AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter. I was a bit nervous about how the end of the last chapter would be received, but I was very pleased to see that people seemed to like it.
I apologize for the length of time between chapters, and I appreciate you all sticking with me and this story. I cannot tell you how much your kind words and support have meant.
Hope everyone is doing well.
Take care and enjoy.
SARA POV
Dropping my service weapon onto the wooden desk with a resounding thud, I barely offer Brass a goodbye as I leave his office. I've been placed on leave until further notice, and it's clear that it is going to take the internal affairs office awhile to sort this shooting out. It probably won't help expedite matters that this is the second fatal shooting I have been involved in in a relatively short amount of time.
Exiting the lab, I go out of my way to avoid talking with anyone. To be quite honest, I'm not in the mood for small talk or any sort of half-assed consolations offered up by people that have no clue what it's like to take a life or the circumstances that led you to that moment, that decision.
From the minute I finished hiking those last couple miles in the desert to the interstate to get help, I have been privy to more cliché phrases than an entire box of greeting cards. There are only so many times I can hear 'every kill's a tough one', 'it never gets easier to take a life', and my personal favorite 'his decisions are what killed him, not yours' before I electively remove my ears.
Officer Trenton was killed in self defense. There aren't words or consolations for what I did regarding Christian Dane in the desert.
And perhaps what is the most sickening to me, what is weighing heaviest on my mind, is that I don't regret what I did. Not when faced with the alternative of letting Chris die at the hands of Nancy Flynn.
Sitting in the Tahoe, I lean my head back against the seat, not the slightest clue where to go from here. Catherine is with Nancy; we have insisted that she stay with us at our house for now. I think the offer was as much to bring comfort to Catherine as it was to Nancy. It's obvious that they need each other to get through this, and I am glad that they have such a close relationship with one another.
It's been clear that Nancy is having a hard time coping with everything that has happened. She went from having a fiancé to shooting that same fiancé in the chest after he tried to kill her in the span of about a week. Now, that same man is dead, and despite the evil person he turned out to be, there was a long period of time where she loved him. She has to reconcile the loss of a loved one along with a mess of anger, hurt, betrayal, guilt, and God only knows what else. There are so many times a day that I find myself wishing that Chris never walked into our lives, into her life.
Due to my forced leave of absence and Catherine voluntarily taking the next two weeks off, the Vergenson case has been given to day shift. The frustration with having worked a case so hard for so long only to have it taken away is nearly overwhelming. Part of me, the very optimistic part of me, hopes that some fresh eyes will perhaps be able to pick up on something that we missed and lead to an arrest if the killer is still out there. If me losing the case is what it takes to finally stop those appalling killings, then I would have given it up the day I got the assignment slip.
Putting the car into drive, I make my way absently through the streets of Vegas. I don't think I can head home right away. There is something about being around so much devastation that sends me to a uniquely dark place. Call me selfish, but I need to escape it for just a little while longer. Nancy has been having nightmares, and Catherine is beside herself trying to be sure that Nancy is somehow going to make it out of this okay. I am trying to be strong for them both, offering my ear to them when they need to talk, my shoulder when they need to cry, my presence when they can't stand to do either. It's the only way that I can make it through right now myself - helping them in any small way I am able so I feel like I am doing something to make things better. But, I need to preserve my own sanity in order to be able to do that and be of any help to them at all.
Fuck, who am I kidding? I lost my sanity the moment Christian Dane tainted our lives with his malice and left us drowning in the aftermath.
Reaching down, I restlessly shake the pill bottle that I received from the hospital after the surgery to remove the stun gun spikes from my shoulder. Apparently a torn ligament and some nerve damage is enough to get you a full bottle of Oxycodone, plus refills. I think it hints at just how bad of a place I was in when I accepted the prescription in the first place. Then, at the bad place I was in when I left in the middle of the night to get it filled. Now, it speaks to my current darkness as I pull off to the side of the road and remove the cap.
Looking around me at the deserted landscape that I vaguely wonder how I arrived at, I place two pills on my tongue. It's one of those moments when you know you are on the verge of making one of the biggest mistakes of your life, but it only makes you want to do it more. Just so you can finally stop debating about it and get the fall from grace over with already.
Swallowing the pills dry, I rest my head against the cold glass of the car window in morbid relief. Sometimes, the feeling of falling is better than standing on the precipice waiting for that inevitable moment you are going to take the plunge.
Sighing, I turn on my blinker and merge back onto the road.
