AN: Hope everyone is doing well. So excited to have received so many amazing prompts already. I absolutely love reading your wonderful story ideas and can't wait to fulfill them. I only hope I do them justice!
The first two prompts I received were very similar - so hopefully you won't mind that I filled them together. As you'll notice I'm basically just copy/pasting your guys' entire prompt that I received at the beginning of the story so that others know what the prompt was - if you want the prompt or any part of it to be anonymous just remember to say it in the prompt or else I'm giving you credit where credit is due :)
Take care and enjoy.
PROMPT 1 = I'm a massive sucker for hurt/comfort- especially when Catherine is hurt and Sara is doing the comforting. So my prompt is that the girls just starting dating, it's all very new but going really well. But then something goes wrong with a case and Catherine gets hurt, preferably fairly seriously. I think it would be really interesting to read if it was was supposed to be Sara who got hurt (so either Catherine's saves Sara in someway or someone was angry at Sara so they hurt Catherine). Sara feels super guilty and pulls away (emotionally) although she stays and looks after Catherine. Catherine thinks Sara just doesn't want to be with her anymore and is pretty devastated and feeling vulnerable. Angst ensues, with some nice hurt/comfort after, and also a happy ending!
-Submitted by Pricilla Grey
PROMPT 2 = I noticed a review and checked it out, and it is almost word to word what I planned on asking. My only change was they weren't dating, but it brought them together. So, if you could do something along line of Catherine hurt etc, that'll be great.
-Submitted by Duvetsnuggler
Prompt 1 &2
They often say that just when you think you know someone, they will surprise you. Or, instead, perhaps you just never really knew them as well as you thought.
"You sure?" Catherine asks, sending Sara a slightly raised brow.
"Of course," the brunette answers without the slightest hint of hesitation.
Then, noting the silence that follows, she turns to look at Catherine over her shoulder.
"Why do I get the impression I've said something wrong?" she questions, voice slightly hesitant as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her dark jeans.
She and Catherine have been officially dating for about a two months now. And, according to Sara, things have been going great. Beyond great, really. In fact, Sara's pretty sure she hasn't been quite this happy in a very long time. While the jokes from the guys regarding how often she's smiling nowadays has been a bit annoying, she wouldn't trade it for anything. Not when she and Catherine finally took a chance on this, on one another, after what felt to Sara like ages of repressed feelings.
They'd been on multiple dates over the past months, each one bringing them closer, revealing more and more about each other, as they learn about who they each are outside of the job. While Sara could tell you everything about Catherine's work habits, right down to her favorite brand of pen, it's everything she's learning about the woman, not the CSI, that has her falling for the blonde. And falling hard.
Looking at Catherine's expression, Sara's heart beats faster, worried she's said something wrong, done something to offend this person who's begun to mean the world to her.
"No, you didn't say anything wrong," Catherine says, eyes still slightly furrowed. "Just something very unlike you."
The tight grip on her heart easing a bit, Sara laughs lightly.
"Don't act like I just suggested the Earth is flat, Willows."
Smiling, Catherine shrugs, linking her arm with her taller companion's as they make their way down the sidewalk, glancing in the windows of the small stores as they pass. Sara isn't typically one to initiate touches, and Catherine is more than happy to take it upon herself to breach the divide. While they've shared countless kisses, embraces, and even more than a few nights of intimacy, Sara often tends to keep a respectful distance between them when they're in public. The contact Catherine's just placed between their bodies is one she's been craving all evening.
"That perhaps would've been less shocking to hear you say, to be honest."
"Oh please," Sara groans. "I'm not that bad."
"How many days," Catherine challenges, "in the last two years have you voluntarily taken a day off work?"
Sara pauses, steps faltering slightly.
Snorting, Catherine gently tugs the arm linked with hers.
"Exactly."
Conceding victory to the blonde, Sara simply shakes her head, deciding there's really no point in arguing. Catherine, her supervisor for part of the two years in question, knows exactly how many days Sara has taken off.
"Just because I don't take time off often-"
A cough breaks into Sara's statement.
Rolling her eyes, Sara continues, "Just because I don't take time off ever, doesn't mean I'm not excited to take the day off on Saturday." Eyes shifting to her companion, she blushes slightly. "Not when I get to spend it with you."
Seeing the slight pink tinge to Sara's ears, Catherine smiles, hearing in Sara's voice that the stoic brunette is feeling the same things regarding their young relationship that Catherine is feeling herself.
When Catherine suggested taking the day off to spend it together, she was honestly nervous about Sara's reaction. The brunette's propensity to spend every moment she can at work is well known to everyone. There are very few things Sara cares more about than her job as a CSI. When Catherine suggested the idea, she was nervous about what Sara would say, or think. Worried it was too soon in their relationship to request such a thing from the workaholic brunette, too soon for Sara at least.
But, when she posed the question moments ago, Sara didn't look anything other than intrigued at the idea, smiling slightly as she promised to talk to Gil in the morning about taking Saturday off.
No argument, no hesitation.
Sara can be hard to read at times, but this time, what she didn't say, told Catherine everything.
Deciding to stop teasing her beautiful date, Catherine instead leans her head along Sara's shoulder as they continue their gentle stroll, glad that the brunette is just as invested, and just as excited, about this relationship as she is.
"I'm looking forward to it, too," she tells Sara honestly. "This weekend can't come fast enough."
Leaning down, Sara places a gentle kiss along the blonde's lips, the kiss stealing Catherine's breath away like they always seem to do, especially this rare public display of affection from the brunette. Removing her arm from Catherine's to wrap it around her waist instead, Sara holds her close when they separate from the kiss.
In Sara's strong embrace, they continue along their way, not a care in the world regarding their destination.
It's two days later when the note comes. One day shy of the Saturday they'd both been anxiously awaiting, everything planned and ready.
At first, Sara disregards it, tossing it in with all the other messages Judy passed across the desk towards her on her way in.
But, it's not on the standard notepaper the lab uses. In fact, it's not really on paper at all.
Feeling the strange thickness that almost feels like cardboard, Sara pauses her steps as she unfolds it. As the words within start to take shape, her mind freezes, reading them at least four times before she can get her brain to comprehend them.
