DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. None of this is mine. This font? Not mine. Please don't sue me, k?

A/N: Spoilers? Yup! Mostly from Season 4's "Butterflied."

CH.1:

He blinked, and rubbed his eyes as she walked down the frozen food aisle right past him. His heart went to his stomach, and his mind raced with excitement and revulsion. Dr. Vincent Lurie stared at the tall brunette who was calmly walking away from him.

"Debbie?" He spoke, but the name was a mere whisper on his lips as the woman walked away. He stood still a moment longer, but then felt possessed to find this women. His mind needed to know if she was real. Flesh and blood, and not some specter hounding him from the grave. He walked briskly down the rows of food, glancing down each one for any sign of her. He was about to give up, when he saw her standing in line at the check-out. She was real enough. Breathing, walking around, buying groceries; a sickening mixture of pain, desire, and rejection incarnate standing there before him. He looked down at his few items, and quickly made his way to the check-out behind her.

Sara turned to the side as a man joined her in line. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him. He was nice-looking enough. She grinned at him as she noted his items; an avocado and an onion. She certainly hoped they went with something else. He returned her smile with a tentative one of his own.

"Hi. Did you find everything ok today?" The teenaged cashier cheerfully asked Sara.

"Yeah, thanks." She handed the girl a twenty, got her change, and grabbed her bags. When she turned again, the man was still staring at her. He had a sort of forlorn puppy-dog thing going on. It hit Sara as odd, but not creepy. He acted like he recognized her. Sara shrugged it off, and headed for her car.

Lurie made it out to the lot just in time to see Sara getting in to her Civic. He memorized her plate number, and made his way to his Mercedes; uncertain what he meant to do with the information. This girl wasn't Debbie. The resemblance was uncanny, but it was just that. A resemblance. She was no guilt-inspired apparition. Guilt. That was something he hadn't quite experienced yet. In his gut his actions still felt justified. Regret was closer to how he felt. Regret over having lost control of himself, of the situation. He started his car, and drove home.