A/N: Thanks again to all who have been reading and reviewing. Your support really means a lot! The idea for this chapter actually was a suggestion from my good friend Zan1781, so this chapter is for them!

God, why did this have to happen to her? Warrick thought, staring at the cold hardwood floors of Sara's apartment with his head hung low. His hands were entwined together between his legs as he let out a long, tired sigh. He had kicked off his shoes a long time ago, unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt in order to try and calm himself down. He couldn't relax; his hands were shaking, and even though the a/c and heating unit was gathering dust from lack of use, it felt like the heater was on full-blast.

But it wasn't about him, it really wasn't… and the fact that he couldn't compose himself for Sara was just making him even angrier at himself.

Letting out another sigh, Warrick sat up and leaned back against the comforter in the living room, slipping his eyes closed. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but if he could just relax… find some way to calm himself and his mind then he might be of some use to Sara.

He flinched as he heard a whimper coming from the bedroom down the hall. The sound wasn't new to him… but it caught him off-guard, and just the knowledge that it was her voice brought tears springing to his eyes. Immediately getting to his feet, Warrick headed down the dark hallway, mentally cursing as he realized he had forgotten to turn on anymore lights. It certainly wasn't doing anything to help lighten the mood.

"Sara…?" Warrick softly asked, almost in a whisper as he approached the bedroom door. He had sped to her apartment from the club that night, ignoring every stop sign and stoplight that came into view. He just wanted to get her home- she said she wanted to go home, and so he was going to take her home. He had carried her the entire way and set her down in her bedroom once they were inside. He had asked her if she wanted him to stay with her but she had grown silent… deathly silent.

And that silence absolutely horrified him. And Mr. Warrick Brown was not a timid man.

Hearing another sniffle and choked cry coming from inside the room, he swallowed hard, finally cracking the door open slowly and carefully so as not to alarm Sara inside. He knew that was the last thing she needed right now. Making a small crack in the doorway allowing him a peek into the room, all he saw were some clothes thrown into the corner of the room, the clothes she wore that night no doubt. She had changed her clothes, he thought, but he couldn't blame her. Who wouldn't?

Poking his head into the room, the sight Warrick saw made his heart break. There she was in a clump under the blankets, her small frame wracking with sobs underneath the blankets, as if she wanted to hide herself from the rest of the world because she was ashamed. She made no acknowledgement that he was there, and as if in some feign hope that maybe she hadn't heard him the first time, Warrick asked again, "Sara…?"

The sobs continued, but seemed to die down just a little… just a little…

"Sara…" Warrick whispered. His voice had become soft, almost non-existent. He slowly made his way to the other side of the bed currently unoccupied. Approaching almost cautiously he sat down on the side of the bed just to make sure she would allow him to do so. When she made no movement he slowly crawled onto the bed until he was sitting Indian style next to the pile of blankets covering the woman he loved. "Sara, girl, talk to me…" he whispered, slowly extending a hand out to her.

Before he could even touch her, Sara had beat him to it, her hand snaking out from underneath the blanket and snatching his. She squeezed it as tight as she could as she seemed to just start crying even harder.

"Hey, Sara, it's okay," Warrick whispered, squeezing her hand back as a form of reassurance. Reassurance? Reassurance? Warrick incredulously thought. Why had he come in here? It wasn't like handing her a small box of Puffs and a pint of Ben & Jerry's was going to help her. She squeezed his hand again.

No. No, he had come in here because he loved her, and he was going to help her heal, one way or the other.

"Here…" Warrick whispered, reaching over and pulling the blankets down from her body. She was now plaid in pajama pants and a gray tank top, looking to be her usual night attire. Her cheeks were tear-stained and he reached out and tenderly brushed the tears from her eyes with his thumbs, gently rubbing her cheek as he did so. "It's okay," he whispered, gazing into her eyes. Warrick recalled his grandmother once telling him that the eyes were the gateway to the soul. All Warrick saw when he looked into Sara's eyes was emptiness… a broken person.