Immediately, she's simultaneously pulling out her phone and running back to Judy's desk.
"Who dropped this off?"
Startled, Judy looks up, wide eyes taking in the sight and sound of Sara Sidle raising her voice. Something she's never heard from the quiet CSI.
"Who dropped this off?!" Sara repeats, voice even louder, even more desperate.
"I, uh, I'm not sure," Judy stutters, hands starting to shake as she shuffles through the visitor log. "It was already here when I came back to my desk...I…I don't think they signed…"
Hearing enough, Sara slams her hand on the desk in frustration. The phone in her other hand still ringing, she paces back and forth, kicking the desk absently with each unanswered ring.
"You've reached the voicemail of CSI Catherine Willows, please leave a –"
Growling, Sara hangs up, typing out a frantic text instead.
Catherine, call me when you get this. 911.
Her next desperate call is to Brass.
Almost expecting another voicemail, she's slightly taken off guard when he picks up almost at the first ring.
"Brass?" Sara gets out before he can say anything. "Are you with Catherine?"
"Sara…"
"Are you with her?!" Sara presses, needing him to understand the urgency of this moment.
"Sara, I need you to calm down…"
"Jim, listen to me!" Sara cuts in, breathing shallow and tight. "She's in danger, you need to stay with her until I get there! Do not let her out of your sight!"
There's a silence on the other line, one that seems horribly out of place after what Sara just said. Pausing, the brunette has her keys half way out of her jeans pocket.
"Jim? Did you hear me?!"
There's a pause, then the sound of the most even keeled person Sara's ever met clearing emotion from his throat.
"Sara, I'm with Catherine, but we're…we're at Desert Palms."
The world fades, Jim's voice, his words, echoing through Sara's brain, her body struggling to interpret them.
"What?" Sara gets out. "What do you mean…"
"There was an incident at our scene, Sara," Brass says quietly, gently. He, out of anyone, knows just how much Catherine means to the young brunette. Has meant to her for quite some time now. While they may have just started dating, Brass knows damn well just how strong, and for how long, the feelings between the two have been there.
"Jim…please…"
"She's alive, Sara," he gets in. "They rushed her here just moments ago."
Sara isn't sure if the world suddenly went monochromatic, or if she's lost the ability to see anything other than a hazy grey, everything becoming blurry and out of focus.
"What…what happened…?"
"There was someone at the scene, he…he had a gun."
Just like the world lost all its color, it seems to lose all its sound – nothing but a baseline ringing in Sara's ears.
"Sara?"
Nothing but silence fills the call in response.
"Sara, you need to wait there. I'm coming to get you, you shouldn't be driving right n-"
With a swift motion, Sara ends the call, fingers replacing her phone with her keys. Numbly, she drops the thick note on Judy's desk, the secretary still staring at her with wide eyes.
"Page Nick. This needs to be printed and processed immediately."
Without another word, she numbly strides out of the room, pushing her way through glass doors to make her way to her car.
Left staring at the note on her desk, Judy takes in the dark black writing.
CSI Sidle,
You took everything from me on this date exactly one year ago. The only person I loved, dead because you hesitated to take a madman off the streets until the evidence was "strong enough" to get a conviction. Well, you got your conviction, but not before my wife lost her life as the price.
This year, I want you to know what it feels like to lose someone you so dearly care about.
Have you talked to CSI Willows lately?
Sincerely yours,
T.N.
"Where is she?!"
"Sara," Jim says evenly, standing to meet the angry strides of the brunette. Catching her by the shoulders, he draws her to a stop. "You need to calm down."
"Like hell I do!" Sara gets out, breathing rapid as she glances around, futilely looking for answers in those hurrying through the bustling ED.
"Sara-"
"Please, Jim," Sara cuts him off, her voice quieter, pleading. "Please just tell me where she is."
"She's still in surgery, Sara," he gets out, trying to hold Sara steady as he can feel her shaking beneath his grip. "They should be updating us shortly."
"Where…where was…"
Swallowing, Sara seems like the words are about to make her physically ill. Having a good idea of what she's trying to ask, Jim runs one arm along Sara's shoulder in a soothing gesture.
"She was shot in the chest, left side."
Clenching her eyes shut, Sara feels the world around her starting to tip, everything feeling like its spinning.
"He was aiming for her heart…to kill her…"
"He?" Brass questions, picking up on Sara's wording.
"He went straight for her heart…"
"Sara." Maintaining his firm grip, Jim shakes Sara slightly, trying to keep her with him, keep her from slipping any further into shock than she likely already is. "Tell me what you know."
"Ted Newman," Sara gets out, voice strained. "He's your shooter."
"Ted Newman?" Jim questions, running the name through his memory. "The husband in the Rachel Newman case?"
Sara nods, her face pale as her shaking continues under the captain's hands.
"He sent a note, it's with Nick."
Running this through his mind, it takes Brass only about a minute to see where this is headed. Where these puzzle pieces fit.
"He sent it to you?" he questions, his stomach clenching as he sees Sara's tight nod.
"Hey," he calls out, watching Sara's ghostly pallor. "You listen to me, Sara. Whatever the hell that madman said to you, this is not your fault. Rachel's death was not your fault either."
Seeing Sara not even registering his words, Brass internally curses.
The Rachel Newman case is one that he knows for a fact haunted Sara. Still haunts Sara. While she lobbied for the police to move in on their suspect, there wasn't really much she could do without the DA's support. And, for the DA to get behind an arrest, he needed more evidence. More evidence that Sara simply did not have, not until Rachel Newman was gunned down outside her residence.
He knows it's a case that kept her up at night, repeating everything over and over in her head, obsessing over whether there was anything, any shred of evidence that she overlooked that could've gotten an arrest before Rachel lost her life. While he knows she came up empty each time, he also knows that it didn't stop the guilt Sara carried with her from that case.
Now, to have it all thrust back in her face, to have the victim's husband declaring his own blame on Sara, it's like a nightmare brought to life.
"This is not your fault," Brass gets out, voice firm and tight. "None of it. You hear me, Sidle?"
Sara tightens her jaw, her eyes dark as she steps out of his grip.
"I need…" she works her hands into fists, fingers clenching tightly together. "I need a moment."
