A/N Yay! Thanks for the reviews. I've been reading Fruits Baskets and they have 'Extra Blah Blah's' or authors notes about the story and stuff so I felt like writing one.

I used me as the victim in the story (Jeannette), some of the things in this story are sadly based on true events, they might not just be my events though, some of them are and in the upcoming chapter (following this one) there will be a Sara childhood flash back that will be based on a true story that happened to me. Bleh.

Nee'way sorry to keep you waiting in suspence, you can just skip all that above and go ahead to the story .

Sara kneeled in front of Greg, her knees in the sharp glass, poking her, cutting her. She extended her arm to Greg who had quickly gotten a first aid kit. Seriously Greg should have gotten paramedics, doctors, a physiatrist something or someone to make Sara better, normal even. In all the six long years he had known Sara, she was not the type to fall this low, enough to hurt herself like this. She was known to drink when things were tough, and falling apart. Greg stared at the blood, but this, this was worse.

The Sara Greg knew was tough, strong, and independent. He remembered her flashy comebacks when he pointed a joke at her, how sarcastic she is, how pretty… He unraveled the bandage and wrapped it around Sara's wounded arm; Sara winced from the bandage coming in contact with her skin. "Sara, we need to get you home, away from here." Greg's complexion was full of concern, from his deep eyes, to his black converse shoes. Sara just stared at the floor eyes wide, speechless overcome with what she had done. She looked at the blood on the ground, the blood that had gotten on her clothes, all that blood. The dark crimson liquid that once ran through her veins through her body was now all over her clothes, Greg's clothes, and the locker room. She realized she still was holding a piece of glass in her other hand tightly, how come she couldn't feel the pain anymore, how come? When she inspected murder scenes, she'd seen worse, but this was her blood.

Sara's vision blurred, her head ached, she clutched her newly bandaged arm, she felt like she couldn't breath. "Sara?" Greg's voice came but it was distant, "Sar—"Sara fell forward onto Greg's chest, she was holding a fist full of his shirt tightly, her eyes closed.

Greg grabbed her, shaking her lightly, "Sara wake up, please… oh god." Sara had passed out, onto Greg. Call 911? Bring her home? Get Nick or Warrick? Questions ran through his head, as he held her tightly. If he got Nick or Warrick this would become public that Sara Sidle cut herself, if he called 911 she could possibly lose her job, she was emotionally unstable for work right now. That left his last option. Bring her home.

Greg put Sara in his bed, wrapped the covers around her and turned the heat up a little. Suddenly it felt so cold, like the hot desert air had turned into the frigid winter that was found in Canada. Had Sara made him so cold? How cold was Sara? What had possessed her to cut herself? What could he do? He ran his finger through her soft, smooth hair, moved it away from her face, then he placed a damp, cold washcloth over her hot forehead. As he placed it there Sara's arm grabbed his tightly her finger nails dug into his skin, her eyes sleepily opened, seeing Greg her grip loosened and her arm dropped to her side, she let him touch her cheek, whisper into her ear, "What happened to you Sara?" he ran his fingers down her face, her face tingled where his hand had been.

Sara's eyes began to water up, she watched Greg slowly leave the room, and close the door softly behind him. Sara suddenly for the first time all day became fully aware of everything, how her arm stung when she moved it, how she was no longer in her bloody clothes, had Greg taken them off for her? She felt herself flush. What had she done? She remembered all the blood she left in the locker room, she remembered falling onto Greg, shutting her eyes and finally being asleep. It felt good, like as if nothing mattered and everything was going to be okay. She wished she could go back to sleep, to forget it all, but her eyes were glued open, open to look at the world around her and forcing her to feel the good and the bad.

She distinctly remembered putting the blade in her skin, how it felt good if she felt anything at all. She remembered shattering the glass, reading the girls diary, she remembered her past once again. Sara stared at herself, her skin, she felt dirty, as if little bugs were crawling beneath her skin and no matter how she scratched, cut, and bled they would never go away. She sat up in bed, bed, whose bed exactly was it? She hadn't remembered anything until she woke up, and she definitely didn't remember coming into this apartment, this apartment was not hers. She assumed it was Greg's. He had gone through all that trouble getting her out of the lab and into his home. Had people not asked questions when he carried her away? Had people even seen the locker room? She felt grateful Greg was here, he had not taken her to a hospital, which wasn't what she would have wanted in the first place, all the questions from the doctors? They would have to keep her there, in that place with everyone else from burn to cancer patients.

Sara moved her legs painfully off the bed, she examined her knees which had small cuts that were no longer bleeding, they scabbed over. She noticed she was wearing a pair of Greg's boxers and old college grey hoodie which was torn at the sleeves. Sleeves or not Sara needed to thank Greg. She slowly walked to the door, opened it and walked out into Greg's apartment for the first time. Greg was sitting at his wooden kitchen table, head in his hands. Sara stepped towards him and glanced around his house, when she heard Sofia talk about it before she thought it might be a mess, a disaster even knowing Greg. But it was quite the opposite, it was sparkling clean.

"Greg…" She started, her voice cracked slightly she hadn't spoken to anyone in over five hours, she couldn't her voice hurt. Greg looked up suddenly, Sara's eyes widened startled as she realized Greg's face was wet with tears. She'd never seen him like this, but then again what she put him through… when he saw her, helped her. She shouldn't be surprised.

"Sara." Greg spoke quietly, he motioned for her to sit down by the couch in his living room, he stood up and followed her in. They both sat in silence for several minutes before Sara interrupted the awkward silence.

"Greg… I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have seen me like that, ever. And I should have never—"Greg slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it lightly.

