Thank you for all the reviews so far- please keep 'em coming!

Slight warning about the last part of this chapter...it's not pretty. I'm telling you now.

The next few chapters are entitled after L. Lee's theory on the stage of the breakdown of relationships.

Disclaimer: I own zilch.

Paramour

(Dissatisfaction)

Sara picked herself up off the bed running her hands through his hair attempting to smooth away the disarray that had settled in. With an exhausted sigh she padded down stairs finding the dusty bottle of bourbon she had kept hidden for rainy days.

Drinking was a bad choice- she knew that- but she was angry and she knew if she remained sober that anger would very easily turn into misery. She would start thinking about how lost she felt in a city like this- how she had moved here with hope of things falling into place. Those first blushes of how hard she had fallen would replay in her mind as a bitter memory.

No- she wouldn't let herself do that- she wouldn't self destruct. Sara needed to fuel the fire, she needed to pluck up the courage to call Grissom back and tell him all of the things that she had been thinking in the past few days. She needed to make him aware of all of his flaws the way he seemed to constantly be doing to her.

The balance in their relationship had never been fair but this was too far she thought confidently to herself- he had pushed her away far too much to just be able to pretend as if there was nothing wrong.

So with those thoughts strongly in the forefront of her mind Sara took the bottle of whiskey, a glass, notepad and pen into the living room.

With the first mouthful of the fiery liquid she took the cap off the pen momentarily thinking about how stupid it was that she was doing this- and that she was writing a list of things about the man she loved that got under her skin. She knew writing everything down would help her organise her thoughts which in turn would stop her stumbling over sentences when she finally spoke to Grissom. After all of this time- she needed to be assured.

Sara took a deep breath swallowing in one mouthful the bitter tasting liquid that was left at the bottom of the glass. She began writing starting with the way Grissom seemed to disregard her- pick her up and toss her aside when it suited him. It was exhausting; it made her feel small and insignificant. If she was honest she didn't know if she could take with anymore.

What she wanted more than anything was for him to tell her that no matter what he loved her and that she meant more to him than all of the people that would contest their relationship as wrong.

The sound of whiskey trickling into the bottom of the glass filled the room as she sat cross legged on the floor leaning over the coffee table tapping the pen in her right hand against the smooth wooden surface. The first confession had been like a stab to the gut and she realised that she would require more of her replacement aesthetic if she was going to survive the things that were to come.

His cold attitude towards her- point two. No matter how hard they had tried everything between them was so awkward and it didn't stop being that way. There were nights when she would catch him looking at her, studying her as if she were a specimen rather than a person. She wanted more than anything to shout at him on those occasions- she wanted to tell him that she wasn't one of his experiments- she was a person.

And when they made love it felt so robotic- mechanical.

A long sip of whiskey followed this.

Sex

They had never talked about it- there had never been a reason to- because all of this time she had been pretending that everything was fine. It wasn't that Grissom was bad in bed- but on occasion there were nights where he'd leave her just slightly short of satisfied but she had never said anything because she was in love with him. And it had taken so long to convince him to give their relationship a shot that she feared any form of complain on her part would leave the shambles they called 'being together' would crumble.

She underlined the point picking her drink up in her hand knowing that it was something she could keep in her back pocket- it was something she could use if all else failed.

It was a low blow but it was true.

His superiority complex; he was in charge at the lab and somehow that translated to their life outside of the building too. Grissom didn't want to admit it but he still saw her as too young for him- he still would pull the card of age on her but what experience did he have in the field of romance to be able to do so?

What knowledge did he have of the working of the heart to be able to just tell her sometimes that she'd just have to trust him?

By the time she had written this irritation down another glass of whiskey had disappeared- the effect slowly settling into her system as her whole body felt itself shifting into the intoxicated anger that she had been anticipating all along.

Trust

The word made her laugh slight as she noted that the first thought that came into her head when she had heard that female voice had been that he'd cheated on her.