Moving away, Sara gives the doors to the ER one long, tortured look before disappearing into the restroom.
This isn't real.
This isn't real.
Wasn't it just this morning that Catherine greeted her at her car with a cup of her favorite coffee? The two of them sharing some private moments before work? Enjoying each other's company, holding hands, exchanging gentle kisses, catching up with one another right up until the last possible moment before assignments?
It had become a ritual the last couple weeks, the two of them trying to catch each other as often as possible between shifts, seemingly unable to keep their distance ever since they started dating.
It had become Sara's favorite parts of her day.
Swallowing, Sara fights the bile rising back up in her throat, already having deposited the contents of her stomach in the toilet behind her.
"Fuck," she gets out, gripping the sink as her knuckles turn white. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
She and Catherine had just started their relationship, after years of what felt like torture – working side by side trying to hide their feelings. Feelings that developed over time, slowly building to an indescribably strong crescendo. And, when they both finally admitted them, during a night of perhaps too much wine, it was a fundamental and pivotal shift in both their lives. It felt like, finally, things were right. Things were how they were meant to be.
Were how they'd each waited for them to be for far too long.
Felt like Sara finally found her other half, the person who made the world make sense, made the world beautiful.
And now, Sara may have lost her.
Because of her own ineptitude.
"Fuck!" Sara yells out, fist angrily punching the pale pink tile in front of her.
Clenching her hands into her hair, she registers the tears falling down her face as she does nothing to stop them.
"You okay?" Jim asks carefully, watching a somber and pale Sara walk towards him.
Ignoring the question, Sara glances at the hallway.
"Any updates?" she asks, voice low and hard to read.
"Not yet."
Placing herself into a seat a few away, Sara simply stares at the wall ahead of her, leg absently tapping up and down.
"Hey…" Jim calls quietly, reaching across to place a gentle hand along her knee.
Tensing, Sara tightens her jaw. "Don't. Please."
Reading Sara's body language, Jim's heart clenches tightly in his chest. He wants to be there for the young CSI, one he sees more as family than a colleague. But, he knows her well enough to know that comfort isn't really something Sara's ever accepted well. In fact, she's a lot like him in many ways.
So, instead, he simply sits beside her in silence, not trying to placate her with empty words or promises that he isn't sure he can even keep anyway.
When the doctor emerges from the glass doors about two hours later, he carries a long face and an exhausted expression.
Standing, Jim, Sara, and Gil each approach, the rest of their colleagues hanging respectfully back.
"She's alive," the doctor states, tone sober.
Sara absently wonders how the hell such a phrase came to be the mantra of this day. How simple survival is such a tenuous, fragile thing. That one moment you have it, spending your morning sipping coffee with the person you care about, and the next your very existence is in question.
"We managed to remove the bullet, repair most of the internal damage. There was a break to the overlying rib, which has been reset. The biggest issue was the amount of blood loss and the involvement of the major vessels coming out of the heart. I think we've repaired and stabilized the best we could. Now we just need to wait and see if our work holds."
There's silence as the doctor's words are registered, taken into ears desperate to understand, to know what the situation is and where it is headed.
"Is she going to be alright?" Jim asks the words hovering in everyone's minds.
"If she makes it through the next couple days with no dissections or vessel ruptures, I'd say she has a chance at a full recovery in time."
Swallowing tightly, Sara steps back, having heard what her biggest question was answered. There's a chance. A chance for survival, but also a chance for life threatening complications to arise in the next few days.
Either way, it's a long road, and one that Catherine should never have even been on.
It should've been me.
Forcing the thought down to the deep places inside of her, where her other dark thoughts and repressed feelings reside, Sara knows now isn't the time. She'll have plenty of time to address those thoughts in the coming weeks.
If Catherine makes it that far.
Catherine does, in fact, make it that far.
The first few nights are the worst, Sara looking helplessly on as Catherine lies prone in the hospital bed, more wires and tubes than she can count connected to her pale body. She holds her hand, talks to her, holds her. All the while Catherine lies motionless, struggling to survive.
While the torture of Catherine's prone, unresponsiveness was hard enough, a new torture began when she woke up. At least when she was unconscious, Sara could convince herself that Catherine wasn't in pain. When she woke up, however, struggling to breathe and anguished tears streaking down her face, Sara could no longer maintain that delusion.
Instead, she was forced to watch a woman she cared about struggling to breathe, to lay comfortably, to move at all, without excruciating pain. Watching the strong, brave woman she fell in love with fighting to hold back tears at the anguish she was experiencing nearly undid the brunette.
She's never felt so useless, so inadequate, as she did during those days – unable to do anything more than hold Catherine's hand and try to offer her any shred of comfort and support.
But, handholding and sentiments of comfort and support aren't much when you're dealing with a fucking gunshot.
No, they really aren't much at all, Sara supposes.
The day they released her, Catherine has never been so grateful for the hospital wheelchair as she was in that moment. She's always heard about people giving the nurses grief, insisting they can walk on their own, but she for one felt like that wheelchair was damn near a gift from God. Because, really, she's never felt so weak.
While the pain has somewhat lessened due to a rather extensive repertoire of pain meds, the weakness isn't something that could be medicated away. She felt like she'd just run a marathon, carrying 100 elephants.
As Sara helped her into the car, all she could think about was whether it was a punishable crime to steal that damn wheelchair. And, if so, just how much the penalty was. Because, honestly, the price was probably worth it.
As they arrived back at her house, she was wondering how in the hell she'd be able to lower her pride enough to admit to Sara that she couldn't make it up the drive on her own. But, she shouldn't have worried.
After helping her out of her seat, Sara didn't say a single word, simply reaching down and gently picking Catherine up, carrying her bridal style up the drive and into the house. Placing her gently on her bed, she got her situated, drawing up the covers and laying down gently beside her, hand softly running through her hair until Catherine finally succumbed to an exhausted sleep.
Now, four weeks after surgery, and two weeks after being discharged from the hospital, it's still exhausting to do much more than walk up the stairs.
She's not sure why she chose now to convince Sara to finally let her shower alone.
In fact, she's actually sort of regretting it.
"Shit," Catherine curses, gripping the counter as her ribs ache in protest to her current position. She never appreciated the simply ability to put on a shirt until that luxury was taken from her.
