A/N: Again, I have to thank you all for all the amazingly kind reviews. I have to be honest, I was having some moments of doubt after deciding to post my story up here. One of those things where you wonder if anyone out there is going to actually enjoy the stuff that your mind comes up with, or if you're just taking up space on the fanfiction server. All your kind words have really meant so much to me – I can only hope at this point that I don't let any of you down.
This chapter is from Catherine's POV. Don't worry, Nancy will be present throughout the story and will switch off as the narrator with Catherine. My goal was to write a story that centered a bit around things Sara was going through without ever using Sara as the narrator.
Enjoy.
**************
Entering my sister's house, I figure she will be asleep. She works the same shift as me, and she really needs the few hours she gets to rest in her busy hospital schedule. Call me selfish, though, because after the case I had I want nothing more than to come here and have one of our late night coffee sessions.
I start to tiptoe my way to her room, to check if she is actually asleep. I figure if she is then I'll simply drop off the cookbook I brought with me to return to her and be on my way.
No need to wake her because her big sister is afraid to be alone.
I nearly have a heart attack when Nancy steps out of the shadows of her living room and pushes me towards her bedroom with her finger over her lips in a 'shush' position.
When we get to her room and she has closed the door behind us I can't help but giggle.
"Nance, I feel like we're in high school again! If you brought someone home with you, you don't need to be all embarrassed about it – I'll just put this book somewhere and be on my way. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything…" I wiggle my eyebrows at her suggestively, to which she promptly rolls her eyes.
I have rarely seen my sister so nervous, and it is beginning to make me a bit concerned. Just what kind of guy did she bring home that she is being so edgy?
"Look, Catherine," she starts with a small voice. "I need to explain some things to you, but you have to promise not to freak out, okay?"
And there is the most paradoxical sentence in the English language. Absolutely nothing freaks a person out more then when you tell them not to freak out.
I swear, if she is pregnant or has Greg Sanders on her couch I am going to lose it.
Quirking an eyebrow, I gesture for her to continue.
"Alright. So, I went to a bar after work tonight." I can see her look at me with hesitance. She knows how I feel about her taking out the stresses of her job out on a bottle of Sam Adams. Before I can voice my opinion, however, she continues. "I know. But, Cath, Collin died tonight."
All of my soap box speech about drowning your sorrows goes out the window. Hell, I'm about to take her out to get her drunk myself. I know what a special kid Collin was to my sister. You would think he was her own child the way she would talk about him sometimes. She must be devastated.
I pull her in for a long hug. As I am stroking her hair, I find myself muttering, "Oh Nance, I'm so sorry. Look, people all grieve in their own way. So you took someone home with you from the bar to make you forget, it's nothing to be ashamed of…"
I am surprised when I feel her pull away and she starts to chuckle.
"Thanks, sis. I'll be sure to remember that."
I see her grow serious again.
"Catherine, while I was at the bar I ran into Sara."
Okay. This isn't what I was expecting, but it's still no reason for my sister to be acting all weird. She takes my confused silence as a hint to continue.
"Sara was involved in…a fight. And so I took her home with me to make sure she was okay."
I can tell she is glossing over many details of the night. She knows me better than that.
"What kind of fight, Nancy?"
She hedges. "Uh, Sara was fighting with a guy. I came in kind of in the middle of things. But she was stopping him from raping some woman. The woman had run off before I got there. Sara chased the guy away."
She's not meeting my eyes.
My sister could never lie to save her life. Hide her emotions, yes, but flat out lie, no. Once you knew the right questions to ask she was a goner. It's how I found that she had fed my favorite teddy bear's eyes to our pet gerbil.
"Nancy, is Sara alright?"
I am about to run from the room to check on Sara myself when she hesitates to answer.
"She's okay, Cath. A little banged up, but she's going to be okay. Well, mostly," she finally responds.
What the fuck? Mostly?!
"Nancy!"
"Sorry, um, she kind of got stabbed by the rapist guy. In the leg. She is fine, but she can't really walk very well on it."
I can see her sigh and decide that she will have to tell me all the details eventually, so she might as well save time and do it now.
