Chapter XXII

The Opposite of Avoidance

Grissom had told her with no 'if's, 'and's, or 'but's about it to go home. She had maxed out on overtime, again, and even though they were technically in the middle of a crime wave and a high profile case, the budget simply didn't have enough room left to pay for her additional overtime. Forget the fact that she was working a white hot case, she needed to go home and rest. She would have time to rest when she was dead: Grissom hadn't been very impressed with that particular remark.

If not for the fact that Grissom was her boss, she would have given him a huge chunk of her mind right then and there. It wasn't his business anymore how much time she spent at home, how many hours of sleep she got during the day. Her emotional state was none of his damn concern unless it caused a problem at work. He had dumped her and some days he forgot that. She didn't owe him explanations, or explications or anything more than her case reports. She showed up, did her job and went home when the case was closed. That's how it was supposed to work at least. If he was that worried about the fucking budget, she could have worked off the clock. It wouldn't have been the first time.

She chewed and swallowed three antacids, popped an over the counter pill for acid reflux, and chased them with two extra strength Tylenol. She checked her gun -- she could still smell the oil from it's last cleaning -- and after thinking about it for a minute, put the Glock in its holster and put both in her locker beside her bullet-proof vest. She didn't want to carry the gun anymore. She'd spent the first three months after her kidnapping with her gun with her at all times. She had even taken it to the bathroom with her. One day, it had been a Saturday, a few of the teenagers in her building had been goofing around and one of them, a young girl, had started screaming when one of the boys sprayed her with a water gun. Looking back on the whole thing, it was funny. At the time, Sara had jumped, pulled her gun and had come close to pulling the trigger. Riley had come close to getting a nine millimetre through his gut. That had been the day she'd stopped bringing her gun home with her. That had been the day she told herself that she wouldn't be afraid anymore. She had her hits and misses, mostly misses, but she hadn't reacted so violently since.

All of her efforts hadn't stopped the nightmares or the sudden waves of nausea she got whenever she processed trunks or desert body dumps, but it had been progress. She wasn't a shut in, and she wasn't giving in. No matter what happened, she wasn't going to run away. She had run before to no avail. You can't outrun your demons, you have to face them. She'd learned that the hard way. No matter how many miles you put between yourself and the memories, they always came back. She was taking it day-by-day, shift by shift. The PEAP counselor had cleared her, her doctor had signed off on her physical health and she was steady enough to trust herself alone again. Even if she didn't, she wasn't alone at all. Nick, Greg, Warrick, Jim, Wendy, Archie and now Sofia, they were there to support her and she knew that. She only had to pick up the phone and someone would be with her in a heartbeat. She might not be Gil's girl anymore, but she was by no means alone.

As she walked down the hall towards the exit, she mentally ticked off her usual pre-clockout check list. She had checked for messages, closed her files and put them back where they belonged, logged out of the Lab's mainframe, signed off on the evidence and stored it back in the locker it assigned, and called Sofia to make sure neither of them had missed any updates or information. She had also avoided Catherine, apologized to Greg for being a bitch, seen about a dozen pictures of Nick's new niece, had her cold as snow post-relationship stare down with Grissom and now she was free and clear to clock out for the day.

When she hit the door, she didn't even bother to pull her sunglasses down over her eyes, the sky was only just starting to lighten up. The warm pinks, toasty oranges and cool baby blues were streaked across a deep midnight blue that was reluctantly surrendering to a pale pearl gray sky. She hadn't even fished her keys out of her pocket, her mind still lingering inside with the case, when a car horn honked a few feet to her left. She looked up, expecting to see one of her coworkers.

"Damn it."

A sleek, stretched, onyx black limousine complete with mirrored windows and a uniformed driver, coasted to a stop in front of her. Sara crossed her arms and glared at her own reflection in the back passenger door, the door. She waited for the window to slide down and when the tinted glass smoothly retracted to reveal a familiar face, she didn't even pretend to be surprised.

"You know there are stalking laws in Nevada, and I do carry a gun." Her voice was hard and almost brusque.

The cool voice that came from the interior of the car sounded more amused than concerned. "You don't have your gun now, Sahara."

No, but she almost wished she did. She rubbed two fingers against her right temple, "What do you want now, Alex?" Sara put one hand on the already uncomfortably hot metal hood of the limo so she could see inside of it. "I thought I made the message clear: Leave. Me. Alone. Especially at work."

Alex grinned, showing off her perfect teeth and her almost dimples. "Well you would have been really pissed if I had shown up wherever it is you live."

Sara let a sound that was close to a disgruntled growl escape. "That doesn't mean you can come here, you know that."

Alex shrugged and ran her fingers along the bottom of the open window. "Fine, not here, then get in the car. We'll have breakfast and talk."

Sara straightened up, and felt her spine stiffen, "I don't really have anything else to say."

For a moment, the other woman said nothing, a sign that Sara had won the argument.

Then the blonde shifted so she was facing Sara. "You left without saying goodbye. No call, no note, you didn't give me a chance to explain. You just up and left everything behind. You made a clean break, left everything that had ever touched me behind. Hell, Sara, you even left Pavlov. I didn't know what the hell happened. I went to the Hall and Riley had to be the one to tell me that you'd left. He wouldn't even tell me where you'd gone." Pavlov had been their dog and Riley was the only one she'd told where she was going. "You may not have anything to say, but I've got seven year's worth of things to say."

Sara knew Alex. Knew her moods, her facial expressions, her quirks, her double talk, her persistence, and especially her temper. She was serious and Sara was beginning to think it would be better just to go for a ride with her. "And," Alex near hissed, "we can do it here or somewhere where your precious coworkers won't get to see and hear everything."

That, Sara inwardly sighed, settled that. She opened the door, "Scoot over." The window rolled up as Sara slid onto the leather seat of the opulent limo. It was arguable her most grandiose exit from the crime lab to date, and that counted the times she'd ridden in the Sheriff Department's helicopter.

Sara looked over at her ex, the so named lioness of the runway and couldn't help but smile. For some, drinking champagne before eight in the morning would be at least be considered unhealthy. For Alex, it seemed, oddly appropriate. Tired, weary even, from her work, Sara leaned her head back, "Pour me a glass, would you? It's been one hell of a week."

She could imagine Alex's smile without looking at the other woman. It was just like old times. Times, Sara thought, she was sure she'd never know again. Times she wasn't sure she wanted again. It would be, she knew, far too easy to fall under Alex's spell again. That had been why she had thrown away the flowers. She had decided to avoid the other woman and her advances entirely. Sara sipped her champagne. So far, considering that she had already had a round with Catherine, Gil and now Alex, she was failing splendidly at the whole avoidance plan.