"You okay?" she hears a hesitant, slightly nervous question from the other side of the bathroom door.
Raising a brow, she slowly pushes said door open. Only to see a concerned Sara sitting on the floor directly beside it.
"Seriously?" she questions, taking in her girlfriend's location.
Sara looks only slightly embarrassed, concerned eyes roaming over Catherine. Then, noting her predicament, she gestures.
"May I?"
The question is gentle, reverent. And, it's one of the many things Catherine has come to love about Sara in the past weeks. Sara's been there with her, through everything. From the moment she woke up from anesthesia, terrified and in pain. Sara was right there, holding her hand and calming her through it.
Jim had to literally drag the younger CSI from Catherine's room over the next days, taking her away to shower and eat, the brunette finding her way back to Catherine's bedside barely an hour later each time. Every moment she could spare from work, taking as many days off as possible, Sara was there by her side. She held her while the doctor gave them updates, held her hand during the painful exams and dressing changes, soothed her with kisses along her hairline when the pain became almost too much to handle before the medications could kick in.
She's been there for all of it. Never overbearing, never pushy. Simply soothing, calming, and strong. Now that she's farther in her healing, she's been letting Catherine set her own limits, her own pace for her recovery – and then supporting her for every step along the way of it.
She's not sure she can ever express her gratitude to the brunette adequately enough.
"Please," Catherine finally answers, shaking her head at her half-dressed state.
Smiling slightly, Sara gets to her feet and gently takes hold of the shirt. Carefully, she draws it through Catherine's other arm, working slowly until Catherine hisses.
"Sorry," Sara murmurs gently, immediately stilling her motions, placing a gentle kiss below Catherine's collarbone, along the previously broken ribs and the gunshot scar that resides beneath the thin material of the shirt. The same scar that Sara's spent many nights redressing while it was still healing, applying disinfectant and clean bandages, then lotions and creams when it had healed to help reduce the residual scarring and pain.
"You ready?" she asks gently, leaning back to search Catherine's eyes.
Nodding, Catherine steadies herself for the final motions of getting her arm into the shirt. Slowly, gently, Sara finally has her arm fully through the sleeve.
"That okay?"
"Yes, much better," Catherine answers, letting out a relieved sigh, glad to have that part over with. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
Clearing her throat, Sara takes a step back.
"I made some dinner if you're up to eating?"
Catherine's appetite has been a bit hit or miss with all the pain medications she's been on. Now that the doses are slowly starting to reduce, her appetite is thankfully starting to increase.
"Yeah, I think I can go for something small."
Nodding, Sara holds out her arm, not saying anything else as Catherine takes it, walking slowly with Sara as the brunette helps her down the stairs.
Getting situated at the table, Sara serves them both what looks like a stir-fry with lots of fresh vegetables. Catherine never knew Sara could even cook until the blonde found herself requiring the tall woman all but be her personal chef – both of them hating the idea of weeks of takeout and Sara insisting she didn't mind.
"This looks great, Sara, thank you."
Nodding, Sara squeezes Catherine's hand lightly before picking up her own fork.
"You have a shift tonight?" Catherine asks, knowing Sara, who had vacation days to spare before all this, has been maxing out her time off to be here with her as much as she can.
"Yeah, I do," Sara says apologetically. "But I should be able to get out on time as long as nothing big comes up."
"Don't worry about me, Sara. Don't feel like you have to rush back."
Sara shakes her head, "Of course I'm going to worry about you. You were shot in the chest."
"Over a month ago. Sure I'm still having some troubles, such as damn shirts with annoyingly awkwardly placed sleeves, but I'm doing much better. Thanks in large part to you. You deserve some time away from nurse duty, Sar."
Shaking her head, Sara doesn't comment, simply taking a small bite of her own food.
"I want you here," Catherine says evenly, wanting to be sure Sara doesn't take what she's saying the wrong way. "I enjoy you being here, very much so. I just don't want you to feel obligated. You should be able to sleep in your own bed and be at your own place for some decent rest sometimes."
Sara and hers relationship was strong, but still early, when all this happened. She doesn't want Sara feeling obligated to take care of her just because they're dating. Sara still has a life of her own, one which is still separate from Catherine's. They are dating, yes, and their relationship is serious, yes, but they aren't married or partners. She isn't Sara's responsibility – and she doesn't want the noble brunette feeling obligated.
"It's fine," Sara dismisses. "You're still in a lot of pain, and I want to be here to help."
Looking up, she fixes Catherine with a look, "I care about you, Catherine. Please, let me be here for you."
Knowing she isn't going to win this argument, Catherine simply reaches across the table, taking Sara's free hand in hers.
"Thank you."
The sentiment isn't enough, but for now, it will have to do.
"You okay?" Sara asks, eyes narrowed in a grimace as she watches the blonde's struggled breaths.
"Better," Catherine offers, trying to steady her breathing, pain coursing through her ribs at the sudden movements she just put them through.
"Slow breaths," Sara helps coach her, hand rubbing soothingly along her back. "In and out. Match yours with mine."
Placing Catherine's hand along her chest, Sara breaths in and out slowly, carefully.
It takes a few minutes, but Catherine finally seems to have her breaths matched with Sara's, the worst of the wave of pain behind her. Still hurts like a bitch, though.
"You want to talk about it?"
Catherine contemplates the question, the open door Sara's offered.
Just yesterday at dinner she was trying to convince the brunette to go home and get some decent rest. Now, tonight, she's very glad her stubborn girlfriend didn't listen.
"I don't know what happened," Catherine offers. "Probably a nightmare making me move around, I just woke up in a lot of pain. Couldn't catch my breath."
"You want me to take you to get checked out at Desert Palms?" Sara offers, nervous eyes glancing over the still trebling form of her girlfriend. "You look a little pale."
"No, no," the assurance is quick. "I'm okay, I just moved the wrong way is all."
"You're sure?"
Nodding, Catherine leans back, feeling Sara's strong arms wrap around her for support.
"Just need to wait for the pills to kick in, then I'll be better."
Holding her gently, Sara lets out a breath, fingers softly moving along Catherine's arm.
"I hate seeing you like this," Sara gets out, voice quiet in the dark room. "I hate that you're still in pain."
