It was a moment later that they emerged into the deserted corridor outside, Sara closing the door quietly behind them. Catherine paused for a second, mind reeling. The pain throbbed, and she felt herself waver in dizziness.

"I'm fine," she said, holding up a hand.

"You're on the verge of collapse," Sara countered.

She did not wait for argument, but gently took Catherine's arm to lead her down the corridor.

"There's a sick bay down the hall," she added. "Let's go."

But as they walked Catherine's mind continued to spin through the events in the Hearing - Sofia's hint, and Grissom's all too brief answers. Something twisted in her stomach, the knowledge that something was amiss.

"They're hiding something," she said.

Sara said nothing.

"Those questions made no sense," Catherine persisted. "Why focus on my injury?"

But Sara remained tight-lipped, and said nothing as they entered the sick bay. It was a small room lined with cupboards and first aid posters, with a faint smell of disinfectant reminiscent of the hospital. At the back of the room was a further inner door, partially open. Sara put her hand on it, peeking around to check it was empty.

"It's all clear," she said, pushing it open.

The room was dim, some old vertical blinds closed. A single bed was made up against the wall.

"Lie down," Sara guided. "Get some rest."

Her back screaming, Catherine lowered herself carefully to sit on the edge. The mattress was soft, on springs. She slipped off her shoes.

But still the questions burned.

"You gonna answer me?" she pressed.

"I'm not the one to ask," Sara replied.

Though her face was stubborn, her eyes were gentle.

Catherine sighed, the pain inching up her spine again. She braced herself, then moved, very slowly lying down on her back. Within seconds, the pain eased, as if a cramp was unfurling itself.

She closed her eyes for several long moments. She heard Sara's footsteps retreat, the sound of running water in the sink, and then felt the mattress dip as Sara sat beside her. She opened her eyes to see her holding a glass of water, and a box of her prescription painkillers.

"It'll take the edge off," Sara offered.

Wishing she had taken it before lying down, Catherine inclined her head, allowing Sara to help her drink. She followed it with the tablets, swallowing them down with ease.

She tried to relax, letting her spine settle.

"You need to talk to me," Catherine pleaded.

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"If I'm going to go on record as being party to a lie, I at least want to be warned."

A flicker of a smile passed Sara's lips.

"You're being paranoid," she said. "It's nothing like that."

"Fine," Catherine replied. "So tell me the truth."

Sara hesitated, but Catherine locked eyes, not giving in. At last Sara sighed. She gave the closed door a quick glance.

"They haven't given a false statement," Sara said quietly. "They've told the truth."

Catherine searched her eyes, feeling lost.

"Cath ..." she began awkwardly, "what happened to you out there, it's ... hard to talk about."

Catherine waited.

"It feels personal," Sara finished.

The sense that she was missing something again filled Catherine; the awareness that her own memory of events was a mere page of the full story. She remembered collapsing, knew they had all stayed beside her, but had never thought there was more.

"I doubt that they feel the Panel needs to hear every detail," Sara explained.

"Why?" Catherine asked softly. "What happened?"

Sara hesitated. "Have they spoken to you about this?"

"I've heard I was delirious," Catherine ventured. "Unconscious. Not much else."

"You were on the ground for a long time," Sara explained. "And sometimes, it's just as traumatic to be the first aider as it is to be the victim. An experience like that doesn't leave you. It sticks in your mind."

She paused briefly.

"There was a huge sense of helplessness," she went on, "in watching you die. You were in a great deal of pain, and we were powerless. It happened so fast, and you deteriorated quickly."

She paused again.

"I need to know," Catherine prompted quietly.

"By the time we got you on the ground, you were already in shock," Sara said. "Your vitals were unstable, your temperature high. We had to take your shirt off to cool you."

Catherine nodded; she had known that.

"You lost consciousness," Sara continued. "You faded in and out. You were very distressed, holding people's hands. You kept begging us for help, but there was nothing we could do."

Sara's eyes were glistening as she spoke.

"You pleaded with us not to leave," she went on. "And later you were begging for water, but we couldn't give it. You kept asking, and we had to turn you down. Then you were vomiting blood, your pulse was faint and irregular ... we never expected you to live. We held you and watched you die."

She paused. Catherine felt winded, hot tears in the backs of her eyes.

"You coded in the ambulance, Catherine."

Catherine had no idea what to say, if words even existed.

"Technically, you died." She paused. "The Panel has the ambulance notes. They know it happened. But that's why they're asking, why Grissom, Brass and Sofia are so protective. Because despite the fact that you were resuscitated, my actions led to your death."

Catherine was speechless.

A clock on the wall ticked.

"I doubt if any of us will escape blame," Sara finished. "That's just the way it is."

Moments passed. Catherine's hot tears slipped, and unable to turn away, she kept a hand over her eyes, wanting privacy. She felt the urge to tell Sara that it had not been her fault, but unable to speak, the thought was lost as soon as it had come. She felt Sara's reassuring hand on her arm.

Time passed, unmeasured, until eventually a knock at the door broke her reverie.

"Cath?" came Grissom's voice. "Sara?"

"We'll just be a minute!" Sara called.

But hand still over her eyes, Catherine shook her head, not ready to see them, to see anyone.

A second set of knuckles tapped, more rapid. Brass' voice came through.

"She okay in there?"

Through the door she heard his hushed voice.

"Get in there and check," he asked quietly. "See she's okay."

And without warning the door creaked open. Through her wet fingers Catherine saw a glimpse of Sofia's suit, of her stopping in her tracks as she saw her.

Catherine turned her head away.

A heavy pause gripped the room.

"Go bring a car round," Brass said, voice breaking. "We'll drive her home."

A short chapter, but posted in record time. This felt like a natural place to pause. Getting near the end now, not far to go!