AN: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys keep me going. I appreciate you all. And darn, Stark, how did you know that's exactly what I had planned?! Now I'm going to have to go and create a whole other ending so everyone can still be surprised. ;)

Take care everyone and enjoy.

CHAPTER 21

"We shall see but little way if we require to understand what we see. How few things can a man measure with the tape of his understanding! How many greater things might he be seeing in the meanwhile!"

Henry David Thoreau

CATHERINE POV

Sara's seizure, her convulsing form, it keeps me up all night.

Seeing her like that, body prone and vulnerable, it takes me back to seeing her beaten and bloody in that damn room. Holding her broken and bleeding body in my arms.

She lied to me.

She's not 'fine'; she isn't 'back to normal.'

She's still fighting a battle against her injuries, fighting to get her life back.

While mine is continuing like normal in DC, the only reminder of the events a faint surgical scar along my wrist, Sara is still having serious medical issues. Serious problems that she went out of her way to keep from me.

I'm done playing around, I'm done avoiding the issues at hand.

Sara needs to know I'm not backing out on her this time.

Not like the last time.

Whether she likes it or not, I'm sticking around this time until she's back to the Sara Sidle she was before I brought this nightmare into her life.

Ascending the porch, I take a deep breath, straightening out my blouse before I raise a hand to knock.

"Miss Willows…?"

Spinning, I place a hand over my thundering heart.

"I saw pictures of you on the news," the woman offers in explanation.

"Ms. Sidle," I breathe out in surprise, only needing to take one look at the woman to know exactly who she is. Same dark hair, similar facial features. But very different eyes. "I didn't see you there."

"Sorry to startle you," she offers with a gentle smile that reminds me of Sara.

Speaking of the brunette, as my eyes adjust to the early morning lighting filtering through the porch, I note Ms. Sidle reclining in the porch swing.

And, laying across the wooden swing with her head in her mother's lap, is Sara.

Ms. Sidle follows my gaze.

"She'd never let me hold her like this if she was awake," she smiles sadly. "Always the tough girl…."

Sara's mom breathes out, calming her emotions to focus her gaze on me.

"What brings you by, hon?"

"Oh," I clear my throat. "I came by to talk with Sara, actually."

"Ah," she sends me an apologetic look. "She just took her pain medications. Usually knocks her out for a couple hours."

So that explains the brunette's heavy slumber.

But, it doesn't explain why she's taking pain medications.

You don't take pain pills for seizures.

Dear God, please don't tell me she's also still in pain. Not all these months later…

"You want to sit with us for a bit?" Sara's mom asks kindly, her gentle voice breaking into my destructive thoughts. "You look like you could use some company."

I smile sadly at her ability, just like her daughter, to read me.

"Actually, that sounds nice if you don't mind."

Sara's mom gestures to an empty chair.

I sit, and we simply watch the sunrise for awhile, Ms. Sidle absently running her fingers through Sara's hair.

I try to adjust to the fact that this is Sara's mom. Here. Living with her.

Just like I learned was going to happen before I left.

I have no idea how the process is going, how Sara's relationship with her mother is developing. How Sara is adjusting to having her mother freed.

Yet more questions that I abandoned Sara before getting answers to.

"How is she?" I finally ask, breaking the moment.

"Sara?" Ms. Sidle questions, looking down at her daughter.

My silence confirms my answer.

"She's okay," her mother says, but her smile falters a bit as the silence stretches on. "At least, that's what she keeps telling me."

Her gaze lifts to mine.

"I don't know how anyone can be okay after…after what you poor girls went through. But," she breathes out, "that's Sara. Always telling me she's fine."

"Always telling everyone she's fine," I offer quietly, sending her mother a supportive smile, letting her know she isn't the only one Sara is less than open with about things like that.

"How is she really, Ms. Sidle?"

"Oh," Sara's mom shakes her head. "Laura, please."

"Sorry," I offer. "Laura."

Laura looks down at Sara, hand absently running along Sara's cheek to her jawline.

"She has problems," Laura says slowly, hesitantly. "With her ribs, mostly. They cause her pain if she's in one position for too long. She tries to hide it, but she's always making excuses to get up and walk around, then other excuses to sit after she's been on her feet awhile."

