Author's note: He died last night. This story is for him and whoever has lost someone to this disease.

I became angry; no, I became furious. I was furious with my dad for dying, my mother for telling me, and me, for not being there, not knowing, and not caring about him. I threw myself into a fit of rage.

I somehow decided to take my rage out on any object I owned and that I could find. Luckily, no one else was home at this time to hear me. I sprinted over to my desk, which a used as my office, and in one swift movement, whipped it clean, sending everything, including the computer, crashing to the floor. Then I moved to most of my plants, their beautiful pots scattering their pieces all over my apartment. I clear my coffee table of its empty coffee cups, and even one half-full one. The liquid seeped into my blue carpet and proceeded to stain it. After almost every object I owned was on the floor, including anything in drawers and cabinets, I went over a to smash the plant Grissom had given me a few months earlier.

I looked at it and something clicked, I started to back away and the tears started to fall. I ran over and dove into my bed, even though it was only a mattress at the moment, I had torn all the covers off. I had cried like I had not cried in the whole week since I found out he was dead. I lay there sobbing furiously until my sobbing slowed into the small breaths that indicate sleep.

I was awakened by a sound at my door. A large pounding I recognized as the sound of an impatient police officer in the middle of a case. I looked at my watch and saw that I had been home only an hour and a half.

"Just a minute!" I yelled out and the pounding stopped.

I walked into my bathroom and washed my face. After washing away any evidence that I had been crying, I walked to the door and opened it and surprisingly saw Catherine, Grissom, and Brass standing at my door. Keeping my door unlocked I walked into the hallway and closed the door, not letting them see the interior of my apartment.

"Why are you here?" I asked them.

"We are investigating the murder of Hank Perigrew," Brass informed me.

Okay, now that was just too much for my already frazzled nerves. I broke down in tears, surprising the hell out of Catherine, Grissom and Brass, who were obviously not expecting that reaction. The three of them just stood there shocked. My body slowly slipped down the door and I landed on the floor. Catherine was the first to come to her senses.

"Sara," she asked, "are you all right?"

"Go away," I muttered, so softly she could barely hear me.

"What?" she asked me. My voice suddenly became forceful and a stood up. "Go away and leave me alone!" I yelled, hurrying into my apartment and slamming the door. I forgot to lock it. I ran to my couch and continued to sob.

Catherine, being her nosy self, came into my apartment to 'help' me. Grissom and Brass followed. The three were shocked to see my apartment in such disarray.

"What the hell?" Brass asked.

"Sara, I think you need some help," Catherine said, sitting down beside me.

"I don't need any help! What I need is you to go away!" I yelled, surprising myself.

Grissom hit the play button on the message taker. The first message that played was my mother calling me.

"He's dead."

Her saying hit me. And I didn't remember having it on to record that message. I started to cry again.

"Sara, why didn't you tell us?" Catherine asked, concern written all over her face.

"Because it's none of you business," I snapped.

Catherine only smiled and gave my hard a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm guessing you have an alibi," she said, standing up and signaling Grissom and Brass that they would be leaving soon. "If you need us, we'll be here."

"And don't even think about coming to work until you're ready," Grissom said sternly.

They started to walk out the door. Grissom's phone rang.

"Grissom. Yes, thank you," he said, than he hung up.

"Blood matches the partner, we got him," Grissom said. Then they walked out the door with one last of Catherine's motherly looks.

Two weeks later I walked into the Las Vegas Crime Lab with my head held high. Hank had been buried the week before and Catherine had threatened me into grief counseling. Catherine had been a great supporter, she helped me fix my computer and clean up my apartment. Nick and Greg both sent me plants (I think Grissom had started a trend). Warrick sent me a beautiful song he had written. Lindsey painted me a lovely picture, and proudly presented it to me, which is now tacked on to my refrigerator. Grissom, being Grissom in his complete ignorance to people, sent me a 'Get Well Soon' card with little pictures of bugs on it. Despite its cheeziness, I loved it.

When I walked into the brake room, everyone straightened up.

"How are you doing, Sara?" Catherine asked her.

"Great! The best I've felt in about a month," I said smiling. Everyone relaxed a little.

"Sara, I am putting you on a single homicide with Catherine, to get you back in the swing of things," Grissom said, completely out of character, I think he was trying to make up for the card, then he pretty much ignored me for the rest of the shift.

Yes, everything would be back to normal. One day at a time.