Disclaimer - I do not own CSI, or any of it's characters.

Authors Note - Just a short one-shot that came to me today as I was discussing things with a friend. This is my first story in a while. Has mentions of self harm and femslash. This is your warning. You are (I'm assuming) mature enough to make the decision now to read or not to read...

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As I drop the keys onto the table and pull the door behind me shut, I close my eyes, and exhale heavily. It’s been one of those days…weeks….months… years; hell; it’s been one of those lives.

Ever since I was a child, instability has played a major role in my life. Moving from home to home was at times a blessing and at times a curse. I never really got close enough to make friends. I see people at work smiling when they hear from an old friend. My oldest friend is from 10 years ago. But I did get to leave before getting too close to the boys who threatened ‘Wanna feel how sharp this knife is? Like when it slits your throat.’

At the time, those guys scared the shit out of me, but after a while, those words came back to haunt me.

I found myself one day staring at a pen knife, one that I had been given for a birthday. I had had enough shit off people at school that day, as they heard, as they always did, why I had been transferred. I heard that question again in my head ‘Wanna feel how sharp this knife is?’

I found myself replying ‘Yes!’ I drew the knife lightly up my arm, just enough to leave a small scratch. It was cold. It was sharp. I drew it up again, pressing harder. Cold…sharp….Again and again I drug the knife along my arm until it was covered in red marks. My arm looked like it had been attacked by a cat. But my mind was free. I was no longer concentrated on what people were saying to, or about, me.

Pulling my sleeve down I got on with the rest of my classes.

That day was just the beginning. After that day, I wore long shirts most days. No one commented. I kept my head down, and myself to myself, graduated and went off to college.

I finally had some stability there; however I still could not shake my demons. So I continued to cut. Never too deep. And never somewhere that couldn’t be covered. But most weeks, something would get too much, and the trusty penknife would make a reappearance.

As I pull myself back into the present, I reach into my purse and pull out my penknife. I hold it in my hands.

However, as I am about to lift it to my arm, a photograph catches my eye. It’s the whole team together, smiling. As I raise it up, I feel arms wrap around me from behind, and a kiss pressed to my shoulder. The hands on my waist take the penknife out of my hand; lay it on the table, before turning me around.

‘I thought we had talked about this Sara.’

We have. I’m supposed to talk about things, instead of bottling them up. But on days like today, cases like I’ve been working, I forget.

“Sorry. It’s just that Grissom had me working this case today where a teenage girl was beaten up and left for dead by some bullies who had found out she why she had moved. It just….it just hit a bit close to home. And I’m so used to coping my way, on my own….’

Catherine lightly pulls my head down to hers, and kisses me. ‘It’s ok baby…I’m here,’ she whispers as she kisses me again.

I push her over to the couch and down onto it. I know that we will have to talk about this later, but in this moment, I just want to hold her.

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Authors Note - Please leave me a review.