. Her tone wasn't angry, only crestfallen.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, gently, drying his hands on a towel. "Are you still bleeding?"

Sara shook her head and then asked again, "Please, just…go."

Grissom eventually left, lost and confused himself, but before he did, said, "I'm sorry."

He didn't know what for.

Sara sat, still, hugging her knees in the now cooling bath water after Grissom had left, trying to comprehend what she felt and why. But it was too overwhelming and so half the time she spent blocking out the feelings instead of analysing them and logically putting them away. Old coping mechanisms went out the window as they became obselete and unable to handle the newer, heavier loads of emotion that had arrived with what had happened.

I won't let this rule over me. She finally came to the conclusion, as she shivered in the cold bath water. I'm going to go out there and at least make it out that I can deal with this.

Sara stood and picked up the already soiled bath towel, drying herself and quickly dressing again in the clothes she had worn before. She towel dried her hair and cleaned up the bathroom a bit, taking care not to look in the mirror, knowing that seeing the scars and the bruises would not help her resolve to sweep it all under the rug at least for now.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Gil jumped from where he was seated on the sofa, waiting. He went to her quickly but then hung back a little, opening his mouth to speak yet somehow not mustering the words. Sara became a little embarrassed under his worried gaze and focussed on the floor, her mouth turned in a small sheepish grin with her arms folded over her chest. "It's okay, freakout over." Her voice trembled a little but sounded more Sara-like. Grissom relaxed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Hey, woah, no apologies. Sorry I freaked. Doesn't matter now." Sara forced a smile and then sniffed the air, desperate for a subject change. "Huh, what happened to that coffee? God I'm starved."

While Sara tried to convince him she was fine, her subconcious was telling Grissom otherwise. Too many nights he would wake up to the sound of her crying out for somebody, anybody to save her from the man haunting her nightmares. On those nights, which were frequent, he would fight his own murderous rage and muster strength from somewhere to comfort her, though there was little he could do except wake her and sit by her until she fell into a less troubled sleep. One particular incident would stay branded in his memories forever.

This time he had woken not to the bone-chilling scream, but to her mumbling incoherently beforehand. The mumbling was urgent and pained. Grissom's eyes snapped open and he had sat up immediately, padding out of his own bedroom to the guest bedroom where Sara stayed. The door was ajar and so he pushed it open gently to admit himself where he crept over to her bed and knelt beside it. Whatever she was saying was hard to make out, but he could see the sweat on her clammy forehead and the sheets stuck to her as she writhed underneath them.

"Sara?" He whispered. "Wake up, Sar-"

He was interrupted by the most blood-curdling cry he had ever heard in his life. Grissom fell backwards as Sara arched up on the bed and cried out, thrashing at an unseen attacker, and the pain in her exclamation bore down on him. Dazed for only a few seconds, he leapt up and placed his hands on her shoulders, just as he had in the hospital, forcing her to lay back on the bed in prevention of hurting herself.

"Sara!" He shouted. Sara's tear flooded eyes opened and he could see how scared she was. "Sara…" Gil ignored the fact that he knew Sara hated being touched, and as she sat up he opened his arms and she fell against him, exhausted, confused, and afraid. Sara cried and her body convulsed with the sobs as her pain took over her body and she fell powerless to it.

"Hey…you're alright…it wasn't real." Grissom tried to comfort, once Sara had calmed a little.

"It felt real." She murmured.

"Nightmares usually do. The brain switches from con-"

"I…I could feel…I could feel him in…in me." Sara blurted out, suddenly. Science could not be her comfort right now. He sighed, numbing himself and trying to deflect all the pain threatening to attack his heart. He couldn't afford to break when he had to be the stronger of them both.

"Okay." Was all he managed. He took another deep, shuddering breath and held onto her a little stronger, making Sara know he was still there. "Okay."

When she quieted, which seemed like a long time after, she still found comfort laying against his shoulder. She had not let him touch her since the incident in the bath, for reasons even she couldn't attain for the logical part of her knew he would never do anything to harm her. Now, however, she found she craved the feeling of somebody being there, physically, and not hurting her. A thought occurred to her, but it took several minutes for Sara to gather the courage to share it.

"Could you…do you think you…." She began, but faltered, still trembling from crying so much.

"What is it?" He encouraged, gently. "Something wrong?"

"No…" Sara shifted against him and then sat up and away, and scratched her upper arm absent mindedly. "I was just wondering… I mean… just a thought…" She made a wide gesture. "I don't sleep too well by myself, I guess you can tell…I mean…is…is it okay if you, uh….if you could stay-" Sara lowered her eyes and avoided his gaze.

Grissom took off his glasses and considered it. "You don't have to ask. Sure, if it helps." He stood up and she visibly relaxed, and turned to go back to his room. He changed to a t-shirt and boxers and when he returned, Sara was sitting up in bed. "You sure you're okay with this? Not breaching some sort of….I dunno….supervisor protocol?" She asked. She felt stupid.

"No. As long as you're okay." He replied simply. Of course, secretly, he'd been waiting years for her to ask, even just to let him be of comfort to her. Now was his chance.