Bringing her own hand up to rest it on Sara's thigh, the blonde feels the tension there. "I know, but I'm doing much better. While these moments suck, they're nowhere near what they used to be, and definitely less frequent. I'm going to be just fine, honey."
Sara doesn't answer, her hand simply continuing its gentle path along Catherine's skin, her other arm holding the blonde protectively.
It takes another week and a half for the worst of the pain to finally subside. Now, there's a dull ache in its place, frustrating and bothersome, but nothing like the searing agony that used to be there.
It's like the joint that aches on a stormy day, or the arthritis that acts up on a blustery winter morning. Annoying, but more than able to be coped with. Especially when compared to what she's already overcome.
Looking around the house, Catherine absently checks the couch, noting it empty. Sometimes when Sara comes in late she'll stay on the couch, not wanting to disturb Catherine's sleep. It's courteous, especially when Catherine's couch is a good foot shorter than its tall occupant.
But, this morning, the couch is empty. In fact, so is the rest of the house.
Furrowing her brows, Catherine wonders if perhaps she got her days mixed up, that Sara is on shift.
But, she notes Sara's keys still along the counter.
So, that leaves one place.
Heading outside, she finds the brunette sitting along one of the back patio chairs, looking out into the yard, feet perched on the lower rung of the railing.
Closing the door behind her, Catherine carefully sets herself into the chair next to her.
"You okay?" Sara asks. "Need anything?"
Shaking her head, Catherine can't help but smile. "Nope, I'm good. Do you need anything?"
Looking over, the puzzled look she gets nearly makes her snort.
"I'm good," Sara simply responds.
"Of course you are."
Smiling slightly, Sara reaches over, taking Catherine's hand in hers.
Lacing their fingers together, she looks back out towards the yard.
"I hear you're due to start back in the lab for desk duty in a few days."
When Gil told her she could return to work, even if she's not allowed out in the field yet, Catherine nearly screamed in relief. While she's one to enjoy some time off here and there, a forced medical leave for nearly two months has been much more than she bargained for. And almost more than she could bare.
Quite frankly, she was starting to go insane.
"I am, thank God."
Sara smiles, "Now you sound like the workaholic."
Leaning in, Sara places a tender kiss along Catherine's lips, running a gentle hand down her face.
"It's going to be nice having you back," she says between kisses. "The boys club was getting unbearable."
Laughing, Catherine taps Sara's nose with hers.
"Is that all I am to you?" she smiles at the brunette. "Just another female to help even out the numbers?"
Sara shakes her head seriously. "Not just another female. The hottest female."
Catherine groans, watching Sara's smirk grow as the brunette leans in for another kiss.
It's just when Catherine feels she is getting her life back when she begins to wonder if it actually hasn't been crumbling around her without her notice.
She's been back at work for two weeks and her recovery has been steady, the blonde getting back into her stride and regular daily routines. She feels like she's about a week out from being allowed back out into the field. While some pain is still present at rare times, it's a mere shadow of its former self. Something Catherine can definitely handle, and finally handle without the need for prescription meds. While they did a wonderful job of dulling the pain, they also dulled pretty much everything else as well.
Almost in direct contrast to her increasing recovery, things with Sara have started to become…off. Not particularly descriptive, but it's the best way Catherine can put what's happening into words.
Sara's still at her place, pitching in and helping with household duties, offering continued support that Catherine is grateful for. But, as her recovery has increased, the time the brunette is around has decreased. While Catherine would consider this a good thing, the brunette finally taking time to care for herself, that's not at all what has happened. Instead of spending the time away from Catherine to care for herself, she's still at Catherine's place – just off in a separate room or seemingly off in her own world. It's like the brunette is in some weird limbo where she's still present at Catherine's place physically, wary to leave the blonde alone, but she's not quite present emotionally.
Sara's still nearby so she can be of assistance when Catherine needs it, immediately at her side at the first sign of pain or fatigue, but now that Catherine's doing better, those moments are few and far between. Perhaps that's why now she's able to notice the ways that Sara's been pulling away.
Just the other night, she woke to find Sara sitting out on the back porch, middle of the pitch black night, alone. Just sitting there, staring off into the night sky.
When she approached, Sara offered her a welcoming smile, but it didn't even come close to reaching her normally expressive hazel eyes. As she took Sara's hand and sat with her, there was a stiffness there that was never present before. Thinking the brunette perhaps had a rough shift at work, she let it go.
But, now, this is the third night she's found Sara alone on the porch.
And, this time, she's going to get answers.
Looking up at the sound of footsteps, Sara glances over to see Catherine approaching. Cursing herself for perhaps disturbing her, Sara sits straighter in her chair.
"Did I wake you?"
She knows Catherine is better, but still healing. She needs all the rest she can get, helping her body get back to its full strength as quickly and smoothly as possible.
Catherine shakes her head, "No, you didn't quite manage to wake me with your loud thinking and raucous contemplation. Noisy as those activities usually are."
Sara smiles, but despite her best efforts, it's slight.
"What's going on, Sar?"
At this, the serious tone clear to read in Catherine's voice, the brunette stiffens further. She isn't ready for this conversation, this confrontation. Not even close.
"Nothing," she offers. "Just couldn't sleep."
"Haven't been able to sleep for a while, it seems. Unless you're making the porch your new bed."
Sara's at a loss, not knowing what to say or do to make this moment stop happening.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" Catherine pushes, sitting in the chair beside her.
Sara doesn't respond, eyes focused anywhere but on the person next to her.
"Hey," Catherine calls, reaching out to place her hand on Sara's arm.
When Sara flinches, they both are at a loss for words.
"Now I know there's something wrong," Catherine gets out, voice a pained whisper.
Sara definitely isn't the most physical person she's ever met, but she's never shied away from Catherine's touch. Not once. And she's certainly never flinched.
"I…" Sara shakes her head, swallowing tightly. "I'm sorry."
Heart hammering, she knows she needs to get out of this moment, quickly. Her buried emotions, ones she's spent the last month relegating down into the deepest parts of her, are threatening to surface. And, she can't afford to let that happen. Not now. Not ever.
"Stop apologizing, sweetheart, and tell me what's going on with you."
