A/N: Okay, so this is my first at a CSI story... I'm sorry, but I just couldn't stand the second to last episode with Lady Heather in it... I will reserve my comments at this point, but I think you'll get my reactions to her a little later in this fic... I really can't stand her. And I apologize for everyone else that is just like me... Know that I had the hardest time writing this first part with Grissom and Heather. That's why I made it as short as possible... Hehe... No worries though!

Disclaimer: Roses are Red. Violets are Blue. Dammit I don't own CSI. But neither to do you... So HA HA YOU POOR SAPS! HAHA! You're stuck in the same spot I am! Okay, temporary spaz moment is over with... Thank you and have a safe drive home...

Sara's POV:

It had been some time since I heard the lab's latest rumor about my boss and the infamous dominatrix, Lady Heather. At first, I'd dismissed the thought from my thoughts for my sanity's sake, but also because I just found it so incredulous to believe to begin with. I mean, I know the two had that God forsaken fling a couple of years ago, but one night stand couldn't possibly be coming back around for another round, right?

But that was six weeks ago. This was the present day. And present day was pure Hell for me right now.

I was pulling into the parking lot back at the lab, getting back from my latest crime scene and getting ready to haul the evidence into the lab. Daily ritual. The one thing that wasn't so ritual, as I was about to enter the lab was two voices floating through my ears just a few cars away from me. The first voice, I recognized at once, was that of Grissom. The second voice, was a female voice that I didn't recognize right away.

"You know I'm supposed to be working right now. You can't just keep pulling me out every time you miss me or feel the need to check up on me. I am a grown man, you know..." Grissom said in a somewhat light-hearted tone.

"I know that as well. But, I can't help it. It's an impulse." The voice of the woman was very monotone and calm.

"Well, in the future, please Heather... Please try to control your impulses. People do need their space." Grissom's voice turned back to professional.

I saved myself from dropping the evidence all over the ground as I heard him say her name. But I had to force myself from jumping to conclusions. It didn't have to mean anything intimate, correct? You can miss a friend and just want to see them, right?

My feelings were torn between not wanting to really know the truth and wanting to have some type of closure and were waging a war inside of me while I just stood there as a short silence ensued. But in the end, once Heather started to talk again, I decided I needed closure, no matter what it might be. But I wasn't ready for what was exchanged between the two verbally.

"Even if it's the person you're going out with and love?" Her voice resonated again from behind the cars.

That was all it took for me to not want to continue eavesdropping on their conversation. I didn't want to hear his comment back because that last sentence was closure enough. Any more closure and I was sure I would break.

I was taking power strides through the corridors, stopping at certain labs to drop off the evidence that belonged there. I didn't stop to talk to anyone about anything; not the lab technicians, not my colleagues, not a single breathing soul. I felt that if I were to stop, the tears that I just left behind would catch up with me and capture me. I had to save that for later when I was out of the sight of civilization... Or at least until I could access an empty bathroom.

I'd delivered all evidence in a speedy record time, with ample time left over that I couldn't afford to have. But rather than walk around the halls without a purpose and risk acting oddly, I decided I should attempt to delete the nagging thought out of my mind. My mind could only conjure up the thought that a cup of coffee would help - as nasty as the lab's coffee was.

Just a half of a step down from a jog was the speed I was going at when I entered the relatively calm break room. Nick and Warrick had obvious found the same amount of free time between their case to sit back and play one of Nick's NFL video games. And Greg must've been expecting an update soon as he was looking between his watch and the video game Nick and Warrick were playing, expressing as much enthusiasm as the two guys playing the game were.

Trying to remain unnoticed, I slipped over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup. I allowed the steam from the coffee to move past my face as I held the cup close to my face, preparing to sip the boiling hot brew. In a way, I was wishing that somehow the steam would help settle the turmoil called my feelings. I couldn't lose it at work, not now.

How was it possible for me to feel so many feelings at once, yet it is only caused by one person? Jealousy, hurt, anger, sorrow, confusion, and a bunch of other emotions generated from those ones. And that mess could only be made by one man, and one man only; Gil Grissom.

