A/N: I really appreciate all of the support and encouragement that everyone has been giving me throughout the writing of this fic, and it makes me very happy to know that people are reading and enjoying it. Shelbers, to answer your question, Sara actually tried calling Warrick first, at the end of chapter 4. Tina told her that Warrick was out, and that she didn't know when he'd be back; good thing he was gone, though, because with Brass's history of alcoholism, I think he was a much better confidant than Warrick ever could have been at that particular moment in time. And one more thing, before I get to the chapter: A very special thank-you goes out to Ann, for putting up with my writing insecurities. You're a great friend (my best friend, even!).

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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

Title: The Calvary

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The Sidle Residence

The moment that Sara felt the warmth from Warrick's arms encircling her shaking body, she began to cry even harder, burying her face against his chest.

"Shh, Sara, it's okay," Warrick whispered, not entirely sure what to say, or what to do, but wanting to do something, anything, in order to make her tears go away. "I'm here," he repeated over and over again, hoping that the soft tone of his voice would be enough to calm her obviously very frayed nerves.

It's not okay, Sara thought to herself, as she grabbed the loose ends of his shirt, tightly squeezing them between her two fists. It's not okay; I'm having problems with my case, I'm embarrassed about you, and I just want to drink, she tightly shut her eyes and swallowed, as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks, wetting the upper part of Warrick's shirt.

"It's okay, girl," Warrick quietly told her, as he continued to hold her in his arms, his hand hesitantly rubbing her back. Blinking, he wrapped his arms more tightly around her shoulders, staring at the ceiling. What's going on? Why are you so upset?

"Warrick," Sara sobbed, her face crimson and blotchy from the tears. "I don't feel so well. Nothing's okay; it's not going to be okay," she continued, trying to burrow into his arms.

"I can tell that you don't feel well," Warrick cautiously replied, pulling away from her for a brief moment in order to better study her face. "But can you take some deep breaths for me?" He asked, as he gently brushed her hair out of her eyes.

Sara simply nodded yes, as she blinked, and tried to take some deep breaths for Warrick. "I just don't feel well," she mumbled, as she hiccupped, and felt some of her tension starting to ease away.

Warrick continued to silently hold Sara in his arms, taking note of the fact that her shaking had stopped, and that she seemed to be calming down a little bit. Gently rubbing her back, he tried to come up with some sort of intelligent response to her comment, but words failed him; Warrick was stuck on the fact that he was in Sara's apartment, trying to hold her through one of her more serious panic attacks.

"What's wrong with me?" Sara whispered, as her tears subsided even more. "I don't know what's wrong with me." Resting her head against Warrick's chest, Sara sighed, closing her eyes. I don't know what's wrong with me, but you'll help me figure it out, right? You're already helping, she thought to herself. I feel very safe and secure right now.

Pulling away from Sara, Warrick held her head in his hands, gently brushing away the remainder of her tears with both of his thumbs. "What's going on?" he quietly asked, his eyes peering into hers, as if looking for an answer in the depths of her soul.

"I don't know," Sara slowly shook her head from side to side, finally walking out of Warrick's embrace, and quietly heading into her living room. Sitting down on one end of the couch, she tucked her legs underneath her body, and stared at the ground.

"… Are you sure that you don't know?" Warrick cautiously probed, following her into the living room, and taking a seat on the armchair facing the couch.

Sara swallowed, staring into the kitchen, her gaze falling upon the open can of beer. "I'm sure," she told him, as another tear slipped out of her eye, followed by another one, and another one, and still another one. "I'm sure," she sniffled.

Warrick took a deep breath, slowly getting to his feet, and moving over toward the couch to sit down beside Sara. "Hey, girl; you can talk to me about anything; you know that, right?" he asked, lowering his head and squinting up at her, in order to better catch her gaze.

"I know that," Sara whispered, swallowing, as she moved closer to him. "But I don't know what to say; or even how to say it."

Warrick blinked in understanding, before reaching his arms out to Sara, and once again pulling her toward him. "Just tell me what's on your mind, whatever it is."

Sara slowly nodded, resting her head on Warrick's shoulder, and licking her lips. "I want some beer."