Clenching the steering wheel anxiously, I wait for the pills to take affect so that I no longer feel the harsh bite of the vile emotions currently raging inside of me. The emotions that I know pose a threat to not just myself, but more importantly to those around me. Those around me that are so desperately relying on me to be a calm and sturdy source of comfort right now.
I cannot fall apart, I cannot express any of the rage and hatred I have buried beneath the surface, the dangerous and dark emotions that, given the chance, would destroy all the control I have worked so hard to gain over my life.
And, to do that, to maintain that control and be that sturdy version of myself everyone has come to rely on, I need nothing more right now than to feel nothing at all.
CATHERINE POV
It's been about a week since everything that happened in the desert. Sara turned in her gun and her ID when she got out of the hospital a couple days ago, on temporary leave until the IA office makes its ruling on the shooting. I took some time off as well, so Sara and I have both been around the house, seeing each other briefly here and there as we take turns watching over Nancy.
Opening the front door quietly, I step out onto the porch. Making my way towards the figure standing in the early morning shadows, I step up next to her and place my hand on her shoulder.
Feeling Sara jump, I smile slightly at the fact that I caught her off guard. Sara always seems to sense other people's presence around her, and the fact that I successfully approached her without her notice speaks to just how deep in thought she must have been.
"Hey, sorry," I offer, "Didn't mean to spook you."
She sends me a knowing look, "No, but you enjoyed it."
I snort, shaking my head, "Alright, fine. I did get a small amount of pleasure out of it."
Sara smiles, but her smile fades as she returns her gaze out to the darkness of the approaching dawn. When she turns back to me a moment later, her eyes grow concerned.
"You alright? You're up early…"
I nod, leaning against the porch rail next to her. "I'm alright, I guess. Just couldn't sleep. It's been a long couple of days."
Her eyes narrow with worry, looking me over, "Everything okay?"
I shrug, "Just have a lot on my mind. I was actually hoping to catch you before your walk and see if I could join you?"
Sara's morning runs have been forced into morning walks via doctor's orders, at least for the next month or so. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I think no matter what the doctors told her, she would be running right now if she could. What really forced her to turn them into morning walks is the fact that her leg really gave her no other choice.
Although she never talks about it or acknowledges it, Sara was pretty messed up physically by everything that happened in the desert. For one thing, the stun gun did a number on her, and by the time she reached help, the combination of the electricity and the exertion wrecked havoc on her previously injured leg. The first day out of the hospital, Sara could barely walk on it at all before it would buckle under her own weight. Now, she has thankfully gotten some strength back into it to the point where she can walk relatively long distances, but she is still nowhere near being able to take her usual morning runs. I know it is frustrating to her, to have come so far with her recovery from her first injury only to be sent back to square one. But I know Sara, and she is relentless when it comes to accomplishing something she wants. So I have no concern that she will get herself back to where she used to be.
"Of course," Sara tells me, drawing me back to the present. "You want some coffee to take with us?"
She gestures towards the porch table, and I smile when I see a carafe with a couple mugs near it. Raising my brow, I ask, "Long night?"
She sees my look and suppresses a smile as she pours me a cup. "Perhaps."
Handing the cup to me, I let my hand linger on hers a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the brief contact. Sara silently watches me for a moment, before snapping out of her daze and refilling her own cup.
Stepping off the porch together, we head towards the path along the back of the neighborhood that will offer us the most privacy. As we begin our walk, it almost feels a bit awkward as this is essentially the first time Sara and I have been truly alone since the desert. Nancy came back to stay with us immediately after, and both Sara and I have been sure that one of us is always nearby with her so she isn't without help if she needs anything. But, the last couple days Nancy seems to be doing a bit better, and the last thing I want to do is make her feel smothered or that we don't trust her to be alone.
"How are you holding up with everything?" Sara asks me, her voice quiet.
"I don't know really," I tell her honestly. "There are moments where I feel fine about it all, where I feel like Nancy is going to be okay and we are all going to move on like nothing happened. Then there are moments where I feel like the world as I knew it just crashed down on me and everyone that I love and things will never be the same. Right now I think I am somewhere between the two."
"I know," Sara whispers, her eyes closing briefly under my words. When she opens them again they are sympathetic, troubled, and before she looks away I can see the aggravation she has at not being able to do anything to fix things. For me. For Nancy. I recognize it because it is the same aggravation I have brewing inside of myself. We both want a quick solution, something to make everything better for everyone involved, but there isn't one. Not for something like this. And that's something we have both been working hard to accept.
"How are you holding up, Sara?" I ask.
Sara has always been a relatively quiet person, but lately, with everything going on, she has seemed particularly withdrawn. I know she likely has a lot on her mind, we all do, but I can't help but shake the feeling that there is something else that has been going on with her as well.
