AN: Hope everyone is doing well.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 20

"It is wise to disclose what cannot be concealed."

Friedrich Schiller

CATHERINE POV

The jury has been in deliberation for two days.

What should have been an open and shut case is now being debated.

For days.

This nightmare is continuing, and I cannot even fathom what would happen if this guy gets off.

Not able to sit around and stew anymore, I decided to head into the lab. Perhaps visiting with people there can take my mind off the trial.

"Hey," I greet, waving to DB as I enter the lab.

"Hey," he responds, sending me a surprised smile. "What brings you by?"

"Oh nothing," I shrug. "Just wanted to drop by and say hi to you guys."

We chat for a bit, catching up with him and a couple other people who catch sight of me. Hearing DB's pager go off, he sends me an apologetic look.

"Duty calls," I smile, patting him on the shoulder.

He nods with a groan, "Always."

He smiles and waves his goodbye.

Glancing around, I distract myself some more chatting with various members of the lab. However, people are busy, trying to get their work done before the end of shift.

Leaving them to work in peace, I simply roam the halls for a bit, walking down memory lane.

Walking past labs where a myriad of my cases played themselves out. Happy endings, tragic endings, justice, heartbreak. They all played out in these rooms.

Sighing, I decide to head towards the back to enjoy a walk through the courtyard.

Closing the heavy metal door behind me, I step out onto the grass, drawing up short when I see I have company.

And, not only do I have company, the company is Sara Sidle.

"Hey," Sara offers in surprise, glancing up at my rather loud entrance.

"Hey," I respond back, watching her put out her cigarette, breathing her last inhalation of smoke into the evening air. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here…"

I feel so hesitant around Sara. We haven't seen one another since the trial.

It's like I want to talk to her, but I don't know how. I don't know how to say the things running through my head when I see her, to express my feelings and the emotions the younger woman brings up inside me.

"You alright?" Sara asks. "Did something happen…"

"No, nothing like that," I send her a reassuring smile. "Just got sick of sitting alone at home."

"Your mom isn't there?" Sara asks, raising a brow.

I smile slightly at the memories of Sara and my mother's interactions.

I'm sure the brunette's missed her dearly.

"Nope, she's started this new book club thing. God only know where that woman goes off to."

Sara smiles slightly.

"Look, Catherine," she gets serious. "I didn't mean to be rude before, when we saw each other at the courthouse."

I furrow my brows.

"Sara…"

She shakes her head. "We nearly lost our lives in that wretched place," she says quietly. "I shouldn't have been so cold to you when you came back."

She looks out towards the horizon.

"I didn't even ask how you were doing," she says, turning back to send a purposeful look towards my arm.

"Stop," I cut her off gently. "I'm fine, Sara."

Hesitantly, I move closer to her.

"May I?" I question, gesturing to the place along the wooden picnic table next to her.

"Sure," she moves over, giving me room.

"Sara," I breathe out. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who needs to be apologizing to you."

Sara looks away, gaze out into the evening sky.

"I shouldn't have left like I did," I confess. "It was selfish and wrong."

Sara shakes her head. "You had a job to get back to, Catherine. Like you said, there was no reason to stay."

"There was a reason," I counter tightly. "And her name was Sara Sidle. My friend, who was lying in a hospital bed, barely even able to sit up."

"I wasn't your responsibility, Catherine," Sara says. "You had no obligation to stick around until I got better. You had a life to get back to."

"Sara…"

"No," she says. "I mean it."

I breathe out tightly.

"I think we're going to have to agree to disagree on this one."

Sara smiles slightly before letting out her own breath.

"Deal."

Sitting together in silence, we watch the night slowly creep in.

"I, uh," I clear my throat into the silence. "I have something of yours I've been meaning to give back."

Rubbing my fingers over the item in my pocket, I hesitantly pull it out. I don't know why, but I'm reluctant to let it go. I've carried it with me every day since I left Vegas.

Letting it go now feels almost like letting go of a piece of Sara.

Probably the only piece of Sara I've ever possessed.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I open my hand, watching Sara's gaze transform from serious to confused to shocked.

