Chapter 14: Put Your Hand In The Flame...

Warning- see chapter 1

Disclaimers- damn, what i would do i owned the CSI's...I'm thinking Greg, whipped cream and vodka shots...lol...sick minded...

The sun was shining on her face, but CSI Sidle most certainly did not want to get out of bed that afternoon.

She turned to face the man lying next to her. Grisssom had his arm loosely slung around her waist. She didn't feel protected. She didn't feel safe. She felt like she was going to hit something, though.

Sara slowly lifted his arm from her, and padded through to the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was early evening. They had slept for almost a full day.

After grabbing a glass of water and an apple, she steeped outside, onto the small balcony outside the kitchen, and sat on one of the padded sun-loungers.

Why was this happening? Her mind analysed her situation, she was detached. Why? And what was happening with Gil?

She decided to focus on the safer subject: the one with the entomology degree.

Why now? Why hadn't he told her that he loved her before she had been taken from her apartment? Did he have to see her injured and traumatised before he could realise that he loved her? Or was it some kinky guy thing that he had? All the guys she had slept with previously, she knew that they had all liked the sort of crazily-insane-damaged-trying-to-fix-it aspect she had to her personality. But she hadn't loved any of them. Not really. They were just a revolving door of crushes and fucks. The last person she had cared for truly, was the physics teacher, and she didn't feel a quarter of what she felt for Grissom with said teacher.

She felt so empty. What if Jayden had been right, what if she was just a whore? Sara contemplated this idea for a few minutes. Hmmm, well at least that way, you would know not to have any expectations. Whenever they had interviewed any female prostitute (and they had interviewed a few, it was Vegas, after all) Sara had recognized that look that some of them had in their eyes. She had seen it in other people, rape vics, young drug users...

Those who were clinging to what they had, wishing they had the courage to let go and just fall...

Sara recognized that look, it wasn't one of desperation, or sadness. It was a look of...acceptance, like they had seen everything they could cope with, and learnt to accept it. She never wanted to accept it, but she knew she had.

Sara had accepted, down in that hole in that squalid heap, that this wouldn't end until she was dead.

Or he was.

But she knew she'd die first. She hadn't fought him off when he had come to her apartment. What were the chances she could now?

So, she had a police escort and Grissom to protect her.

But she didn't want that.

They crushed her.

She just didn't know what to do. How to just...be...just be still be at rest, without thinking about dying, and pain, and Alyssa.

It was Alyssa she thought about most.

She hadn't told anyone of what had transcended between them, while the 17 year old lay dying.

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"Alyssa? Are you Alyssa Henders?"

"Oh god...oh god...it hurts so bad."

"Where did he hurt you Alyssa?" Sara was almost calm.

"In my...in my stomach. He stabbed me."

"Put pressure on it. Do you have a t-shirt on, a sweater?"

"No. I'm going to die."

"Alyssa please, hold on, you-"

"I didn't think I would die at seventeen. I was going to go to Yale. My boyfriend and I-we- I was going to have his baby. I was going to have his baby. It's gone now. I just want to die."

"No! Please-" Sara was sobbing for the girl.

"My mom, it's her birthday in two weeks." Alyssa's voice was calm. "I took all the money out my bank to put a deposit on a bracelet she liked. She needs to know where it is."

Sara couldn't stand hearing this girl talk about her mom's birthday, while she lay dying in some stupid basement. Because of Sara.

"I just want to stop. I've been here months. I want to stop. I want to stop."

"oh god, Alyssa-"

"I thought there'd be a tunnel with light. But I can't see one. And I'm getting cold."

"It's my fault you're here! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I-that man. You need to get away from here, whoever the hell you are." Alyssa sounded terrified to Sara's ears. "He won't kill you, you know. We're lucky. We get to escape."

"I'm-"

"I didn't think I'd die. But I'm happy to right now."

This went on for a while. Alyssa's breathing, Sara trying to make the girl talk, to keep her alive. Alyssa kept saying she was glad to die. Sara couldn't bear it. When Alyssa's breathing became quieter, and quieter, and finally stopped, Sara held her breath in sync with the dead girl. She held her breath for three minutes. Then breathed normally. She couldn't cry. She had just heard innocence die. Alyssa went to church. She helped at her local animal centre a couple of times. She believed in abstinence. She believed in love. Sara knew this from going through Alyssa's drawers and dresser, hoping to find the missing teen.

