AN: I personally hate cliffhangers, so I try not to leave them for other people too long either if I can help it. Turns out you guys are in luck. Maybe. We'll see how you feel at the end of this chapter ;)

And, I have to laugh at the fact that all of the horrified Cath/Sara shippers immediately expressed their fearful concerns via public reviews. Meanwhile, the Kelly/Sara shippers (yes, there are more of you than you think) all elected to express their excited thoughts via private messages. No worries, I will not out you to the Cath/Sara shippers, your K/S allegiances are safe with me ;)

A huge thanks to everyone for your continued support of this story, really means a lot.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 22

KELLY POV

"Sara?" I call gently, still trying to bring her back from whatever made her go so completely quiet during the last moments of our conversation, her eyes dark and soulful. Like she's contemplating some deep puzzle of the universe, but traveling to places of darkness instead of light.

My voice is barely a whisper, wanting to bring her back to me, to stop the dark thoughts that are so clearly running through her. The sounds of the club fade, only the deep vibrations of the heavy bass reaching deep inside these walls.

Her gaze heavy, her eyes are fixed on mine. Then, she seems to break herself from the moment, shaking her head lightly as she starts to turn away.

"Sorry," she breathes out, her own voice nearly silent.

Reaching over, I carefully take hold of her jaw, stopping her retreat before it can start. When she meets my eyes, it starts to finally sink in where we are, why we're here, what we're doing.

"Sara," I breathe out. "We're drunk."

Sara nods, eyes hazy, but still so intensely focused. I need to know that she's sober enough to know where she is, who she's there with. I refuse to take advantage of this person that I care about, in any form or fashion. If she's too inebriated, there's no way I'm going any further.

"I know what I'm doing," Sara gets out, her own voice hoarse but strong. "I'm not too drunk to know exactly what I'm doing, if that's what you're questioning."

"You sure?"

Sara watches me, that damn hazel gaze making my own nearly falter.

"Are you, Kelly?" she questions sincerely, eyes searching mine as the room sways around me.

We're both very, very intoxicated. That is clear. But, like Sara, I know exactly what I'm doing. Or, more accurately, what I want to be doing.

It's only a moment more hesitation, and then my lips are on hers.

Instantly, a jolt runs through me at the contact, at the connection of our mouths, her lips tasting like cinnamon and whiskey.

My mouth hesitantly presses deeper against hers, my lips nearly trembling as they try to sense any motion in hers.

Then, just when I'm afraid I've overstepped, that I've horribly misread the situation, her mouth is kissing me back.

Hands finding their way into her dark hair, my grip is desperate, needy. I want to feel her, to know that this is real. The heat of our kiss burns through me, the sensations running straight through every atom that makes up my body.

It's just her, me, and this searing kiss. Her lips against mine, every sensation in my body feeling like it's on overload, the world around me fading away.

Gasping for breath, we pull apart, chests heaving as we try to fill our neglected lungs.

Watching her, I focus on her expression, her own eyes blinking open as they find mine.

"Kelly…"

I search her eyes for any signs of regret. There are none. But, there is hesitance, uncertainty.

"Kelly," she tries again, voice as shaky as her breathing. "What are we doing?"

I smile slightly, lips tingling as the memory of hers continues to pulse along their surface.

"I'm pretty sure that was called kissing."

Sara smiles slightly in response, the act lightening her dark features slightly.

Knowing what she meant, I watch her, my fingers absently finding themselves moving in nervous patterns along the hem of her dark shirt.

"Was I out of place?" I ask sincerely, respecting this woman much too dearly to ever want to overstep.

If she's not comfortable, if she doesn't return any of these feelings, we stop. I'm not one to pressure anyone into something they are not completely comfortable with. Particularly someone like Sara Sidle, who I suspect finds trust nearly impossible on a good day.

Her answer is not immediate, but when it comes it is definite.

Her mouth connects against mine, and this time the kiss is less hesitant and much more desperate. When my tongue moves along her bottom lip, she immediately grants me access. Her mouth now fighting to take over control, her teeth graze gently against my lip.

I never thought someone could taste this good, this right.

