MP- Hello everyone. A little backstory before we get into this. This is a revamped version of a story I wrote on my first account GSRSmackedHiphuggers. You don't need to have read that one to understand. This is a completely new look at the story with the same old storyline. Secondly, I love CSI, but after Grissom left it went downhill. So this is an AU that happens after Sara's departure in season 8. I hope you enjoy if you like please favourite this story it would be deeply appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, other than the ones I have created. All copyrighted CSI characters are owned by CBS and the talented writers and creators of this series.

Brown Hair, Blue Eyes

By: MandasPandas1011

Prologue

"Gil, I can't!"

Sara's voice was strained, and tears flooded down her cheeks. Her breathing was coarse and haggard. They had been fighting for over an hour now. Gil stared at the floor, memorizing the carpet pattern for the hundredth time that day. He spent most of it trying to avoid it getting to this point. He looked up only when she had let out soft wheezing noises. She was now crumpled in a ball against the wall, head in her hands, convulsing in sobs. He had truly broken her. Tears started falling down his face, a deep sigh of defeat escaping his lips.

"I can't live without you," he exclaimed, inching closer to her.

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. He couldn't bear to see her like this, it broke every inch of him. He wanted to scoop her up and take everything back. He attempted to wipe his tears and watched her. She stood up and walked towards him. Avoiding his gaze, he reached out to her. To his surprise, she took his hand in hers. Her hands were trembling, he felt the teardrops falling onto his arm.

"Sara.." he started but was cut off by a small object being dropped in his hand.

He looked at his hand for a minute, her hands still clasping it. He slowly opened it to reveal what he was dreading. A small golden band with three small diamonds on it. It lay in his palm like a true omen of his stupidity. He bit his lip in an attempt to control his emotions. His mind swirled with too many things, it could not settle on one. Her hands dropped to her side, head still hanging low. He wanted nothing more than to pull into his embrace and soothe her worries like he always had. Looking up at her, he was almost shocked to see her looking back. He took her in for a moment, her brown hair was frazzled and damp from tears. Her deep brown eyes now red and puffy from emotions and her plump pink lips quivered with sorrow. He had done this to her. He had pushed her too far. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away.

"I'm so sorry Gil," she sobbed. "I just can't!"

With that, she turned and fled out the door. He jolted forward after her, but he couldn't seem to move his feet out of shock. The door slammed closed behind her and she was gone. He was left standing in the middle of his hotel room, holding the ring he had pledged his love with. After all their years together and hardships. This ring was a symbol of his undying commitment to her. A commitment he knew he had disappointed when he asked her to come back with him. He stood staring at the empty doorway for a while. Eventually, he made his way to the couch and uncomfortably tried to slip off to sleep. Tossing, turning, and mumbling her name into the empty room.

6 weeks later

"Okay," Sara sighed, taping her finger as her mom dragged out the conversation. "Okay, Mom!"

Her mother continued rambling on about other patients and their mischievous ways. Sara jumped down from the counter and readjusted the phone securely between her ear and shoulder. Flying open the cupboard doors and rummaged through for a snack. She eyed a bag of microwave popcorn and pulled it out. She shut the doors and made quick work of the popcorn packaging. Listening to her mom still accusing her roommate Helen of hoarding all the chess pieces. She shoved the popcorn hastily into the microwave. It always seemed to feel ten times longer for things to cook when you're craving them. Finally, after what felt like a century, the machine beeped. She flung open the door and carefully pulled the bag out.

"I am sure the orderlies will talk with her, Mom," she reassured, moving into the living room. "Just let them know your complaints."

She pulled open the bag and the warm buttery scent wafted up to her nostrils. Suddenly, a knot pulled in her stomach and was making its way up her throat. She lunged up from the couch, and with her phone still in hand, ran into the bathroom. She then proceeded to empty her breakfast into the toilet. She heaved for a few minutes, before finally rolling back on her heels. She leaned her back onto the tub, her breath was heavy and she wiped a few tears from her eyes. She could hear her mother's muffled voice repeating her name on the phone, which was lying face down beside the toilet. She reached over and picked it up, placing it back up to her ear.

"Yeah.." she coughed, her throat felt thick. "Yeah, sorry, Mom. No, I think it's just the flu or maybe food poisoning. Nothing serious. Yep, I'll talk tomorrow and see you Thursday. Okay, Bye, Mom. I Love you too."

The phone beeped and she dropped her arm beside her. Closing her eyes she let her mind wander. What had she eaten in the last 24 hours? Nothing that would elicit this response. Having the flu was going to mess up her week. A thought crept up in the back and her head shot up. She excused the thought at first as ridiculous, but the more she thought about it. The less ridiculous it seemed. She jolted up to her feet.

"Shit!" she mumbled to herself.

She hastily put on her shoes and flung the door open. It closed heavily behind her and she locked it. She made her way down to the street and next door to the small variety store. Pacing down the aisles, passing rows of chips and toilet paper, she finally made it to the right section. Her eyes darted over the pegs and pegs of products. She spotted the thing she was looking for, grabbed the box, and made her way to the front. She dropped it onto the counter. The clerk took a look at it and gave Sara a huge smile. Sara avoided her gaze by rifling through the magazines. Izzy Delancy Memorial Album in the Works read the cover of one. Sara shuddered with the remembrance of that case and its inevitable outcome. She peered down at the thin scars on her right arm. Her body trembled slightly as she could almost feel the water filling up around her.

"Is that everything?"

The young woman's voice pulled Sara from her trance. She shook her head in confusion and then looked up at the clerk. She was looking at her with a sweet smile patiently waiting for her response. Her purchase was already in a white bag on the counter.

"Umm, yeah," Sara mumbled, reaching down in her pocket for her card.

"16.22, please," the clerk replied. "Wait till the machine prompts you, then proceed."

She watched the machine as a circle on the screen swirled. The machines were always slower when you were in a hurry. It finally changed and she swiped the card. The clerk held out her receipt, she took it and thrust it into her pocket. Then grabbed the bag off the counter.

"Have a nice day!" the clerk called after Sara as she left the store.

She made her way back up to the apartment. Kicked her shoes off and proceeded down the hall to the bathroom. She made quick work of the packaging and threw it in the bin. Tossing the instructions in as well. This had not been her first time with one of these. She sat down and thrust the plastic stick between her legs. Once she removed it, she looked down at her phone for the time, 5 minutes. She could do this, not like this would change her whole future or anything. Flushing the toilet, she moved to leave the room, but something held her back. A thought or more a fear made her sit down on her rug. She tried to focus on anything but it, however, she was finding that fruitless. Her anxiety was bettering her this time. She thought of him. A thought she quickly pushed away. Finally, after what seemed like ages her time was up. She just stared at it for a second, unwilling to touch it. She grabbed it slowly off the edge of the sink, almost as though it was going to jump at her. Clutching it to her chest, she took a deep breath. She took a look at it.

"Fuck..."