Author's Note

Well, after a really dry spell I think I've churned out something else. This chapter is a little long and dry, but I take a while to build things up. I'm trying to get the hang of this free, fiction writing. I'm used to straight forward non fiction reports and essays! If this chapter is really confusing, please let me know! I'm trying a different style and I don't know if I like it yet.

The italics are kind of a flashback. It seemed more fun to tell the story instead of a quick overview. I think the beginning of her flashback might be considered stream of consciousness. Don't worry; I won't stay on that route, it's confusing after a while!

Thank you so much to the wonderful people that have reviewed! It was so nice to open my inbox and read those encouraging notes! I will definitely try to get the next chapter out sooner; I think I might have a direction again! Thanks!!!!

***********************************************************

C.2

Sarah was nervous. How the hell had she let everything get so far out of her control. She wasn't like Tim; she could ride the uncertainty wave here and there, no worries. She even liked the feeling of spontaneity occasionally, so why was this loss of her destiny grating on her nerves so harshly? It must have been because her loss was another's gain; her loss wasn't a controlled one, and by all means it was not a little loss. Another weary sigh escaped her as she looked pointedly at her brother. The wounds were lightly scabbed; the scars not yet permanent. How could she make him understand that she hadn't meant for this to happen? It was all her fault and yet, it wasn't her fault. How could she get him to help Abby when Abby sure as hell didn't want it? Why was this semester suddenly so much more complicated? Her head throbbed with the endless array of questions that bombarded her. It wasn't like she was unused to their presence; she just didn't need them right now when she had a whole new set of questions to play with.

Tim watched the inner anguish play out on her young face. After another few minutes of watching her grind her teeth, he reached out and gently patted her knee again.

"It's all right. You can tell me another time. We're both tired, why don't we just try to get some sleep and we can try this again tomorrow," he half-heartedly spoke. This lack of trust and rejection had never hurt this much from another person, except maybe Abby. When she didn't reply he made a move to get off of the couch but Sarah reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"No!"

"What, what's wrong?" Tim asked on the verge of tears. This was dizzying and he was not so sensitive as to understand exactly what his sister wanted or needed right now. He just knew that this intense stillness, this undignified silence was killing him and he needed a moment to gather himself before he really did something he would regret. Sarah looked into her brother's face and saw that he was on the verge of his own mental "fit." She proceeded with some calming calculations in her head. If they went to bed now, he could get up to three hours of sleep and would then have to go to work confused and possibly dangerous. It was Thursday night, or Friday morning. Maybe she could convince him to not go to work for the rest of the day and simply work the weekend instead. That would suck. Maybe…

"Sarah did you know that you are going to give me a heart attack and be the cause of all my premature gray hairs?" Her eyes wondered up to her brother's again. He was standing beside her, his eyes full of questions and drowsiness, but his mouth was set in a slightly amused smirk.

"I'm worried about you," she answered truthfully. The smirk grew into a smile.

"I won't grace that with an answer. If you want to change the subject and…"

"No, I mean for work tomorrow. I don't think you should go because you've had a really rough night and morning." He wanted to be upset with her for worrying about him when she was obviously not in a good way, but he was pleased none the less that she still sounded like the caring, sweet little sister of which he'd always been proud.

"I will be fine. Occasionally, I can pretend I'm not ancient and pull an all-nighter." She nodded but didn't believe him.

"We should get you to bed though. Maybe a good night's sleep will improve your memory." Despite his fatigue, he looked at his sister and genuinely smiled. He meant the comment to lighten the mood and for once, it worked. She smiled back at him; resolve strengthened that whatever she told her brother, it just might be ok. Maybe she wasn't such a screw up and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to still love her after this ordeal. She had to try, if not for her sake, then for Abby and Tim's. Adrenaline slowly seeped through her veins and her previous tiredness melted away with her new will to get everything out into the open.

He knew he was tired when he could literally watch the play of emotions of his sister's face. He didn't deny that he was usually not quite up to par when it came to emotions and moods, so when he felt like he actually understood what his sister was thinking he was slightly shocked at himself. Maybe DiNozzo's method to reading women was not complete rubbish…maybe. He opened his mouth to reiterate the offer for sleep, but her hand came up and silenced him. She pulled on his hand and he sat beside her.

