Myralee, you are my hero. In my own defense (well, really, more of an explanation – you know, a self-preservation type thing), I got caught up for the last year in the throes of college applications and 24. But really, we all know that Gil Grissom owns Jack Bauer + Ivy Leagues any day.

Great, now Jack Bauer's going to kill me. Along with all of Harvard. And probably Yale.

I also apologize in advance for the angst. If you delve deeper into my psychology, you will only see that it is a physical manifestation of my innermost desire to marry Nick Stokes. Oh well.

--

Sara could tell that Grissom had reservations about her involvement with the case, but she wasn't going to let him stop her. He doesn't know what I'm going through, she told herself. Of course, that wasn't his fault considering she never told him, but what would be the point of that? She knew exactly how he would react. Exactly. Resolved, she marched on down to the station, with Grissom in tow.

"Hey," Brass greeted them when they arrived. "In that room, there." He nodded towards a closed door. "Lemme warn you though, let's just say she's, mm, sassy."

"And when has that been a problem?" Sara heard Grissom reply back. She didn't bother wasting breath on her own, and opened the door to see a blond girl looking back at them.

Her heart skipped a beat. She eyed the length of the girl's hair – perfect to match the strand they found in the car! She could sense Grissom pause behind her as he walked in, no doubt upon seeing Rachel's hair. Well, let him do what he wants to. Purposefully, she stepped towards the girl and sat down on the other side of the table. Grissom followed suit. The girl eyed them ruefully.

"Look," she said once Sara sat down, "I dunno why you're here. Luke told you everything."

"Yeah, we'll be the judges of that," Sara answered roughly. She could hear Grissom shift his weight next to her. "So, I hear you went out into Vegas three nights ago."

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so what."

"So what – your friend was murdered that night!" Sara said angrily. "And your hair was found in her car!"

Rachel's eyes flashed. "What? So?"

"Let's start over," Grissom said calmly, giving Sara a silencing look. She took it, smoldering. "You weren't playing cards with your friends back at the hotel, correct?"

"Yes. I told you that. I went out to go explore the city a little bit. We hadn't hit all the sites, and I wanted to see them for myself before we left."

"Well, where did you go?"

Rachel looked at him, annoyed. "Everywhere."

Grissom sighed. "Rachel, we just need your help. Your friend was murdered. We're trying to find out who did it."

The girl gave Sara an angry look. "Yeah, well you seem to be accusing me of doing it!"

"Well, it seems like you did, doesn't it?" Sara jumped in, angry. She couldn't let this girl out of her hands. She was the one who killed Mackenzie. A sad story and she knew the jury was bought. They had to get a confession out of her.

"I didn't do anything," the girl replied calmly, emphasizing each word. She turned to Grissom. "Tell her that."

Grissom shot her a sideways glance. "She knows." The look was almost daring her say otherwise. "Regardless… we heard about Mackenzie and Luke. How are you taking that?"

Rachel shrugged. "Well. It wasn't enough to break me and Luke apart. We both made some mistakes. I mean, there were rifts in our relationship too – that's probably why he said yes to her."

"So you're on good terms."

The girl gave Grissom a rather annoyed look. "If you think I would want to murder my friend over that, you're wrong. I'm not like that, okay? Shit happens. I deal."

Sara couldn't tell what Grissom was thinking, but she had had enough. "I'm um, going to go check on how the others are doing," she told him. He looked at her for a second. She could tell that he was trying to figure her out, even trying to size her up. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. I'll see you back at the lab."

She left the station, mind whirling as she walked. She could feel anger bubble up inside of her – which was silly, since she had no reason to be angry. But she knew inside that, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, that Rachel wasn't the killer. There were signature moves involved with Mackenzie's death, and as her mind rolled over this, she could feel the scars on her wrist tingle.

Well, it's not like slitting someone's wrist is incredibly original, she tried telling herself. Yet either she wasn't convincing enough, or she never believed it in the first place.

She found Catherine, Greg, and Nick around a conference table. "Hey Sara," Catherine greeted her as she walked in, "I thought you were with Grissom interrogating Rachel."

"Yeah, well, he's got that covered," Sara responded curtly as she sat down at the table.

"Mm." Catherine nodded. "Well, ya learn anything while you were down there?"

"No," Sara responded. "What are you guys up to here?"

"Just reviewing case facts," Greg said. He looked at the rest of them. "I still think it's Rachel."

"Nuh uh," Nick responded. "You don't have enough evidence for that."

"Just a hunch is all I'm saying," Greg insisted. "Once we get a hair match to that blond strand –"

"Yeah well you can't assume," Nick argued back. "I mean, this was the car that they rented for their entire stay in Vegas. Obvious Rachel drove the car around as much as anyone else did."

"Yeah, but that was on the front seat right there. If it was just leftover from past uses it would have blown away or gotten tracked somewhere else or something—"

"Not necessarily."

Sara tried to block the argument out as she leaned back in her chair. She was already having this debate internally, and it did not help things to have Nick and Greg heatedly vocalize her thoughts. She could feel a headache coming on. She should have at least tried to sleep last night… Hearing Nick and Greg still going at it, she unconsciously raised a hand up to rub her temples.

She didn't realize that the conversation had stopped until a couple seconds into the silence. Looking up, Sara saw all three of her coworkers looking at her with mixed expressions. Upon noticing that she was watching them, Nick and Catherine quickly dropped their heads, but Greg kept staring. "Hey, what happened to your wrist there?' he finally asked.

It took Sara a moment to realize that her sleeve had slipped down, exposing her wrist, and what was on it. She quickly pulled it back up. "Nothing," she said, trying to sound as casual as she could. "I uh, got it when I was ice-skating. When I was a kid. I slipped and a blade ran over my wrist."

