Hi guys, massive thank you to everyone reading and especially to those reviewing :)
I can't decide whether I'm happy with this chapter or not, so I'll let you guys decide for yourselves :)
x x x x
"Stop fidgeting." Catherine said light-heartedly as she placed two mugs of coffee on the table and slipped into the booth opposite her companion. "I'm not going to do anything to you."
"Sorry." Sara dropped her gaze bashfully, making a concerted effort to sit still.
Cath studied her from across the table. As well as the nervous shuffling, she had been flicking her eyes around the room anxiously ever since they arrived. She looked terrified.
"Oh," The blonde suddenly remembered, producing Sara's cell phone and sliding it across the table. "You left this on my desk."
"Oh, thanks." Sara mumbled, reaching out a hand to snatch it back. To Cath's relief she pocketed it without checking the messages.
"So," Catherine hummed after a long silence followed. "Talk."
Sara looked up, her dark eyes wide and fretful.
"I, uh…" she paused, swallowing hard. She had been so worried about what she was going to say, she hadn't even thought about how she would actually start it.
Sensing how much she was struggling, Cath took pity on her and decided a question-answer method might be easier on her young friend.
"How long have you been together?"
"A few months." Sara answered instantly, nodding grateful at the switch in tactics.
"And, how long has she been hitting you?"
The question was unexpectedly blunt, but Sara answered it as naturally as if Cath had just asked what time it was.
"The first time was during the Michaels case."
Catherine frowned, trying to place the date. Off the top of her head, it was about three months ago. The thought turned her stomach but she swallowed her disgust to keep her composure. Sara was on-edge enough as it was, any sudden movements might just be enough to make her bolt.
"What happened?" She asked calmly.
"Kirsty made a mistake with the outer cordon. I told her to change it. I didn't really think anything of it, but that night she started an argument about it." Sara explained, absently tearing a napkin into neat squares as she spoke. "I hadn't even realised it was a big deal."
"We tell cops to change the cordons all the time." Cath scowled. "It's not a big deal."
"She said I'd humiliated her in front of her colleagues." Sara swallowed. "Then she just started hitting me."
"Sara," Catherine leant across the table, taking the girl's hands firmly in her own to still her nervous actions. "Why didn't you just walk away then?"
"I did." She blinked back tears. "But, she talked me round. She promised that it would never happen again."
"But it did happen again." Cath pointed out gently. "She hit you at work – that bruise?"
Sara nodded miserably.
"What happened there?"
"She, uh, she found out that I was still taking the pill." Sara wiped subtly at her eyes, unconsciously touching the bridge of her nose where the faded contusion still lay under her make-up. "She accused me of cheating on her."
"That's ridiculous."
"That's the truth." Sara shrugged. "It doesn't take much to set her off, but once she sees red there's nothing you can say to calm her down."
"Yeah, I know the type." Catherine sighed, unconsciously reaching up to stroke her own neck.
"Everything was fine at first." Sara continued obliviously. "And then things started to change; she just loses her temper. She can't help it."
"Sar, you have to get out."
"I can't." She insisted tearfully. "She's getting help – she just needs time."
Catherine looked away, shaking her head in loss. She wanted desperately to help Sara, but it was like the woman was under some kind of spell.
"Sara, honey, why are you doing this?" She begged. "Why can't you see what she's doing?"
"Because things were great once. I want to get back to that." The whimpered answer made Cath's chest constrict and she smiled sadly.
"Baby, that's sweet. But that's not how relationships work."
Despite attempts to keep her tone soft, Sara's reaction was more animated than she'd anticipated. She was on her feet before Cath could stop her.
"Catherine, I didn't ask you here so you could tell me to end it." She said firmly, sliding out of the seat. "I just wanted to clear the air. So, now you know."
"Sara, wait." Cath stumbled out of the booth after her, cursing to herself as she groped in her pocket for some change and grabbed her jacket off the seat.
Sara was already halfway across the parking lot by the time Catherine finally made it through the swinging glass doors.
"Sara!" She called out desperately. "You can't just leave!"
"Watch me." Sara retorted coolly. Throwing her hands out in frustration, Cath tried a final shot.
"You don't have your car!"
This time Sara did stop, her hands balling into fists at her side. Releasing a grateful breath, Catherine jogged to catch her up.
"Listen, I don't want to tell you what to do." She began.
"Then don't."
"But," she continued, ignoring the comment. "I'm worried about you. I can't just stand back and do nothing while she hurts you like this. You have to understand that?"