"I think I can say what I need to say because I know that you will listen and not judge me. I know that you won't ask questions until I'm finished and you won't call mom and dad as soon as I'm finished." She had meant this to sound somewhat inspirational but her desire to make her will be understood and her anxiety at having to recount the semester's troubling events made her words come out slightly harsher than she'd meant them to be; however, McGee did get the message. He resumed the position that he'd taken earlier and relaxed into the corner of the well-worn, black leather behemoth of a couch. He smiled at her again when she looked over and questioned his current state of being. Of course he was exhausted from having a full day of work on an actual case; working overtime because the code on the stupid drug dealer's palm pilot was a bitch to crack, and yes, when he'd finally gotten home at nine-thirty at night he'd had dreams of his shower and bed when his crazy girlfriend called his cell, and he found himself in the parking lot to who knows what warehouse, waiting for her to catch her ride home. There was also the fact that she came back with blood on her shirt; a lot of blood on her shirt and pants when he got her home and had helped her change into some pajamas. Oh and they'd fought a little. Other than that he was good, so he simply nodded his head; afraid of what would come out of his mouth. Sarah had used that sarcastic smirk and head nod so many times she's considered charging him usage rights, but she instead looked down at her hands and started talking.

"Well, it kinda started…actually, what I meant to say was that I…" she stopped. How in the hell was she going to tell him so much, in words? Where was the beginning?

"What happened when you went back to school?" Tim prompted. So much for not asking questions. Sarah nodded her head and began again.

"As you know, I took summer classes, both sessions. You know me; I like to get as much done as I can when it's the best time. I also moved out of the dorms and into my first apartment. Everything was going pretty close to planned, I had my friends, good grades, and a wonderful boy…schoolmate that helped me with everything. Then somewhere everything just kind of, unraveled…

I sat in the back of the classroom thinking about the events of the night before. There had been yelling, screaming, and finally the loudest silence I'd ever encountered. Why wasn't I good enough for anyone anymore? Who the hell have I pissed off to make fate come at me with both fists flying? Stephen had been so…awesome. Why had he felt the need to cheat? Maybe if I had been a little more attentive to his needs and not ignored him when he was whining about this, that, and the other…was that my name? Oh, oh God, please don't let that be my name. The instructor is already a hard ass and I don't want him to add me to his list of idiots. There are heads turning towards me, so I guess that was my name. What is he saying? His lips are moving but I don't really understand the words that are coming out of his mouth. Shit. Maybe a sweet response is best.

"I'm sorry, sir, can you please repeat the question?" That sounded nice, right? Actually, upon quick reflection, oh yea the question. Once again, it is gibberish. Maybe he's still talking about the stages of cell reproduction. That's what we went over yesterday, but that was yesterday. Maybe my notes will have the answer, I'll just… 'Why Stephen?' and doodles…shit.

'Meiosis,' sounded across the auditorium. Dr. Lomen's eyes roll back and he turns his head exasperated to the speaker. 'Mr. Williams, when I need you to answer a question, I'm going to ask you directly and not accidently call you Ms. McGee, ok?' So Stephen was trying to save me from big, bad Lomen. Won't work this time, boy toy. I am still going to be upset with you and we will not continue our perfect relationship. Mr. Lomen looked at me through his squinty, little eyes and went back to lecturing the class. So we were reviewing cell reproduction so that we could move onto the real subject of stem cell research. I knew this was a scientific ethics class after all. As soon as his lumbering voice went back into stride, I tried to take notes again. When he released the class I looked down at my notes to notice that I'd written a few mindless facts and a lot of doodles. Well, maybe Miranda would let me borrow her notes for the day. One more class and I can go home and sulk properly.

