More Catherine, as promised :)

x x x x

She didn't know how long it had been since the others had left; but she'd fallen asleep three times already, and when her eyes finally fluttered open again the sun was already streaming through the windows.

Sara hadn't stirred, not surprising really. Her hand remained firmly clasped in Finn's grip, her dark curls splayed across the stark white pillows.

Julie released her and stretched her stiff arms up, feeling the joints click in quick succession. She was just considering whether it was time for her to go home, when the door creaked open and a familiar woman stepped inside.

She was a little older, with reddish-blonde hair and a light tan. She was dressed smart, but low key; much like she had been when she strolled into the lab yesterday.
Her piercing blue eyes were narrowed suspiciously at Finn across the small room, clearly trying to put a name to the face.

"Julie Finlay?" She asked cautiously at last.

"That's right. Finn." The blonde smiled, attempting to stand up. Unfortunately, she'd been in the same position for so long that her legs had fallen asleep, so she settled for a greeting nod instead. "We, uh, we weren't formally introduced earlier. Catherine Willows, I take it?"

Coming completely into the room, Cath turned her gaze to the bed and her features softened.

"That's right." She answered absently, walking slowly towards Sara.

Finn nodded, suddenly realising why this woman looked so familiar. There was a photo of her with the rest of the team on Nick's desk. If she recalled correctly, it was actually from Catherine's final day in Vegas. Her arms were wrapped around Sara and Greg's shoulders, a tearful smile on her face.

Cath didn't seem aware of the scrutiny she was receiving; her attention had already fixed itself on their friend's prone body. She reached out to rest a gentle hand on Sara's slender arm.

"Oh Jesus, girl." She sighed sadly, her eyes seeking out every visible injury on the pale skin. "What have you done to yourself?"

Finn smiled sympathetically as she watched the tender actions transpiring between the old colleagues. She understood that they'd worked together for a long time, but she had to admit that she was unclear on their state of friendship. Clearly, these two women had been pretty close once upon a time.

After a long moment, Catherine straightened up and sniffed.

"Where are the others?"

"They went home to get some rest." Finn answered. "DB didn't really give them much choice, to be honest."

"But not you?" Cath queried with a surprised frown.

"No." Finn cleared her throat uncomfortably, her smile fading slightly. "No, not me."

Reclaiming her hold on Sara's hand, she watched Catherine walk around to the other side of the bed and sink gracefully into the spare seat.

They were now facing each other over the patient: the replacement and the one she was brought in to replace, brought together through one tragic event.

Having seemingly lost interest in Finn for the time being, Catherine submerged her hand in Sara's hair, careful to avoid the bandage wrapped around her forehead as she dragged her fingers tenderly through the waves.

"Morgan called you." Finn said at last, more to fill the silence than anything. "Did she fill you in on the details?"

"Yeah, most of them." Cath released a deep breath. "She told me what happened with Nick – she mentioned that he wasn't handling it too well, either."

"No, he's not." There was a pause as she considered whether it was worth attempting to keep the conversation going. She'd been here for so long with just her own dark thoughts for company, she wasn't quite ready to fall back into that chasm of silence just yet.

"I've heard a lot about you." She mumbled softly at last.

Finally, Catherine flicked her eyes across the bed to actually meet her gaze. Slowly, she raised a single eyebrow in curious questioning.

"Likewise."

X x x

"Hey, should we really be doing this?" Morgan asked uncertainly, dancing from one foot to the other in the cool wind as Nick fiddled with the lock. "I mean, Sara might not want us in here pawing through her things."

"Maybe not," Nick agreed, finally releasing the door and tapping in the alarm code. "But if we're going to figure out what's going on, it's a good place to start."

Behind him, Greg stooped down to scoop up her mail as they all piled through the glass front door.

"Wow." Morgan breathed, taking in the spacious modern décor. "This place is gorgeous!"

"Yeah." Greg mumbled, tossing the mail onto the coffee table and surveying the open-plan home.

The boys had been here often enough now, it was no great surprise to them.

Nick placed his kit on the floor and turned to the other two, clearing his throat. As the most senior CSI here, he guessed it was up to him to delegate.

"Alright Greg, you take the living room. I'll check her office." He paused, attempting to disguise the awkward blush creeping up his neck. "Morgan you'd better take the bedroom."

"Yep." She nodded soberly, making her way down the hallway, taking mental pictures of the layout as she went. It looked like something out of a catalogue.

Then again, she mused sadly, it probably didn't get used that often. Sara seemed to spend more time at work than here.

X x x

"Come on, give me something." Nick muttered to himself, rummaging through the paperwork that was neatly stacked on Sara's desk.

Bank statements, bills, stray case files. But nothing useful. Nothing that could tell them what state of mind she was in. Nothing to identify their dead male.