When I feel her hands finally leaving her side to place themselves along my back, my knees feel as though they are in danger of betraying me and dropping me unsteadily to the floor.

My own hand contentedly getting lost in her hair, my other finds its way towards her hip, fingers probing gently until they find their way underneath the soft material of her shirt. When they reach skin, Sara's body tenses, and I can tell she's struggling to maintain her sturdy stance.

Her hands are quickly leaving heated trails along my back, contacting more skin than not due to my choice in tops. I feel my own fingers searching the smooth definition of her flat stomach, tracing every angle and contour.

Her breath hitching under my touch, it's only moments before my hips are pressing themselves firmly against hers, pushing our bodies back until her shoulders collide firmly into the tiled wall behind her.

"Shit," she breathes out, eyes clenched shut as she leans her head back slightly, immediately hitting the wall that she's pinned against.

I mutter in agreement as my lips move towards her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the sensitive skin.

I can feel her pulse racing beneath my mouth.

When I reach her collarbone, I bite down slightly, needing to feel her, taste her, my body desperate to connect to this woman who is still nearly a complete mystery to me.

Her response is immediate, her hips pressing against mine and increasing the pressure between our heated bodies. Her hands clench into the material along the back of my shirt, her own teeth gritted tightly shut as she forces a shaky breath through her nose.

Knowing I'm going to lose all semblance of control if I continue down this particular path, I move my mouth back up to place a gentle kiss near the back of her ear.

"You okay?" I ask her.

Pulling back so that I can see her eyes, I try to catch my breath, watching her struggling to do the same.

Nodding, she brings her hazel gaze to mine. So full of emotion, full of uncensored feeling that it makes my own heart thunder even louder in my chest.

"I'm okay," she gets out.

Shaking her head, she tries to form her thoughts into words. "I just…"

I smile slightly, my own expression matching hers.

"I know."

She nods, understanding that I'm just as affected by this moment as she is, maybe even more so. She can see that she isn't the only one battling against her thoughts, her feelings.

Running her hand upward to gently run her fingers across my cheek, she watches me silently, both our breathing finally slowing to something more closely resembling normal.

"We should get back," I pose quietly, my voice betraying just how much I don't want to do anything of the sort. How much I'd rather stay here. With her. Continuing what we were doing. "They're probably wondering where we are."

Something changes in Sara's expression as perhaps she's reminded of the people outside this room, the members of her team, her colleagues. Of the world waiting for us that is far less idyllic than this present one.

While what we were doing was amazing, taking every shred of my self-control to not push further, take this to the next step, I know this is far more complicated than that. This kiss was enough to send my head, my thoughts spinning. If I'm this off kilter from just a kiss, I need to get my bearings before even considering proceeding on to anything else. Sara isn't someone who I want to be a casual fuck, a drunken screw in a bar bathroom.

Sara deserves better than that.

If this is going anywhere, we need to figure that out. If it's not, we need to figure that out, too.

And, we need to do that sober.

I move a few steps backwards, giving her body room to free itself from its place against the wall.

"Sorry," I offer, noticing now just how hard I had her pinned against the solid surface.

"No apology necessary," Sara corrects. "Not for something like that."

Nodding, I reach over, gently placing my hand against her chest, searching her eyes one last time before I fully pull away.

"Kelly," Sara calls as I turn to lead the way back outside.

Turning back around to face her, she studies my expression.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she confesses quietly. "With a lot of things in my life right now. Work. Catherine." She looks at me closely. "This."

I nod, appreciating her honesty, her respect for me.

"That makes two of us," I confess.

I breathe out, lacing my fingers absently with hers as I squeeze her hand in mine.

"Look," I tell her. "I don't know what this was, or is. I don't know what I want it to be. Or don't want it to be." I shake my head. "All I know is that I've been wanting to do that for what feels like forever. And that it felt damn good."

Sara lets out a light smile at my words, her features seeming to relax as much as Sara Sidle ever relaxes.

"That makes two of us," she repeats my words back to me.

Then, her face drawing back to her usual stoicism, the brunette steels herself and follows me out of the room.

"Hey, where've you two been?" Catherine smiles, sending me a curious look as her eyes move between Sara and I as we make our way back into the main section of the bar.