"The wound was pretty deep, so I stitched it up here. She refused to go to the hospital. She was stabbed along her musculature in a way that will be restrictive to her ability to walk, most likely permanently. She'll recover, Cath, but she'll probably walk with a limp. She also got hit in the face, I checked her nasal bridge and it doesn't appear broken. She has a pretty nice gash in her lip. She was also likely grabbed by the throat, she's pretty hoarse. She didn't say anything to me about it, but I looked to make sure nothing serious was going on while I was looking at her lip. She'll probably get her full voice back in a couple days."
I'm stunned. Of all the people, of all the places, of all the nights. Tonight, my sister runs into the woman I just told her I was in love with. Not only that, but Sara is involved in a fucking street brawl of sorts and somehow convinces my sister not to drag her sorry ass to a hospital.
I don't know why I am so upset, but I am. Maybe it's my fear for Sara's wellbeing, or my discomfort that my sister had to be put in that position, or my embarrassment at this being Nancy's first impression of the woman I am in love with. I really don't know.
"I sure know how to pick 'em, huh?" I rub my forehead. "I'm sorry, Nancy, this must have been very awkward for you. I hope you didn't feel obligated or anything. You could have called me to deal with her."
Looking up at me with surprise, she puts a hand on my arm. "Cath, I did not feel obligated. If anything, Sara insisted time and time again that she did not want to impose. I pretty much had to force her to my house in order to get her to let me take care of her. And I didn't want to call you because I didn't want to scare her off. She gave me a fake name for crying out loud."
I can't help but laugh. That's Sara for you. I can only imagine the situation. My uber-caring nurse sister coming at Sara like Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. Sara, the ultimate champion of stubbornness and standoffishness, probably insisting that she is fine the entire time.
I can tell that Nancy is holding something back, but I take pity on her and decide I will try to get it out of her at another time. I think her night has been long enough without adding an interrogation to the list.
"Thanks for taking her in, Nance. Sara can be…difficult."
She seems to think about what to say. "You don't have to thank me, I would have done it for anyone. But especially for someone I know you care so deeply for. And Sara, aside from being stubborn as sin, is really a sweetheart."
I would not have predicted to ever hear someone refer to Sara as a 'sweetheart'. But you know what, it fits. For all the tough girl, smart-ass persona she works so hard at, she really is one of the most gentle people I have ever met.
Whenever I need someone to comfort me, help me, make me laugh, Sara is the one I want. And it's not just because I am in love with her, I'm sure any member of the night shift would tell you the same thing. She just has this calm about her, and she can make you feel like you are the most important person in the world.
I'm just relieved that my sister was able to glimpse past Sara's walls enough to see her as the sweet and caring person that she is. I know that Sara would never intentionally be rude to my sister, but I could see her inadvertently lashing out when her independent nature was being challenged.
I can tell that Nancy is being honest, and that she likes Sara, but again I can see that she is leaving some things out. And now I can tell that they have to do with Sara. I really will be sure to talk to her about it soon.
"Can I see her? Is she awake?"
Nancy shakes her head, "She may be awake, she has been waking up a lot. But she, um, has kind of been having a rough night, so perhaps it's better if we let her sleep?"
My eyebrows furrow, "A rough night? Is she still in a lot of pain?" I would hope Sara would at least have accepted some pain killers from my sister, but with Sara, you never know when she will be willing to accept help and to what degree.
"No, at least not that I know of. She took some aspirin before she went to bed, which I hope at least took the edge off. It's just that, she seems to have a lot of nightmares when she sleeps…" She looks at me closely, probably trying to figure out if I already knew this about Sara or not.
I really hate to admit how little I know about Sara. Especially about her sleeping habits. I haven't even been inside her apartment for crying out loud, let alone been in a position to have seen her sleeping. She usually seems much too on edge around me to let her guard down that far.
I am suddenly filled with a feeling of determination. I want to be the person who knows her sleeping patterns, who knows her favorite novel, whether she prefers morning or nighttime showers. I want to know everything about her.
First, perhaps I should tell her how I feel. You know, see how that goes before planning on learning a single thing about her. She could very well go running the second I open my mouth. Good idea, Cath. Way to get ahead of yourself. Do you want to start naming your and Sara's children, too?
"Right. Good idea."
I can tell that Nancy sees that I am at a loss for what to do.
"I was sitting in the rocking chair, staying with her in case she woke up and needed anything. I made sure she didn't know I was there, I'm sure she would have had a thing or two to say about my hovering over her like she was an invalid," she laughs. "But you are more than welcome to take over the spot, keep her company."
