When the sunlight finally roused me from my sleep, I was surprised, and somewhat worried, to find myself alone. The worry began to dissipate, realizing it appeared that I had been 'tucked in,' followed by what I assumed to be the sounds of someone cooking. I threw on some shorts and a sweatshirt before making my way to the kitchen, where I discovered Catherine, apparently less concerned about redressing, cooking breakfast in only her tank top and underwear.

She looked so cute dressed like that, the bottom of her perfect butt just barely peaking out the edge of her panties. All I wanted to do was slip in behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and whisper 'good morning' into her skin as I kissed her neck. Still, even with our previous night's activates, I was unsure whether we had officially crossed the friendship line or not. We had to talk first.

"Catherine?" I called, my nervousness apparent in my voice, even to me.

"Don't you dare apologize," she warned me, never turning away from her cooking, though her tone was light.

"I won't," I replied, taking a seat at the table. "Unless… unless you want me to."

Now, she turned her head to face me, making sure I caught the serious look in her eyes before smiling sweetly and replying, "I don't," then resuming her cooking.

Even as I released a sigh of relief that she didn't seem to be experiencing any regret, I knew that my perception of what had transpired could be vastly different from hers. "Do you think we should… talk?" I asked, cringing at how utterly pathetic the question sounded out loud.

"Sara," she sighed calmly, scooping the last of what I now saw to be pancakes onto a plate. I stared at the plate absently as she set it in the middle of the table, until a gentle finger under my chin beckoned me to look up at her. "Listen," she spoke softly. "Last night was… great. It was really great, actually, and that's how I want to remember it. Let's not spoil it, okay?"

My mind went all over the place. From the knowledge that she enjoyed it, to the fact that she wanted to remember the night at all. It made my heart race, pounding painfully against my ribs. At the same time I was still lost, and I still didn't know how she really felt. Certain I'd already embarrassed myself by bringing it up, I certainly didn't want to be the one to initiate the "what does this mean?" conversation.

Forcing the question back down, I gave a little nod of agreement; her hand moving to the back of my neck as she tenderly kissed my forehead. Then she was off, gathering plates and forks, as though kissing my face in the morning was something she'd always done.

"You didn't have to do all this." I gestured towards the meal, trying to act as nonchalant as Catherine seemed to feel.

She shrugged, but I didn't miss the pleased look on her face. "I wanted to. I thought it'd be nice to have breakfast together."

"It is," I agreed, and I meant it; though in the back of my mind I couldn't help seeing it as a last meal of sorts. "What, um… what time do you have to go?" I practically choked on the question.

I offered a smile in thanks as she dished up my food for me. "I was planning to call a cab in about an hour or so."

"Cab? No," I said a little to urgently, calming my tone before rephrasing. "I mean, I can give you a ride."

"Sure," she replied. "If you really want to, that'd be great."

I nodded. "I do." I would take every last second I could get before she was gone again, the miles that would once again be stacked between us feeling much farther than they had a couple days ago.

She fixed her own plate and sat down across from me. I moved my food around with my fork, trying to trick myself into thinking I had an appetite right now. Not wanting her thoughtfulness to go to waste, I managed to force a bite into my mouth.

"Sara," she began, her apology obvious in her voice.

"I know," I stopped her with a smile I hoped passed for convincing. "You'd stay if you could."

Catherine nodded. "And, you know, even if you don't come back," she paused, seemingly displeased at the notion, "I could always come visit again, if you want."

Somehow, in the midst of mourning her departure, it hadn't occurred to me that it would be possible for her to visit again. The fact that she was the one to propose it made me heart melt in my chest. "I'd like that," I told her, grinning like a complete fool. "A lot." My honesty in the last bit made me blush again, as did Catherine's full smile when she noticed, though she was kind enough not to vocalize it a second time.

"How do they taste?" Catherine nodded her chin in the direction of my plate.

"Oh," I declared, having all but forgotten there was food in front of me, eagerly shoving another forkful between my lips. "Delicious."

She chuckled at my actions. "I'm sure the guys will be jealous that I saw you," she said after a moment.

"I suppose," I said absently. As much as I loved the guys, I had to admit I hadn't really thought of them all that much during Catherine's stay.