I nod, remembering the prosecutor's instructions to Sara regarding if she needed to take a break while being on the stand.

"That's been one of the biggest things I've noticed," Laura states softly. "That and the seizures."

I nod, flashing back to the terrifying moments in the lab.

"She used to get them as a kid, you know?" Laura states, drawing me from my thoughts.

"Really?" I question in surprise. "She never mentioned anything."

Not that I would expect her to, with how secretive Sara is regarding most things.

"Yeah," Laura says. "Used to scare her father and I to death." She smiles slightly at memories running through her mind. Then, she shrugs. "She eventually grew out of them. But, I guess with everything she went through…her injuries…the surgeries…the trauma to her head…"

Her statement trials off, both of us absently watching the brunette, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

"How are you two doing?" I question hesitantly.

I don't mean to pry into their personal business, but Laura seems different from Sara in the sense that she seems like someone willing to share her thoughts and feelings with you.

"We're working on it," she confesses.

I nod, letting the conversation fall back to silence.

"She's already done much more for me than I deserve," Laura quietly says after a while. "After all I put her through, the last thing I wanted was to be a burden to her again in her adult life."

"I don't think Sara sees you as a burden," I state honestly. "I know things between you two are complicated, but Sara's not the type of person to think that way."

"No," Laura breathes out, running her hand gently through Sara's dark hair. "She isn't."

"She's a lot like her father, you know."

Laura's comment startles me, having never heard Sara speak about her father. I had always assumed things about him based on the information I knew about her backstory, particularly with the information Basderic revealed regarding him being killed by Laura.

"She's always so quiet, so stoic," Laura whispers, eyes lost in thought as she watches the brunette in her arms. "So reserved, but with a heart bigger than one could ever imagine." She smiles, "She's always got that tough girl act going, but she's just like her father. A purely kindhearted soul underneath it all."

I'm surprised to hear this description of Sara's father, and my confusion must register on my face.

"What has Sara told you about her dad?" Laura questions at my expression.

"Nothing," I admit. "She never really talks about her past."

"Well, you know about his death…" Laura leads, watching my expression. "From that man, what he did to her."

"Basderic," I mutter darkly. "Yes."

"Then you know that I killed her father, stabbed him to death," Laura states, features stark as she watches Sara with a mixture of guilt and pain. "And now you know that I killed the person she adored most in this world."

"I…"

Again, I trail off, unable to adjust to this idea of her past.

"Oh, yes," Laura sees my expression. "She and her father were joined at the hip." Laura laughs slightly at the memory. "They would do everything together. Go hiking, go camping, attend art and music festivals."

Absently, Laura wipes a tear from her face.

"They were best friends, they adored one another. I used to have to beg them to come in for dinner, beg them at night to stop working on one of their projects and get some sleep."

Laura struggles to keep her voice steady.

"That's why it's hard for me to look at her sometimes," she admits in a whisper. "I see her and I see him. I remember the fact that I took him from her. That I ripped them apart. That I killed her father, the person she adored most in the world, right in front of her."

I swallow tightly, not sure I should be listening to this. I know Sara would never want me to know these things about her, about her past. But, her mother clearly does. She wants someone to hear her story. And, I cannot find it in me to deny that to her.

"I had just figured…" I trail off, still trying to adjust to this picture Laura is painting of Sara's dad.

Laura watches me closely.

"You had just figured he was the one who abused her. That I killed him to protect her and myself."

My eyes widen in shock at her uncanny ability to finish my unspoken thought. Also, they widen at the revelation, at the final confirmation regarding the suspicions I've always held about Sara having had an abusive past.

"There was an incident," I mutter. "I saw her back…the marks…I suspected…but I still hoped…"

Laura nods slowly, features harboring a deep sadness.

"She thinks I don't know," she whispers. "She's always hidden them from me. To this day I don't think she knows I'm aware of…that part of her life."

I run through the scenarios in my head, the possibilities. Trying to figure out what the hell happened in the brunette's past to have bestowed such abuse upon her. If not in her own home, then where? Who?

