Summary: Sara is there when her mother dies unexpectedly. Inspired by my own grandmother's passing two weeks ago. CathSara friendship, GSR.

Disclaimer: I only own them in my dreams.

A/N: My grandmother passed away two weeks ago and I needed an outlet and came up with this. The situation itself pretty much mirrors my own but I threw in extra angst and the CSIs to make it more… interesting. No beta this time. Just wanted to write it and get it out, so I apologize for any mistakes.

A/N2: The title is a line from "A Song of Despair" by Pablo Neruda.

Catherine and Sara were halfway to a crime scene in the desert when Sara's phone rang loudly, breaking the silence.

"Hello?"

"May I please speak to Sara Sidle?" the voice on the other end requested.

"This is Sara. Who is this?"

"This is Charlotte Novak, I'm with hospice."

Sara sat up straighter in her seat, her heart starting to pound. "Is this about my mother?"

"Yes. Your mom is having trouble breathing. I would strongly advise you to come and see her."

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can." Sara closed her phone, letting it drop into her lap. When Catherine looked over questioningly, she saw that Sara was as white as a sheet.

"Sara? Is everything alright with your mom?"

"We need to go back. I need to go back."

"Okay, I'll take you there. Just tell me where she is."

"Davidson Assisted Living."

"I know where that is. I'll get you there as fast as I can." Catherine continued to drive, waiting for a crossover to turn around.

Sara called Grissom's cell, but he didn't answer. She tried his office line, but he didn't answer there either. So she tried his cell again. "Griss, it's me. Um, something's come up with my mother. She's at Davidson Assisted Living. Please come." She clicked it shut and dropped it in the cup holder.

Catherine called the lab and briefly explained the situation and asked for another team to be sent to the crime scene. After that, they rode in silence for several minutes. "Is your mom okay?" she finally asked.

Sara ran her hand over her face. "I don't know. Not really." Catherine waited for her to go on. She didn't want to pry, so she didn't ask for a further explanation. Finally, after awhile, the brunette continued. "She had a stroke a few years after I moved to Vegas. The facility in San Francisco wasn't comfortable with me being so far away and suggested she be moved. I agreed and moved her here." Again she paused, unsure of how much information she wanted to divulge to Catherine. Even Grissom didn't know about her mother. It was going to come out sooner than later, and if Catherine was going to go in the facility with her, she should be prepared. "She's never been strong, health-wise, and the stroke really took a toll on her body. She was fine until about three or four months ago and her health declined rapidly. Her doctor recommended I look into hospice care, and it's been like that ever since. Charlotte, her hospice nurse, said she's having trouble breathing. I'm not sure exactly what that means." Sara snapped her mouth shut and returned to staring out the window.

Catherine gave her a sideways glance. "Does anyone else know?" Sara shook her head. "Why do you keep these things to yourself?"

Sara sighed. "Sometimes…it's just easier to pretend that everything is okay."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

She laughed bitterly. "Cath, I've been hurt enough times in my life that it doesn't even faze me anymore."

Catherine felt a little ping in her heart. After so many years she still didn't understand or know the source of Sara's pain. The brunette tried to hide it with a tough façade and an insane dedication to work, but it was obvious she was hurting. Catherine reached across the armrest and squeezed Sara's hand. "We're all here for you Sara. We're all on your side. If you need us all you have to do is ask."

"Sometimes asking is the hardest part," Sara said softly, more to herself than to Catherine. "I'd rather not talk about myself anymore." She folded her arms across her chest and slouched lower in her seat.

Catherine nodded. After several more minutes of silence, she spoke up again. "Do you want me to just drop you off, or would you like me to stay?" Sara didn't respond. "How about this… I'll stay with you until you kick me out. Sound good?"

Sara only nodded. She really didn't want to be left alone with her mother and her co-worker's company would suffice until Grissom arrived. She opened her phone – no missed calls – and hit redial. It rang several times before going to voicemail. She didn't leave a message this time.

"Not answering?" Catherine asked sympathetically.

"No. I can't imagine what he'd be doing that he wouldn't answer his cell phone."

"Maybe he's somewhere that doesn't get reception. Don't worry; you'll get a hold of him."

