Hey guys, hope you're enjoying so far. I know it's a bit confusing at the moment, but I promise it will start to make more sense soon. Let me know what you think so far.

Catherine paced fretfully around the cramped space, wafting the file absently in the air and muttering incomprehensively to herself.

She was so caught up in her own blind panic that she never even noticed Grissom appear in the threshold, raising an eyebrow at his restless colleague.

"Something wrong?" He inquired calmly, his suspicion growing exponentially as she jumped out of her skin at the intrusion to her disjointed internal ramblings.

"No." She hiccupped guiltily, dropping her hands behind her back in a vain attempt to hide the file. Naturally, his sharp eyes caught the stealth movement and he took a casual step closer.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, inching guiltily away from him until her back collided with the desk. Grissom frowned sceptically, reaching around her slim waist and snatching the folder from her still-trembling hands.

Catherine chewed on her lip nervously, waiting for the blow-up that never came. Instead, Grissom glanced over the top of the file, one eyebrow cocked in silent question.

"It's not what it looks like." She offered meekly.

"You were snooping?" He asked, though it was more a statement of fact than a query.

"No, I was..." She started to defend herself, but trailed off. What was she doing, exactly? Her mind was so frazzled; she couldn't even remember why she had come in here in the first place.

"This is Sara's personnel file." He pointed out, as if she wasn't already well aware of that.

"I know." She nodded, trying to pluck a valid excuse from thin air. When she failed to produce one, Gil sighed in frustration.

"Catherine, whatever problems you have with Sara, this is unacceptable." He snapped, dropping it onto his desk angrily, where it landed atop an unstable stack of papers. Cath winced at the harsh noise it made, feeling a lump starting to form in her throat.

"Gil," She tried again, but he was having none of it this time.

"That file is confidential. What were you planning on doing with it?"

"Nothing!" She insisted, edging her way around him and towards the door. "I just needed to check something, but it doesn't matter now. I'm sorry."

"Catherine." He warned in a low voice, but she quickly cut him off.

"I know, I screwed up. It won't happen again." She babbled tearfully, already halfway out of the door as she burbled a final apology in his direction.

"Catherine!" He hollered after her, but she was already gone.

He stared down at the folder on his desk in bewilderment. Turning to the first page, he scanned the details, hoping to deduce what she could possibly have been looking for.

Whatever dirt she had been hoping to find on Sara, he couldn't imagine it would be in here. And even if it was, what damage could she do with that information?

After all, Ecklie already had access to it.

Not one to be deterred easily, Catherine relocated herself in a quiet corner of the lab. One where even Grissom wouldn't find her. She signed into the computer and selected the tab labelled Staff Files. There was less information on here, but it had the basics: name, level, date of birth...

She found Sara's information and brought it up, her eyes lingering hypnotically over those numbers.

9/16/1973

Sara was thirty-one years old. 31 years, four months, two weeks and five days to be precise.

Cath took a deep, shuddering breath, laying her head in her hands. This could not be happening, she told herself. It just couldn't be. There had to be another explanation.

"Hey," a soft voice startled her upright again.

She lifted her gaze to find Sara leaning casually against the doorframe, a case file tucked in her folded arms. Despite the obvious exhaustion and stress carved into her features, she appeared much more composed than she had been the last time they were in a room together.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." The supervisor attempted a smile, but it was less-than-convincing. "I thought you were..."

"Yeah, I am. I just came to drop something off." Sara explained, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment. She looked nervous, although Catherine was far too wound up to really notice. "And I wanted to apologise, I was..."

"Don't." Cath cut her off gently. "It's okay."

Sara studied her, clearly not convinced by this sudden turnaround of opinion from her co-worker. Only a matter of hours ago, this same woman had been tearing shreds off her in the hallway.

"Okay." She echoed at last. Catherine nodded with relief at this tentative acceptance, though there was still uncertainty mirrored in both their expressions.

Sara remained in the threshold a minute longer, debating whether or not to push the issue. Eventually, she decided against it and mumbled a half-hearted thanks, before turning to leave.

"Wait," Catherine called her back, her voice unusually high. "Um, how ... how are you?" She stuttered, instantly kicking herself for the stupidity of the question.

Sara frowned, nodding suspiciously.

"Apart from being suspended, I'm okay." She replied honestly. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay." Cath breathed. "Thanks."

Her chest was heaving, her cheeks flushed. She dropped her head, letting her golden waves fall in front of her face and disguise the blatant agitation she was emitting right now. She could feel dark eyes watching her, studying every nervous twitch and hitched breath with fierce scrutiny.

But when she finally had to guts to look back up, Sara was nowhere to be seen.

Catherine exhaled, letting her whole body sink against the back of the creaky swivel chair.

God, those eyes...

How on earth had she missed that?

She had to know the truth. One way or another, she simply had to find out exactly who Sara Sidle really was. And, being a scientist and all, she knew just what she needed in order to do that.

She couldn't deny that it felt more than a bit wrong breaking into Sara's locker, but it was a necessary part of her plan.

