A/N:
a)I'm genuinely sorry for the late installment but life has been surprisingly hectic.
b)Well, this chapter, in my opinion, is a lot more darker than the others. We delve into Sara's past, and Greg's as well.
c)Those ruler/line break things usually piss me off because it makes a chapter seem interrupted. BUT I went ahead and put them in anyways because I didn't know how else to differentiate Greg's POV and Sara's POV.

Alternate Angles Are
Chapter 3: Go Ask Alice

It was their unresponsiveness that kept part of Greg troubled and unstable. It was their lifeless bodies, cold-to-the-touch expressions. Tonight, it was Lauren Stevens, the thirteen-year-old rape victim that made the night seem cruelly endless. It wasn't the first time he had to work on a case involving a violated child, in fact, this was his eighth case. The injustice of their deaths kept him awake at night, eating away at his charismatic personality and erasing his grinning façade. The difficulty was that Lauren looked exactly like his sister. The problem was, that this was exactly how his sister had died. Lauren's hair was a soft brown, just as his Lilly's was. Her eyes were black, ebony, shining with animation…before she died. Her eyes were now broken; they wouldn't move. She couldn't see. Lauren's been dead for eighteen hours. Lilly's been dead for eighteen years.

The hardest part was the guilt-trip he had to take because he wasn't there to protect her when she needed him most. He couldn't defend his Lilly Sanders. He couldn't save this Lauren Stevens. She lay deceased on a slab in the morgue. She must be so cold.

It was teno'clock in the Las Vegas morning and Greg Sanders had the last thirteen hours off from work. He could have slept, like he had planned on doing so after five vigorous hours of working on such a dreadful case and nine hours before that processing a double homicide in a hotel room. Instead, he had driven to the Strip, meandered into a bar, and downed shots like there was no tomorrow. Now, he sat on the couch, nurturing a bottle of water as he stared into space. The last possibility of falling asleep had vanished when he skimmed over the case file for the thousandth time. Even her initials were identical to Lilly's. This was too much to handle. It was almost 10:30 AM, but he had sealed his shutters closed to avoid any sunlight during his supposed sleeping-time. Greg serenely walked to the window and flicked the shutters open. As the first ray of a Las Vegas morning tripped through his window, Greg Sanders solemnly swore to find justice for this Lauren Stevens.

The shrill chirping of his abandoned cell phone stole the silence away from his lonely thoughts. Greg blinked after the third ring, finally answering it as he threw the empty water bottle into the trash.

"Sanders." Greg whispered while smoothing his hair. He sauntered over to his coffee maker and prepared to make a steaming mug of Kona from Peet's. Desperate times called for the best coffee. His fingers roamed around the cupboard for the bag as he waited patiently for someone to reply.

"It's Catherine. I need you to come here ASAP. Within the hour, okay?"

He carefully measured a spoonful of the ground coffee beans and transferred into the filter. The slight hum of his neighbor's shower signaled the beginning of a new day in Sin City.

"What's going on?"

A slight pause of hesitation could be heard as Greg pushed the on button of the coffee maker. He inhaled the fresh aroma of Kona.

"Greg, listen to me. Just get here. I'll fill you in later. It's just complicated. Alright?"

The first drop of brown liquid hit the pot and Greg nodded, even though Catherine couldn't see him, "Sure thing. I'll be there in twenty."

"Thanks."


A brawny but graying man orbited around Sara's trembling form. What happened to his brunette hair? He was roughly six feet tall, with sparkling gray eyes that could only be read as pure hatred. They were no longer in a discarded alley, but a sizeable storage room, containing nothing but a rusty bed arranged neatly facing the door in the back wall, with the headboard similar to those you find in ancient hospitals; a waiting-room clock, located directly above the bed, so if one were to lay on the bed, it would be the first thing to look at; and a metal table, not unlike the ones held in interrogating rooms at the Station. On the table, a leather briefcase sat on the corner, holding who-knows-what, along with a load of files that was neatly placed atop the briefcase.

A row of perfectly straight and thoroughly whitened teeth greeted, "Jesus, Sara, it's been a while hasn't it?"

This business suited man who emitted an aura of unpleasantness said this as though she hadn't been kidnapped, stuffed in the trunk of her own government-issued vehicle, drugged and dragged into an isolated storage room, and welcomed by the last person she ever wanted to see free to roam around the streets. He was a dangerous man, and she couldn't do anything to put him behind bars.

Sara struggled against the ropes that tied her down before spitting between gritted teeth, "Davidson, you goddamn son-of-a-bitch."

His smile made her nauseous and weak, but she kept a steadfast attitude, filled with pride and anger. Inside she was desperate for any kind of help, praying that this was just another nightmare…that she would wake up in a cold sweat. But of course, she didn't. Not this time. It was real this time.