I didn't think the day could have passed by any slower. Luckily, Dr. Josephson had not asked us any individual questions and I could almost passively listen to her preach her liberal ideas to a class with enough republicans to make it interesting. Who knew there were so many righties in college outside of the grand ole' state of Texas! At home, I threw my bag in the floor and flopped on the couch. I just needed a good hour of some comedy reruns to make me feel like a person again. Then I could go to the library and actually get some work done. This ethics class was no joke. One hour turned into two and when it was six thirty I realized I'd been staring at the TV and had no idea what I'd been watching after Ross and Rachael had broken up for the eight hundredth time on "Friends." I have never been one to pine away after someone. When I liked a boy, I would scope him out for a while and then I would usually make the first move for introductions. He would usually ask for the second meeting and everything always played out smoothly. Sometimes I would just get a good friend out of it, like Robert and P.J. Sometimes I would get a pretty good boyfriend for a few months, but nothing ever really serious. Then there was Stephen. He was exactly what I thought a steady boyfriend would be and we'd been pretty close for the past seven months. That's a while in college time. Maybe if I called him…no he was wrong and I don't need that crap right now. I have plenty of stress from my classes and the school newspaper. As a matter of fact, I should be writing something up right now! Ah, the phone! Saved again from evil work!

Miranda had heard about what had happened from Stephen when he had come to her begging for her to talk to me on his behalf. What an ass! Miranda had declined and yelled at him in front of his lacrosse buddies. She walked in my front door just as I was asking her what his face looked like when she did that.

"Forget what his face looked like! We need to forget his stupid face!" she'd said as she took off her jacket and put her phone in her purse.

"Well, damn, come in Miranda," I smiled. She did this to me at least once a week and I found myself reciprocating the gesture at her apartment almost as often. We'd met during the summer and become fast friends during our frequent study sessions in geology and 'the history of rock and roll.' I saw that she was wearing something bright and spangly. That usually didn't bode well for a quiet evening at home.

"I thought about giving you some time to recover, but I just got back into this dress and an evening of watching you eat Ben and Jerry's and go through a box of tissues didn't sound healthy for either one of us, so, we are going out!" I watched her move towards my room and begin to rummage through my closet. After deciding what I was going to wear she laid it out on my bed and turned to make me start getting ready. She must have noticed my tear tracks because she crossed the distance between us and gave me a big, Miranda hug.

"I'm sorry. I thought this would be better than letting you sulk about that jerk. Maybe I'm rushing you. So you want to watch a movie and order in instead? Robert is delivering tonight, we could get a good deal!" she said instantly ready to rearrange herself for me. I smiled so big I couldn't help but laugh and it felt good after feeling so much hurt for the past 24 hours.

"No need. Going out sounds great. I'll just wash my face." After a good hour of just chatting and being girly, a welcomed reprieve from our usual conversations on the ethics of life and hanging out with guys all the time, we were ready to go out. After a little dinner from the best and cheapest place in town, Thursday's Pub, we headed out to 53's, a popular hang out among us college folk. When we got there it was already kindof packed for a Thursday. I then realized that it was the best 'weekend' night for drink specials and it was bound to get more cramped with time. I felt my arm being pulled to the right and for a moment I panicked, having some kind of strange flashback to the night that had made me look like a murderer. Quickly shaking that thought out of my head, I looked up and saw that a large group of our other friends had gotten a table and were happily welcoming us.

"I have to hand it to you Miranda, I didn't think she would come," P.J. started after he moved down the bench so we could take a seat.

"I didn't think so either. We almost didn't, but Sarah decided she needed some group therapy!"

"I hope you mean Jack therapy!" Crystal shouted. Everyone cheered and she called the waitress over.

"Five test tube shots and a double Jack for her, please! Her ex is an ass!" The waitress smiled at me and for some reason she looked like she'd heard this story a few times already tonight.

"Guys you know I don't drink," I said softly. It usually wasn't an issue even when we went out, it was just accepted. Then I really took notice of the table and saw there were already empty shot glasses and drink tumblers accumulating in the center. How long had they been here? They were about to answer and coax, they usually tried once or twice before accepting this and buying me a water, but P.J. saw something above my head and to the left that put a frown on his face and suddenly I was nervous. Did Tim find out I was entertaining the idea of a drink? I mentally smacked myself. How would my brother even know or care? I shook my head at my own paranoia and turned to see Stephen moving to the front of our table.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked me. I glared back at him. What a stupid question.

"Of course you can't!" Miranda answered for me. "Go away, Sarah doesn't want to look at you, ass!" Stephen smirked, he'd gotten used to Miranda's bluntness over the course of our relationship I guess, and turned to me.

