A/N: Thank you all so much for your encouragement and kind words! I'm hoping to start being able to update sooner as my Memento soundtrack has finally arrived from It's supposed to be the perfect music for writing dark things… even though I don't write dark things… 'cause I don't…

I think I picked the perfect time to try and write this chapter because I have just come down with what the doctor said was the beginning of shingles, and on top of that I have a cold courtesy of my sister. Lovely writing mood! Anyways, the next chapter's going to be more central around the team's reactions. Enjoy my sickly labor!

It had been three days since she last said a full sentence, and Warrick was starting to get worried. Very, very worried.

She had been lying in bed for three days. Occasionally her whimpers and sobs were accompanied by a 'why?' or another pitiful-sounding phrase. Whenever she needed to go to the bathroom, she merely held her arms up to Warrick for indication with the saddest of looks on her face, as if she was disappointed in herself that she had to depend so much on one person. Warrick didn't mind doing these things for her one bit- it was the look on her face that made him so worried.

The first day Warrick had thought she was just tired, that she had worn herself out from the night before. He let her rest as long as she wanted, knowing that she needed it. But when she didn't get out of bed six hours later he was starting to get worried. He had brought her a bowl of vegetable soup and a few slices of bread on a plate in hopes that she would eat, and when she didn't budge he had set them on the nightstand next to her hoping she would eat it later.

The second day Warrick didn't know what to do. She wasn't talking to him even if he pleaded with her, and she wasn't drinking enough fluids. He had sat down on the side of the bed with her and watched her sleep, then deciding to feel her forehead. She was burning up.

And on the third day Warrick was in utter desperation. She was running a fever and he knew she must be dehydrated, but he dare not force anything upon her for fear of scaring her. That was the last thing either of them needed. Warrick was the only one there for Sara, and if he did something to scare her she might not even want him around her anymore. But as he had promised, he wasn't going to take her to the hospital.

Then there was the subject of the evidence he had collected three days prior. He knew that it was precious and that it needed to be taken to the lab, but he didn't want to leave Sara even for a few minutes without anyone else there. He also didn't want to call someone else to pick it up because it would raise questions… and the second CODIS beeped and came up with a driver's license and registration photo of Sara as the match to the DNA samples everything would be out, and he knew Sara didn't want everyone to know about this.

Finally, after hours of debating this with himself, Warrick picked up his cell phone and decided to call Catherine. He didn't want everyone to know what happened, but Catherine was someone he had known for years, someone he trusted. He knew she would know better then to shout the word for everyone to hear and spread around the lab grapevine. He loved Sara, but the evidence needed to be processed as soon as possible if they were hoping to get Trey for what he did to her.

"Willows."

The familiar sound of Catherine's voice coming from the other end of the phone calmed Warrick some. He hadn't heard a voice other than his own it seemed in forever, and he needed some communication, any communication. "Hey Cath, it's me," Warrick told her. "I need you to come over to Sara's apartment to pick up some stuff."

Catherine was just sealing the last of her evidence bags for the DA in the layout room. "Over at Sara's?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Are you there now?"

"Yeah," Warrick replied, rubbing his forehead with his thumb, "I'll explain everything when you get here… but I need you to get this stuff quick."

"Alright," Catherine replied, starting to feel a little worried. "I'll be there in ten minutes tops." After hanging up her phone Catherine looked around the room as if some item lying around held the answers to all her questions. Why was Warrick at Sara's apartment, was Sara alright, what did he need her to so desperately pick up and where the hell were her car keys?

Warrick had hung up with a sigh, setting his phone down in front of him on Sara's oak-stained coffee table in the living room. This was definitely going to be awkward… even if Catherine had dealt with this sort of thing before. This time the victim was a colleague… it was Sara.

Getting up from his place on the couch, Warrick bent down to fold up the blankets he had been sleeping with the past few nights. He was pretty sure the couch was probably molded to his body now. After folding them up and straightening up the pillows on both arms, he headed down the hallway toward the bedroom to see if Sara had woken up yet. He wanted to check on her before Catherine came over.

Cracking the door open ever so quietly Warrick slowly inched inside the room, spotting her still laying in the middle of her bed. The room was silent, which meant that Sara was asleep. Warrick wasn't sure how she could still be sleeping after three days, but… it was obvious she needed it, and he wasn't going to argue with that… and he wasn't about to wake her up, either. So instead, Warrick grabbed a foot-stool from a rocking chair that sat in the dark corner of the room and pulled it up to the bedside, choosing to just watch her instead.

Thousands of thoughts were running through Warrick's mind, some of the highlights being thoughts such as 'I need to get that soup bowl out of here before it gets moldy'. But before Warrick's mind could be filled with more puzzling thoughts the clump under the bed sheets began to stir, bringing him back to reality. As the blankets rustled he directed his gaze back to the bed.