Straightening up and drawing up all the strength within her, Sara looks over, finally meeting Catherine's gaze.
"Nothing, just having a bit of an off week. I'm fine." She works hard to keep her eyes in place. "I promise."
Seeing Catherine struggling to believe her, Sara forces her hand out, taking the blonde's in hers.
Holding it, they stay in silence, watching the stars that are seeming to have more to say to each other than they do.
The next day work brings a welcome distraction. Well, for some problems. For others, it brings them to the forefront.
After enduring a long lecture from Gil regarding just what tasks she was and was not allowed to perform at crime scenes, she's been given the green light to go out into the field again. Granted, the list of activities she's allowed to do, take photos, is much shorter than the list of things she's not allowed to do, which is pretty much everything else.
But, hell, she'll take it.
As she steps out of the lab and towards her Tahoe, she's downright eager. By the time she reaches her scene, however, her positive emotions are a bit more subdued. In fact, it seems she's swung clear through from the positive to the negative, turned from eager to panicked.
She'll be out in the open for the first time since someone nearly took her life.
She didn't even see the suspect, who she now knows is Ted Newman, at the scene last time. She was simply lifting prints, then, the next thing she knew she was on the ground, indescribable pain exploding from her chest.
She honestly thought she was going to die.
While he's now behind bars, apprehended not even an hour after the shooting, the feeling of almost dying is one that's damn near impossible to shed.
Hands shaking, she opens the door of her Tahoe, stepping out on unsteady legs. Camera ready, she waits for the moment when she feels ready. Safe.
Just as she's realizing that moment may never come, a hand slips into hers.
"You can do this."
The soft, gentle tone is one she'd recognize anywhere.
Despite their tense night last night, here Sara is, at her side, a strong and steady source of endless support.
Lacing their fingers together, Sara holds tight.
"You're okay," she comforts. "You got this."
She doesn't push, doesn't pressure, simply waits with Catherine until the blonde's breaths even out, until her heart stops hammering in her chest.
When Catherine gives a nod, Sara looks at her to confirm.
"You ready?" she asks gently.
"I am," Catherine responds, anxious to get past this, move forward with her life and not let the actions of a madman dictate her emotions. She won't give him the power to make her job, which she loves beyond words, anything but the haven it's always been to her.
"You're the strongest person I know," Sara offers quietly, giving Catherine's hand a kiss before letting it go.
Together, they make their way to the scene, pausing at the door of the house as Catherine turns to Sara, finally fully registering her presence.
"Wait, Sara, what are you doing here? I thought Gil assigned Nick to meet me after he finishes his scene?"
Sara nods slightly, "Nick's on his way, but I thought you'd appreciate some company for this part before he gets here. I didn't want you to have to enter your first scene back alone."
It's perhaps in this moment, that Catherine realizes just how blessed she is to have found someone like Sara. To be with someone like Sara.
It's beyond anything she ever could have hoped for, could have dreamed was possible.
"Thank you," she offers sincerely, hoping Sara can read her emotions to know just how much this meant to her, how inadequate those words are.
Reaching out, Sara simply runs a hand along Catherine's arm softly, the barest hint of a gentle smile gracing her lips.
Then, turning, they both note the sound of an approaching car engine.
"That's my cue," Sara says quietly, taking a step back as they both watch Nick's SUV pulling up to the scene.
When Catherine returns home that evening, she's hoping that the interaction between her and Sara will continue. That whatever storm seemed to pass between them last night was a one off. A fluke.
But, when Sara texts later to let Catherine know that the brunette is working late for the first time since Catherine got shot, she knows that it isn't.
That it's there, that the storm isn't over.
No, the storm is simply brewing and gathering energy.
"Cath, we can't do this, not here."
Smiling, Catherine continues her motions, always getting a small rise out of how prude her otherwise brazen girlfriend can be at times.
"There's no one around, babe," Catherine offers, letting her kiss linger along Sara's lips.
It's been almost a full two days since she's last seen Sara, between work and Sara running home to shower and check on her apartment. Now, they're enjoying a morning cup of coffee in the backyard after a long shift, and Catherine wants nothing more than to enjoy more of the person she's sharing it with.
She's hoping to finish what they start out here in the bedroom just a short distance away.
When Sara stiffens under her, pulling slightly back, Catherine pauses.
"I got cleared hon, the doctors said this is fine…that we can…you know…again."
Now look who's being prude, a grown adult hesitating to say 'have sex.'
Shaking her head internally at herself, Catherine watches Sara's hand where it lightly draws itself up and down along the skin of her shoulder. Seeing that the dark featured woman's expression looks worlds away, Catherine draws Sara's chin up so that their eyes meet.
"Honey?"
Seeming to snap out of her haze, Sara clears her throat.
"Sorry. I…just…" the younger woman tries to gather her bearings. "Maybe just…not tonight?"
It's a question, a request, that has Catherine's heart clenching uncomfortably in her chest, her body and mind taking in the words, the message behind them.
Maybe she was naïve, but Catherine had imagined their first time after months of forced abstinence being exciting, eager, passionate. She imagined Sara being just as impatient as she is to become intimate again, to resume every aspect of their beautiful relationship after their forced physical separation.
But, instead, Sara looks like she can't even meet Catherine's eyes. Like she can't even look at her.
"Oh…yeah," Catherine nods, trying to sound unaffected. "Okay, yeah, that's fine. If that's what you want."
Sara's jaw is tight, "I'm going to head in and get a refill."
Sara's voice is quiet. And her coffee is already still mostly full.
It's been a week, and things have not gotten better. In fact, they've gotten worse.
So much so, that Catherine is starting to wonder if, now that she's essentially recovered, if Sara is finally showing her true feelings towards this relationship, towards her.
Was this all too much for the brunette? Did this make her realize that Catherine wasn't the one? Was she just too polite and selfless to say anything while Catherine was recovering? Sticking around to help Catherine get through everything, to not breakup with her or leave while she was incapable of caring for herself?
But, now that she's better, maybe Sara's sense of obligation is no longer there. The guilt of leaving her while she's in pain or injured no longer keeping her in place.
