Author's Note: Good morning, everyone. I hope you guys are doling okay because I'm not. The pain in my ankle has spread to my left thigh and I have to go to the doctor.

Not only will I miss yet another day of school (I was out on Friday because of a colossal migraine) but now, I'm in danger of missing tomorrow when a huge AP English essay is due. I've already emailed my teacher and I hope I'll hear back from her soon.

Instead of dwelling on that, I'm going to use this extra time to update a little. My muse thrives on pain so I have plenty of ideas and plots ready to go. This chapter will begin to go into Sara's journals and of course, there will be a confrontation with Grissom.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

21 July 1984: Well, today was not a good day. I woke up not to the sound of birds but to dad hitting mom yet again over something petty. I think it's his newspaper or the way the kitchen looks or maybe he's PMSing. I don't know why. I stopped caring why a long time ago.

He hit Phil again yesterday. He had missed curfew but I don't really blame him. If I had to go from the relative peace outside back to this House of Horrors, I'd hesitate too. Still, it had been terrible. There had been yelling and when Phil called him a drunk, abusive, failure of a human being (which he is), he snapped. He used the belt so his back looked like a checkers board afterwords. I did the best I could to help him disinfect it but all I could reach was the bleach. God, I hate being short. Phil wasn't mad at me, though. He even smiled at me, thanked me for trying.

I wish I could do more…

Nick abruptly slammed the leather book shut and put his head in his hands. He had been reading for hours, his eyes gritty and sore and his heart broken. He was five volumes in and it killed him to think about what she had gone through. Her entries weren't of slumber parties and sunshine. No, they were of a little girl who didn't understand why her dad was so mean, that wondered what she did to deserve beatings(a broken arm at six!), and dreamed of escape.

As he though back, he realized that Sara always avoided talking about her family. Every time anyone asked, they got an evasive answer or no answer at all. "I don't like talking about my past" was her frequent dodge. Now, he knew why.

Questions nagged at him, though. What happened afterwords? He was only on 15 year old Sara, what about the other 20 years? Where was her mom? Her brother? Her rat bastard father? Hell, where was she?

Warrick had gotten nothing from his search of cameras and Greg was at her apartment with Catherine, searching for anything that would give them a lead. It was best that they got out of the lab before Grissom showed up. They would definitely jump down his throat or more than likely, wring his neck for all he did to Sara. Although he was not entirely responsible for her inner misery, he didn't help matters by jerking her around.

Nick felt his own rage against the man build but he forcibly tamped it down. Now was not the time. He had to help find Sara.

Opening the journal again, he continued to read, hoping that he would be able to latch onto anything that could help them find her.

//////////////

"Madeline? It's time for dinner.", Becca said before running back out to her parents.

Sara sat up and exited the RV, joining the Andersons around a grill. The family of four had seen her walking and stopped. They were heading to San Francisco on vacation and had asked if she needed a ride. Giving her fake name and a grateful smile, she had accepted. The trip had been pleasant. Jack and Margaret had been high school sweethearts, falling head over heels from the moment they met. Now, they were the parents of twins, Rebecca and Robert, both ten and both happy.

They had a normal life with parents who loved and protected them. It was a forceful reminder what Sara never had.

Between bites of grilled zucchini(fortunately, Margaret was a vegetarian too), she looked towards the horizon. In the distance, she could see the lights of the city, comforting yet scaring her.

She had no idea what she was going to do once she got there but she had to figure it out fast.

The team was looking for her and so were the cops in 3 states. The news had been talking about her, even giving a description but fortunately, none of her companions had made the connection. That luck wouldn't last for long. One thing was for sure, the last thing she wanted was to go back to Vegas. Once Sara made a decision, it was made. She had decided never to set foot in Las Vegas ever again and nothing short of a miracle would convince her otherwise.

That's not true. All you need is for Gris-

It's not going to happen. He doesn't love me. He doesn't even want me. All he cares about is his career and maybe his bugs. He's probably relieved that I'm gone, anyway…

//////////////

Brass' words hit him with the force of a sledgehammer.

"She heard you, Gil! She heard everything you said to that bastard Lurie and now, she's gone! We can't find her!"

Ice filled him from his head to his toes and he sat heavily on his uncomfortable couch, staring at what seemed to be nothing. In his mind, he could see Sara looking at him sadly, reproachfully. She was sitting in the chair near his bedroom, wearing her usual black. She was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, looking broken, broken by him.

Her voice entered his head, worsening the dreadful guilt and anguish he felt.

Let's go past the fact that you felt better confessing what you feel for me to a cold blooded killer than to me but the fact you thought so lowly of me, so sure that I would leave and trade you in…that hurt, Gilbert. That really fucking hurt.

"Gil?" Brass questioned, worried about his friend's unblinking, stiff form. Was he in shock?

All I wanted was to be with you and you wouldn't let me. I loved you and you just…well, I'm gone now. You can move on with your life. You can die a miserable, workaholic bastard. You're too late.

Her image faded away into nothing, breaking through his shock. Oh, God…

His heart shattered in his chest and his stomach churned, prompting him to flee to the bathroom, violently ill. As soon as he could, he flushed the vomit to sewer and looked at himself in the mirror. A tired, broken man looked back at him and he knew that it was all his fault.

If he had only been braver, if he had only told her exactly how he felt. Missed opportunities filled his mind. They could've been together for years by now, happy and maybe even with a family. All the times he could have kissed her, held her, touched her…god, what had he done?! Anguished rage filled him and soon, he could feel blood oozing from his knuckles as the mirror shattered under his fist, the glass cutting deep.

Not as deeply as he had cut her…

Looking down, he watched as the blood ran rivers to the drain but he made no move to treat it. He deserved to hurt right now. He deserved to hurt for the rest of his miserable life.

"It's not too late, you know. You…you could help find her. Fight for her."

"It would do more harm than good, Jim. All I do is cause her pain for my own self preservation. I knew…I knew she loved me. I don't have the faintest idea why. She could do much better. She deserves better than an old, broken down, socially crippled asshole like me.", he replied sadly.

"She still loves you, Gil. I could tell when I talked to her."

"You talked to her?"

"Yeah…I may have been the straw that broke the ..."

"No! No, this is my fault, not yours! Not anyone else's!" Grissom snapped.

"Then fix it, goddamn it! ", Brass roared back. "For the love of God, Gil, quit being a damned idiot and get her back! Do you want her to be yet another regret in your fucking miserable life?! Huh, do you?!"

Turning to him fully, Grissom shook his head negatively.

"Then, get your ass cleaned up. I'll take you to the lab. Hurry up."

The bathroom door slammed and Grissom turned on the shower.

Brass was right.

Now wasn't the time for him to hide behind his career and the decade worth of excuses.

Now was the time to fight for what he wanted, what he needed.

He was going to get his Sara back and when he did, he would be sure never to let her go again.