She glanced around, checking for the fifth time that she was definitely alone, before swinging the metal door open and staring into the narrow space. At the front, like most CSIs, Sara had a bag of spare clothing. Cath dragged this out, discarding it on the bench. Lurking behind it, nestled between a long-forgotten text book and a neatly pressed suit jacket, was what she had come here for. After a moment of guilt-induced hesitation, she snatched up the cosmetic bag.

It was no lie that Sara was not exactly a girly-girl, but every now and then she had cause to wear make-up to work – when she was in court, or going on a date straight after shift.
This was the primary reason she kept lipstick in her locker. Catherine slid the cotton swab out of her pocket, checked once more that no one was around, and swabbed the tip, before hurriedly replacing it and the rest of Sara's belongings back where they lived.

As she went to close the locker door, something made her pause. Tucked inside the door itself, Sara had slotted a handful of photos. Catherine had noticed them before, of course, but she had never really taken the time to look at them.

The top one was taken in the mountains somewhere, and a younger Sara was decked out in ski gear and beaming at the photographer. A taller guy with blonde boy-band hair and a lazy grin had one arm slung around her shoulders while he pointed to the giant snowman beside them. Cath knew she had attended college in New York, so she guessed the image was taken somewhere north of the border. It struck her that, in five years of working with the brunette, she had never seen that smile – relaxed, carefree, impish even. She would stake her wages that the young Sidle had gotten up to more mischief at college than simply building oversized snowmen.

Beneath that photo was a white boxer dog lounging on a worn patch of grass, its large tongue hanging out contentedly as it basked in the California warmth.

But the one that had first caught her eye was the little girl sat on a beach, her bare legs stretched across the sun-drenched sand. Long dark waves were almost touching her waist, as she tipped her head towards the sky and closed her eyes, a sweet little smile on her porcelain face. Catherine could almost imagine herself looking at that scene through a camera lens, as if she had taken the aged photo herself.

Sara had been a beautiful child. Given the chance, Cath would have taken as many photos of her as time afforded them.

Nudging the door closed with a sad sniff, she stared at the sample in her hand; her conscience chuntering remorsefully in her head. Deep down she knew this was the only way to be one hundred percent sure, but it didn't make her feel any better about it.

Her own swab was already labelled, so now there was just one thing left to do.

Mia was submerged in the microscope, oblivious to the figure hovering anxiously in her doorway. Cath was about to clear her throat or cough, anything to get the lab rat's attention, when something stopped her. A familiar voice reminding her why what she was about to do was very wrong.

"Are you covering for me?"

"I believe that we've dealt with this issue, handled it internally. As far as I'm concerned, it's dead. Besides, you'll never do it again"

Her hand tightened around the little tubes. Last time it had cost her a murder case. This time, it would be her job.

With a resigned huff, she turned and stalked back out; just as Mia glanced up from her work. She caught sight of the red-head and opened her mouth to greet her, but had to settle for scowling in bemusement at the back of Catherine's head as she disappeared without a single word.

Catherine ran a hand through her wavy hair for the millionth time that day, staring morosely at the two tubes sitting side by side on her desk. The answer to her burning question was just down the hall, but if she did that again she'd get sacked for certain.

She groaned, falling back into her seat. There must be another way.

She shook the computer mouse to wake up the screen, an unnaturally bright glow suddenly illuminating her dark office, and tapped a few key words into Google.

And there it was, in black and white; the answer to her predicament. It would take a lot longer for the results to come through, but it was legal, and she wouldn't risk losing all she had worked so hard for.

All she needed now to make it happen was one final sample.

And for that, she might just need somebody's help ... if he was willing to offer it.

"I need you."

Greg lifted his head, turning slowly to the door. Upon sighting his visitor, he immediately thought of Sara, sitting alone in her tiny flat drowning her sorrows in beer after toxic beer. He wanted to say no, that she hadn't been willing to help a colleague yesterday, so why the hell should he bother today?

However, one look at her pale, sombre face silenced the acidic comment on the tip of his tongue. Letting the tension in his shoulders seep away, he merely nodded his assent.

"How can I help?"

A quick search of the DNA database brought up the data she needed. It had been a shot in the dark, but even a shot in the dark had to hit sometimes.

Evidently, the mystery she had once known as Jack Halliwell grew into a man with more than a few strikes against his name. Judging by his impressive rap sheet, he had spent more time falling off the wagon than climbing onto it; and drink wasn't his only poison of choice.

She could tell that Greg was concerned about their actions, but she truly couldn't do this without him and she didn't trust Mia to keep her mouth shut. Hodges would wheedle it out of her, one way or another and she simply couldn't let that happen.

If it got out what she was doing – and why – then she would have some very uncomfortable questions to answer, not in the least from Sara herself.

In any event, Greg agreed to keep quiet about their search and gave her the printout without a peep of curiosity. She stared at the confusing table of numbers in her hand, the biological map of Jack Halliwell.

The three samples she needed now securely in her possession, she sealed them into a stiff envelope, scrawled her signature on a cheque and mailed the important little package at the first opportunity.

All she could do now was wait and pray, though what outcome she was hoping for remained a mystery even to herself at his moment.