All Catherine knows is that Sara, who was always there, caring and doting during her recovery, can now barely meet her eyes. It's almost like she's a different person entirely. A person who, instead of being head over heels for the blonde, can barely stand to be in her presence.
It's heart wrenching, it's nerve-wracking, and it's making Catherine wonder if she perhaps escaped losing her life just to lose it another way months later.
"We need to talk."
Sara pulls back slightly, watching the ground as Catherine steps away from the half-assed kiss they were engaged in.
"What about?" Sara questions, eyes studying the pavement as they hover near their cars at the end of shift.
"Us."
Sara's eyes finally lift, meeting Catherine's in a gaze that's mostly unreadable.
"Us?"
"Yes, Sara, us," Catherine holds firm.
She isn't going to back down from this. She's been obsessing every day for the past week about what she could've done, what could've changed between her and Sara, to cause Sara's heart to no longer be in this relationship that she'd thought was going so well.
"When?"
Catherine pulls her keys from her pocket.
"Now. My place."
She doesn't leave room for argument, walking away as the brunette remains standing silently behind.
"Tell me what's going on," Catherine half requests and half demands the moment Sara walks through the front door, the younger CSI tossing her keys on the nearby end table.
"Catherine…"
Sara looks tired, exhausted really. Like she's been losing just as much sleep as Catherine has these past days, perhaps plagued by her own dark thoughts.
"Are you…" Catherine struggles. "Do you want to break up with me?"
At this, Sara's eyes, previously on the carpet, jerk up to hers.
Eyes wide, she furrows her dark brows, "What?"
"Do you want to break up with me, Sara?" Catherine repeats, some of her confidence and bravado leaving her, the crack in her voice revealing the vulnerability that's beneath.
"How can you…how can you ask me that?" Sara's surprise, her shock, is clear.
"How can I not?!" Catherine counters, losing some of her control over her emotions. "You've barely been present these past weeks!"
"I've been here-"
"Emotionally, Sara," Catherine interrupts. "You haven't been present emotionally. You're here physically, but it's like your mind is miles away."
"I haven't-"
"You have," a second interruption.
Catherine isn't going to let Sara argue this point, deny something that's clear to them both. "You barely let me touch you, you stare off into the distance when we're in the same room together, when you're not busy making an excuse to leave the room that is." A pause. "Sara, even now, you can barely look at me."
Closing her eyes, Sara's breath is shaky when she lets it out.
She no longer contends, there are no rebuttals or counter arguments. And, that's probably harder right now for Catherine to take.
Sara doesn't look like she's going to put up a fight - she looks like she's about to toss in a white flag.
"If you want to break up with me, Sara," Catherine struggles to get out, her own voice quiet, subdued. "Then just do it. I'm better now, you don't have to feel obligated to stick around anymore."
Sara swallows, her body stiffening as if she's been slapped, as if she's struggling to fight bile rising in her throat.
"It's not…" Sara tries, nearly choking on the words. "I just…I need some time, Catherine."
Her eyes are again back on the floor.
"I'm sorry."
When Sara walked out the other night, Catherine honestly wasn't sure if she'd ever come back. If they were even in a relationship anymore. Sara had done a brilliant job of avoiding her at work, always finding a way to be somewhere else, anywhere else, than were Catherine was.
She honestly had no idea where they stood, what to expect or anticipate regarding their relationship.
But, what she definitely didn't expect, was to find Sara sitting on her porch two nights later, a bottle of red wine in her hands.
A half empty bottle.
"Sara?"
Catherine carefully ascends the wooden steps, leaving ample distance between them as she sits.
Sara remains silent, and the blonde waits her out. She knows Sara well enough to know she can't rush this, can't try to force the skittish brunette into talking or Sara will close herself off again. It's something she'd learned early on regarding Sara's coping mechanisms – first as her colleague, then as her friend, and lastly as her girlfriend. It's best to let Sara come to you.
"You were right," Sara gets out just when Catherine wonders if the brunette would ever speak, voice low and words slightly hoarse with emotion and alcohol. "I can barely look at you."
The sting of the words is fast and harsh, Catherine's breath robbed from her lungs.
"I look at you and I'm disgusted, I'm angry."
Sara's words look like they're choking the young CSI as much as the blonde receiving them.
"Right," Catherine gets out after anguishing moments of silence, trying to ignore the tears gathering on her lashes in frustration. Sara's words are harsh, harmful, and she refuses to let show just how deeply they've hurt her until she's alone.
Never give the person who breaks your heart the power of seeing the pieces fall.
Pushing herself up, Catherine stands on shaky legs.
Hand on the knob, she's walking out on this broken, shattered relationship, when Sara's voice cuts into the night.
"I'm disgusted and angry at myself, Catherine." The emotion in the brunette's voice is making the words shaky, but they're as clear as the night sky above them. "Not you."
Pausing, the words take time to register, to be heard, understood, believed.
Turning, Catherine watches Sara's back and slumped shoulders, watches the brunette take another long drink from the bottle in her hand.
"Sara."
It's not a question, it's just a name. But it holds everything Catherine is asking, what she is desperate to understand.
"I…he…," Sara shakes her head, dark hair falling across her collapsed shoulders. "This was all my fault."
Everything is quiet.
"He hurt you, he nearly killed you, because of me. Because I couldn't...because I was too stupid to figure out…"
Sara's choked words cut off, the bottle in Sara's hand shaking as she brings it to her lips, nearly finishing the wine within.
The moment hangs silent and heavy between them, neither of them able to find the words to fill it.
Reaching forward instead, Catherine takes the bottle from Sara's shaking hand, placing it above the brunette on the porch railing, out of reach.
Sara hardly drinks, and when she does, it hits her hard. Catherine's not about to have Sara inebriate herself to the point that she can't continue this conversation – the brunette's previous words already slightly slurred. They need to be able to discuss this.
And God, Catherine groans internally, how did she not see this coming.
When Brass told her the motive behind the shooting, who the shooter was, the message he'd sent Sara, all of it, Catherine had feared something like this. Sara, who blames herself for every single shortcoming on the job, every single case that doesn't get a conviction, every single victim who doesn't get justice, is haunted by so many things she perceives as failures. Beating herself up for more things in life than Catherine can count. Everything, big and small, always residing heavily on the brunette's shoulders all the time Catherine's known her.
