A/N: I had to resubmit this chapter due to having to do some minor editing. Nothing serious, just realizing I made a few mistakes when I wrote it the first time. Hopefully it's a bit better now.

Chapter 9

Through the MDPD and in collaboration with Horatio, Savannah had been made the youngest forensic artist ever working with the lab. That was three weeks ago and while she enjoyed her work and was glad to be able to contribute, she was reaching her breaking point.

Sandoval had finally been nabbed but he had lawyered up and his lawyer, a major slime ball, was making things very difficult for the Assistant D.A., a fellow by the name of Collin Prechel. The DEA was concerned about removing Savannah from protective custody until they were sure Sandoval was going to be doing some jail time instead of getting out on bail. It was understandable as he'd already tried to have Savannah killed once and there was no guarantee he would try again the minute she was out of sight of a protective cop. Both Sandoval's lawyer, with his veiled insulting insults, and the constant protective custody, was beginning to wear on Savannah. She couldn't even go back to her job at Seaside Café because it was deemed too big a risk by the DEA and Prechel, who wanted to keep her alive long enough to testify against Sandoval, though she wasn't sure what good testifying against him would do. Prechel had not bothered to clarify that to her, leaving her feeling very confused and uncertain as to what, exactly, the man wanted from her.

Then, about a week ago, Savannah heard from her friend, Lucy, in Alabama. It was Lucy who had helped Savannah dye and cut her hair and escape to Phoenix City all those months ago. Once Savannah had arrived safely in Miami, she'd gotten in touch with Lucy via e-mail and the girls had remained in touch, calling each other e-pens, or electronic pen pals. Now Lucy was telling her that Andrew was hunting for her and not in a good way. Savannah had heard about what happened to Andrew's last girlfriend and she was terrified of winding up the same way. She had not told Horatio this, figuring he already had enough to worry about without a dangerous ex-boyfriend trying to find her. Unfortunately that didn't stop her stress levels from soaring through the proverbial roof.

The end result was that Savannah wasn't sleeping and eating well. She'd begun having nightmares that caused her to wake up sweating and shaking and not sleeping much after that. She'd tried telling her counselor about the dreams but had been given the "You're under a lot of stress" speech and how "everything will work out in time." That was when she'd given up trying. She didn't even tell Horatio about the dreams for the same reason she wasn't telling him about Andrew; she didn't want him to worry any more than he already was.

The desire to escape grew and grew until it was almost an obsession with her. She began to watch her guards carefully, noting any escape routes she could use, any way she could quietly vanish and not be noticed for a few hours. Then she began to figure out where she would go. The 'where' question was pretty simple to answer; she wanted to go to the beach. The 'how' question was a different subject but if there was one thing she was, it was patient.

Calleigh had helped her get her weapons license and now she carried a Glock 30, a compact .45 caliber auto pistol that was similar to a Glock 21 in terms of power and caliber size but more compact than a Glock 21. It weighed almost two pounds fully loaded and she still wasn't used to wearing it but preferred it to the Glock 21 because of its size, weight, and how it felt in her hands when she was firing it. Oddly enough, Horatio was pretty obsessive about her keeping it clean and it wasn't until she was griping to Calleigh about it one day that she found out the reason; a certain now-deceased CSI by the name of Timothy 'Speed' Speedle. He had failed to keep his weapon clean and when he'd needed it the most, it'd failed him and he'd paid the ultimate price; his life. To make matters worse, Horatio had tried to get him to clean his gun more often, especially after an incident called Disposo Day, and when Tim had died, it had been right in front of Horatio, something that still haunted him. That was when Savannah had quit griping and cleaned her weapon about twice a week and every time she finished target practice, even going as far as getting Calleigh and Ryan, who was a bit obsessive-compulsive about cleaning his weapon, to make sure she was doing the cleaning the right way. The end result was her becoming friends with Ryan since they spent so much time cleaning their weapons.

All in all, it was only Alexx who had any inclination of what was going on with Savannah and that was only because, with Savannah, it felt like Alexx was one of the few people who wasn't patronizing her or worrying themselves sick over her.