"I'm alright," she answers, taking a swallow or two of her coffee, her gaze on the path before us. "You know how it is."
I furrow my brows, somewhat puzzled by her answer. Of course I 'know how it is' in regards to the events that happened to bring us to this current moment, everything that happened with Chris. But I really don't 'know how it is' in regards to what impact any of those events had on my stoic lover. Sara is about as transparent about her feelings as mud. And that's on a good day. Physically, Sara is still in the beginning stages of recovering from some serious injuries. Even now I can tell our walk is taking its toll on her - her limp would give her away even if the pained tension in her posture didn't. Emotionally, Sara just killed a man for the second time. And, while I honestly don't think she has any of the feelings of guilt she battled with after killing Officer Trenton, I feel like I do not have a good read on what she is feeling about it. Hell, I feel like I do not have a good read on what she feels about Chris Dane himself now that everything is said and done. Or even about Nancy for that matter. Sara has been a saint to Nancy this past week, but I know Sara well enough to know that there is a lot she isn't saying when it comes to her relationship with my sister. I think there is a lot of hurt, a lot of anger even, that Sara has regarding my sister. But, knowing Sara and the gentle hearted person that she is, there is no way she would feel comfortable addressing or even acknowledging any of those feelings with Nancy. Not after everything that happened. Sara isn't the type of person to admit that she's been hurt, physically or emotionally, by anyone anytime - but especially not when the person she would be admitting it to is currently also deeply hurt. No, Sara is the type to keep her issues to herself until she finds a way to deal with them alone, solving them before anyone else is even aware there ever was an issue to begin with.
And, let's face it, she's a master at it.
"You sure?" I ask, trying to get her eyes to meet mine.
Sara looks confused, glancing over at me briefly before turning her attention back to the road. "Positive."
When I don't respond at all after a few moments, Sara turns and takes a longer look at me. Noting my expression, she sighs. "Look, Catherine, I am okay. I really am. Sure I am still upset about what happened, and I think I will be for awhile. But I think that's to be expected – who in this situation wouldn't be upset about everything that transpired. Especially when it affected two people they care so much about. But, all things considered, I'm fine. I know myself, and I know I'll be okay. It's you and it's Nancy that I am worried about."
Keeping her eyes on mine, she lets me see just enough to see the honesty in her statement. There is still a lot she is keeping out of reach, tucked somewhere underneath, but her honesty is clear. For better or for worse, Sara really does think that she is doing just fine.
I don't know what to think, quite frankly, but the fact that she is apparently being honest with me sets some of my fears aside. Granted, I still am suspicious that there is something that she isn't telling me, something else going on, but I don't think I have a choice other than to trust her right now. It may be selfish, but I need her too much right now to confront her and risk driving a wedge between us. I can't risk something like that on something that is nothing more than a hunch.
Sighing, I nod my head slowly. "Alright, but I'm here if you need me," I tell her. "No matter how 'fine' you are."
Sara nods as well, her expression and her dark eyes serious. "I know you are, and I appreciate it. I really do. If I need to talk or whatever, Catherine, you have my word that I will come to you."
I let out a breath, amazed and thankful for Sara's ability to read me so well. Her promise is just what I needed to hear. If there is one thing I know about the woman standing next to me, it is that she never breaks her word.
"Thank you," I state in almost a whisper, my relief making my steps feel just a bit lighter. However, there is still one topic hanging over my head that is pressing heavily on my heart. One which I know I cannot keep to myself much longer.
Walking a bit more in silence, we are each lost in our own heads until the point comes when I simply cannot take the thoughts raging inside me anymore. Reaching out, I pull Sara to a stop.
"Sara," I start, pausing to clear my throat from the rising emotion threatening to obstruct my words, "I need to talk to you about what you did for Nancy."
"Catherine," Sara starts, shaking her head to cut off what it is I feel I need to tell her, her tense posture letting me know she suspects what is going to come out of my mouth and that she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. Wants absolutely nothing to do with this upcoming topic of conversation at all.
"No, Sara," I state, gripping her arm tightly, holding her in place. "Please let me say this. Please."
Searching my eyes, Sara finally takes a breath and gives a tense nod of her head, willing to give me, give this conversation, the benefit of the doubt.