"You suppose?" she questioned. "Sara, we all miss you. When you came back, after Warrick…" she chose not to complete the sentence. "Well, we were hoping you would stay."

I hadn't known that. I wondered, if they had expressed that wish to me, if I could have indeed been persuaded to rejoin the team. I doubted it, not back then, but no one ever said it. Wishes left unspoken lead to questions left unanswered; what could have been, what could be. The thought of telling Catherine how I really felt crossed my mind, but in the end fear still won out.

"Even you?" I asked instead. I knew she would say yes, but I wanted to hear it out loud.

"Especially me," she said sensually, making me bashful yet again. I'd never felt this with anyone; where every kind word that was spoken turned me into mush.

"Would you tell them 'hello' for me?" I cleared my throat, deliberately shifting gears. "I really do miss them."

"You could tell them yourself," she said suggestively, clearing implying my return to Vegas.

I sighed. "Cat…"

"I know, I know," she cut me off, raising her hands in resignation. "I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again. Just wanted to make sure it was still on the table."

"It's still on the table," I reiterated. She nodded, satisfied enough with that, for the time being. I wished I could just agree. All I had to do was say 'yes,' and I could be the solution to Catherine's troubles, her hero, if you will; but more than that, I could imagine the look of joy and relief that would be on her face, and knowing I was the one to put it there. One glance across the table, though, and all of my 'what-ifs' came rushing back: What if I couldn't handle being just friends or coworkers? What if I let my feelings for her interfere with work? What if seeing her everyday only made me fall for her more? I already felt like I'd lost my mind as it was. As appealing as being Catherine's hero would be, I was terrified of letting her down.

"I better go jump in the shower," she sighed as we scooped the last bits of syrup off our plates, "or else I'll feel really bad for whoever has to sit next to me on that plane."

I certainly wouldn't feel bad for them, not even if she'd just come back from rolling around in a garbage dump with a decomposing corpse. The thought of the scent alone was almost vomit inducing. Even so, I'd rather be near her.

"And here I thought pretty girls didn't sweat?" I smirked, disguising the fact that her subsequent laughter had me beaming.

"Well then," she started sarcastically, "I guess I must not be all that pretty."

"Don't be ridiculous." The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I peered up at her cautiously, surprised to see her look away humbly with a thoughtfulness in her eyes and a shy smile. She certainly never failed to keep me wondering what was going on behind those pensive eyes. I'd stopped trusting my own eyes since she'd arrived, too afraid they would lie to me and ultimately give me false hope. I wanted to believe them.

Catherine cleared her throat, smoothing her hair absent mindedly as she refocused. She stood up quickly, intently gathering up the dirtied plates before I insisted I could handle the clean up while she showered. She said she'd be done in twenty, letting her fingers touch my shoulder lightly as she passed by.

As I gathered the dishes from the table, my mind continued to replay every moment of the previous night in vivid detail. I couldn't let myself forget a single thing. I wanted to remember how it felt to be close to her, the baby softness of her skin, the electricity of her lips. My stomach flipped almost painfully each time I thought of the moment where she breathed my name, the look in her eyes the moment I knew she wanted it permanently scarred into my brain.

I proceeded on to the dishes from last night; my hands already covered in suds and doomed to smell like dishwater as it was. I realized it didn't bother me so much that she didn't want to talk about it, as it did why she didn't want to talk. I still couldn't shake the worry that maybe she regretted it, even though she claimed to have enjoyed herself. Maybe she just didn't want to have to tell me to my face that it could never happen again. Maybe she thought I might regret it, which couldn't be further from the truth. Maybe she was just worried I would over analyze things, as I often did, and was probably doing now.

I finished my chore, and Catherine emerged from the bathroom after almost exactly twenty minutes, as promised. How she managed to shower and come out looking like a queen in such a short period of time was beyond me.

I helped her pack up her things, both of us reverently silent as we did so. I didn't want to acknowledge what I knew, that this was the last step before she would be on her way. My chest tightened as I looked into her suitcase, noting that she had in fact pack for a considerably longer stay. Finally, with nothing left to detain us, we made our way to the car.