"Oh, uh," I stall. "The bathroom."

"Right," Catherine says disbelievingly, eyes narrowing slightly as she watches Sara stare at the floor.

I try to subtly send her a look that states 'We'll talk later.' She nods with a raised brow, still eyeing Sara curiously.

Clearing my throat, I gesture to the drastically more inebriated crowd.

"You having fun?"

Catherine smiles, seeming more relaxed then I've seen her in a long time. "Yes, actually. Though," she looks around, "I was thinking of calling it a night before I lose all hope of waking up for work tomorrow."

Looking over, she gestures to our silent companion.

"And, I made a promise to a certain brunette that I'd make sure she got home safely."

Sara finally looks up, swallowing tightly as she meets Catherine's gaze.

"I'm okay," she tells her. "I can find a cab or catch a ride with someone."

"Nope," Catherine shakes her head. "A promise is a promise. If you're not ready to leave yet then I'll stick around until you are."

Looking around, eying the various people laughing, yelling, some even halfheartedly singing, Sara shakes her head.

"I'm ready."

"You sure?"

Nodding, Sara looks briefly at Catherine before again looking away.

"I'm sure."

CATHERINE POV

"You doing alright?"

Sara nods tightly, eyes clenched shut before she pries them open, hand continuing to grip nearly every car in the lot as we pass.

"Easy," I call, no longer able to resist reaching out to take her arm when her hip connects solidly with a side mirror.

"I'm sorry," she gets out, her legs desperately trying to stay walking in a straight line, to hide just how intoxicated she is right now.

"It's alright," I soothe gently. "Take your time."

Keeping my grip on her firm, we navigate the remaining maze of cars until we reach mine.

Helping her get situated, I step around back to the driver side.

"You start to feel like you're going to be sick, you let me know," I warn her seriously. "There will be no vomiting in my car."

The briefest hint of a smile touches Sara's lips before she closes her eyes, head leaning over to place itself against the cold window.

Eying her nervously, I put the car in gear.

The ride is silent as I pull from my memory the directions to Sara's place. When her apartment complex comes into view, a curious mix of relief and disappointment rises within me.

"Sara."

When I pull into a spot and shut off the engine, I reach over, gently shaking her shoulder.

"Sara, honey, we're here."

Jerking alert at the touch, Sara eyes me anxiously before she realizes where she is.

"Shit, sorry."

Reaching for her belt, she misses the buckle at least three times before finally successfully releasing it.

"I'm walking you to your door," I firmly decide.

"No, I'm-"

"Fine. Of course. Like you always are."

Sara can hear the complete lack of room for argument in my tone. She's not fine, and she's only growing more not fine as the alcohol is finally fully catching up with her.

As she stands, I get the car doors closed before I wrap my arm securely around her waist. Guiding her slowly, we use one of the more private back entrances into the building. When we finally get to her door on the fifth floor, I watch Sara fumble with her keys for a few moments before I gently take them from her shaking hands.

Quickly deducing which is which, I let us inside.

She turns, stumbling slightly as she removes herself from my hold.

"Thank you," she tells me quietly. "I appreciate the ride."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own?" I question seriously, hating to leave the brunette like this.

I worry about her falling over, hitting her head, vomiting in her sleep, and a dozen other horrible fears as I watch her holding the counter tightly as she sways.

"I'll be okay," she assures me. "Just need a shower…coffee…"

"Sleep," I correct her. "You need sleep, honey."

Sara looks away, growing definitively more uncomfortable.

"Come on," I call, stepping fully into her apartment as I make a decision.

"What…"

She has no time to argue as I take hold of her by the hips and all but push her towards the back rooms of her apartment.

Seeing what I'm looking for, I direct her into the room on the right.

"What are you doing?"

"Forcing you to do what I know you won't if left to your own devices."

Opening and closing her dresser drawers, I gather what I need.

Tossing the items on the bed, I point to them. "I'm going to turn around since I suspect you'd be less than thrilled with me helping you for this portion. When I turn back around you're going to be dressed in those and in your bed."

Sara hesitates, eyeing me with what looks like a mixture of confusion, anger, frustration, and shock.