"How did you…"

"They gave it to me when they took you into surgery," I explain quietly. "They'd missed it when they removed all of your other possessions."

Sara lifts her eyes to mine briefly before lowering them back down to the item in my hand.

"The trial reminded me," I tell her.

Though, to be honest, I needed no reminder.

"Thanks," she whispers, reaching out to take the silver chain in my hand, the metal of St. Gabriel.

Holding it in her palm, she watches it, expression deep in thought.

"It was your father's."

Sara doesn't answer, her silence confirmation enough.

Clearing her throat, she tucks the metal down deep into her jeans pocket.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"You're not going to put it back on?" I question curiously. "I've seen you wear that every day since the first day I met you."

Sara's body language is tense, uncomfortable.

"No."

She doesn't expand on her response.

Her tone, her actions, her expression, it worries me for some reason.

"Are you okay?" I ask her gently.

"Yeah," she says, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm good."

"I mean…" I trail off, my words catching in my throat. "Not just about this. I mean also with your recovery."

Sara looks over at me almost in surprise at my words, her dark eyes searching mine before turning back out to the night.

"I'm fine," she says. "Back to fighting form."

I don't have the heart to tell her how far she looks from fighting form.

She looks pale, exhausted.

"Yeah?" I question, trying to get her to open up to me

"Yeah."

Sara's tone is tense.

"Fully recovered?" I ask directly one last time, putting everything out there. "No lingering physical problems or anything?"

Sara shakes her head. "No, everything's fine, Catherine. Back to normal."

Sara's brilliant at masking her thoughts, her emotions. Even now, I'm debating whether to believe her. She's always so steady, stoic. It makes you believe what she's telling you.

The brunette clears her throat, straightening up before pushing to a stand.

"I uh, I have to get back to work," she says, voice quiet. "Do you want me to let one of the guys know you're here?" she asks kindly. "So you don't have to hang around alone?"

"No, no," I wave her off with a small smile. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. I think I need some alone time right now."

"You sure?" she questions, eyes concerned.

I nod, "Positive. Thanks, Sara."

She breathes in, steadying herself before moving to the door.

"You know where to find me if you need something."

Saying nothing else, Sara disappears inside.

After about an hour, I decide that I should head home and get some dinner ready. Cooking, also a great distraction.

Also, I'm sure my mother will have more than a few choice words for me if I haven't fixed a 'proper' meal for us.

Heading inside, I pass by the locker room, seeing Morgan and Sara getting ready to leave for the night.

What has me pausing in my steps, is Morgan's tense, almost fearful expression as she stares intently at the brunette.

Morgan's eyes are glued to Sara.

"Is it happening?"

The young blonde moves around the bench separating them, desperately trying to get Sara to meet her eyes.

"Sara."

Morgan grabs Sara by the arms when the brunette again fails to respond, and I step toward them apprehensively, not liking the way Morgan is being so aggressive with Sara.

"What is-"

"Get her out of here," Sara body flinches tensely as soon as she hears my voice.

I'm so shocked at her words that I draw up short.

"Sara, look at me," Morgan sternly demands, ignoring her.

"Get her out…"

The young blond kicks their bags out of the way, readjusting her grip on the thin brunette.

"Stop, Sara," she commands as Sara starts to struggle.

"She can't be here…for this…"

"There's no time!" Morgan yells at her, her voice drawing the hairs on my arms to a stand.

Morgan doesn't yell.

"I…this…," Sara tries to speak, her body tensing before her eyes start to lose focus.

"Morgan…" I call out, my own eyes wide in panic as they try to make sense of the scene before me.

"Look at me, Sara!" Morgan demands sternly. "Focus on me, sweetheart."

Sara tries to do as Morgan asks, but within a couple seconds her body is trembling and her eyes are starting to roll back.

"Morgan!" I all but yell, terrified by the scene unfolding before me.

Morgan pays me absolutely no attention, the blond grabbing Sara tightly when her legs suddenly give out.

"I got you," Morgan calls softly, lowering them both down to the floor.