"Even if it's the person you're going out with and love?" Her voice floated back through my ears as I just stood there in the break room.

Love? How does a dominatrix, of all people, get love? I'd say it's more along the lines of fear instead of love. I mean, truly... A dominatrix makes a career off of making others suffer. You can't love someone that causes you suffering. And if you do, then my only advice is to check yourself into the nearest mental hospital and ask for them to reserve a room for you.

So, where does that leave Grissom? My conscience asked me, bringing back the painful thought.

No... It couldn't be called love. Grissom + a criminal dominatrix just did not equal love to me. Nothing made sense anymore. At least, not in my realm of living it didn't. To anyone else, it might have appeared to just be the mysterious work of life. But just how does a law abiding, intelligent forensic scientist fall in love with a dominatrix that's had multiple run-ins with the law in the past five years? If anyone could make logical sense of that, they'd know more than most of the intellectual beings in this building, which only narrowed it down to everyone on the nightshift and a few of the other lab technicians, such as Archie and Mia.

A wave of jealousy washed over me when I couldn't push the thought away after five minutes. I know life wasn't fair, but this was just plain cruelty! Just how much unfairness does a woman have to put up with until you finally have something good happen to you? Obviously thirty-five years isn't enough for life though...

But then the jealousy inside me abruptly substituted itself with the feeling of the all too familiar feeling of emotional hurt, and a wetness accumulated in my eyes. Biting on my lower lip, I hastily set the cup down and rushed out of the break room to go to the bathroom, ungracefully bumping into two people as I was exiting. I only noticed that one of them was Catherine and that her company was a man. I didn't even want to contemplate the fact of it being Grissom... So, my pace gradually turned from a hasty walk to a jog as I rounded the corner and turned right to go down the hall and all but burst into the hopefully empty bathroom.

Hastily going through all of the stalls to ensure myself that no one else was in the bathroom, I finally let out a pent up sigh. And this just wasn't a sigh with a single characteristic. It was a sigh of exasperation, relief, confusion, and just about every other type of sigh you can think about with the exception of any type of happy one.

As I just stood there in that bathroom, I felt the tears slowly come out, one after another, without a sound and with no hesitation or struggle. I made no attempt to stop them nor encourage them to flow even heavier than they already were. I was turning in light circle in the spot I stood in, my hands on my hips and my line of vision altering from the ceiling to the floor to straight ahead. But that didn't stop the thoughts that were racing through my mind.

What endearing quality did thatsorry excuse for a woman have that I did? And I hardly ever put anything about myself on a pedestal, but truly... When you compare me to her, a woman that had left a man within inches of his life by being whipped to death, I hadn't thought the decision would be that tough. It amazes me that Grissom would put her on a pedestal, of all people... I just wasn't worth the risk, but she is? My mind just couldn't wrap around the idea. True, I'm not a saint or any great prize, but at least my line of work isn't causing pain to other people in the physical aspect.

The heat in my tears increased at the thought of this really being the end. I sure as Hell didn't want to admit the end, but there's a point in time when you have to just stop. Stop the chasing, stop the fantasizing, stop the desperate wishing, and just overall stop putting your hopes up. Because there's a point where it's healthy, and then there's another point when you've run it into the ground and it's not so healthy. For me, I've been chasing for over a decade now, and I'm just starting to think the time has been expired.

When I stopped turning and looked straight ahead, I was face-to-face with my reflection. A hollow shell of what at one point, used to be a lively and eager to learn Sara Sidle. I hardly recognized this pathetic figure in the mirror, staring back at me with death cold eyes. It felt as is I was back in the autopsy room, staring at Debbie Marlin again, my doppelganger. The figure I saw in the mirror was as close to dead as a living person could get.

Walking toward the reflection, almost in a disbelieving trance, I stared right into my own eyes with a blank look on my face, but the tears were still rolling down my face. After a long couple of moments, my reflection mimicked the look of shame I was directing at it back to me. I was ashamed of my reflection, and it was ashamed of me.