Sara reached up and grabbed his hand with hers, trying to keep her eyes focused on Warrick's face, trying to keep her mind focused on his voice, trying to keep herself sane. The lower bottom half of her body felt absolutely disgusting, hell all of her body did… but that more-so only because it was the one sure place she knew he had been able to touch.

Oh god, she could see his face and it was repulsive… his eyes were hideous but haunting and—

"Hey," Warrick whispered again, freeing her from her trance. He noted the sweat forming on her forehead so he could only imagine what it was that was causing it. What was going through her mind? Sara was now looking at her, but her body was shaking.

I'm cold, why can't I get warm? Sara thought to herself. She had spent the entire night trying to get warm unsuccessfully. Finally she had just given up- it was too frustrating and she had too much anger and disgust at the moment to do much about it. Her hand sprung to her shoulders and she began rubbing feebly at her arms to try and warm herself up.

"How about this," Warrick whispered. And before she could do or say anything to stop him or tell him otherwise Warrick had wrapped his arms tightly around her body, drawing her to him until their bodies were touching each other. Sara slumped further into his arms, her muscles slowly relaxing into his warmth. Resting his head just above hers, Warrick slowly pried her hands away from her arms until they were resting in her lap. Her entire body felt cold…

"Warrick," Sara finally whispered.

"What is it, Sara?" Warrick whispered back. Finally, she had spoken.

"…I want to take a bath," Sara whispered. Longest, most painful grueling shower, here she came.

Warrick immediately froze. He wasn't even thinking about it before, but that was because he was in human mode, not CSI mode. He didn't want to admit it… not even to himself, and especially not to Sara, but a crime had still been committed tonight… and the evidence was on Sara. He loved Sara and he didn't want to have to cause her even more heartache, but he was not willing to let the bastard responsible for it in the first place go off scot-free.

"You can't, Sara," Warrick quietly told her, "At least not yet… there's still… evidence," he whispered, not even wanting to say the word. "We need to have someone process you…"

The truth was that Sara knew, she was just hoping Warrick had forgotten. But of course he wouldn't, and she knew that too, she really, really did… she just didn't want to admit it to herself. She knew she was going to have to be processed just like all the other rape victims if she wanted Trey to get what he deserved, but she didn't want to.

Do you think she wanted to? Sara bitterly thought to herself. Of course she didn't, but you still did it. It was your job. So why can't you let someone else do theirs?

She was shaking again, and Warrick noticed that. "Shh… shh, Sara, it's okay," Warrick whispered, just holding her even tighter in hopes of making her body stop. "It's okay…" but it's not.

"I don't want to, Warrick," Sara finally told him, her voice breaking under the pressure of all the emotions she was holding in. Finally she just let it out and started to sob again, moving into Warrick's lap.

Warrick just nodded slowly, gently rubbing her back with his hand. He hated to see her cry… but he knew right now it was probably the best thing for her. She needed to cope. "Sara, listen to me, okay?" he quietly asked her. "I know you don't want to… but you can do this. I know you can… you're a strong person."

"No I'm not," Sara sobbed, "I'm not, Warrick! Look at me, I can't stop crying and she's in a coma!"

"Who, Sara?" Warrick asked, still rubbing her back, feeling her tense muscles underneath his fingertips.

"Pam!" Sara squeaked, "Pamela Adler!"

Warrick's eyes widened as he realized who she was talking about. He had heard about that case… and it sounded like a bad one. He just hadn't realized Sara had been assigned to it. He and Catherine had had a deadline to meet until the DA was at their door so he had been so preoccupied with his own case… he had failed to realize that Sara was suffering. "Sara, that wasn't your fault," Warrick told her.