"Sarah?" he said pleadingly. Shit, I wanted to go talk to him quietly somewhere. We had yelled so much, I'm sure I didn't get the full story. Maybe I had imagined the girl he was holding…and kissing last night. Surely there was an explanation…

"Stevie what do you want to drink?" came the high pitched voice of a rather bubbly bleach-blond. She wrapped her arms around Stephen's neck as she moved beside him. Had I really just been making excuses for this hooker? P.J. looked like he was about to start a fight, but I stood up before he had a chance.

"Stephen, Barbie, I think you should just go. Pretend I'm not here," I said as politely as possible. He looked at me and I could not understand what he was trying to say with his face. Fuck him!

"My name is not Barbie, my name is…"

"I don't really care. Please leave," I said my good mood starting to die and anger and hurt beginning to replace it.

"Sarah…" P.J. did stand up then and for some reason I was hoping he would punch Stephen right in the nose. Break that stupid, perfect nose P.J.! Stephen looked up at P.J. and then over at one of the passing bouncers who looked back at him and started to move toward the table.

"Come on Monica," he said as they disappeared in to the crowd. I sat back down.

"What a fuck!" Crystal commented. "He should come back here so I can put my heel up his ass!" Yea, poor Crystal was a little tipsy. And I was a little jealous. She was taking the same classes as I this semester and yet she did not have the look of stress that I seemed to not be able to get rid of so far this semester. Her boyfriend of the moment, Gabriel, rubbed her back.

"This girl is not playing," he yelped. He must have also had a few of the glasses of something on the table. Looking around the table it seemed everyone was a little buzzed and they looked the better for it. Maybe, just one…and the drinks arrived. The moment of truth. Crystal passed the tubes around and she proposed a toast.

"To forgetting stupid ass motha fuckin' pricks!" and the table cheered. They raised the tubes to the center, gently hit them on the table, and shot the things down in one gulp. I swallowed hard. Just this one drink couldn't hurt anything. I followed what they did when everyone had lowered their drinks and they cheered for me when I swallowed the drink in two gulps. That stuff wasn't bad. If all alcohol tasted that good I might be able to get used to that! Crystal was so excited that I had taken my first drink that she immediately bought me another and Miranda ordered me a Rum Punch. Shit, I didn't want to get drunk. I had classes tomorrow! After the third test tube shot, compliments of P.J., I took a large swallow of my punch to finish it off and decided that it was way too hot in here and time to dance. A moment later, Miranda, Crysta, and Il were holding hands as we traveled to the dance floor. I felt crazy! I was a little dizzy, but not the scary kind of dizzy and it felt fun, like I had just gotten my first kiss or something. I was hot and suddenly everything just sounded so much better! Every song that they played was my favorite and everyone was pretty. We three girls danced for about a good forty-five minutes before I decided I needed to get some water. At the table, there were already three unopened bottles of water sitting and waiting for us. Gabriel smiled when we got back and helped open the bottles. He then proceeded to finish his Jack and Coke. Crystal got about half way through her bottle and set it down with a thud. Gabe grabbed it before it spilt all over her white shirt. He looked like he wasn't sure why he had done that but shrugged it off.

"Sarah," she purred, "You never drank your double Jack!" she pushed the shot glass toward me. I eyed it dubiously.

"Maybe she shouldn't Crys, this is her first night drinking and she has had quite enough." I agreed and moved my mouth to say so when I caught a glimpse of Stephen making out hardcore with Barbie. I felt my face get red, or redder, and my eyes squint. Crystal followed my glare and she smiled.

"Liquid courage?" she asked as she slid the glass closer. She was practically hanging across the table, her petite features gazing into my face. No wonder no one ever told her no! Miranda opened her mouth to say something but I picked up the glass and knocked it back faster than I had any intention of doing. First my tongue was angry. Then my throat was angry. Miranda quickly handed me my bottle of water and I chugged the rest of it. That was horrible! Crystal and Gabe laughed so hard I thought she was going to fall off of the table. Miranda looked a little worried but still wore a big grin on her face.

"Are you ok?" she asked after a minute. I did a quick check.

"Yes?" I giggled. After a few more minutes of drunken ramblings, P.J. came back to the table with a very beautiful girl on his arm.

"Hey guys, this is Lauren!"