"What?" Warrick squinted down at her in confusion. "You… want some beer?" he questioned her, as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her shoulders. Will beer help you talk? I mean, that isn't the problem, right?

Sara nodded, resting one of her hands on his knee.

"Okay, well, do you have some beer in your apartment?"

Sara again nodded, burrowing herself further into his arms, rather than getting up to get the cans.

"Do you… want me to get you some?" Warrick prodded her, now more confused than ever.

"No," Sara whispered. "I don't want any."

"But you just said—"

"I'm an alcoholic," Sara interrupted him. "I want some beer, and yet I don't want some beer."

Warrick's eyebrows shot up, as he glanced down at the top of Sara's head. "You have a drinking problem, Sara? How come you never told me?" He softly asked.

"How come you never told me that you were getting married, before you actually got married?" Sara shot back, starting to tremble again, as more tears threatened to spill over. That was kind of rude. Now he's just going to walk away from you, and leave you alone!

Warrick took a deep breath. That is actually a very good point. "Okay," he cleared his throat, avoiding her question. "So, I'm guessing that there is something," or someone, he thought to himself. "That is causing you to want to drink. Want to talk about it?" he quietly asked, gently rubbing Sara's arm with his thumb.

Sara slowly shook her head yes, taking a deep breath, and closing her eyes. "But I don't know where to start."

"Well," Warrick shrugged. "Is it work related? Or… personal?" he hesitated, his fingers freezing on her arm while he waited for her answer.

"… Both," Sara admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just—" she swallowed.

"You just what?" Warrick carefully prompted her to continue.

"Nothing in my life is going right, Warrick," Sara mumbled, tears once again sliding down her cheeks. "I can't solve my case, I want to drink, and you don't like me!" she finally blurted out.

Warrick's eyebrows immediately shot up, as he pulled Sara into his lap, in essence, forcing her to look at him. "Sara, I don't hate you," he quietly informed her.

"I know," Sara mumbled, trying to pull away from him. "But you don't like me in that way."

"What makes you think that?" Warrick asked, tightening his grasp on Sara's body, so that she couldn't move away from him.

"You said so, at the diner," she reminded him, no longer struggling to get away from him; it was evident to her that he was not going to let her run away from him this time.

"Sara," Warrick swallowed. "Greg caught me off guard; I was embarrassed, okay?"

"But after Greg was gone," Sara persisted. "I asked you if I was the person whom you loved, and you said, and I quote, 'You? Hell, no.' And then you chuckled at me," she sniffled, once again trying to pull out of his grasp, her face growing warm in embarrassment..

"Sara, I—" Warrick hesitated, not sure what to say in order to fix the mistake that he had made an hour or so before. Releasing his grip on her body, and frowning as she chose to move a short distance away from him, he sighed. "That might be what I said, but do you know what I was actually thinking, at the time?" he queried, his eyes searching out hers.

"No, what?" she cautiously asked, wiping a couple of tears away, and blinking, as her gaze met his.

"Do you remember asking me if it was Catherine whom I loved, and I said no?"

"Uh-huh," Sara anxiously replied, nodding her head yes.

"And then the next thing that I said was, 'well actually, I was referring to—' and then Greg came over?"

Again, Sara slowly nodded her head yes.

"Well, I was going to fill in the blank with 'you,'" he nervously admitted, his palms starting to sweat with his growing uneasiness.

"You… were?"

"Yeah, I was. But Greg caught me off guard with his question about being out on a date, and I just… got flustered."

"You… did?" Sara raised a dubious eyebrow.

"I did," Warrick confirmed. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone from work at the diner, Sara, so I took you there, because I wanted to get the chance to talk to you, alone, without them interfering."

"And Greg interfered anyhow, didn't he?" Sara mused. "Typical Greg," she tried to crack a small smile.

"Yeah, typical Greg," Warrick echoed with a half-grin, cautiously reaching his arms out toward her again. "I honestly did not mean to hurt your feelings, though; I was just uncomfortable with trying to share something so personal with you, and having Greg interrupt me mid-sentence. I'm sorry, girl. I should have been more careful about your feelings."