Yeah, she had found her. Then lost her. Alyssa didn't even get to tell her boyfriend she loved him. Her parents. Her friends. Her family. Sara had seen numerous Crime Scene's, numerous beaten and broken bodies, numerous crimes against humanity. She had seen the twin towers. She had cried along with the rest of the world for the death of hundreds. She had cried for the children dying of AIDS, she had cried for those who couldn't defend themselves. She had cried when she realised her dad wasn't coming back. She had cried so many times.

And now she couldn't shed one single tear for the girl who had been killed, for the girl who had been killed in her place.

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He reached for her the second he woke up. She wasn't there.

"Sara?"

He left the bedroom, and was heading to the living room, when he saw the balcony door open.

"honey?"

He saw the top of her dark head resting against the sun-lounger. He steeped out, and sat down at the bottom of the lounger, next to her feet. She didn't say anything, do anything. He tried again.

"Sara, honey?"

"oh."

He saw her mouth make the noise, but her eyes stayed focused on some spot off in the trees.

"Brass called. No sign of him yet." he told her, "they think he's gone back to Mexico, to escape."

"oh"

He didn't know what to do. "Sara, can I get you a proper breakfast?" he looked at her apple

"No, I'm fine." she sounded so distant.

"honey, that stuff he said-" grissom stared into her eyes "It wasn't true. You know that."

"mhm."

"Please, say something. Stop distancing yourself. You know I want to help."

She nodded, and smiled weakly. "I know."

He stood up to go inside. "Come in soon, it's cold." Stepping through the door, he didn't hear her say

"But I can't be helped."

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Didn't Ecklie understand what 'holiday' meant? Grissom angrily slammed down the soap. This was the first one he'd taken in years. And now, now Ecklie wanted him at the lab.

"Gil, it's an emergency." he'd whined down the phone "We need an entomologist right now."

Ecklie had sworn it would be six hours maximum. Six hours max- yeah right. Grissom knew he'd be in there for at least 10 hours.

He'd asked her if she'd be fine on her own. She had nodded. Course she would. She wasn't a little kid. Go on, Griss, go be the bugman.

So he was getting out the shower, and getting ready to go to the lab 20 minutes later.

"Sara? If you need me, I have my cell."

She heard him speak but didn't recognize the words. He was talking, and talking, and talking.

"sure Griss. I'm probably going to go back to bed."

"'kay. Make sure you eat something." God, it was already 8:30pm. Ecklie had phoned at ten to.

"bye Griss."

The second he shut the front door, Sara was on her feet. Alcohol. Alcohol. Alcohol. She had rummaged through the cabinets, looking for a bottle of anything, but there was nothing. Urgh.

Sara needed a drink. Screw sobriety, she didn't even have a real DUI.

She moved to the bathroom, a plan forming in her head.

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Once you put your hand in the flame
You can never be the same
Theres a certain satisfaction
In a little bit of pain
I can see you understand
I can tell that youre the same
If youre afraid, well rise above
I only hurt the ones I love

I dont think you know what pain is
I dont think youve gone that way
I could bring you so much pleasure
Ill come to you when you say
I know you want me
Im not gonna hurt you
Im not gonna hurt you, just close your eyes

"erotica" by Madonna

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"So, beautiful, are you waiting for somebody?" She turned form the bartender to look at the man standing next to her. Mid-to-late thirties, tanned, incredibly sleazy. Yeah, he'd do.

"me?" she asked coyly. "why no, I'm not."

"Would you mind if I sat here?" he gestured to the seat next to her.

"that would be...fine." she looked at him from under her lashes. He was practically panting, the pervert.

"Would you like another drink?" he looked down the front of her dress, for what seemed like several minutes, and only looked up when she held her glass in front of her cleavage.

"Thank you. I would." she smirked lasciviously as he met her eyes.

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He hoped she was okay. He had phoned the house several minutes ago, but no answer. He reminded himself that she said she was going for a nap, and redirected his focus back to his work, trying not to worry...

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Sara was on her sixth drink. And she was utterly drunk. She didn't know what those three last cocktails were that he had put in front of her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Sara knew she wasn't a messy drunk. She knew she was a slutty one. And that was fine by her. Fine fine fucking fine. Everyone suspected that she was fucked up anyway. So what? Now she'd just be confirming it.