"Warrick, the kid's getting out in 48 months and it's all my fault," Sara whispered, her breaths coming out short and quick against his chest. "If only I—"

"Shh," Warrick whispered again, lifting her up into his arms, "Just take a deep breath… it wasn't your fault, Sara…"

"But Warrick, she's—"

"Shh," Warrick whispered again, resting his head against hers, "its okay… shh, it's all going to be okay…"

After a few moments of silence, Sara had managed to find her breath again. Resting her head against his chest, she had calmed down considerably, he himself calming enough. "That kid… Warrick, he was a kid but he still killed her…"

"I know, Sara," Warrick whispered, "But you did all you could…"

"But that wasn't enough," Sara persisted, "I know, you know it, and her husband knows it. She's… she's in a vegetative state, and I couldn't put the person who was responsible for it away for the time he deserves to serve. She's just going to sit there," Sara whispered, "The husband doesn't get it, and he won't pull the plug, he can't… he doesn't realize it…" she whispered.

Warrick continued to rub her back, just letting her talk.

"He won't pull the plug, and the nurses are just going to make her room look pretty and make sure all the dead flowers get thrown out," Sara continued, "She doesn't deserve that, Warrick…"

"But neither do you," Warrick spoke up. "She wouldn't want you to suffer either, Sara… you helped her."

Sara couldn't stop herself from laughing. "How did I help her, Warrick? By gathering a sexual assault kit from her body when she couldn't say yes or no?"

"Yes, Sara," Warrick told her, "You got the guy. You did. That evidence you collected got the guy," he whispered, "You did a good job, and you got the guy responsible."

After a few moments of inwardly arguing with herself about this, Sara finally nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. "Okay," she whispered.

"Good," Warrick whispered. "But Sara, in order to get Trey they're going to need this evidence, too," he whispered. He hated to have to tell her she was a piece of evidence, though he wasn't exactly saying those exact words. He knew she knew what he meant.

"…But Warrick, I really don't want to," Sara whispered. "I… I want to get the bastard, I really do…" she told him, looking up at him for a minute. He smiled just a little at that little demonstration of Sara Sidle-attitude coming back into the picture. "…But I don't want to have to do that…" she whispered. "I'm not a vegetable, and I'm saying no."

About to give up, a thought struck Warrick. He had the badge. He had the certification. He had the LVPD crime lab sticker in his car window. "…What if I did it, instead?" Warrick asked her.

That made Sara turn her head and look over at him again. Warrick wasn't a nurse or a doctor looking like mad scientists hovering over their test subjects, he was someone who loved her. And someone she loved.

"Okay," Sara whispered.

He was caught off-guard just a little by Sara's will to cooperate but he nodded. "Okay," he whispered. Now came the hard part. "…I'm just going to set you back down on the bed and go get my kit, okay…?" he asked her. Kit… Sara… Sara… kit… He hated the combination of words. This was the part every person working in this line of work dreaded the most, but Warrick had never had to do this before. He couldn't imagine how Sara and even Catherine were able to handle to do such a thing. The thought of it made his stomach turn.

Especially because this time the victim was Sara.

"Okay," Sara finally whispered. She could sense this was going to be hard for Warrick… but now at the same time she was working on trying to calm herself down again. But it was just Warrick, so she shouldn't be nervous or scared, she thought… but she was.

Warrick slowly almost deliberately set Sara down on the bed and got to his feet, heading down the hallway out of the bedroom as if he were heading down the road to death row. He loved Sara and none of this was his fault… but his heart had just been broken and stomped on. Not only did he see the one person he loved most in this world broken and crying tonight, but he was going to have to do… this.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, Warrick walked outside and fumbled with his car keys for a moment, cursing as he tried to force his hands to stop shaking. Finally finding the right key he unlocked the trunk of his car and reached inside, retrieving his crime-scene kit. The cold metal box was grinning at him, like that Stephen King novel.

Slamming the trunk of his car, Warrick walked off, heading back into the apartment. This is the least you can do, you couldn't protect her. Frustrated almost to tears was an understatement for what Warrick Brown was experiencing emotionally at the moment. But there were so many more emotions than that: anger, hatred, disgust, love, concern, worry, fear. There were too many to list, and it was intimidating. Warrick Brown had never had to deal with so many emotions in his entire life.