Finally Savannah's chance came. Her escort had taken her to her counseling session and she's sat through, in her opinion, another wasted session with Tina. She gave the appropriate pat responses about work and didn't talk about her nightmares when asked about them except to say that they were not happening; that was a flat-out lie as they still were even though she'd tried every de-stressing trick she knew, including drinking chamomile tea before bed. When the session was over, she excused herself to go to the washroom, which was down a hall and just out of sight of her escort, who was sitting in the waiting room, reading a magazine and looking bored out of her skull. From her purse, Savannah removed a pair of dark aviator sunglasses, a baseball hat that had a dark brown wig of sorts attached under the edge of the hat; thank god her hair was still short enough she could pull that off; and a large, plain dark blue windbreaker that hid her Glock and changed her body-shape. Then she removed her skirt and slip-ons and replaced it with a pair of scruffy jeans and Sketcher running shoes. All this went into a nylon backpack that had been in her artist bag. Savannah went from looking like a professional young lady to a high school kid with long dark brown hair in minutes. Her heart pounding, she stepped out into the hall way and calmly walked right past the escort, who didn't even glance up at her, save her shoes. Then Savannah was out of the building and that was when she caught the first bus that came her way. It took about twenty minutes to get to the beach but that was fine; she was at the beach and away from everything.

It was a big risk, she knew, and she was sure she'd catch hell from Prechel, the DEA, and Horatio but she was tired of caring, tired of watching over her shoulder, tired of everything.

She bought an ice cream cone from a nearby seller, paying with cash and went over to the beach. She wandered for a while, not really caring where she was going, just wanting to forget everything. After a while, she found a quiet little spot against a break wall and sat down to watch the waves and the clouds and birds, leaning against the wall. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, lost in her own thoughts, but according to the watch Horatio had given her a few weeks ago after the whole business with Sandoval started, it had been almost four hours since she'd bolted from her counseling session and her escort.

Sand crunched under someone's foot, indicating someone was approaching her. She calmly reached for her gun, which was tucked in its spot at her waist, removed the safety strap, set the safety switch on the gun, and pulled back the hammer. The entire time she'd been sitting there, her hand had been resting on the butt of gun under her windbreaker so the movement had been almost invisible. Now she carefully pulled it out and laid it across her stomach under the windbreaker, looking like she'd simply shifted herself to a more comfortable position with one leg raised and the other on the ground.

"Savannah," came Horatio's voice.

She sighed heavily. Oh well, she got four hours of freedom out of it. Time to pay the piper.

"Horatio. How did you find me?" she asked, not looking at him, determined to enjoy her view as long as she could.

"Your watch," he said, looking down at her, hands on his hips.

"My watch?" she asked.

"It has a GPS locator in it, an idea I got from Yelina after Ray pulled a vanishing act on her one day," he replied.

"Figures. What took you so long?" she asked, scowling. Great, there was even an eye in the sky watching her.

"It took that long for your escort to realize you'd vanished and to locate you. She tried to find you the hard way and finally told me. You're about half an hour away from the lab and I was out in the Glades at the time," he said, sitting down beside her. He heard a click and saw something move under Savannah's windbreaker. When she shifted, he realized she'd had her gun out and ready to fire the whole time he'd been standing there, possibly longer. He had to give her credit for being prepared that time. "Savannah, you had a great deal of us worried about you."

"Oh whoop-ti-do, Horatio. Let me guess, Prechel was afraid he'd loose his precious testimony, except he won't tell me what the hell I'm supposed to testify to!" she said sarcastically.

"That's not fair-" he began but she cut in rudely.

"He's not being fair! He just treats me like some goddamn country bumpkin who doesn't know diddlysquat and pats me on the head when I try and find out what's going on! I nearly bit his hand off the last time he did that to me!" she said angrily, feeling her rage and frustration building up.

"These things take time-" he began.

"I know that! How often do you think I get told that? Every single goddamn time I try and find out what's going on! I am sick of being watched over! I can't even see Maria or Antonio or even go to the beach without someone watching over me, just in case Sandoval tries to go after me again! Hell, I'm starting to wonder if you guys want a camera in the bathroom when I try and have a quiet bath or shower!"

"Savannah-" Horatio tried again but she cut in again.