The rest of the ride was quiet. Catherine wasn't sure what to say or do. She didn't know the situation and Sara wasn't exactly being very forthcoming. She didn't know if Sara and her mother had a close relationship or not. She did know it was serious since she was in hospice care. Serious enough for the younger woman to already be building walls around herself. Catherine wanted Sara to be able to trust her, especially if the end of this road led to her mother's death.

Sara hated getting hurt, but she was used to it. She hated it most when people saw her hurt or vulnerable. She'd had a hard life, with far too few people to trust. Trust wasn't something she gave away easily. She wanted to trust Catherine, she really did, but they hadn't had the best history and she was a little wary of her co-worker's loyalties. She knew it was irrational at times, that Catherine would never use such an intimate moment against her, but she couldn't help the way she felt. She was practically programmed to act this way.

Catherine pulled up into the driveway of the center. Sara gestured for her to go left and drive around the back. Catherine followed the signs to the assisted living center, parked the car, and got out, stretching. She started walking toward the entrance when she noticed Sara hadn't even gotten out of the car. She walked back and knocked on the passenger side door. Sara opened it.

"You gonna make it?"

"Yeah. Just give me a sec." She closed the door and let out a deep, shaky breath. She rarely ever visited her mom – usually only once a year, twice if she remembered – although ever since her mom went into hospice care Sara made more of an effort to see her. The truth was she couldn't stand to look at her mom, placed the blame of her entire life on her shoulders. She had spent most of her life hating Laura Sidle, and now that it was nearing the end, she was starting to feel overwrought with regret. She had spent a lot of time over the past few months reevaluating her life and her relationship with her mother. But even after all of that, she wasn't ready for this, not yet. She hadn't planned what she was going to say. She had so much to say. Sara felt a tear trickle down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away. She picked up her cell, trying Grissom one more time. Again, no answer. She checked her reflection in the mirror and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. Ready or not, she had to do this.

She climbed out of the car and led the way into the center. It really was a nice facility. Despite her anger, she wanted her mom to be in good hands, and Davidson had an excellent reputation.

Two nurses were gathered outside her mom's room. When they saw Sara, they walked up to her and squeezed her hands. They eyed Catherine, curious and awaiting an introduction.

Catherine stuck out her hand and shook theirs. "I'm Catherine. Sara and I are friends."

"I'm Charlotte and this is Jessica. We're with hospice."

"What happened?" Sara asked, not caring if there were proper introductions.

"We think she had a stroke after dinner. She was having trouble breathing, really labored. We waited for the doctor to come by and check on her, and then we waited about thirty minutes to see if her breathing would return to normal, and it didn't. So we got her some oxygen and put her on a morphine drip."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course. Let me warn you before you go in there: the stroke affected her right side. Her right eye can't move or blink, and we think that her sight is gone. She looks in the direction of your voice, but not directly at you. She can, however, hear you. She can't move on her own, and she can't swallow."

"So…"

"She can't eat or drink. The morphine will help her with any pain, and we're doing everything we can to make her comfortable."

Sara crossed her arms and tried to swallow the sobs that were building up in her chest. "How much longer? Be straight with me. Don't sugarcoat it."

Charlotte and Jessica glanced at each other. "Well, we've seen patients last a week like this. But given your mother's condition and the rate of her breathing, we're not expecting her to make it through the night. We're so sorry, Sara."

Sara choked back a sob and Charlotte gave her hand a comforting squeeze, which Sara fought the urge to shake off. "We'll be in and out checking on her, but if something comes up and we're not around, there's a call button on her bedside table. We'll give you some privacy to spend some time alone with her. Catherine, right? You can wait in the parlor if you'd like. It's down the hall."

Catherine shot a glance at Sara, silently asking what she wanted. Sara's tear-filled eyes answered her question. "I think I'll stay here. Thank you, though." When she looked back at Sara, she gave the most imperceptible nod of gratitude. As the nurses departed Sara pulled out her phone to try Grissom one more time. This time, it went straight to voice mail. She felt like someone had stabbed her and twisted the knife. Not only was Grissom not answering his phone, but he was ignoring her as well. She wasn't going to dwell on it. There was only so much she could deal with today. She straightened her shoulders and pulled down her shirt and entered her mother's room.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. Comments and critiques are welcome and greatly appreciated.