"Ice-skating?" Greg sounded horribly dubious. "I didn't know you ice-skated."

Sara glared at him. "There's a reason I stopped."

There was a silence. "Sara," Catherine began slowly after a moment, "listen, more than anything, we're your friends –"

Sara felt anger flare up instantaneously. "Yes, great, that's good to know. I don't see how that's relevant to anything that's going on. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the case on hand –"

"Sara, we're just here for you—"

"Then stop asking me all these questions!" Sara stood up, almost blinded by emotion. "I don't know what's wrong with you people. It's like… you don't know when to stop, do you? Not everyone has the luxury of fathers who write them checks every couple of months, Catherine. And you, Greg, growing up in a bubble…you don't know anything." She paused, trying to catch her breath, feeling the tears well up. "You know what, I'm done with this. I can't stand you guys. I'm leaving." She roughly pushed her chair back, and turned to head out of the room.

"Sara," Nick started, and she heard him get up too. She whipped around on him. "Don't you start too," she warned. "Not you." She had always been close with Nick – even though of him as a brother. He had always been there for her, and today, she didn't need him pestering at her back with the rest of the others.

He paused. Taking advantage of his hesitation, she stalked out of the room, straight down the hall, and out the exit. She didn't even stop when she reached the car, and instead, just put the key in the ignition, the foot on the pedal, and backed out. She was hardly aware that she was driving – her body was on autopilot; her brain was lost in her memories. She could remember that day clearly as she drove: she was just walking back from her evening class when he sprung out from behind a building, the way he threw her in a car and violated her, the way he slit her wrists and left her to die. It was only because someone had heard her muffled, desperate pounding on the car window she was alive today.

Dazed, she parked her car and got out, and it was only when she reached the door did she realize where she had driven herself. Well, old habits die hard. She swung open the door and entered the bar.

She was on her third beer when he entered. "Hey Sara," she heard the soft voice of Nick as his figure sat down next to her. "I thought I might find you here."

"Well then, I guess you aren't a CSI for nothing," Sara replied sarcastically. She downed the last gulp. "Another," she called.

"No," Nick said firmly, reaching out and stopping the bartender. "Come on Sara, let's go." He dug into his wallet and threw out a couple of bills. "I'll take you home. We can pick up your car later."

For some reason she couldn't define, Sara didn't argue, but quietly let Nick lead her back to his car, and climbed obediently into the front seat. Nick made no attempt to talk on the way home, driving quietly. She knew him well enough to know that he was in contemplation. Probably about how to deal with me. She felt like a baby, considering the way she was making him treat her, and for that she felt ashamed. He doesn't know what I've been through, she thought, trying to make herself feel better.

Nick still said nothing as they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment, and only quietly offered his help walking her to the elevator. When she finally got the door open, he followed her into her living room, then sat down silently on the couch.

"Well," she finally said after a small pause, "I'm home safe. Why are you still here?" The question was blunt, but with her mind in this state, she couldn't think of any way else to phrase it.

"Just to be here." He shrugged. "Sometimes that's all it takes."

"And the others? Grissom? Won't he be wondering where you are?"

"They'll be fine. You need me more than they do."

His presumption caught her by surprise. Another bout of anger and sarcasm started to rise, but something about his demeanor caught her rage. He's not being presumptuous, she realized. He's just better at seeing the truth than I am.

All the rage she had suddenly melted into grief, and she sank onto the couch, sobbing. She could feel Nick put his arm around her, and for a moment, they just sat like that, him quietly listening to her crying her heart out.

"I had no idea what was happening to me until it was too late," Sara heard herself spill when the first wave of sobs subsided. "I was already in the car, and he was already…" she trailed off as Nick's arm tightened around her. "I had no idea."

"You were the Boston case, weren't you?" Nick asked quietly after a moment. "A young Harvard undergrad was raped and left for dead with her wrists slit in the backseat of her car. That was you."

She sniffed, reaching for the box of tissues on the table beside them. "You didn't need to hear me say it to know that."

"Well, I guess I didn't want to know," he replied. "It hurts us too, Sara. Sometimes, it's worse watching the ones you love suffer. I guess I'd been trying to deny it." He looked at her. "You haven't told Grissom."

Sara scoffed. "You know how he'll react. He'll take me off the case. Well, with a lecture. Something perfectly… Grissom-ish." She could hear him now, even see his exact expression.

"Regardless," Nick persuaded softly, "he'll need to know. You know, you could be charged with withholding evidence if it really comes down to it." He paused. "And if it really is the same guy, you're not safe alone in this apartment."

She shook her head. "I can't." Worse than his immediate reaction, what will he think of me?

"Look Sara, I don't want to do this, but I'll have to tell Grissom if you don't." Again, he turned so that he was looking straight into her eyes. "And, between the two of us, well, I'd say it was better coming from you."

She knew he was right. Nodding, she looked back down at her hands, then at her wrists, where she knew perfectly well what was underneath those sleeves. She felt the tears come on again, and suddenly, she was engulfed in a huge hug from Nick.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay. Everything's going to work out fine. I promise." He pulled apart so she could see his face, and she realized that his eyes were watering too. "Everything's going to work out fine, Sara. Everything is going to work out fine."

Nodding, she felt the tears crash down her cheeks again, splashing onto his t-shirt. He pulled her in again and this time she responded, wrapping her arms around his back, letting her head rest in the crook of his neck. He said nothing, but his presence was enough, and he made no effort to break away.

They stayed like that. They stayed like that for a long while.