"Lauren!" Crystal yelled, "Come sit! Where did you meet this loser!" she giggled. P.J. stuck his tongue out at her and the couple sat. We sat a little longer and suddenly I was feeling really, really, good. I wanted to give Stephen a piece of my mind. I got up quickly, or at least it felt quick, and walked over to the couple who had not moved since I'd spotted them ten minutes ago.

"Stephen!" Was I shouting? "You are an ass hole! Why the fuck would you go cheat on me with Barbie? Wasn't I good enough?" He looked up, eyes slightly glazed, and stared at me. Barbie turned too.

"Stevie what is she talking about?" I think I shook my head and laughed.

"Stephen don't tell me you didn't tell her about me! Barbie, "I looked into her fake eyelashes, "Stephen and I went out for a while. I broke up with him last night!"

"Oh you're the Shrew! Stevie she does not look like a…" His hand went to cover her mouth. What the fuck? This bitch had the nerve and then, Stephen? I moved forward and felt two hands on either shoulder.

"Sarah, what the hell! You would be a fast drunk!" Miranda took in the scene around her. "Time to go!"

"No, this bitch was about to call me something that that bitch said earlier!" Did that even make sense? Miranda laughed.

"It's ok, we'll talk about it later. Let's go make fun of P.J. again!" I think I nodded, my head was kinda heavy so I'm really not sure, and I followed her back to the table, but not without a good showing of 'the bird' at those idiots. When we got back, Gabe and Crystal were making out, as was P.J. and Lauren.

"Well shit," Crystal said. She looked a little funny for a moment and she grabbed two test tube shots off of the passing waitress's tray. She handed one to me.

"To being hot and single!" she shouted and we took the shot.

I don't remember the rest of that night. I just remember waking up around 6 the next day and finding refuge in the toilet.

"Sweet Jesus," I muttered after the third dry heave session. The rest of Friday had passed strangely. I slept through my classes and didn't move off of the couch. Around 7 Miranda came by. She looked pretty good compared to me.

"Oh my gosh, do you have a hangover?" she asked gently, a smile playing around her mouth.

"What do you think?" I snapped. I felt kind of bad for that, and then I didn't. Who takes someone on their first drinking night and leaves them high and dry the next day? She looked truly apologetic and went into my kitchen.

"What did you take for it?" she asked going through the cabinets. I squinted with each slamming door.

"Just some Tylenol." She came back with a large glass of water, a piece of toast, and two aspirin five minutes later."

"Sip, east slowly, and take at the end," she ordered. She helped me sit up and we watched a cheesy movie on TV while I picked at the toast. After about 30 minutes I felt better, but still not great.

"Did you get really sick?" she asked again. I glared at her. Miranda then gave me a long list of ways to avoid the dreaded hangover and tips on looking fresher the next day too.

"This couldn't have been said yesterday?" I spat after a while. She smiled.

"You wouldn't have listened, so listen now." And, I did.

I followed the tips when we went out the next weekend. I followed the tips when we went to a house party the Thursday after that, a frat party on Friday, and 53s on Saturday. I listened when I had a party the weekend after that and had enough alcohol to stock a bar for two weeks left over. I listened to that advice when Crystal, Gabe, and I started having mid-week drinking matches to get rid of said alcohol. I even listened when P.J. and I started having serious beer pong matches every Tuesday.

I stopped listening when Miranda said that she was going home after the three day weekend and not coming back.

"…Miranda dropped out for the rest of the semester and I didn't take it very well. I think I was angry at her because she told me goodbye and left, without any kind of explanation. She didn't even leave me any contact information and she won't talk to me because I've tried everything I could think of to get in contact with her." Sarah put her head down. She was already getting upset and she hadn't really gotten into the story. Tim noticed her clamming up and he prompted her with another question.

"What did you do after you found out she was leaving school?" Sarah looked up. Maybe it was better that her brother asked the questions. She would help him out if he asked the wrong ones. The only information she had just given him was that she'd had her first drink this semester, realized she liked the party aspect of drinking, and had broken up with her first really serious boyfriend, and he had been awful, and her best friend had left her, all before October. This side drama was without the stress and strain of serious, upper-level college courses at a top-notch university and a position on the award-winning school newspaper.

"I just didn't deal with it well."