She worried that something like this, something like the shooting, would send the self-punishing brunette into a tailspin.
But, instead, Sara was okay. She took care of Catherine, never missing a step or faltering in all the time while Catherine recovered. She never once let on to the deep guilt and anger that she was apparently struggling with. All that time.
While Catherine was afraid that once her recovery was essentially on its way to complete that Sara had stopped loving her, it was actually nothing of the sort. Sara didn't stop loving her. Sara started hating herself.
Or, perhaps, Sara finally let the hatred show.
"Sara."
The brunette's head is bowed, her features dark.
"Honey," Catherine lowers herself down beside her. "Look at me."
When she still doesn't comply, Catherine shakes her head. Shakes her head at the person who only seems to see the negative in herself, always obsessing over every perceived mistake, ineptitude. The person who doesn't recognize the brilliance, the beauty, the purity that's there instead.
"You are not responsible for what happened, Sara."
As the silence continues, Catherine reaches out, firmly turning Sara's jaw so that the younger woman is facing her. It may be harsh, but she needs Sara to hear this. To hear her.
"What happened to me was not your fault." The words are tight, stern. "Do you understand me?"
Sara's own tone is just as tight.
"Of course it's my fault. I couldn't stop that young woman from being killed - if I had then this never would have happened. He knew I was responsible for her death, and he took it out on you."
"You were not responsible for Rachel Newman's death, Sara! It was a lack of evidence. Something we've all unfortunately had to lose victims over. Cases that couldn't be solved until someone else had to pay the price." Catherine says. "That doesn't make you a bad CSI. And that certainly doesn't make you responsible."
Sara's eyes remain dark, the brunette nearly crushed under the guilt displayed across her features.
"You can't do this to yourself, honey."
Sara stiffens, taking a shallow breath as she turns her head harshly out of Catherine's grip.
"Sara, stop. Please stop doing this to yourself!"
Suddenly, before Catherine can react, Sara's on her feet. The sound of glass shattering is only seconds behind as the wine bottle is hurled at the tree just feet from the house, exploding into the grass.
"I got you shot! I almost got you killed!" Sara's head is in her hands, her whole body shaking. "I almost lost you, and it was entirely my fault! How can you not see that?!"
Seeing the utter devastation revealed in Sara's actions, the normally stoic brunette literally being torn apart before her own eyes, Catherine feels her heart tightening so sharply she wonders how it hasn't shattered like the glass now glistening around them.
How the hell did she not see this, she asks herself furiously for the second time instead.
All this anger, all this self-hatred, how did Catherine possibly miss this all these weeks?
Catherine is on her feet, tentatively stepping into Sara's space. Reaching out, she places her hands on the brunette's shoulders, holding firm when Sara tenses.
"I don't blame you, Sara," she whispers out. "Never did I blame you. Not for one second."
"Everything you went through," Sara says quietly, voice anguished. "All that pain, all that agony, was because of-"
"Him, Sara. It was because of him. He pulled the trigger, not you."
"I may as well have."
Letting the night go back to silence, Catherine watches the darkness playing across Sara's features, feels the grief literally shaking the brunette to her core.
She knows she needs to figure out a way to reach her, to get through to this self-sacrificing woman before she loses her for good. Before they lose themselves and everything their relationship had come to mean to them both.
"If it were you, would you feel this way?"
The question hangs in the air, vague enough for Sara's expression to finally register something other than anger and grief. The slight hint of confusion filtering through, like ink slowly bleeding into water.
"If the situation were reversed, if the Newman case was mine and you were the one who got shot, would you feel this way? Would you feel that it was my fault?"
There's a silence, then Sara's eyes narrow.
"That's not the point."
"Answer the question, Sara."
More silence continues.
"If you wouldn't blame me, Sara, then you need to trust that I don't blame you. That the reason I don't blame you is because it purely and simply isn't your fault."
Sara swallows hard, struggling against Catherine's words.
"I love you, Sara." At this, the brunette's eyes lift, fixing on Catherine with a hazel gaze that holds so much. "I know we've just recently started dating, and maybe it's too soon to tell you this, but I've loved you for a while, Sara. So please…"
Catherine is now the one struggling with her own words, choking down the emotions pouring through her.
"Please don't let that man, who already took so much from me, take you away from me as well," Catherine pleads. "Please, don't let his hate destroy the person that I love. Destroy us."
It's this moment, this silence, that's the hardest to bear. This silence is the final one, the point at which decisions are made and choices are fulfilled. The point at which Catherine learns whether she's finally done paying the price of this madman's actions.
She can only hope that Sara is strong enough, brave enough, selfless enough to let Catherine's words reach her. To let herself be forgiven for crimes that aren't hers.
It's so quiet that Catherine almost misses it, but when Sara's voice fills the night, tears catching in the moonlight and silently dripping from the brunette's face, the older woman hears them.
"I'm sorry."
Within moments, Catherine closes the distance between them, taking the taller woman in her arms.
Their tears mix in the night, their arms struggling to support their trembling bodies, holding each other as they grasp tightly for dear life.
"I'm so sorry," Sara whispers, her words pressed against Catherine's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, for all of this."
She knows the tone in Sara's voice, can read her apology for what it is. Sara's giving in, willing to step outside of herself to honor Catherine's request. To not let that man destroy them and the beautiful relationship they'd started to build together. And, for that, the blonde is eternally grateful. She knows Sara will continue to struggle with this guilt for a while to come, but now Catherine knows what she's dealing with, what to look out for so she can finally help Sara through it.
"Shh," Catherine soothes, holding her strong girlfriend close. "I just wish you would've told me how you were feeling, Sar. All this time you were struggling with this, torturing yourself. I wish you would've talked to me."
Holding each other in the moonlight, their hands clasped tightly to each other's bodies, they remain that way. Clenching to each other, to their relationship that they came so close to losing in more ways than one.
It could be minutes, hours, seconds later when Catherine hears her girlfriend's words filter through the night, all sense of time lost as she simply clutches to the brunette she was so scared she'd lost.
Words that still hold emotions that it will take time to sort through, to move on from, but words that hold a promise that they will get there – together.
"I love you, too, Catherine."
AN: Thanks for reading.