Her mother watches me, expression sad.

"She went into foster care," Laura whispers, emotion pulling at the words. "I don't know which house it was…she'd been pushed around to so many…but one of them…maybe more than one…"

"Shit," I mutter, rubbing my hands over my face.

Laura shakes her head darkly. "They were supposed to protect my child. They were never supposed to…hurt her…"

Laura wipes at the tears in her eyes.

"But I blame myself," she confesses. "Of course I blame myself. If I'd just taken my medication like I was supposed to…I never would have set those events in motion…that nightmare that became our lives. I was feeling better, I didn't think it would be a big deal to skip a few pills. The next thing I knew…when I realized what I'd done…"

She lets out a soft sob.

"It was too late. Our life, her life, was transformed from normal and happy to a tragic nightmare."

"Not her life," I correct softly after a few moments, trying to collect my own emotions. "That's all her past. Now, all this here, is her life. And, the future is the life you two have yet to write for yourselves."

I reach out, taking Laura's hand gently in mine.

"And, I have a feeling you and Sara still have a lot of chapters to write together," I whisper. "Beautiful chapters."

"I hope you're right, dear," Laura whispers in response, her own hand coming to rest gently on Sara's chest. "I hope you're right."

Sensing movement, I glance over in time to see Sara blearily opening her eyes, blinking against the early morning sunlight.

Closing them a moment later, she takes a deep breath, almost like she's trying to gather herself together.

Then, she pulls her self upward, body freezing its motion as soon as she catches sight of me.

"Catherine?" she questions in surprise, clearing her throat against the huskiness of sleep.

Sitting the rest of the way up, she absently straightens her t-shirt and boxers.

"What are you doing here?"

I try not to smile as I notice for the first time the snowmen Sara has on her boxer shorts.

Recentering myself as well, I take a deep breath.

"I came by to talk to you, but you were asleep."

"So you sat there the whole time while I slept?" Sara looks at me uncertainly, brows raised.

"No, you weirdo," I snort. "Your mom was out here with you, we were talking."

Sara tenses slightly, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh."

"She ran out to grab some food for dinner or something," I state. "Asked that I keep an eye on you while she was out."

Sara rolls her eyes.

"I don't need a babysitter. I've managed to sleep for years without accidentally offing myself."

I raise my own brows.

"I think she was more concerned about what would happen if you had another seizure."

"Stop," Sara's whispered word cuts me off. "We're not talking about that."

She lifts her eyes to mine.

"I'm serious, Catherine."

"Why not, Sara?" I question, leaning forward in my seat. "Why are you so averse to letting me in?"

Sara turns away.

"What is it you're afraid of, Sara?"

My words do something to Sara, the brunette tensing and eyes flashing back towards mine.

"I'm not afraid."

"Right," I angle my head. "That's why you run off and shut me out anytime things get the least bit personal for you."

Sara's jaw tenses.

"That's not fair," she tells me.

"No?" I question, pushing myself to a stand.

Matching my move, Sara stands as well, placing herself in front of me.

"No."

Silence stretches between us before Sara swallows tightly.

"I'm not the one who ran off."

There it is, the statement she's been waiting to say to me. I can see the relief and regret battling in her hazel eyes in the wake of the admission.

"So that's how you really feel, huh?" I question, stepping closer until there's barely an inch between our bodies. "That I ran off? What happened to all the 'you had a job to get back to' that you told me?"

Sara doesn't back away, though I can tell the closeness between us has her on edge.

"That's not what I'm talking about," she says tightly. "Of course you had to go back to Washington for your job. I'm talking about the other part of why you went back to Washington."

"Yeah, Sara?" I question. "And what would that be?"

"The part of you that was scared because things 'got too personal for you'."

"Don't," I grind out. "Don't you dare take that moment of vulnerability and shove it in my face."

"I'm not," Sara breathes out, eyes wide in confusion. "I wouldn't."

She shakes her head, eyes furrowing.

"All I'm saying is that you can't sit there and judge me for tensing up when things get personal, not when you did exactly the same thing."

Sara's eyes stay on mine.