I am grateful for my sister's thoughtfulness. It's nice to know that Sara wasn't alone.
"Yeah, sounds good. And why don't you actually try to get a couple hours of shut eye before you have to go back in? You look like shit."
"Thanks," she responds with false hurt in her voice. "I'm going to take a quick shower, calm my mind down a bit, then I'll turn in. Try not to give Sara a heart attack when she wakes up and finds you here. She seems to be under the impression that you would like nothing more than to use her as fertilizer for your tomato garden."
She smiles at me, but I can tell that she is serious as well. Kind of her sisterly way of telling me to get my act together and treat the woman that I love as the woman that I love.
She's absolutely right, and I had made the same commitment to myself just days before. It's time to stop playing games and move on to the rest of my life, the rest of my life that I would like to spend with Sara.
Nancy turns on the adjoining bathroom light, and before she closes the door behind her I see the clothes she must have been wearing before discarded on the bathroom floor. A large portion of her shirt is smeared with blood and there are significant bloodstains on the pants as well.
I know that that is all Sara's blood, and it makes my own blood run cold.
I know Sara is headstrong, and that she hates anything having to do with domestic violence or rape, but to go after a would-be rapist by herself? She could have died tonight, easily. She's damn lucky she didn't.
As Nancy closes the bathroom door behind her, I let my silent tears fall. Sara needs to know that if she dies, then I will be dead for all intents and purposes as well. She needs to know that she has someone to stay alive, stay safe for.
Sara may not care about herself, but I know that she cares about other people and will do anything to alleviate their pain. I am saddened to think that it would never occur to Sara that her being hurt causes me pain – hell, she probably thinks I'd rejoice at the idea.
Shaking my head, I step out into the living room and sit in the rocker. I wrap myself in the blanket that Nancy left behind. Forcing myself to look at the couch, I see Sara for the first time.
Her arm is slung over her eyes, and her long legs are sticking out over the edge of Nancy's couch. She is so quiet as she sleeps that I cannot even hear her breathing. Only the occasional twitch of her arm lets me know she is alive.
I can't see any of her injuries, and so from here it is easy to pretend that I didn't almost lose the love of my life tonight.
So quick, it's so damn quick that your life can change.
If I ever needed a wakeup call to get things right with Sara, this was it.
I watch her for a bit, confused as she starts to shake. I think maybe she is cold, but then as I hear her begin to whimper I realize this must be one of the nightmares Nancy was talking about.
I don't know whether I should wake her. I really don't want to give the poor thing a heart attack as Nancy so kindly pointed out.
The choice is taken out of my hands when Sara screams and jerks into a sitting position. She seems disoriented as she reflexively tries to stand. I can see the moment that she tries to move her injured leg, apparently her right one, when she winces in pain and lets out a frustrated "shit" and lightly kicks my sister's coffee table with her good leg.
The pain seemed to bring back her memory of where she is, and she runs a shaking hand through her hair, no longer trying to get away.
Working her body carefully into a more conventional sitting position, she moves to pinch the bridge of her nose. She quickly realizes that her nose is apparently also a bit sore and pulls her hand away with a sigh.
I can't remember the last time I have seen Sara express any sort of pain. Maybe a migraine on one of our cases. She is usually adamant about not showing weakness, her favorite phrase being 'I'm fine.' I walked into the break room one night after asking Sara repeatedly during shift if she felt okay because she was getting paler and paler as the hours went on. Always, 'Yes, Cath. I'm fine. Don't worry.' I walked in on her puking in the break room sink. And what did she say to me when she realized I caught her? 'I'm sorry, I couldn't make it to the garbage can on time. I cleaned it with that bleach stuff that's always sitting there. Oh, and my report is on your desk.' And she walked out.
So seeing Sara like this, seeing her pain and her frustration, it feels like I am getting a rare glimpse at Sara without walls. She is still incredibly stoic about it all – I probably would have been crying for someone to get me some more aspirin by now. Aside from her initial profanity, she is just sitting there, taking some deep breaths to get herself under control. I have to marvel, I knew that her strength was never a show, but to see her when she thinks no one is watching still exhibit such a determination to overcome, it's almost breathtaking.
I can tell the exact moment she notices that she is not alone. She gets incredibly still, and I swear she is holding her breath, listening.