It was meant as a statement, but came out as more of a hopeful question. Surely the girl must know she was being so persistent?
Sara hugged her jacket tighter around herself against the cool breeze, shifting her gaze across the deserted parking lot to avoid Cath's piercing blue eyes.
"You can't make me end it." She murmured at last.
"No, of course not." Catherine agreed desolately. "Just, alright." She took a deep breath, racking her brains for a compromise. "Okay, just promise me one thing … whenever she hurts you, I want you to tell me." She begged. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. I just need to know that you're alright."
Sara chewed on her lower lip, contemplating the proposition. Eventually she offered a small nod, causing relief to flood Cath's anxious face.
"Okay, good." The blonde nodded eagerly, reaching out to pull the reluctant brunette into a tight hug. Tentatively, Sara lifted her arms to return to embrace.
X x x
She killed the engine and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for Sara to make the first move this time.
"Thank you." The younger CSI murmured at last, reaching for the door handle. Cath stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"Sara, wait." She pursed her lips. "Just, think about what I said, yeah?"
Sara nodded solemnly, although the doubt in her eyes said more than her words. "I will, I promise."
Cath smiled, grateful for being humoured if nothing else, and cast a glance up at Sara's apartment. The light was on.
"Are you going to be alright?"
Sara followed her line of sight and swallowed hard.
"I'll be fine." She nodded, offering a weak smile. "I can't hide down here forever."
Cath gripped her hand tightly, running a thumb over the inside of her wrist.
"Be careful." She insisted. "Text me later."
X x x
"Kirsty?" She called, peering into the apartment. No answer came, but she could smell the other woman's perfume in the flat she knew she was here somewhere. Chanel. Sara had never liked it, herself.
Closing the door behind her, she tossed her keys onto the counter and scanned the small space.
"Hey." The cool voice in her ear startled her and she jumped around, gripping the counter for balance. Kirsty stepped closer, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Who was that?"
Sara flicked her eyes subconsciously towards the window.
"Catherine, she gave me a ride home."
"Why?"
"My car was making a strange noise, I didn't want to risk driving it across town." She lied quickly. "I'll get Steph to take a look at it later."
"No." Kirsty barked. "Not Steph."
Sara opened her mouth to contest it – Steph had been one of her best friends for years and was a great mechanic, but she thought better of it. It didn't really matter anyway since her car was fine.
"Alright, I'll find someone else."
"Good." For the first time in their exchange, Kirsty smiled, wrapping her arms around Sara to press a kiss to her lips. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll make you something to eat?"
"Okay." Sara agreed quietly, sliding out of her grip and into the bathroom.
X x x
The mirror was steamed up, shielding her reflection from her sight; not that she minded. She had never liked her body. Too many scars, too many bad memories.
Too tired to care about what she was wearing, she grabbed the first things within her reach and threw them on, covering as much of her skin as she could.
After all, she wasn't the only one who didn't like to see the marks on her body.
She shuffled back into the kitchen, dragging her fingers through her damp, tangled hair.
"Hey." She greeted weakly, dropping onto the couch before she realised that Kirsty hadn't joined her and there was no sign of the promised food. "Kirsty, you okay?"
The dark-skinned woman was stood at the window, her back to the room.
"Why did you have to stay late?" She asked coolly.
"We got a late case." Sara lied, swallowing. She recognised the tone of Kirsty's voice; it meant she was pissed about something.
"Right." She scoffed. "And, you were working with Catherine."
"Yeah." Sara nodded uncertainly, standing up on shaky legs. "Kirsty, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" The cop repeated, whirling around to face her. To Sara's horror, she produced her cell phone and began to read. "Take care today, remember what I said"
Sara gulped. She didn't need to ask who that was from and the guilty look on her face must have said it all.
"What did she say?" Kirsty pressed, stepping closer.
"It's nothing." Sara shrugged. "I wasn't feeling well earlier and she told me to take it easy – that's why she brought me home. I just didn't want to worry you."
For a moment she thought the excuse had worked, when her green eyes flashed with rage.
"Liar!"
The movement happened so fast Sara barely had time to react; she felt her knees buckle and she hit the floor with a dull thud. She felt a familiar warmth against her forehead and touched it lightly, staring at the blood staining her fingertips. Despite the sudden, unexpected pain whenever she moved her head, she looked from her hand to the corner of the coffee table and slowly lifted her gaze.
Kirsty was stood over her, chest heaving with anger. Silently, she stepped over Sara's body and stalked into the bathroom; letting the door slam, leaving a cold silence in her wake.