He slipped into bed and turned off the lights, and then curled up at the edge of the bed, to minimise physical contact. He was here, that was all she needed….wasn't it? Confusion rattled his brains, and as she drifted off to sleep, he lay wide awake, eyes open in the blurry darkness. She started whimpering not long after she'd fallen asleep, and he froze. Should he wake her up? At long last he turned over on his side, and, gingerly, reached for her shoulder. Gently he wrapped his arm around her and she sank into him, breathing deeply but still whimpering slightly.

"No, no please…don't…" The words were barely decipherable but they were there. He stroked her arm gently and tried to comfort her even in her subconcious. "Shh…it's alright. He can't get you here."

For the next few nights he stayed with her, and the nightmares seemed to go away.

Over the next week Gil felt ready to return to work, even though he knew he would spend half the time worrying about Sara, he knew it was important for her to have her own dependance and to see that her suffering had not too greatly impacted the lives of her friends. Of course it had devastated them all but he knew they couldn't let her know that, for naturally, being Sara, she would become guilt-ridden at the thought.

When he had discussed it with her over pizza, she had urged him to do so anyway, convincing him that she was fine. She even well-naturedly complained about her compulsory paid leave, adding that she missed the lab.

"Just call me on my cell if you need anything, okay?" Grissom pep talked before walking out of his condo.

"Okay, okay, I'll be fine." Sara assured him again, a little irritated by his neurotic worry over her. "Just go. And say hi to Cath, Rick, Nick and Greg, okay?"

"Yeah, I will." Gil turned to go, paused, and then carried on out the door, convincing himself everything would be alright.

Sara felt a weight lift from her as Grissom left his condo. Since the night in the mental hospital, the impending hospital visit, and her return to his home he had done nothing but watch over her like a hawk. Sometimes, granted, it was comforting. But lately it had become opressive as she had been forced to act as if everything was fine when it was about as far from fine as possible.

Two hours passed and dark settled in, and Sara was alone with her thoughts once again. The windows were backdropped with black, throwing the reflection of herself back at her, and she sat staring at it for a while. She found herself drawn to the full-length mirror in the bathroom, where for the first time since the rape, she scrutinized her image. The bruises were deep but some were yellowing, and the swelling was down leaving only the stain of bruising on her cheekbones. The cuts had scabbed but were still visible. Sara gazed at her face in disgust. No man could want you now, she thought to herself. You're damaged goods. You're tainted. The hurt at this realisation built up so that Sara could not look at herself anymore.

And thenit occurred to her, an idea spontaneous and instantaneous in its appearance. It was pure impulse, but itwas something that she needed to do.

The bar was crowded, being a Friday night. She stepped out of the yellow cab onto the curb outside, and could hear the steady music drifting out of the one open door at the front where a dark suited bouncer stood. Sara tipped the driver. "Thanks." She waved him off and then headed towards the door of the bar, feeling almost naked in the skirt and light top she wore. These clothes she had once loved to wear felt wrong on her body. She hoped the concealer was doing the trick on the bruises.

Feeling a wave of nauseating anxiety, Sara plunged into the crowd and pushed to the bar where she ordered a bacardi and coke. She was hyper alert. Why on earth am I doing this? she wondered. But she had something to prove, and steeling herself to achieve her objective, she sat up at at the bar and took a hit of the drink passed across the polished wood towards her. The aftertaste hit her and she savoured the molten liquid trickling down her throat. Even if I don't get what I want, I can at least get trashed. Sara lost track of time and waited.

"You lost?"

The male voice made her flinch, and Sara gathered herself quickly before turning to the voice that seemed to stand out stark above the white noise of chatter and ambient music, yet was actually the same volume, more or less.

"Huh?" Sara replied.

"You don't look like you want to be here." The man had rough stubble and looked like a regular at the Tangiers. Sara quickly assessed that he was no choir-boy but he was neither of the wife-beating variety. A perfect variable.

"Well…now I do…" She played along, smiling maybe a little suggestivelyat him. Before, toying with men's desires had been a game…but now it felt alien and it felt frightening to her, as Sara knew full well the extent of what a man's desires could cause. He offered his hand.

"Trey Jeffers. And you are…?"

"Sara. Just Sara."

"Just Sara, huh? Well, Just Sara, how about I get you another Bacardi and Coke?"

Sara almost protested, as it would now be her third, and she was already feeling a bit tipsy. The rational, sensible side of her brain told her to hold back, but a reckless abandon rose in her and she found herself taking up the offer of a complete stranger.

And so it went.

Yay! FINALLY! Fourth chapter. Sorry...I knowisn't quite up to scratch. There may be a few holes. I know EXACTLY where I want this to go but I'm really bad at writing out the full background to why what happens, happens...if that makes sense...

Sorry I've been so s.l.o.w. at updating! GCSEs are finally over, I just came back from a holiday in Turkey and Greece, but now summer has begun which means more writing and less procrastinating (I think so, anyway). Please read and review, this was a particularly nasty chapter to write so I need to know whether it isreadableor not. Thanks to all you lovely people who have reviewed so far, I would name names but it's kind of late and I need to go to bed and there are just so many cool people who have! Don't worry I won't leave you on that mini cliffhanger of "what-she-gonna-do-next" (is it predictable? probably) for too long.

Keep writing, happy reading - xxxxxxxxxxxxx