Walking back into the bedroom, Warrick looked up to see Sara sitting in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, probably in attempt to keep herself warm. Swallowing hard, Warrick set his kit down at the foot of the bed, moving some books off of a foot stool before pulling it up to the bed and taking a seat. "Are you okay?" Warrick whispered, looking over at her for a moment. She still looked scared… now a little more than ever.

"Uh-huh," Sara simply nodded like a robot.

"Okay," Warrick whispered. He wasn't satisfied with her answer but he wasn't going to push the issue. Leaning down and clicking the ends of the box, Warrick opened the lid of his kit and took out a pair of gloves and a small cardboard box, setting it aside on the bed. Just as he was getting his first glove on he noticed where Sara's gaze was directed, and though the cardboard box was bland and plain the big red text on it stated clearly what it was for. "Don't look at it, okay?" Warrick whispered. "Just lay down…"

Sara reluctantly obeyed, lying down flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. She didn't want to watch this.

When both gloves were on his hands, Warrick took a deep breath to compose himself before reaching over and taking the SART kit into his hands, opening it up in order to get the things he needed. He would start with fingernail scrapings, then hair, then trace… and wait to do the hardest part last. He wanted to put that part off as long as possible.

Moving the stool with him, Warrick sat down next to the left side of the bed, bindle and scraper in-hand. Reaching over and gently taking Sara's hand from her side, he braved a glance at her face, noting that she was staring directly at the ceiling and only the ceiling. He couldn't blame her.

After getting what he could from under her nails on both hands, Warrick stored that in a safe place. He hated what he had to do but he wasn't going to lose the evidence now. Grabbing a small plastic comb and a white piece of paper Sara had pointed out to him from off one of her journals, he began to comb out her hair smoothly albeit a few tangles from the events of the night. He thought it to be a tender almost romantic gesture if it weren't for the crime-scene and SART kits lying feet away from the two.

After doing so and making up excuses to do whatever it was he did next in order to prolong the final task, Warrick frowned a little when he realized he was going to need Sara to change clothes. They could get evidence off the clothes she wore to the club… but she hadn't taken a bath, so there was possible transfer on the clothes she changed into. "Sara, I'm going to need your clothes," Warrick quietly told her, "…There could be possible transfer on them…"

Sara nodded stiffly though she wasn't too keen of the thought of giving her favorite pajamas up for evidence in general. And the reason why definitely didn't help.

"How about you give me the clothes when you're done?" Warrick asked her, sitting back down at the end of the bed. He knew she was cold and he didn't want to make her even colder if it wasn't necessary. That could wait. "And then I'll make you a mug of hot chocolate," he added, "And you can throw marshmallows at me." He was rewarded with a small smile from Sara lying on the bed and she simply nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good to me, too," Warrick told her with a smile as he leaned down to get the SART kit. If he could preoccupy her with other things while he was doing this, that might make it easier for her.

Setting the kit back down on the bed, Warrick stood up and slowly moved his hands down to hover above Sara's legs. "I'm just going to take these off, okay?" he asked her. When she nodded he moved his hands under the waistband, but didn't take them off just yet. "I like these pajamas, though," he told her, rubbing the fabric in between his fingertips. "I didn't know you were an Eeyore kind of woman," he told her with a small grin, holding the Winnie the Pooh character-plaid pajama pants up for inspection once they were finally off.

Sara couldn't help it, she laughed. "I've had them since college," she told him.

"Yeah, they sure look like it," he told her with a smile, poking his index finger through a hole in the side.

"Hey, I told you I preferred pajamas over nightgowns," Sara said to her defense.

"Obviously not enough to buy some new ones," Warrick laughed, setting them down in an evidence bag.

"They're my favorites!" Sara insisted. "What was I to do? And the last time I walked through a clothing store some kid walked up to me and asked me if I was looking for the lingerie department."