She moved once and then she moved twice, and the third time she was looking for more blankets to cover herself up with. Warrick got up from his seat and pulled them back over her body, but her body seemed to resent this. She flinched and Warrick backed off, afraid that she would try and lash out at him. The truth of the matter was that she was instinctively just still so terrified of human contact, but Warrick couldn't shake the thought from his mind that she was scared of him.

Sitting back down on the stool he watched her for a minute to see what she would do. Slowly she rolled over onto her side to face Warrick, her eyes still closed. Her right hand snaked out from under the sheets and dangled over the floor as she fell back to sleep and Warrick moved to set it back on the bed, but something caught his eye. Something he hadn't noticed before.

Bruises, there were bruises on her wrists. Why hadn't he seen them before? Had the bastard really hurt her that badly? Everything was a blur, he couldn't remember. What was the name of the club? Were they even there? Yes… yes they were, he realized. He remembered the smell of the perfume she was wearing that night. He remembered how pretty she had looked in her dress that night. He remembered the name of the wine he had bought that night.

Gently so as not to hurt her Warrick ran his fingertips over the bruises on her wrists, looking up at her face for indication of whether or not it was alright to continue. When she didn't move he directed his gaze back down at her skin. He could see something but he couldn't see them very clearly. Reaching over and turning on the lamp next to the bed, he bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn't let out a violent slur of obscenities.

They were there alright, dark and vividly, a clear symbol of the violence and destruction that had occurred just night before. There were finger imprints, angry fingernail scrapings, their appearance all rapidly increasing as Warrick's eyes scanned up and down her arm. He slowly lifted the bed sheets to discover that they went all the way up to her shoulder if not further. If only he had been there…

The doorbell rang and Warrick jumped, making him realize just how high stung he was over this whole thing. But he knew he could not erase time. But as it went on maybe he could erase the painful memories and create new ones. Better ones. Happy ones. Memories with him and the ones who loved her for who she was. He could help her forget the dreadful things that time had tainted her with. Maybe not forget completely… but help her remember the things she wanted to remember.

And when she felt sad, he would be there with her. And when she got scared, he would be there to hold her and tell her it was going to be alright. When she cried he would be there to dry her tears. And when she was happy he would be right there with her to share the good times.

Getting to his feet, Warrick gently set her arm back down on the bed at her side ever-so gently, as if she were a porcelain doll about to break. But she was, he realized, and she had already been broken once. He was going to put her back together again.

Leaning down and planting a kiss on her forehead, Warrick made sure she was warm before he headed down the hallway, cracking the bedroom door closed on his way out as the doorbell rang again impatiently. Walking up to the front door he looked through the peep-hole only to discover a fidgeting Catherine Willows standing outside the door, practically bouncing from foot to foot.

Opening the door, Warrick asked, "Cath…? What are you doing here?"

Catherine stared at him quizzically. "You called me… don't you remember?"

Oh crap. That was right. Well, she was going to be pissed.

"I'm sorry," Warrick sighed, rubbing at his forehead with his palm, "I guess I forgot."

She smiled sympathetically. That didn't look pissed off to Warrick.

"It's okay," she told him, stepping inside the apartment once he had stepped out of the way for her. After the door was closed, she set her things down on the floor. "So where's Sara?" she asked.

"She's in the bedroom right now…" Warrick said, "She's sleeping… well, she has been for a few days now…"

Catherine blinked, it not really clicking in her mind. She could tell Warrick was a little out of it. "A few days? Has she eaten anything?"

Warrick shook his head. "I've tried to make her eat, but she refused…"

"Has she had anything to drink?" Catherine continued, already heading into the kitchen to see what she could find.

"Only a few sips here and there…" Warrick said, starting to feel a little embarrassed. "What are you doing, Cath?"

"I'm going to make her eat, that's what I'm doing," Catherine said firmly, opening up the refrigerator. Catherine, being a mother, had always made sure that her daughter got enough to eat. Lindsey was healthy. Catherine had never seen Sara have more than a cup of coffee or an apple or candy bar from the vending machine in the break room at the lab. This time she was going to eat something more than that.

"Cath, maybe we should just let her sleep…?" Warrick suggested.

Catherine stopped for a minute, closing the refrigerator back up- her search had come up empty anyhow. "Warrick," she said bluntly, getting back to her feet. Looking at him for a good few moments, she put a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?" she whispered, looking into his eyes for the answer. She knew something was wrong or he wouldn't have called her, but she had a feeling it was more than that if he was acting this strange. This wasn't him. He wasn't normally this shy or timid.

