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OOM: Directly after this happens.

Sara is back at the bar. At the moment, she wants nothing more than to find oblivion at the bottom of a bottle.

Instead, she curls up on a couch near the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket. Despite the heat, she feels cold.

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She sighs, rubbing at her forehead.

"The husband of a woman who was raped, shot, and left brain dead called me this morning. She passed away last night. He said . ." she pauses, voice shaking," . . that I was the last person to truly care for her as a person and. . he wanted to let me know."

Putting her head in her hands, she tries not to break down again. "She..couldn't have ever woken from that coma. And it's better that she isn't suffering. But goddammit.."

"Dear God." Barry goes silent for a moment. He almost says a prayer, but isn't sure that would be right for him.

"I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do..." His voice trails off as he remembers the friends lost to violence and crime. As he remembers his wife.

"And it was done by a kid. A guy who was 16. He didn't even care and was bragging that his record would be cleared by the time he left juvie. Hell of it is, he's right. He'll be released...." Sara's fists clench.

Looking up, she sees the same anger and horror on Barry's face. "It's a bitch, isn't it?"

"Very much so. The door revolves and out come the worst.

"And we just have to watch."

He sits next to her, keeping a little distance.

Her pager beeps. Unsurprising, it's Grissom. Adler's husband must have contacted him as well. Grissom would be concerned.

Sighing, she calls him. "Yes, I'm upset. No, I don't want to see anyone. Yes, I'm with some friends right now and I'm talking to them. No, I don't need you to patronize me right now. I'll call later." Snapping the phone shut, she turns it off.

She smiles without humor. "He had the nerve to tell me at the time that I shouldn't let cases affect me. But the day they stop affecting me is the day I cease to be human...at least that's how I've always seen it."

"I didn't know you could even take phone calls here," he mutters almost under his breath. Any other time, he'd ask to see the cellphone as well.

"Sounds like he's doing what a watch commander is supposed to do. Doesn't make him right, but it is his job."

"Hmmm. Might just be my phone then. For some reason, I've been able to use it." Sara shrugs slightly. "I haven't had problems with it at any rate."

She sighs. "I know that, intellectually."

"It's even possible that he is trying to look out for you, trying to get you to focus your anger on him.

"But might I suggest that you not take any calls for a while."

She chuckles a bit. "I turned my phone off and my pager's battery just went dead. I think I'll be left alone for a while."

Unless Grissom should find his way here. Given Sara's luck, it's only a matter of time.

"If you want me to leave you alone, I'll go.

"But I think you need to be with someone."

"You can stay if you like. And...thanks. I appreciate it." She smiles a bit.

"I'll be all right. I just...need to mourn her. Otherwise I won't be able to move on from her."

"Then I'll stay.

"I don't know much about how to mourn. Oh, I've done enough in my life, but it never seems to be enough. Or right for anyone else."

Sara sighs. "Well, it would differ from person to person."

"I didn't know Pamela, so I can't share memories of her a la an Irish wake. But I can mourn the future she lost, the potential she had."

"Would you want to listen to suggestion from someone who's been through something different but similar? I warn you that it might be a bit...odd, and if you aren't up for it, I will keep quiet."

"I'm open for anything that is legal, or results in the humiliation of the people I despise," she replies, smiling a little bit.

"But seriously, I'd be glad to hear whatever it is."

"I never got to meet my children. And my grandson told me that not long after he was born, they were killed.

"I didn't know how to mourn them. I didn't know them. I didn't know what had been lost. But I talked it over with my closest friend here, and two things came to me. One was that I should be there for my grandson. Be the father he didn't have. The other was that a toast in their memory and honor with my friend would probably help. It did."

"But that might be just me."

"Oh my god." Sara is horrified. "I am so sorry, Barry."

"A toast?" She smiles again. "I should have thought of that."

"Care to join in?" So saying, she orders another mug of hot chocolate.

"If you'll let me." He says nothing but he's glas it's on hot chocolate. Though he would have been happy to make sure she didn't drink alone, either.

Too damned early in the day for drinking. And Sara learned her lesson about self-medication when she nearly was arrested for a DUI.

"Wouldn't have asked, otherwise." She pushes over a mug.

He takes the mug and offers a quiet, understated smile. And remembers the old saying about grief shared being grief lessened.

Sara stares at the floor for a moment, then raises her mug.

"In memory of Pamela Adler, a woman taken well before her time. In memory of others like her, who are unknown to those who find them."

Her voice quiets. "And in memory of those victims yet unreported. Who live with a horror none should ever know."

She takes a long drink.

Barry listens and then drinks. A tear comes to his eye, as he remembers his own failures, his own cases that he couldn't solve, his own humanity.

And as he think about all the cops and lawmen and lab techs who ever felt the same way.

"that was nice," he says in a whisper.

She looks at him, laughs slightly, and digs out a handkerchief. "Here. And...thank you. For, well, everything."

"Hey, it's what friends are for." He takes the hankie and smiles, noticing that she isn't crying anymore.

"Don't laugh. Some men cry. At least, I hope we do. Otherwise I've been making a fool of myself for years."

"Of course men cry. I just..needed to laugh, I guess." She shrugs.

"It feels better than crying, at least."