"I wouldn't have minded seeing that," Warrick told her with a smile, looking up at her as he reached for the SART kit. Just don't think about it, Sara, you're doing well.

"I'm sure you wouldn't have," Sara told him, her smile slowly fading once she realized what he was going to have to do next.

Re-opening the box, Warrick took out his swabs, debating on whether or not to actually do his job or throw them in the trash and call it quits. But he had to do this for Sara. "Are you ready, Sara?" he whispered.

Sara nodded slowly, feeling around for his hand. He immediately moved it into hers, giving it a squeeze to let her know he was there… she wasn't in a hospital room alone, he was there with her… she wasn't going to have to do this alone. Her pain was his pain.

"Hold onto it as tight as you want to," Warrick whispered to her. "And right now, I just need you to prop your legs up, okay…? Just move them up and bend your knee…" This was embarrassing her, and he knew it. Warrick didn't think Sara should be embarrassed around him, but… he could sense that she was. It was awkward and uncomfortable, even if it was Warrick.

After Sara had done what Warrick asked, and her grip on his hand tightened considerably, Warrick sat back down at the end of the bed, getting the swab ready…

"Warrick," Sara quickly said.

Warrick immediately stilled his hand from motion. "What is it, Sara…?" he asked her.

Sara blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes as she bit the inside of her bottom lip, willing herself to not start crying. "Be… gentle, okay…?" she whispered.

"Always, Sara," Warrick told her, rubbing her hand with his thumb. And then as an afterthought, he removed his glove on that hand and moved it back into hers. "Always," he whispered. "…Are you ready?" he then asked. Sara simply nodded. Am I? "I'll stop if you tell me to Sara, okay? You just have to say the word," Warrick told her, "And I'm with you, I am," he squeezed her hand.

"Okay," Sara whispered, squeezing his hand back. "Okay."

Taking a deep breath to not only try and calm Sara but himself Warrick took the swab in-hand again and began his task.

After some painstakingly long moments Warrick realized he was crying. He couldn't hold it in any longer, and he definitely wasn't going to be able to stop now that he had started. Braving another look at Sara's face, Warrick choked back a sob as he noticed the tears running down her own face. "Hey girl, it's almost over," Warrick whispered, rubbing her palm with his thumb, "You're doing really good Sara, it's almost done."

Sara nodded slowly, before looking over at Warrick. "You're crying," she whispered.

Warrick just nodded, finally finishing up the swabs. "Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head a little, "Yeah, I am."

Once Sara knew he was done she got up and lunged into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder and linking her arms around his neck as tight as she could. "Hey," Warrick whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around her body, laughing a little and crying at the same time. He had to laugh so he wouldn't lose it entirely. "Hey, look, it's over," he whispered, "You did it Sara," he whispered, patting her back. "It's over…" he told her.

"I love you, Warrick," Sara whispered, moving away from his shoulder so she could look into his eyes.

"I love you too, Sara," Warrick told her, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "But how about that hot chocolate?" he asked with a smile. "And then I can help you take a bath."

"A hot one?" Sara asked, almost hopeful.

"A warm one," Warrick corrected her as he scooped her up into his arms, grabbing a blanket from off the bed and wrapping that around her body as well. "A warm one," he whispered, nuzzling his face against her neck.

"Okay," Sara sighed in contentment, resting her head against his chest. "And Warrick…?"

"What is it…?" Warrick whispered, walking them both into the kitchen.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes slipping closed.

Warrick couldn't hide his smile. "You're welcome, Sara." Reaching into one of the cabinets for the hot cocoa mix, Warrick froze when his eyes fell upon a bulge in his left front pocket. With a frown, Warrick shifted the position of his arms around Sara's body before reaching into his pocket to see what it was.

Metal. A cold, metal barrel.

His eyes widened when he realized what it was. But Sara was falling asleep, and he was going to let her rest. Biting his lip, Warrick slowly moved his hand out of his pocket to rest at his side.

He was going to hold onto that.