A gangly fifteen-year-old ran up the steps of a Victorian house on the sloping streets of San Francisco. She pressed the doorbell only once, but her excitement for whoever was on the other side was visible to all, as she twiddled her green sweater and her squeaky shoes bounced up and down with the impatient rocking motion of a raring-to-go Sara Sidle.
"Morning Mr. Davidson! Is Alice home?" greeted a keen Sara, pushing past the man and upstairs into her best friend's domain.
"Hey, pumpkin!" the soothing voice of a father replied, "She's upstairs getting dressed, you want some breakfast?"

Sara's hand rested on the doorknob, revealing a matching shade of forest-green nail polish, as she hollered down towards the front door, "No thanks, but can me and Alice have a couple of granola bars to take on the way to the pier? We don't want to waste our money on expensive food. We have stuff to do…people to see!"

Mr. Davidson grinned as he shut the front door. He could never get over how enthusiastic Sara Sidle was about everything. Her grades and interest in learning sparked Alice's curiosity in school, thereby elevating Alice's grades and inquisitiveness in class. Although she seemed to give Alice the discipline she needed, Alice's carefree personality, her "I don't give a shit" face, balanced the slightly uptight Sara and gave her the fun she needed. He strode over to the kitchen and reached for the paper bags needed to pack the girls' lunches. He loved his girls. He really did.

As Sara cracked open the door, she saw the second dead body of her life. Alice's body hanged limply from the wooden beam that stretched across the room. Already, her lower extremities had pooled with blood and her eyes were not closed, but looking up in the left corner, somewhere above Sara's head. Sara's lanky legs collapsed before her but her feather-light weight barely made a thud in the room. Shock befell her but a note was pinned on Alice's stretched out blouse. There was a hole in her shirt, as she kicked the chair from underneath her. Her long dark hair had been tied back with a pink pony-tail holder, and her chocolate eyes had lost all signs of life. Slowly, Sara crawled across the room and unpinned the note stuck on her dead best friend. Her shaky hands shook even more as her eyes stumbled upon Alice's familiar sloppy handwriting. A single tear coasted down her cheek as a green nail caressed the tearstained Dear Sara, she had written. She swallowed before continuing the note.

Dear Sara,
I obviously won't be able to make it to the pier today. My dad did it. I didn't want to. I never wanted to. It was him in my bed, not Jeremy from fourth period or hot-dude on Varsity football. It wasn't the first time. I didn't want to. I was afraid. You have to leave. It was too late. I was afraid.

Don't forget me.
Alice

As Sara held back tears of confusion and anger, the voice of the man downstairs bellowed, "Girls, you guys better hurry. I'm leaving for a lunch meeting in ten minutes. Gotta kick you guys out by then!"

Suddenly, the comprehension of the danger that man could cause hit her. She ran past the front door, calling behind her, "I left my wallet in my room, I'll be right back, I promise!"

Alice's note was crumpled tightly inside her fist, as her green nails dug into her skin.

"You promised you would be right back, Sara Sidle."

Frustrated tears blurred Sara's vision as the terrible memory tore open her mind. She was at a loss for words.

"You sick son-of-a-bitch." was all she could utter.


Greg hopped into the shower as his coffee was dripping hotly into the pot. As the hot water hit his skin, he could only wonder what the emergency could be this time. He had sobered up quite a while ago but his head was still throbbing with the effects that alcohol happened to do for a soul. The warmth of the shower calmed his tinkering brain down, and as he stepped out of the bathroom, he felt energized and ready for another shift. He had thirteen minutes left to get dressed, fill his thermos up with warm and dark liquid, and arrive at the Lab.

But as Greg opened the door to his car, he froze. He couldn't help but wonder if Lauren Stevens was following him from heaven. He wondered if Lilly Sanders could see.


A/N:
a)Reviewers:
Isawien Malfoy: Well, it certainly wasn't her dead father. It wasn't a foster parent. Oh, things are starting to get strange. I'll give you a clue: everything's going to be connected, thanks to Mr. Davidson.
Space-Case7029: Sophia's coming. Soon enough...
Jessica Summers: Thanks for the criticism.So, I went darker, and I went into Sara's past, because we all just seem to eat up her past...don't we? Not exactly a cliffie, but keeps you wanting more, right?

And thanks to all for the wonderful reviews.
I love you. Really.
b)Seriously, I update sporadically. Final Exams heading my way, but now that swim season is officially over and a new fic for Veronica MarsI started is going nowhere, I will try my very hardest to update next weekend.
c)Oooooh...who's excited for Thursday?