The dance floor was pulsing. Salsa music poured from the speakers. Thank god she knew how to dance. He was pretty good too.

He nuzzled her exposed neck, as he bent her backwards.

"did anyone tell you what beautiful skin you have baby?"

Urgh, so sleazy.

"Thank you. Many have. But none have been quite so...interesting as you, Eddie" Probably not even his real name.

He smirked at her. "do you, uh, have somewhere we can go?"

She smiled, then took his hand

They weaved their way through the couples dancing together. Even when she was going to clubs and dancing in her teens, Sara had always imagined that Salsa dancers would be sexy professionals, exotic and erotic. But there were several couples here that obviously had no idea to dance. She supposed she was lucky that way. She at least had good rhythm. She continued to move past other people, one of his hands around her hip, the other on her ass.

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Greg loved salsa music. He had only been to one of these clubs before. But his date, Verity, had insisted on coming here, she said it was an 'experience he'd never forget.' Damn, he bet she was an experience he'd never forget. She was a bossy cow. And, not that pretty. Kinda rude. Not, all in all, his ideal date. He just hoped she could dance.

"Greg? Do you want to get a drink?"

"Uhm, yeah. I'll get them. What would you like?"

"No, I'll get them." Yep. Bossy cow.

"Oh, um a beer would be good."

"okay. You go find a table." she hollered at him as she walked off to the bar. He resisted rolling his eyes, and scanned the room for a table.

Was that...No way.

He squinted. It was!

"Greg? Were there no seats?"

"What? I- sorry. Excuse me a moment."

He moved towards the slim brunette in the red dress on the dance floor with the sleazy older guy. What the fuck was Sara playing at?

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" he tried to get past a drunken group of people. By the time he had pushed through, Sara and the guy had disappeared. He turned around looking for them, and spotted her walking towards the door. Did she realize that perv was pawing at her backside?

"Sara! SARA!"

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She heard somebody calling her. She turned around, and looked round the room. Nope. She turned to face the door, and walked out, Eddie tagging along behind her, hand still on her butt. This part kinda bored her. The journey between the club, and wherever they would do it.. He hailed a taxi. They got in.

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"Sara!" he tried again when he saw her look around the room. Her gaze swept over him, and she turned to step out the door, stumbling a bit. The guy with her laughed, and steadied her by her elbow. She was obviously drunk. Greg didn't know what to do. Should he just leave her alone, let her do whatever it was she was doing? But she'd only been out of hospital a few weeks, she was till traumatised.

C'mon greg, his lazy side whispered, did she look traumatised?

You have to save her! The concerned side whimpered.

Look, it was pretty obvious what they were going to do. Lazy side was matter of fact. It's her business, she's a big girl.

But Greg, concerned side sounded urgent, she's still healing. Mentally and physically. This could damage her.

Damage, shmamage. The lazy side was feeling foreign today. Go back to your date. See if you can make tonight actually a success.

"Greg?" The voice ripped him from his inner turmoil. "I found us seats."

He turned to the woman standing in front of him. What if he'd made the wrong choice?

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"That's all the information we need Gil. Go home." It was 6 am. He was pretty tired. Not exhausted though.

"If you're sure Conrad." He was sarcastic, even after Ecklie had grovelled and apologised for bringing him in during holiday leave.

Grissom strode out the lab, quickly as he could. He was pretty worried about Sara...

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"What the hell?" He put the hastily scribbled note back on the sideboard.

Griss-

Staying at my place tonight. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Phone me tomorrow.

Sara.

Phone her tomorrow? She was mad, going home when she knew there was a chance of Bounton still being in Nevada. Okay, like a 0.5 percent chance, but still a chance all the same.

Grissom slammed the door to his Tahoe, and drove as quickly as possible over too Sara's apartment.

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He knocked the door tentatively. "Sara?" After twisting the handle, and finding it locked, he slid the spare key Sandra had given him into the lock.

He could hear the shower in her room going. Why the hell was there underwear on the floor? He was worried. There were men boxers there, too. He knocked her bedroom door, and went in when there was no answer. Oh god, what if Bounton had her?

He noticed the room smelt like sex, alcohol and something else, the second he stepped in there. Adjusting his eyes to the semi gloom, he spotted more clothes on the floor. Then, the adjoining bathroom door opened.

"Who are you?" The man dressed only in a towel spoke to Grissom, whose head immediately started pounding.

