Disclaimer: obviously still not mine.

A/N: Here's chapter three. Thanks for the reviews so far, they make me happy.

Sara ran a hand through her hair as the doorbell rang. She moved to answer the door, nearly tripping over the strap of her bag along the way. Kicking the bag back a foot, she peered through the small hole in the door. Sure enough, there stood Catherine. Sara watched for a second as Catherine too ran a hand through her short strawberry blonde hair and looked around the hall. For the first time Sara noticed how much she liked the cut. Realizing she was staring at Catherine through her front door snapped Sara back into the present. Cursing herself she flung the door open.

Catherine caught sight of the wild look on Sara's face and chuckled.

"I was about to call you again. Were you busy?"

Sara faltered. How was she supposed to answer that? In order to avoid looking like an idiot she opted for: "Yeah, sorry about the wait. I was putting things away in the bedroom."

Catherine raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She had heard footsteps approach the door, a muffled thud and then nothing. She silently wondered whether Sara was reconsidering letting her in. Knowing that dropping in on the brunette was probably awkward enough, she let Sara's lie go. She wasn't however, going to stand in the hallway all day.

"May I come in?"

"What? Oh, right. Sorry." Sara shook her head, stepped aside and Catherine in. Catherine set her purse down next to Sara's bag on the floor and left her shoes on the mat.

"Um, wherever you want" Sara gestured to the various places to sit in her living room. Catherine looked around. The apartment was simple but nice. The front entry way opened directly into the living room to the right and a small desk sat close to the door. A small closet was located to the left, and a wall was directly in front. As Catherine moved into the living room she saw the kitchen. The living room and kitchen were connected, with the kitchen on the left, around the corner from the entrance. The kitchen was impressive: deep colored wood and a nice counter, with lots of cupboards and room to move around. From the take out menus littering the fridge door, Catherine guessed the kitchen had limited use.

Sara stood behind the counter. "Do you want coffee? I was about to make some."

"Sure. Please."

"I promise this machine takes the same amount of time to brew each time."

Catherine grinned. "You got my note then."

"Yeah, very funny. I'm glad you came to the same conclusion I did."

"Which was?"

"The coffee maker at the lab is inconsistent."

"And how did you figure that out?"

"I once timed it every night for a week. I was sure it was defective. I've since realized it's just a little finicky. It sometimes takes a whole minute longer just because it takes that long to warm up."

"You timed the machine every night for a week."

"Yes."

"As in you knew that I was right when I said it was taking longer and you still had to bait me?"

Sara was silent. Catherine was looking at her with her head tilted slightly and her eyes wide. After a moment, Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed.

"When did you do this little experiment of yours?"

"I did it on my own time. I thought I would come in really early and set it up. After three days I was getting inconclusive results so I kept going and I clearly had too much time on my hands."

"Clearly."

Sara could feel the blush climbing up her cheeks, so she turned away and set about getting mugs down from a nearby cupboard. While she rummaged, Catherine spoke up.

"I was admiring your kitchen. From all the menus stuck to your fridge I'd say you don't cook much."

Sara turned. "Unfortunately no."

"Shame. It's a very nice kitchen."

"I know. I'm embarrassed that I don't cook more often. I picked this apartment because of the kitchen. I made a pact with myself that when I moved to Vegas I was going to drop at least one bad habit. I was already working on quitting smoking so I decided I would change my eating habits and make myself cook more. I thought that if I had a nice kitchen I would want to spend more time in it."

"And?"

"Well it worked for a while. And then I hit a string of tough cases and I was at work all the time. It wasn't practical for me to cook anymore. Pretty quickly I fell back into my speed dial take-out dinners."

By this point Sara had two mugs sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen, along with the cream and sugar. She poured the steaming coffee into the mugs. After setting the pot back on the holder she picked up a mug and headed to the chair in her living room.

Catherine fixed her coffee and then came to sit in the loveseat adjacent to Sara. They sat sipping their drinks in silence. Catherine was looking at the various art pieces on Sara's walls: photographs of trees, a big blue butterfly in a glass case, several abstract paintings. They were all small pieces, but they fit the room well. Her eyes settled back on Sara. She was fascinated by the myriad of emotions she could see crossing her dark features. The shifts were subtle, but the more Catherine looked at her, the clearer the shifts became. All of a sudden Sara looked up and caught her staring. It was Catherine's turn to blush as Sara asked:

"What?"

Catherine chose to give an honest answer. "I was just wondering what you were thinking. I can practically see the cogs turning in your head."

"Oh. I was thinking that just now was probably the most we've ever spoken to each other outside of work. I mean, we've worked together for a year and a half, but we don't really talk. Other than about cases."

It was true. Though they had shared many discussions at the lab, they had only had very brief conversations together off the clock and even then they were always with the guys.

"You're right. We don't talk much. I think I've learned more about you in the last fifteen minutes than I have since I met you."

Sara nodded. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug on the coffee table. "I'm just wondering why you came over. My phone cut out in the elevator so I missed whatever you said."

"Is that what happened. I tried to call you back but I couldn't get through. You had already said I could come over so I did."

"I'm not even going to ask how you got my address."

"I am a CSI you know."

"Yeah I know."

"I guess I just wanted someone to talk to."

"Why me? We aren't even friends."

It was out her mouth before she had thought it through and she instantly regretted it. The hurt look on Catherine's face deepened the regret. She quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant."

Catherine bit her tongue and forced back a sharp reply. Instead she asked, "What did you mean?"

Sara considered the question carefully before answering. "All I meant was that if you were looking for someone to talk to, wouldn't you have been more comfortable with someone you know better? Like Nick or Warrick or your sister even?"

"I don't know Sara. I guess I wanted to talk to you because you don't know me very well. I also know you're honest with me when I ask you your opinion. I've already talked to Warrick and he suggested I phone you and for some reason I did. But if you don't want to, I can leave."

"Don't leave."

"Okay. I get that me dropping in on you is a little strange."

"Yes it is, but: I'm happy to listen Cath. I have to warn you though; I'm not very good at dealing with other people's problems. I can't even handle my own!" Sara stopped, panicking slightly. Having Catherine in her living room was making her nervous and her mouth was talking without her brain's permission. Already she had told her more about herself than she regularly spilled to strangers while heavily intoxicated.

"Okay" said Catherine slowly. Taking a breath she began, "I got an odd phone call today."

"Oh. Who was it from?"

"Eddie."

TBC.