"You pushed me away, too," she whispers out into the morning air.

I shake my head.

"You told me no, Sara," I breathe out. "I was supposed to what, beg you?"

Her expression is so serious it sends chills across my skin.

"I didn't say no, Catherine," she says quietly. "Or, not like you thought."

"I'm sorry," I furrow my brows. "I thought no means no. I wasn't aware there are other meanings of the word."

Sara's teeth clench tightly.

"You didn't let me explain then," she mutters to herself. "Why did I bother thinking you'd let me explain now…"

"Explain to me!" I tell her, raising my hands up. "Explain to me all the reasons why you 'couldn't be that person for me'!"

My eyes are wide in anger.

"Tell me all the reasons I'm not good enough, or you're not good enough," I continue. "Please, Sara, I'd love to hear the dramatic excuses!"

Sara's eyes watch me, the hazel gaze intense.

"Come on!" I reach out, pushing her slightly in the chest. "Tell me!"

Sara swallows, eyes nearly burning into me.

"I 'couldn't be that person', Catherine," Sara gets out, "Because I was seeing someone else."

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

I try to get words to form, to move from my mind to my lips, but all that happens is my mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again.

"You…" I trail off, trying to gather myself. "Who?"

Sara shakes her head.

"You don't know her."

Her.

"Why…"

I shake my head, still trying to get my thoughts together. Sara was seeing someone. I had no idea. She never mentioned her, never said anything.

But again, this is Sara.

"Why didn't you say something?" I finally finish.

She quirks a brow.

"You didn't give me much of a chance."

"You had plenty of chances," I counter. "About fifty-two chess matches worth of chances."

Sara studies me.

"I didn't know you meant it until you kissed me the second time."

"What?"

She shrugs slightly.

"When you kissed me right after I got that damn tube out of my throat, I thought you were just happy that we were alive, that I wasn't going to stroke out on you or something."

She gets serious.

"You didn't say anything about it after that, so I didn't want to read into it too much."

She takes a breath.

"Then, when you kissed me that second time," she breathes out. "I realized what you were trying to tell me."

"And why didn't you say anything then?" I ask, trying to keep my emotions steady.

The 'Sara' issue is one I've worked hard to put behind me. To move on from.

Hearing these confessions from her now, it's almost too much to take in.

"I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening quickly enough," she confesses quietly. "I had no idea…"

She watches me closely.

"With our past, Catherine," her voice trails off. "I didn't in a million years think…"

She clears her throat, taking a deep breath.

"All I knew was that I was seeing someone," she says. "Seeing someone who I was very much in love with."

"That's why you wouldn't let me kiss you," I state.

"Yes," Sara confesses. "I couldn't do that to her."

She clears her throat.

"By the time my brain was catching up with what was happening, you were already out the door."

Sara's eyes for the first time leave mine before returning.

"Then, the next time I saw you, you were telling me you were leaving to go back to Washington."

She runs a hand through her hair.

"I didn't want to complicate things for you, so…"

"So you let me go."

Sara's silence answers me.

"Where was she?" I question. "During all of this…when you let me stay at your place…"

"She goes abroad for her work a lot," Sara answers. "She was in England."

"So she didn't know…"

"She knew," Sara counters. "Contrary to your apparent thoughts of me, I don't go around trying to keep secrets from people." She takes a breath. "Besides, you were a former teammate, you needed my help on a case. It wasn't anything more than helping a friend."

"Until…"

"Until," Sara agrees quietly.

I swallow.

"You and this girl…"

"Claire," Sara supplies. "We're not together anymore."

I take this in, trying to keep my thoughts clear.

"I'm sorry," I tell her honestly. "What happened?"

Sara backs away slightly, putting more room between us.

"Things just didn't work out," she says vaguely, her voice holding a lot back.

"Sara…"

She shakes her head, "It's not important what happened," she says, eyes glancing to the driveway.

Hearing a car pulling up, we both watch her mother pulling in before Sara turns her gaze back to mine.

"I'm sorry I didn't say something before," Sara says quietly, "You deserved an explanation."

Sending me one last look, Sara descends the porch to help her mother.

AN: Thanks for reading.