Holding Sara under the arms, Morgan moves her so that Sara's head is on her stomach, her arms hooked under Sara's shoulders to hold her in place.

"What…"

I trail off, eyes wide, my panic skyrocketing as Sara starts to convulse.

"Morgan!" I yell as I see clearly what's happening.

Morgan is still ignoring me, all her attention on keeping Sara's head from hitting the hard floor. Body thrashing violently, the brunette continues to convulse, legs connecting solidly with the wooden bench.

Morgan continues to restrain her, and for the first time I'm glad for Sara's weight loss which helps the smaller blonde keep control over her.

Glancing at the wall clock, Morgan curses under her breath.

"Come on, Sar," she pleads. "Come back…"

Sara's convulsions continue, the brunette's body seizing violently.

"Come on, Sidle," Morgan continues with another anxious glance at the clock. "Come on…"

Another tortuous thirty seconds go by before Sara's convulsions come to a stop.

"There you go, honey," Morgan lets out a relieved breath, her own voice shaking with nerves. "Relax now, I got you."

Sara groans, her arms limply pushing against Morgan's restraint.

"Relax," Morgan calls gently. "You're okay…"

Sara's weak struggles continue for a few moments before she lets out a cough, eyes opening to blink against the lights.

"Welcome back," Morgan smiles down at her.

"How long…?"

Morgan's smile falters. "About a minute and a half."

"Shit."

Trying to get purchase on the ground, Morgan sees Sara's struggle and holds her tightly.

"Hey, alright, stop," she states. "I'll help you up."

Sara doesn't look like she has much choice as her body is far too weak to hold its own right now.

"Up we go," Morgan calls as she moves to stand, pulling the shaky brunette up with her.

Sara runs a trembling hand through her hair, the other gripping the lockers to keep her upright.

"What…"

My whispered word draws Morgan's eyes to mine.

I think she'd forgotten I was in the room.

She's silent, and the tension in the room nearly triples.

"I need to go…get something from the lab…," Morgan eventually states, looking anxiously between the two of us.

"You good?" Morgan questions Sara, placing a gentle hand on her back.

"Yeah," Sara nods, standing up as straight as she can. "I'm fine."

She meets Morgan's eyes.

"Sorry."

Morgan waves her off, sending me a final look before grabbing her bag and fleeing the room.

Sara's silent, now holding the lockers with both hands.

"Sara…"

"Don't," she gets out, voice so quiet I barely hear her. "You weren't supposed to see that, alright? So just forget it."

"Are you serious?" I question her, eyes wide. "Is that some sort of joke?"

Sara's dark eyes fix on mine.

"I'm not laughing," she says.

"Neither am I, Sara."

I take a hesitant step closer, one which Sara immediately matches with a step back.

"This has nothing to do with you," the brunette states quietly but sternly. "Just leave it alone."

"How often do the seizures happen?"

Sara looks away at my question.

"When did they start?"

Nothing.

"This is why you aren't fully back in the field yet…there needs to be at least thirty days without a seizure for the condition to be deemed 'successfully medically managed'," I recite from my recollection of the CSI supervisor handbook.

Nothing.

"How many medications have they tried?"

"Catherine," Sara interrupts. "Stop."

She takes a shaky step away from the lockers, moving to cross her arms defensively over her chest.

"You aren't here about this," she gestures to the room. "You're here for the trial. So just leave the rest of this alone. It's none of your business."

"Like I told you before, Sara, whether you like it or not, you are my business."

"No," Sara shakes her head. "I'm not."

Her eyes flash with rare anger.

"I'm a person who has the right to keep parts of her life private," she says. "This is one of those parts."

"Parts of her life?" I laugh. "Try all of your life."

Sara shrugs, "Maybe. But that's also my decision."

She shakes her head, moving towards the door, grabbing her bag with a trembling hand.

"Please, Catherine," she asks, tone quiet. "Let's just get this trial over with and then you can go back to DC again. Leave this alone."

She's gone from the room before I can respond.

AN: Thanks for reading.