How could you be with someone you don't trust with your heart?

She knew for a fact that when he returned she would pretend that everything was fine when he promised that nothing had happened- that she understood his requirement of company. But still the doubt would remain- she would wonder if she wasn't enough for him- if he had expected more from her.

The self loathing and depression had almost become a characteristic part of her life.

With another mouthful Sara remembered the days she would find herself staring at herself in her floor length mirror wondering what improvements she could to be the league of the other women in Grissom's life; Terry the forensic anthropologist that had him smitten with one smile or Lady Heather who had captivated him with the darker side to love.

And these memories forced Grissom's thoughtlessness to come to mind. The way he had just decided to leave without telling her, the way that sometimes it felt as if she was laying her soul bare for him and all he could muster was an exhausted sigh to tell her know that was the only way he could respond.

Another glass

The sound of the phone ringing made her jump slightly but she answered it hoping she sounded at least partially sober.

"Sara..." Grissom's voice seemed to hit her like truck and she found herself falling backwards collapsing onto the sofa beside her.

"Gil..." She mumbled grasping at the note book on the table before taking another swing of whiskey hoping to regain the confidence she'd had only moments before about confronting him.

"What did you want to talk about?" His tone was measured and it was easy enough to tell that he was still surrounded by people hoping to make this sound like a professional phone call.

"Us..." She muttered into the phone, cradling her drink in one hand, the note book resting on her thighs.

"Sara..." He seemed to attempting to gage her mood from the few words she had spoken to him. "Can this wait until I get back?"

"No it can't..." Sara replied hoping she sounded as bold as she felt.

"What is it exactly you would like to discuss?" Again the air of professionalism that didn't disappear with their apparent closeness was driving her up the wall.

"Let's start with the fact that after seven fucking years you can still call me nothing" She blurted out all of the anger and frustration she had planned on realising in small doses exploding in one sentence.

"Sara...Uhm...I can't really talk about this right now, I have to go give a speech at a convention..." He seemed nervous- she had never directed so much anger at him and him alone. "And you're drunk..."

"Just go will you. Go break a leg Grissom. And if anyone asks what this phone call was about just tell them it was nothing." With that she hung up the phone not wanting to hear his protests.

Sara poured herself another drink and reading through the list of things that she had written down the aggravation once again bubbling up. She glanced at her phone- now far too drunk to remember or dial Grissom's number- she began searching through the contacts for his name. It appeared on the screen and without hesitating she clicked the blurry green button to call him.

The dial tone rung in her ears and eventually the answer phone machine came on the robotic voice giving her the option to turn back now but Sara realised that she'd come too far to be able to just hang up. She waited for the blip to pass indicating that she could start talking.

"Of course you're not taking my fucking calls..." With a heavy sigh she began. "You're a jerk you know that...A jerk. You're just like those guys I dated in high school and even some of the ones from college...oh wait I screwed you then too didn't I? Not that you like to remember. I wonder how the university would have felt about that."

She paused running her tongue over her lip, all of the venom escaping past them was something she couldn't seem to explain or stop. "I could have told them how you took me into that office and gave me a seeing to on that desk of yours..." Her laugh itself gave away how drunk she was. "You didn't answer my calls after that either. Do you remember? You were to fucking busy to talk to me to tell that I was just a cheap lay. How many of your other students did you fuck?"

She picked up the note book again. "And you know what I have a list of things about you that I don't like...and I think the best way to say it is you're an arse. You don't care about me, you never did but you just can't admit it. You don't mind just stringing me along. I gave up everything for you. And you still don't see it."

She laughed again, pausing for dramatic effect before she said the next line.

"And...This one will make you laugh too. You're not as good in bed as you think. You want me to count the number of nights I faked it? Well I'll leave you with that...We can talk some more when you get back...If that's what you want..."

Sara hung up the phone clambered up the stairs prepared to fall into the heavy sleep drunkenness brought with it.