It was appropriately bleak outside, the sky an opaque blanket of gray. The now snow free ground revealed little green, as did trees with their naked arms reaching up to the milky heavens. I would have joined them in their silent prayer, had I ever believed in such a thing.

I loaded Catherine's suitcase into my trunk as she took a long look around her, seeming to bid a final farewell to the surroundings she'd had little chance to familiarize herself with.

"You okay, Cat?" I felt my brow crinkle with concern as I closed the trunk. Her traveling eyes found me and she managed a smile.

"I'm going to miss it here, believe it or not," she explained. "It's so different from Vegas. It's quiet. Peaceful." As if on queue, a group of wannabe gangsters walked by, hooting and whistling their 'hey baby's at Catherine as they passed. She rolled her eyes, smirking at the disgusted look on my face. "On second thought, maybe it's just the company I'll miss."

I got into the drivers seat, not really responding to her comment aside from an undoubtedly awkward smile. Despite everything that had happened, not to mention the fact that we hadn't really encountered anyone else, my mind refused to believe she could be referring to me.

Catherine hummed quietly along to the radio as we drove. Unlike me, she wasn't one to be caught singing to herself around the lab. There wasn't much singing to be done when the team went out for breakfast, and, if she ever sang at the bar, it must have been too loud to hear her above the roar of the crowd. I never knew she could sing. It made me sad to think there was so much I still didn't know about her.

"Catherine, you really have a beautiful singing voice," I told her timidly, not being able to resist the opportunity to compliment her.

"Oh, I didn't realize you could hear me. Thank you," she paused. "You do too, you know."

I scoffed. "Not really."

"Sara, just take the compliment," she huffed.

I glanced at her skeptically before turning my eyes back to the road. "Thanks," I mumbled.

I could sense her grinning at me, though she didn't say more. After several long moments, I could still feel her eyes fixed in my direction, as though her look alone carried a weight that had physically settled upon me. "What?" I asked, after another glance in her direction to confirm my suspicions.

She smiled as she finally turned away. "Nothing," she said into her lap. I really wished she wouldn't make my stomach somersault like that when I was trying to drive.

Much too soon for my liking, we were pulling into the Lindbergh Terminal drop off. I had planned on going in with her, but Catherine was insistent that I shouldn't pay for parking just to see her to the check in counter. Short of telling her I was head over heels, I didn't really have a solid argument against her logic, so in the end I folded.

Every movement felt like a chore as I helped her retrieve her luggage from the trunk. My feet stubbornly resisted moving me forward, while my arms felt like they'd given up all together. I told myself I couldn't cry in front of her.

"Sara, don't be sad," she pleaded, and I knew my eyes were betraying me as they revealed unshed tears. I starred at the ground as she took each of my hands in her own. "I'll call you," she said more firmly. "I know you won't call me, so I'll call you. All the time, I promise." I nodded, knowing my voice would come out shaky and weak. "Sara, look at me."

I did as I was told. I knew she was waiting for me to say something, and I knew I was running out of time to say it. I swallowed hard, but my voice cracked anyway. "I'll miss you."

Catherine wrapped her arms around my neck, and for once I allowed myself to stop thinking and melt into the embrace. She had to be the one to pull back, or else I might have stayed like that forever. She didn't go far, one hand resting on my shoulder, the other lightly above my heart. "Me too," she whispered, surprising me one last time as she boldly leaned up and placed a kiss on my lips. Not even enough to offend the most close-minded of passerby, though still enough to make my head spin. I starred at her in stunned silence, my mouth open to ask a question my brain had yet to form. "I'll call you," she said again before I could speak, averting her stare just a moment too late for me to miss the glistening in her eyes.

She grabbed her suitcase and began backing towards the sidewalk. "Bye, Sara," she said before finally turning around and finding the doors. I wasn't sure if I said it back or not, my mind still reeling. I watched her go, hoping all the while she might turn back around and tell me she'd stay. At last she disappeared out of my line of vision, and I knew she was gone.

I looked around me, and it was as though a veil had been lifted from my eyes. Everything looked different, in that it suddenly looked the same as it always had. Reality was back full force. In that moment I knew, this would never be home.