This update is long-overdue, for which I apologize. I WILL finish this. Maybe two or three chapters to go.

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The next morning I sat on my ratty sofa, my head in my hands. The darkened apartment felt more like a tomb than a home at that moment, and I didn't even try to stop the burning tears from escaping my eyes. I had been doing pretty well until the Jenna farce, back at work, getting back my confidence, and getting around well, but now I was back to that horrible feeling that no one anywhere would ever want me. I knew I never wanted to have to repeat that horrible "breaking the news" scene with another woman. I would never forget the look of abject horror on Jenna's face. I didn't think I could handle that brand of humiliation again.

A soft thump at the door shook me from my self-pity. "It's open," I said loudly, then swiped my sleeve across my damp face.

Sara, dressed in jeans and a tight, grape-colored sweater, slipped into the apartment and set a bag on the counter. Her smile was forced. "Hope I didn't wake you up," she said as she emptied the bag.

"Um, no, I couldn't sleep."

"Me either. I, um, I brought breakfast." She handed me a paper-wrapped sandwich. "Bacon and cheese biscuit. I think you like them."

"You know I do." I studied her carefully. She smiled nervously and handed me a styrofoam cup of coffee. "What's up, Sara? You seem upset."

She shook her head and sat next to me. She was silent for a few moments. "I just didn't need to be alone," she said softly. "I needed a good friend, and you're the best."

I slid closer to her. "Talking about it might help."

"Bad shift. Too many parallels to something I've worked hard to forget." She took a sip of her coffee and sighed. "This one was too close."

I didn't reply , just put my hand over hers and waited for her to continue. "Long-term repeat domestic abuse case finally turned tragic. This man had been abusing his wife for twelve years. He'd broken her jaw twice, arms and ribs and even a skull fracture. She was thirty-four, and her face was a roadmap of scars." She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked away. "This time she'd evidently had enough, because she met his first punch with a butcher's knife she'd hidden behind the toilet. She, um, she got in a couple of good gashes before he grabbed the knife from her and slit her throat, then he sat down in the floor next to her and bled out. Her head was almost severed, Greg, and their daughter, their eight-year-old girl saw everything." Sara looked at me, tears running down her face. "I was eleven, I was upstairs when it happened, and my mother killed him before he could kill her. Aside from that, it was my story all over again."

I pulled her into my arms then, let her hot tears soak into my shirt. "That was a terrible thing to go through," I said after a few minutes of silence. "But you've overcome that, and gone on to become the most wonderful woman I know."

"I'm not wonderful, Greg. Look at me. I broke down at a crime scene. I left Catherine and Grissom to process and had to go sit in the Denali for ten minutes before I could do the job."

I tilted her chin up to look at me. "But you got it done, didn't you? Not many people could have."

She grimaced. "Eventually. You... you should have seen the look on Grissom's face when he found me in the Denali. I was in tears. He, um, I could tell he was disappointed."

"Does he know?"

She nodded.

"Then he should admire you for pulling yourself together and going back to that nightmare and doing what you had to do. I couldn't have done it."

"He wouldn't have had to step away."

I took a deep breath. "Grissom is not a normal man, Sara. His emotions are so suppressed I don't think even he knows what he's feeling anymore. Be thankful you AREN'T like him. I may have lost a leg, but his deficits are a lot more handicapping than even mine. I wouldn't trade him, not for anything."

"It would be a poor trade," she agreed quietly.

"I'm sorry about, you know, how things turned out with you two."

"Probably inevitable."

I smiled sadly. "Yeah. His loss," I said, then looked away. "He was the luckiest man alive for a while there, but he blew it."

"Flatterer. But thank you for that."

My voice fell to a near-whisper. "If you gave me the chance you gave him, I wouldn't mess it up. Just letting you know that."

Surprise filled her expression, then a slow smile. "I'll keep that in mind," she said softly.

"You do that," I answered, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. "You do that."