"I'm not joking," I warn her before I send her one last purposeful look.

Turning, I face the wall with my arms folded over my chest.

Hearing her curse, the soft thuds and shuffles that follow let me know she's at least doing what I've asked.

When she goes quiet, I turn my head.

"You decent?"

Not hearing a response, I move to face her fully.

Seeing what greets me, I can't help but smile.

"Sara Sidle," I breathe out. "What in the world am I going to do with you?"

Approaching the brunette splayed out on top of her covers, I compromise by pulling the extra blanket from the foot of her bed and gently laying it over her. Taking her shoulder lightly, I pull her slightly towards me until she's on her side, positioning her legs under the covers in a way that prevents her from accidentally rolling onto her back. Everything I can do to be sure she's as safe as possible if she does end up vomiting.

Leaning down, I gently tuck the wayward strands of her dark hair behind her ear, watching her expression as she sleeps.

Seeing the furrowed brow, the tightly clenched jaw, I let out a sigh.

"What demons are you fighting, Sidle?"

Stroking her hair gently one last time, I pull back, knowing there's nothing more I can do for this haunted soul tonight.

SARA POV

The first thing I notice is the pounding in my head. The second thing I notices is the blinding light against my eyes.

"Fuck."

Groaning, I fight to get my eyes fully open, covering my face with my arm until I can manage to keep them from shutting against the glare.

Looking over at the clock, I'm relieved to find I still have a few solid hours before work. Something tells me I'm going to need every bit of it to make myself presentable.

Pushing to a stand, I clench my mouth shut against the nausea swirling through me as the room starts to spin. Waiting until I'm relatively steady, I slowly shuffle to the bathroom, shedding my boxers and t-shirt as I go.

When I reach the shower, I turn the water on, leaving it as cold as possible to help sober me up.

When I finish trying to scrub all of the remnants of the bar away, I step out, grabbing a towel as I start to shiver against the cool air. When I replace it along the wall, I nearly drop it as my gaze lands on my reflection in the mirror.

Eyes traveling down to my shoulder, a streak of red has my eyes fixed to it. My hand gently traces the line, my brain pulling images of vivid memory as it reminds me of exactly how I got that particular mark.

Kelly.

Remembering everything about last night, I have no problem recalling our rendezvous in the restroom. The heated kiss, the barely contained hands.

The desperate need for a distraction, an escape from everything.

"What are you doing, Sidle?" I glare at the stranger in front of me, at the person who once would have never let something like what transpired with Kelly happen.

Not while we were drunk, not while our intentions weren't clear or communicated, not while I was all but looking for anything and anyone to distract me from the demons all but consuming me. Kelly deserved better than that.

"Fuck," I curse, disgusted with myself. At this person who lets desires overcome principles.

And, if I'm honest, principles that pertain not only to Kelly, but Catherine.

Here we were, finally making some progress with one another, sharing cigarettes and conversation as we successfully avoided the more complicated aspects of our relationship for once. Catherine was nothing but supportive yesterday, making sure I was okay and that I got home safely, watching over me throughout the evening at the bar as she allowed me to try to let go of everything.

And, where was I?

Making out with her best friend in the bathroom.

Tightening my hand into a fist, I angrily hit my counter, wondering how I let something like that happen.

No, I don't owe Catherine anything. No, she and I are essentially nothing more than barely friendly acquaintances right now. I have no obligations to her, and she has none to me. Kelly and I are both consenting adults. And, I'm not going to deny that kissing her felt beyond good.

So, why does it also feel so deceitful, so wrong, to have been with Kelly? Why do I feel so sickeningly guilty?

Pushing away from the counter, I let the room steady itself before I move to my kitchen. Turning on the coffeemaker, I glance again at the clock as it brews.

Watching the swirling dark liquid, I fight against the thoughts and emotions moving through me.

I wanted a distraction from Gabe, from the voices of the victims haunting me every time I close my eyes. I wanted a night of oblivion, of freedom to self-destruct and stop trying to so desperately hold myself together.

Part of me got that, got exactly what I wanted.

But, a bigger part of me simply got more demons, more regrets.

AN: Thanks for reading.