"It's okay, I just…" he trailed off looking confused, his left eye brow was raised, "You were always the strong one, emotionally… I want to know Sara; I want to know what's wrong." Her lip trembled, she had told Grissom once, was she ready to tell Greg? Greg, her best friend.

"When… When I was younger my mother killed my father, stabbed him to death, I was put into foster care." Sara started, this was just the beginning, she glanced at Greg's expression which had become unusually pale, but he squeezed her hand, encouraging her to go on. "I hadn't been in just one foster home; I was moved from home to home. In high school I knew I had to work hard, and not become a failure, or worse, I didn't want to end of like my parents. I wanted to be someone. I worked so hard at getting A's, I put so much pressure on myself, my foster parents at the time kept putting me down, telling me how bad I was, how I was so stupid, how no one would ever want to be with such a lazy, worthless girl." She became quiet suddenly and continued in barely a whisper, "I started to cut myself then, just to get away from things. It was like it took away the emotional pain, replacing it with something new… I'm not sure but for some reason it felt so good. I stopped a year after I started, my friend was worried. This case I've been working on, the girl she reminds me of me, she reminds me so much of me that I was thinking if my friend wasn't there for me I could have been her. I could have been the body all the CSI's and police were taking pictures of. If just one person had been there for her, her outcome might have been different; Greg that poor girl might still be alive."

She started to cry, hot tears fell down her face and she closed her eyes tightly. Greg leaned over and hugged her, he whispered, "It's okay, I care about you Sara its okay. I won't let anything happen to you, and I won't let you hurt yourself ever." His breath was warm and soft, it tickled her ears. They sat for several minutes in silence, hugging each other rocking back and forth. Finally Sara pulled away staring at the small cuts all over her legs, her arms, she was stained with blood.

"Thank you so much Greg, thank you for everything. Can I ask you one last thing?" Greg nodded still holding her hand tightly in his, "Can I use your shower?" Greg nodded again.

"I'll get you some towels, and you may borrow my robe if you like."

"Thanks you, Thank you." She empathized.

Sara stepped into Greg's bathroom and locked the door, she noticed immediately that he took everything, and anything sharp out of the bathroom. She sighed, it hadn't crossed her mind to cut again, she promised Greg that she wouldn't but she had to admit that she didn't trust herself with anything sharp either.

She turned on the faucet to the shower, putting it on hot, and let the water flow down her body, washing the dried blood down the drain. The water steamed and slightly burned her skin, and she ignored the searing pain the water was doing to her open cuts.

Greg sat on the couch where Sara had sat earlier. He cared for her, a lot, even though she had made a promise not to cut again, he wasn't sure if he should trust her or not. She really was emotionally unstable and needed time off from work. But Greg thought if my mother had killed my father too, I'd also be emotionally unstable. Greg put his head in his hands again; he wanted Sara to be better, to smile, to laugh. Maybe if Greg had gotten to the locker room a little bit earlier, maybe, just maybe he and Sara wouldn't be in this current situation. She could have talked it out. But the past is done, there's nothing Greg could do about it, but fix the future.

When Sara came out of the shower, her hair damp and plastered to her head Greg handed her some tea which she gladly accepted. They again sat on the couch in silence, until Sara set down her cup. "Thank you Greg, really. I appreciate all this, everything but you've done enough, I should go home, and I'll take a few days off from work even. I promise."

"No please." Greg said grabbing her good arm resisting, "I don't feel comfortable letting you go, and I can take care of you, just stay." She hesitated but sat back down on the couch, she turned to Greg "Seriously, thank you." She said quietly.

"No problem, really, I'm just worried about you that's all." He said in the same quiet voice. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, then pulled away quickly realizing what she had done, she crossed a small line, he was her best friend and helping her, "I… I'm sorry I didn't mean to…" she squeezed her bad arm lightly, enough to feel the pain a little bit. He took her hand away from her arm, staring into her eyes.

"It's okay." He said referring to the kiss in a whisper, "But you need to stop this, stop trying to feel pain." Now he was referring to her arm. She pulled away from his grasp on her hand and stared at her feet.

"I'm not—"She trailed off.

"Maybe we should get some rest, I'm beat." Greg said changing the subject, "You can take my bed, I'll take the couch."

"No, I couldn't possibly let you sleep on the couch Greg. Don't be stupid not after everything." Her voice was strong, she wanted to give something back to Greg for helping her, the bed was the least she could do.

"No. Take the bed, please." Greg said almost pleading.

Sara grabbed Greg's arm, "Then… then can you sleep near me?" Had she crossed another line? She wanted so badly for someone to hold her right now, she cared for Greg, she wasn't sure if it was love, but she was sure she liked him and knowing that he practically saved her life today meant more then just a lot.

This time Greg hesitated he wanted to help her more then anything, "Okay." He said, she led him to the bedroom, and she climbed up onto his bed and under the covers. Almost immediately Sara was out, out in dream land again where nothing mattered, and it was like it never happened. Greg stared at her sleeping, and rested under the covered himself, he found her hand and squeezed it lightly, he moved a few inches closer to her. That kiss before, it wasn't anything he knew it, he also knew Sara was vulnerable now more then ever. She wanted protection right now, and maybe, probably was using Greg to get that security. Greg didn't want to take advantage of Sara, weak as she was. He would never do that. But that little kiss, it meant something to him, even if it didn't to her. Greg himself drifted into a lazy sleep. Once sure he was asleep, Sara returned the squeeze, she held his hand tightly unable to fall asleep.

A/N Gahh the drama is killing my hand, I have to type all this and my hand might as well fall off. SO comment on my behalf lol.