"No, more to the point, who are you?" Grissom's voice sounded frightening, even to him. "And what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I was with pretty-pretty." he pointed at the bed. Grissom turned, and saw Sara's pale, naked back, the sheet was only pulled up to her waist at the back, even she was lying on her front.

"Get. Out. Now" Grissom turned back to face the man.

"Hey, hey. She never said she had a pimp. I figure pretty-pretty wanted a good time, I didn't know I had to pay."

Grissom felt the red anger creeping up his back.

The man continued- "She wasn't trying to make money off the books, she didn't say I had to pay"

Grissom was ready to tear this little pricks head off.

'Eddie' seemed to sense this...

"Look, here."

He picked his wallet up out his jacket pocket, and put two hundred dollar bills on the bed next to Sara, thinking it would appease Grissom. "All good, huh?"

"Out. Now." oh god, if he didn't get out, Grissom knew he would strangle this guy.

'Eddie' seemed to sense this too.

"Okay man, I'm going."

He picked up the clothes in the bedroom, and proceeded to leave the room. Grissom just hoped that he would be gone before Sara woke up. He couldn't believe this. He picked up the bills, and his heart twinged. This guy thought she was a hooker. He thought Grissom was her pimp. Christ. Sin City indeed.

He tucked the bills into her dresser drawer, but as he straightened up, he noticed the little baggie of white powder. What the fuck had she done? It wasn't hers, it belonged to that little scumbag, he told himself as he left her room to go and sit in the kitchen, wait for her to wake up. It wasn't hers...please god, don't let it be hers...

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Owwww. Sara's head pounded, and she barely made it to the bathroom to barf. Bangbangbangbangbang, went the little men with the metal shoes in her head. Ow. This was possibly the worst hangover she had had, she thought, as she retched into the toilet, feeling the sheet slide down her back. Grabbing it and leaning back against the bathtub, she wiped her mouth on the corner of it, shut her, eyes, and tried to remember last night.

Oh god. Eddie. The cocktails. The coke. Fuck, she was a teenager again, trying to rid herself of the hangover, the dirty feeling between her legs, the rash under her nose, before school. She leant over, and heaved into the toilet a second time.

Shit. This wasn't just a hangover, it was a comedown. Sara knew her body could so totally not handle hard drugs. That much she had learnt. And yet, she had snorted the shards of poisoned glass into her brain. And she had fucked him. Why? She was drunk? No excuses, girl. She thought to herself. You fucked up. You fucked up so bad.

"Are you feeling better?" Sara's head jerked up to see Grissom standing at the door, looking at her with worry evident in his eyes.

"Griss?" She hung her head. He couldn't know, could he? Oh god, he could probably read minds like E.T, or those aliens from signs, or that girl in that movie, what was it called...Her mind was off on a tangent. Could he read her mind? Sara tried to push all thoughts from her head. In pushed an image of Eddie snorting coke of her stomach, then biting her hipbone. NONONONO! Be careful Sara, this man can read your mind!

Sara's comedowns were always pretty, well, interesting...

"Sara, are you okay?"

He asked her again, this time sitting down next to her. They were sitting in her bathroom. Against the tub. Grissom was wearing jeans. She smelt of sex and vomit, of an alcohol distillery.

It was all rather amusing, she thought.

Then another roll of nausea hit her, and she leant over to the toilet to barf. Again. How embarrassing.

He rubbed her back as she puked. Her bare back. Grissom tried to think unsexy thoughts. Mind you, when you could hear someone barf right next to you, unsexy thoughts weren't hard to think...

"Griss...I'm...I'm...uh" She didn't know where to begin.

"It's fine. Get washed up, and I'll make you some coffee."

Okay. Sooooo not the reaction she expected, but okay. Good. He left the bathroom, while she just sat there, staring at the floor. Okay. Okay.

She stood up. Dropped the sheet. Got into the shower. Ahhhh, hot water.

Showers cure everything...

ooh, quite angsty...as u guessed I'm a big greg sanders fan, he's HOT! I plan on making verity re-appear, hint hint, i hate that bossy biatch! lmao...so guess what? \i have another fic in the making! it's just an idea right now, but its got sara/greg, then sara/griss, and lots of angst. (yep, im an angst whore...) so, should i start writing it now, or should i concentrate on finishing this fic? tell me what to do, haha! ok, luv u all, hopefully i'll update tomorro! xoxoxoxo