"I came to Miami to start over, Horatio, to start over! And now, thanks to a certain druggie, I'm feeling like a frakin' prisoner! I thought it was the bad guys who paid for the crime, not those trying to do the right thing! Well I'm payin' and I'm sick of it! Hell, things gotten so bad I can't even talk to Tina about my bloody nightmares because she thinks I'm just under a lot of stress and I get the pat on the head again! That lady doesn't even know the meaning of stress! Oh, and just to really top things off, I find out from Lucy that Andrew is frackin' looking for me! And that is not a good thing!"

"You've been having nightmares? And Andrew is looking for you?" Horatio asked, concerned, beginning to realize just how much Savannah hadn't told him.

"You bet your sweet lil' biscuits he is! I know what happened to his last girlfriend and if you think I want to wind up dead like her, you better think again!"

"And you will if Sandoval catches you alone," he said, trying to drive his point home but sensing that Savannah had a lot of anger and frustration built up and she desperately needed to release it.

"I don't care! I don't frackin' care anymore! I'm tired of caring, tired of trying to do the right thing! I've got Sandoval after me, I've got Andrew after me, I've got that sleaze-ball thing Sandoval calls a lawyer making veiled threats and insults at me, I've got an Assistant D.A. treating me like a goddamn child, I'm constantly being watched like a bloody hawk, I've Had Enough! Enough! No more! And everyone can go stuff themselves where the sun don't goddamn well shine!" she yelled. She stared at him, breathing hard and finally, finally, the tears came. They were big, gulping sobs and somehow she found herself being held tightly by Horatio. He rocked her gently and let her cry. After a long moment her crying eased off and he reached in to one pocket for a hanky. Much the way a father would a child, he gently cleaned her face and smiled when she hick-upped. "I'm so sorry," she said tiredly, snuggling against him.

"Don't be sorry. I'm surprised you didn't do this sooner," he said soothingly.

"I just–I just wanted to get away from everything and go to the one place I ever really felt at peace, which is the beach."

"Can't say I blame you. You've been under a lot of stress and while this wasn't advisable, it was understandable. There's a little spot on the roof of the crime lab that I go to sometimes when I want a bit of time to myself," he confessed. "I can stay hidden there until my cell goes off again."

"I suppose I should apologize to my escort for taking off like that," she said timidly.

"I wouldn't bother, considering I ripped into her for her attitude towards you and the fact that she only paid attention to your shoes and not you when you went by her," he said gently. That was the truth; the officer's attitude when she'd found out Savannah had taken off had been one of disgust and made several comments about spoilt young women who had no respect for others. Unfortunately, Eric had been within earshot of her when she'd said that and he'd passed that information on to Horatio, who had not been too happy about what he was told. He had promptly given the officer a very cold dressing down about treating others as she would be treated and if that was her attitude towards civilians then maybe she should seriously consider another line of work.

"That was how I got by her, knowing she was only looking at my shoes and not at my face," she admitted. "Plus the wig helped as well."

"Where did you find that?" he asked, impressed when she took off her hat and showed him.

"Maria. She knew someone who knew someone and it went from there. It started out as a joke about me getting a hat and a wig and just taking off for a while. Next thing you know…"

Horatio nodded. "Tell you what, Savannah. I will talk to Prechel and find out exactly what is going on and strongly suggest that he and Sandoval's lawyer quit playing games. I will also see what I can do about Andrew, okay?" She nodded reluctantly. "And, if you have any more nightmares, I want you to tell me about them, even if they happen at three a.m. in the morning. I am not an expert on dreams but I've had my fair share of nightmares." She nodded again. "Okay. In the mean time, are you hungry?"

"A bit," she said.

"How does Marabelle's sound?"

"What about an escort?"

"No escort, just you and me," he said, watching as her face lit up. She nodded eagerly and quickly tucked her hat back on. They stood up together and Horatio put a fatherly arm around her shoulders. "That, however, does not mean you are not grounded, young lady."

She groaned. "I knew it."

He smiled. "Your punishment will be to be escorted by either Eric, Calleigh, Ryan, Natalia, Alexx, or myself for the next several days."

"And if you have to go to a crime scene?" she asked, puzzled as they walked towards the Hummer.

"Then I guess you're coming with us, aren't you? And don't count on sitting around doing nothing; you will be helping," he said, smiling as her face lit up at the prospect.

"If that's your idea of being grounded, I'd hate to see what your idea of murder is," she groused good-naturedly, causing him to laugh.