Sinking into the chair, he pulled out his cell phone and dialled the familiar number for the third time this morning.

"Come on Grissom." He breathed. "Pick up the phone."

If this was how hard it was to get hold of the elusive entomologist, he could understand Sara's growing frustration over the last few months.

With a discouraged sigh, he snapped the phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket.

"What the hell are you two playing at?" He grumbled, reaching over to pick up a framed photograph. It was clearly taken somewhere hot and exotic. Their honeymoon, possibly. Gil's arms were wrapped around Sara's waist from behind and she was leaning back against his shoulder, smiling up at him.

They looked happy … the perfect couple.

Shaking his head, he carefully replaced the picture and turned his attention back to the desk. Sliding the top drawer open, his brow raised in hope.

Lying on top of a selection of stationary and letters was a simple manila folder. It looked like an ordinary case file.

But what was inside was not exactly what he would call ordinary.

X x x

"I can't believe this happened." Catherine murmured, barely even aware that she had uttered the words out loud.

"Yeah, well it kind of took us all by surprise." Finn admitted sheepishly. "I thought I knew Sara, but I honestly never saw this coming."

"Sara's good at hiding things." Cath mumbled. "Trust me, whatever you think you know about her, you don't know anything."

It wasn't meant as an insult, but the comment ruffled Finn all the same.

"I know her well enough to know that her marriage isn't holding up too good right now." She squared her shoulders, shaking her blonde hair out. "I know that she's been spending a lot more time at the lab lately. I just … I couldn't get her to talk to me about it."

Catherine scrutinised the woman for a few seconds with narrowed eyes, debating how to respond to the attitude.

"Like I said, she's good at hiding things." She repeated at last, looking away. "Too good, sometimes. But she's not a criminal. If she stabbed someone, it would be in self-defence."

"Well, we're not sure she did kill him." Finn corrected, glad for the change of subject. "She had zolpidem in her system, too much to be upright at the time of the murder."

"Zolpidem?" Cath repeated, flicking her eyes back down to Sara's peaceful face. "That doesn't make sense – Sara doesn't take pills."

"What do you mean?"

"She hates them." Cath shook her head again, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "She told me once that she avoids them at all cost; she won't even take painkillers if she can help it."

X x x

"I found zolpidem; prescription was filled a week ago." Morgan announced, wandering back into the living room. Greg looked up, holding out his hand for the tub of pills.

"She was prescribed 5 millgrams a night." He read, twisting the cap off and peering inside. "It's nearly full. If she took 115 milligrams there shouldn't be this many still in here."

As he tipped his head towards the ceiling, considering this puzzling piece of information with a frown, Morgan had wandered over to the sideboard and was dragging her hand across the vintage record player.

"Hey," She called idly. "Do you think Nick's been acting weird since Cath arrived?"

"Hmm." Greg mumbled unhelpfully, busy slipping the pills into an evidence bag.

"Well, I mean, he's been weird ever since this all started." She continued to ramble, scanning Sara's eclectic taste in music with great interest. "But since Catherine got here he's been … quieter. More brooding."

"I guess." Greg shrugged again. They might be willing to work together, but there was still some animosity between the boys and he wasn't really ready to discuss it yet.

On the other side of the room, Nick wandered in and eyed them both suspiciously for a minute.

"Hey." He greeted at last, getting their attention. "I found something."

Putting down their respective items, Greg and Morgan walked around the couch and peered into the folder he was holding.

"I found it in her top desk drawer." He explained, clearing his throat.

"Wow." Morgan's eyebrows shot into her hairline at the photos. They looked like surveillance images, taken in a parking lot somewhere. "Well, that's not our victim."

"No, no it's not." Nick agreed, his jaw set. "And it's not her husband either."

"Hey." Greg snapped, sending his mate a warning glare. "Let's not go there."

"You know what I don't get?" Morgan interrupted quickly, having no particular desire to get caught up in yet another of their fights. "How could we not notice that something was this wrong?"

"Well, if there's one thing Sara's good at, it's hiding things."

"Yeah, but still … she's obviously been struggling: sleeping pills, marriage problems … shouldn't there have been some signs?"

"There was." Nick dropped his eyes guiltily to the floor. "We just weren't paying enough attention."

The distressing notion was cut short by the distinctive sound of water running.

"Did someone leave a tap on?" Greg asked with a frown.

"No, no that's…" Nick trailed off, cocking his head to the side and following the sound into the kitchen.

The dishwasher continued to hiss and clunk as the cycle came to a finish.

Sharing a concerned look with his colleagues, Nick opened the door and peeked inside.

"Oh, hell no." He breathed. "You've got to be kidding me!"