"It's okay," Sara told him, slowly moving back into his arms. "And I didn't mean to run out on you like that; I just felt mortified. I've put myself on the line so many times before, and I'm used to being rejected; I've just never been rejected in front of another co-worker before," she admitted, resting her head against Warrick's chest. Although I've been rejected BY another co-worker before; that's a topic for another day, though.

"I can understand that; I should have done something more to stop you from leaving; or to assure you that I had been talking about you, rather than someone else."

"You couldn't have done anything differently," Sara informed him, her eyes closed. "It was my fault; I'm just… too emotional."

"Well, I like you being emotional," Warrick smiled, gently running his fingers through her hair. "So aside from the whole diner debacle, what else is going on?"

Sara sighed, thinking about her answer for a moment. "I feel like a failure at work."

"Damn, girl!" Warrick snorted in surprise. "You're one of the smartest people on the team. What could possibly be making you feel like a failure?"

Sara swallowed. "I'm missing something with my case, and I don't know what it is. It should have been an open and shut case, but none of the evidence is adding up. Everything is pointing right back to the victim, and there is so much evidence, that we should have more than enough to convict someone of this crime; and yet, we have nothing."

"Do you want to talk it over with me? Maybe see if I can shed some light on it?" Warrick asked, continuing to run his fingers through her hair.

Sara nodded, glancing up at Warrick, before yawning. "Sorry," she mumbled. "It's been a long week."

"Why don't you get some rest, then?" he suggested, gently rubbing her arm with his other hand. "You could probably use it, too. Knowing you, I'm sure that you've almost maxed out on your monthly overtime; and during this week alone," he added.

"I'm fine," Sara immediately replied. "So do you really want to listen to the case?"

"Yes, I really want to listen to the case," Warrick assured her, leaning back on the couch in order to make himself more comfortable.

"Okay," Sara shrugged, rolling onto her side so that she was facing away from Warrick, and sliding down his body, so that her head was resting comfortably in his lap. "Okay," she repeated. "So, I'm on the Conte case. Lindsey Conte was found murdered outside of her home last week," she droned on, her eyes half-closed.

"She was hit with something, right?" Warrick asked her, one of his arms resting on her hip.

"Yes," Sara confirmed. "Repeatedly. I narrowed the murder weapon down to a hammer, although I have yet to actually find the damned thing. There was blood everywhere, Warrick," she whispered. "On the lawn, on the front door, in the hallways, throughout the home. I collected bloody fingerprints, not to mention numerous swabs, and I've yet to come up with something actually helpful."

Warrick closed his eyes for a moment in thought, trying to picture the scene in his head, just as Sara must have seen it. With his thumb now absentmindedly moving back and forth against her stomach, he tried to process the scene in his mind. "Does she have a husband? Or kids?" he finally asked Sara, once again opening up his eyes.

But Sara remained quiet, her body lightly moving up and down with the steady rhythm of her unlabored breathing.

"Sara?" Warrick tried again, thinking that she must not have heard him. "Does she have a husband? Or children?" he repeated his earlier question, glancing down at her.

But again, Warrick got no response.

Squinting his eyes, Warrick shifted his body ever so slightly, so that he could catch a glimpse of Sara's face. Softly chuckling to himself, he sighed. "You fell asleep, girl," he whispered, looking around for a blanket to cover her up with. Reaching above his head, Warrick carefully pulled down a blanket, gingerly placing it over her prone body. Once again resting his hand on her hip, he glanced down at Sara to ensure that she was comfortable, before trying to slide out from underneath her.

"No," Sara immediately mumbled, grabbing his legs with one of her fists.

"You need to sleep," he whispered to her, carefully trying to untangle himself without waking her up even more.

Sara rolled over onto her back, reaching up for one of Warrick's arms. Grabbing it, and pulling it toward her stomach, she tried to force him to hold onto her more securely.

"Okay," he chuckled. "I get the message, girl, loud and clear. I won't move. And then tomorrow, we'll work on the Conte case; together." And once the case is solved, you will have one less reason to drink the beer. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself, I guarantee you that.

Sara seemed to relax at his words, falling into an even deeper, and more comfortable, sleep.

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TO BE CONTINUED 