When she jerks her head up and looks directly at me, I realize my mistake.
When I heard her screaming in her nightmare, I must have stood and moved towards her in order to help her. Then when I saw she had woken herself up, I stayed where I was. I hadn't even noticed I had moved.
I don't know how well Sara can see me in the dim room, but when she forces herself to stand quickly and painfully, I know that she knows it is me. There are not many people that can make Sara feel so uneasy.
I used to take it as a compliment, that she was intimidated by me. But I have since learned that she likely does it in order to protect herself against me. That somehow placing herself physically above me with her added height she can hinder my ability to cut her down with my words. She makes herself physically tall in order to counteract my ability to make her feel small as I demean her.
She would never admit to it, but it's the pattern I have noticed over the years. A pattern that I cannot wait to put to an end.
I stay where I am, not trying to test my luck. "Sara, are you alright? And I swear to God, if you say you are fine I'm going to stab you in your other leg with one of Nancy's knickknacks."
She doesn't react. "You talked to Nancy."
"Yeah, she told me a little bit about what happened. I'm really sorry to hear about the leg situation. I'm going to help you in any way I can. First, though, how about some hot tea? I would suggest coffee, but no offense, you sound like death. The honey will help with your throat."
Great Cath, way to smother her.
"You aren't angry?" Sara is still staring, her face unreadable.
"You were trying to protect a woman and ended up getting hurt for your efforts. Thankfully my sister was there and took care of you." I sigh. I'm not about to go into my feelings of anger that I fleetingly felt only moments before. "Look, I'm not thrilled that you put yourself in such a dangerous position, and trust me, we will talk about that later – but for right now, please let me take care of you."
I swear, if Sara doesn't blink soon her eyeballs are going to shrivel.
"Why?"
This is getting a bit eerie. But I see it as an opportunity.
"Because I care about you, Sara. A lot. I always have. I was just too damn scared, too ashamed to let myself be vulnerable in that way so soon after we lost Holly Gribbs. And once I started down that road with you, it was easier to continue on it then to try to find another way to interact. I was an ass, I know that. And it's something I have actually been working on and wanting to talk with you about for awhile."
She narrows her eyes a bit. "You have been suspiciously nice to me the last couple of shifts."
With Sara, you can never really tell when she is serious or is joking. Her humor is just dry enough to keep you guessing.
She finally looks away with a chuckle when she realizes that I have absolutely no clue how to respond to her.
She makes sure she is looking at me again when she says, "Yeah, well, I could have been kinder to you as well throughout the years. I let you get the best of me and I responded with the ways most likely to hurt you back instead of trying to set a different tone to our relationship."
She shrugs, "Oh, and then I called you an ignorant whore in front of Ecklie. So we both have mistakes to be made up for, I suppose." Her dark hair falls softly over her shoulders as her head quirks slightly to the side, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.
I really didn't expect to be having this conversation in this particular fashion, but I find myself smiling as I realize it is so characteristically Sara. I should have known that we wouldn't have some sort of mushy apology session where we cry on each other's shoulders and lament about the pains of our past deeds.
I can see in her eyes that Sara meant what she said, that she is sorry for her role in all of this, but even more prominent is a desire to finally start moving on from it all.
I'm not naive, I don't expect things to be easy from here on out. We have a lot of conditioned, habitual behavior to change and it will take some time.
But I am glad that at least our acknowledgements of our ridiculous behavior over the years have been placed on the table. I feel like this strangely simple, yet pivotal, part of the conversation is something that we have been working our way up to these last couple months. It's like we have been sitting in a car for ages, and we've finally been handed the keys.
As if reading my thoughts, Sara clears her hoarse throat. "I know we have a lot of time to make up for, and it's going to be trying on both of us." Her dark eyes speak volumes as she looks at me, and then she finally breaks her intense gaze, "But how about we start with that tea you promised?"
I know that Sara is acting like she trusts me to be honest in my intentions to change and treat her differently, but I know Sara better than that.
I may not know much about her, but I do know she's not one to spit in your face if you hand her an olive branch, but she is definitely one to keep the gift receipt in case the olive branch doesn't work out and needs to be returned.
I know her trust is not something I have yet, but something that I am going to have to invest a lot of time and effort into earning.
Oh, and then there is the whole issue of telling her just how much I really care about her.
I smile, "Tea it is."
*******