The gates crashed as my falling tears turned into a flood when I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away from the mirror, bearing to look at it any longer. I became more and more unstable with every teardrop, and soon I was silently sobbing. One minute turned to two, and two to three, and three to four, and after five, I lost count of time. And with every minute, my silent sobbing gradually increased to a full blown, loud as a banshee cry. With my crying, my legs were no longer stable enough to hold me up which forced me to lean against the sink's counter for support. When my arms could no longer support my shaking body, I sank down to my knees on the floor and crawled underneath the counter to rest against the wall with my pitiful crying form. I knew there was a God now, because not a soul had entered since I had.

And just as quickly as I had to praise Him, I had to curse him seeing as someone intruded on me.

In a feeble attempt to rebuild the floodgates, I still failed to see who had entered. But it didn't take me that long to figure it out when I heard the voice as it crouched in front of me and in front of my horribly blurred vision.

"Sara? Hey, Sara, what's wrong?" Catherine's voice was, for once, filled with concern for me.

Fiercely rubbing my meandering tears with my sleeves, I tried to hide my face out of humiliation, knowing there was no way I could just suddenly make Catherine forget that I wasn't crying. I found it odd almost, at the thought that it was Catherine who was coming to comfort me. We're not always so compatible with each other, but I guess this moment just went to show me that she wasn't so devoid of compassion for me. Either that, or she was really good at pretending.

"Hey, whatever it is, don't worry about it... Don't even think about it... It's not worth the tears, Sara." She tried to tell me comfortingly, rubbing my bent knees for good measure.

I couldn't believe that I was just sitting here and allowing a woman who I'd butted heads with on more than one occasion to see me in such a vulnerable state of being. Talk about ironic...

It took a couple of minutes to regain my composure, and to my surprise, Catherine was still there at the end. Now, it was either she had something to tell me or she really did actually care about me. I failed to convince myself that she fully cared about me, so I found my voice and cleared my throat before I spoke up.

"Did... Um, did you need to tell me something, Catherine?" I avoided eye contact.

She seemed only slightly shocked that I'd gotten right to business, despite the fact that I was always like that. Only taking a needed couple of seconds to recover, she stood up and offered her hand down to me to help me up. Watching her hand guardedly for a moment or two, as if it were going to harm me in some type of way, I reluctantly took it and stood up, coming out from under the counter.

"Partly, yes... Another part of me was starting to get worried about you. You weren't in the building and you weren't in the field, and no one could find you for this pass hour and a half. You didn't look well when you went running out of the break room and jogging down the hall." She explained in her regular cool voice, slipping back into normal Catherine mode.

I regarded her strangely for a second at the mention of her actually being worried about me. She must've sensed it or knew what I was thinking or something like that because she gave me a soft eye roll.

"Listen Sara... I know we haven't been exactly the best of friends for these past six years, but it's not like I hate you. I do care about you, just like the rest of this team does. I just get a little tired of your stubbornness sometimes, that's all." Catherine told me as she offered me a tissue to wipe my eyes.

"Well, there's news..." I muttered to myself, not wanting her to hear me. "So, what did you need me for? Did we get any results from ballistics or trace?"

"Umm... No." Catherine said point blank. "Actually... You have a visitor. It's a young woman by the name of Brooke Waters. She claims to be your sister... She's right outside of the bathroom." She threw her head back at the door.

My forehead rose to new heights the moment Catherine mentioned that name in utter surprise. But it just couldn't be, though I'd just heard the words come out of her mouth. In a sudden abruptness, I ran to the door and flung it open to reveal the one person I thought I'd never see again in my life.

Brooke Waters...

TBC...

A/N: So... Yes, that is my pathetic first chapter... I apologize... It was only six pages long... But bear with me here, okay folks? I just got off a very bad Writer's Block... Yes, I write constantly, I just don't post it... Well, in any case, help me with my self-esteem here. Any and all reviewers are welcome. Yes, even you little low-lifes that love to flame. But be warned, you flamers, I don't care about what you say. Not too much hurts my feelings. Just thought I'd warn you before you go and waste your time. Because I will be continuing the story, despite your rude comments. A'ight? I've said my peace. R&R plz!