A/N: This is set somewhere after Grave Danger (after what I would imagine as Nick going home to Dallas with his family for a few weeks to recooperate). It's going to be NS, but give me time to get there. This is going to be another of my really angsty stories (sorry, I guess you write what you can relate to).
I'm having a really hard time ending No Arguments. I'm going to try to finish it up within the next few weeks. -Jac
She was the last person I ever thought would call me at 3 in the morning begging for a ride home, or to somewhere where I can forget about this damn job, as she so eloquently put it. She's sitting on a barstool drinking something that I'm sure could act as a Molotov cocktail if lit on fire. She's swaying uncomfortably. She knows what she's doing is wrong, but I guess this has been one of those 'fuck the consequences' nights.
"I'm not drunk. I just didn't know who to call. Greg's still at work. Grissom doesn't want me to step foot in the lab. Warrick is busy with Melanie . . . Margaret . . . Maya . . . or whatever her name is. Catherine, well, she would revel in the fact that I feel miserable," Sara said as I sat next to her.
"Where's your SUV?" I asked as Sara slid the beer she ordered me on over.
"In the shop. Brake lines were cut last night," Sara replied as if it were an everyday occurrence.
"What's going on?" I asked. I knew better than to pussyfoot around what she might be thinking. Unless asked directly, Sara Sidle would never give up information.
"Remember Brenda Collins?" Sara asked.
"The blonde . . . that little girl," I said. It would be hard to ever forget the blonde, china doll that wouldn't let go of Sara. Sara wouldn't let go of her either.
"I got a letter from her two weeks ago. She blames me for all how miserable her life is. In fact, Brenda wants me dead. She's been in fourteen foster homes in the last five years," Sara said. I could immediately see the tears beginning to well in her eyes.
"I wouldn't take it personally. That girl didn't have a chance. Her family was so far gone before the murders that you could have never undone all that damage," I replied.
"I should have taken her home with me. I should have never let go of her hand when that woman from child services came for her," Sara replied as she lowered her head.
"You don't think it's Brenda that cut your break lines, do you?" I asked.
"I think there are a million people out there that somehow hate me for ruining their life. Maybe they have formed a union or something," Sara replied sarcastically.
"Does Grissom know?" I asked.
"He knows. He knows because I hit his SUV because my brakes . . .," Sara trailed off.
"Were cut," I finished for her, "I'm sure he's pleased with you."
"I don't think he really notices. If he does, Grissom isn't one to show it," Sara replied, "Can we go somewhere else before I talk myself into getting so wasted that I forget my own name?"
"Where do you want to go?" I asked as Sara put some cash down on the bar.
"As far away from here as possible. I don't know. I just need to clear my head," Sara said as she followed me to my SUV.
That's when everything began to fall apart.