Warrick threw a gaze down the hallway at the cracked bedroom door before looking back down at Catherine. "It's just… y'know, I tried, and…" he whispered, more to himself than Catherine, "I tried to look out for her, and… and now look," he said, motioning with his hand down the hallway. "She hasn't said a full sentence in three days, and it's all my fault. I couldn't protect her, Cath, and it's my fault that this happened."

Catherine didn't like seeing people upset, especially her friends, but she knew it was good that Warrick was letting it out now. She didn't know exactly what he was talking about but at least he was saying something.

"And… and now all I want is for her to get better," he whispered, "And I'm doing a crap job at that, too. What kind of person- what kind of man am I if I can't even make her feel better?"

Catherine could sense he was about to break, and as horrible as it may have sounded she was a little relieved. Finally he was showing his true colors; he was showing emotion, and he was showing that he was still himself. His muscles were tense and his eyes were glistening with tears he stubbornly held back for the sake of not looking weak. "Warrick," she said, putting another hand on his shoulder, "Look at me, okay?" she asked. When he did she continued, "Do you love her?"

Catherine knew she didn't even have to ask when she saw the look in his eyes. "Yes I do, more than I've ever—" Catherine cut him off.

"Then that's all that matters," she whispered, "If you love her Warrick, then that's all that matters. It doesn't matter whose fault it is."

Warrick slowly nodded.

"You know this isn't your fault," Catherine continued, "…Whose is it?"

Warrick let that slur of obscenities he had been holding back for the past three days out as he balled his hand into a fist. "He raped her, Catherine. That bastard raped her."

Catherine's eyes widened as everything began to become clearer. But she was completely thrown off-guard. When Sara had first come to Vegas, Catherine had dubbed her an annoyance and nothing else. She had almost been sure Grissom had brought her in just to spite her. But as the weeks and eventually months went by she realized that Sara wasn't there to try and make her life harder. She was there to solve crimes and do her job passionately and professionally, just like they all were. But she had noticed that Sara was almost too determined, and she practically worked herself to death. Catherine had always secretly kept an eye on the younger woman; she saw so many resemblances with Lindsey in her. She had become sort of her daughter-away-from-home.

And something like this happening to her daughter was her worst nightmare.

"How…?" she managed to whisper in disbelief.

After Warrick had managed to tell her what had happened, Catherine was speechless. It took a lot to render Ms. Catherine Willows speechless.

"I just… I just don't understand how anyone could've done something like that, Cath," Warrick whispered, shaking his head. "I don't know what to do for her. She's just so… broken. She doesn't want to get out of bed, she won't eat anything…"

"Then we'll just help put her back together," Catherine said. Without another word she headed down the hallway toward the bedroom, Warrick trailing behind her.

The look of the bedroom was less than inviting but Catherine could've cared less. All that mattered now was making sure Sara was alright. Walking around to the side of the bed, Catherine leaned over and brushed some brown hair out of Sara's eyes, placing a hand on her forehead. When Sara mumbled something and moved away from her hand, Catherine moved back. "Is she always this stubborn?" Catherine asked Warrick with a small smile. "Well she's warm but she's still stubborn, so that's always a good sign."

Warrick let the smallest hint of a smile cross his face.

"I'm going to go warm some soup up for her," Catherine announced, heading for the door, "Can you wake her up?"

Warrick simply nodded, walking over to the bed. He really didn't want to disturb Sara, although he knew she needed to get up and get something to eat and drink. Lying in bed for three days straight was far from healthy. "Sara, come on girl, wake up…" he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder.

When Sara didn't budge Catherine walked in front of Warrick to try her method- the mommy method. She obviously wasn't in to Warrick's pansy method, he thought. He almost expected her to roll up her sleeves with her years of experience as she leaned over Sara. "Sara, you need to get up," she said louder, "You need to get up and eat something."

Warrick decided to stand back and let the master work, a light shade of red starting to flush his cheeks. Why didn't he do that before?

"You need to get up, and you're going to eat," Catherine continued, "Do you understand?"

Sara didn't budge.

"Sara," Catherine sighed, "I knew you were stubborn, but this is ridiculous," she said, trying to poke fun. If she knew one thing about Sara it was that she hated being taunted. "Lindsey's not half as hard to wake up in the mornings."

Nothing.

"Alright Sara," Catherine sighed again, "You've left me no choice." Leaning over Catherine pulled the blankets off of Sara which Warrick was about to protest to before panic set in.

There was a thin layer of sweat above her forehead and the nape of her neck, beginning to drip down her chest through her tank top. Her eyes remained glued shut and her body motionless, the only indication that she was alive being the somewhat strained raise and fall of her chest. "Sara?" Warrick quickly asked, kneeling down beside the bed. "Sara, wake up," he whispered. His heart was pounding in his ears, his hands were shaking, and his mind was racing.

Oh god please don't die on me now.