I've been watching Nigel Crane pace inside the interrogation room for what feels like hours. I catch myself holding my breath; I catch Nigel staring at me. I know he can't see me, but I feel his eyes on me. It's a feeling that I can't shake. It's a whole new feeling of dirty that I cannot seem to rid myself of; I feel the need to pack up my apartment and leave. I don't even know where I'd go, but I feel driven to go somewhere else.

"Hey, are you going to be okay?" Sara asked as she touched my shoulder. I heard myself gasp; I jumped. I sounded like a wounded animal; I barely recognized the noise I mad. I saw Sara back pedal a few steps. I turned to face her; my heart was pounding. I didn't even realize that my fist was raised.

"Nick, Nick," Sara yelled as she backed across the room. She stumbled into a chair nearly losing her balance and falling to the ground. She looked scared. I finally realized where I was. I instantly felt as crazy as Nigel was.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. I'm sorry," I said as I lowered my arm. I could feel myself shaking. I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes. I bit my lower lip.

"Hey, it's okay. I shouldn't have snuck up behind you," Sara replied. She didn't touch me; she kept three feet between me and her. Sara looked like she just might be assessing strategies of escape just in case I lose reality again.

"I'm so sorry," I said. I leaned up against the two-way mirror. Sara pulled a chair up next to me. I sat down. I felt more like I collapsed. It wasn't over; I didn't understand how Catherine could possibly think that this was over.

"It's okay. Do you have a place to stay tonight?" Sara asked. She kneeled in front of me. I was thankful that it was her; she would never speak of this again. I knew that she wasn't doing this out of guilt; Warrick would have taken care of me out of guilt. Grissom would have taken care of me out of some misguided paternalism that I don't think I would ever understand. Catherine obviously just didn't understand.

"No," I replied. Brass had helped me get together a few items in an overnight bag. Brass told me to go somewhere else.

"I have a couch," Sara replied.

"What if I hurt you?" I asked. I wasn't completely convinced that Sara would be safe around me; I wasn't sure if anyone would be safe around me.

"You won't. You couldn't," Sara said. I couldn't even look at her. I had never been afraid of myself before. I never believed that I could take a life, but now, I thought that I might be able to if I was lost in a rage.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I just do. Come on," Sara replied, "You should eat something."

"Are you sure?" I asked as Sara took my hand.

"If I thought you would hurt me, I wouldn't have asked you," Sara replied. I reluctantly followed her. I felt myself becoming woozy from the Vicodin I had taken earlier in the evening. I remember Brass telling Sara to keep a good eye on me. Brass said that he would let Grissom know that Sara was taking me somewhere safe.

I woke up at seven in the morning following a dream that I couldn't remember. I was in Sara's bed; the sun was poring through the window. Sara stood in the doorway. She looked concerned. She took a deep breath and walked to the side of the bed. She didn't need to say anything; she just sat at the edge of the bed with her hand over my hand. I knew that was the best she could do; I knew that was all I really needed right now. I was thankful that it was Sara.

We sat silently for two hours before I finally fell back asleep. Sara also fell asleep on the bed. When I woke up, I wasn't afraid of myself anymore . . . with one look at her sleeping figure, I was convinced that I could never hurt her. I felt sane again.