This is my first attempt to write a csi fanfic so I hope you guys enjoy.

Disclaimers: These characters don’t belong to me. They belong to CBS. I’m just messing around with them.

This fanfic involves f/f so if u don’t like it, don’t read it.

It wasn’t my problem; it had nothing to do with me. Then why am I here? It’s not my problem, but to hear her crying on the other side of that door its killing. It’s not my problem, but I think I’m going in.

We were never close, never friends, we were colleagues to say the least, barely polite to one another. Then why am I facing this door? Why does it hurt so much to hear her crying? I feel guilty, even if it wasn’t my fault.

Maybe, I don’t know, I could have stopped. I could have told her what everyone could see except for her. He wasn’t good enough for her. That was so obvious, only she couldn’t see that.

I wanted to tell her, I really did, but how was I going to do that? We don’t talk to each other unless we’re arguing about some case or she needs me to cover for her when she wants to go out or needs some time with her daughter.

I never minded, it’s not like staying in the lab for more than one shift is that unnatural for me, it would be strange to not stay for more than one shift. I’m known for maxing out on overtime. My work takes most of my life, my hobbies, if you can even call that, are mostly connected to my work.

I don’t have anyone or anything to come back to, so why should I? I’m more useful working, catching the bad guys. And that’s what I should be doing, instead of standing in front of that door, but I can’t make myself turn and walk away.

It’s been awhile since I’m here, but I can still hear her sobs from inside the locker room, it pains me to not go in, but what could I possibly do? I can’t just go in there and try to comfort her, we’re not even friends, so why should I?

It’s not that I don’t care for her, but it took me a long time to bury my feelings for this woman, and I know if I go in there, and try to comfort her, it will be my doom.

So I don’t go in, I try to ignore. I make myself turn, because I have work to do, and to stand in front of this door the whole shift listening to her sobs won't help catching any murderer.

So I leave, hoping that one of these days I won’t be afraid of getting close to her.