"I know you don't want to hear it, but I want to thank you for what you did for my sister. I-"
Hearing her suspicions about the purpose of my words confirmed, Sara shuts down. Shaking her head adamantly, Sara pulls her body harshly away from me. "Catherine, stop-"
Reaching forward and grabbing Sara tightly by both arms this time, I hear my voice shaking. "No, Sara, I won't stop!" I all but yell. "I need to say this, I need to get it out of me. I know you, and I know this will never be something you bring up under your own volition. If I don't bring it up we will never talk about it, Sara. And I need to talk about it, I need to say this to you. So I am bringing it up now. Please, Sara, I am begging you to just listen to me."
The emotion pouring out of me, the sheer desperation in my voice and the trembling in my hands as they frantically grip her arms seem to catch Sara off guard. She still looks tense, guarded, angry, and about a thousand other things, but she finally stops trying to pull away from me. Sara doesn't have it in her to deny me something that obviously means so much to me.
"Alright, okay, I'm sorry."
When she remains silent, her hazel eyes dark but giving me their full attention, I take a breath and try again. I keep my grip on her arms tight, but I think now it is more for my own benefit, needing something to cling to, to ground me, as I get out what I have to say.
"I want to thank you for what you did for Nancy, Sara. It was the most selfless thing I think I have ever witnessed in my life. I know I can never thank you enough, or make it up to you what you did, what you sacrificed, for her. And I know you don't want me to try. But I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, how aware of it I am. You saved Nancy's life, Sara. You saved my sister, my baby sister, and I thank God for you and your sacrifice that day. I wish you didn't have to go through that, have to be put in the position to have chosen something like that, but I know that because you were, and because you did, my sister has a second chance at life. I'm just sorry for the price you had to pay to give it to her. I am so sorry, Sara."
Tears fall freely from my eyes, my throat choking on a sob as it wrenches itself from my lips. I have kept this all inside for numerous days and sleepless nights, and letting out now feels like it has the power to rip me apart from the inside. Despite my death grip on her, Sara manages to reposition herself so that she can encircle me in her arms, holding me tightly against her as sobs tear through me so violently that my knees threaten to buckle.
"Shh, Catherine," Sara whispers softly into my hair as my forehead presses against her shoulder. "It's alright, sweetheart."
Shaking my head angrily, I ball my hands into fists and pound them against Sara's chest. "No, it's not! She is my sister, and I never even thought to do anything to save her! I just stood there and watched her take that shot. And then I just stood there and watched him slowly die. I never should have even moved away from Chris to give her that opportunity in the first place! I knew exactly what she was going to try to do, and I still moved! But even so, once I fucked that up, I should have been the one to kill him, Sara, it was my responsibility, my job to protect her and I didn't! I didn't do a goddamn thing!"
Sara keeps me pulled tightly against her, ignoring my fists as they pound against her until I don't even have the strength to do that anymore and I clench her shirt in my hands instead. Screaming my anguish out into the crisp morning air, I don't care about the neighbors, about being overheard. All I care about is getting this all out of me – all this regret, anger, rage. Sara knows this as well, simply letting me get all of my anguish out without interruption or false reassurances, and I love her all the more for it.
When I finally feel as though I have nothing left in me, all my anger transformed into resignation, I rest my head against Sara's chest. There is nothing I can change about what happened, and now I need to learn to accept that and move on. What's done is done. Breathing deeply to catch my breath, I let myself feel surrounded and strengthened by Sara's strong embrace, her heart beating steadily against my ear.
Pulling away slightly after a moment, Sara looks into my eyes, her own hazel ones conflicted as she assesses me. Reaching out, Sara silently brushes the tears from my face with her fingers, her hands lingering there before finally dropping away.
Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth before she can speak. "I'm sorry I lost it like that…I just…"
Sara places her hands on my hips, her gaze dark. "Catherine, do not apologize to me for something like this. Ever. I'm sorry you have been keeping all that inside for so long, I should have done a better job of checking in with you these past couple days. I really am sorry."
I shake my head, placing my hand against the side of her face to keep her gaze on mine. "We've both been so concerned about Nancy that we simply haven't had a lot of opportunities to talk like this, just the two of us. And that's no one's fault."
I start to turn away, but Sara catches my hand to stop me and turn me back to her. She takes a breath, shadows from the rising sun crossing her features and casting them in contrasts of light and dark.
"About what you said, Catherine…"
I place my hand flat against her chest to stop her, "No, Sara, what I said stands. I meant every word of it."
Taking my hand away from her chest to hold it in hers, Sara's expression is tense. "I know you did, Catherine. But I also mean every word when I say that you have nothing to be sorry for, nothing to feel guilty about. It was a horrific situation, Catherine, and you cannot blame yourself for shutting down in the moment. Any normal person would have. You did absolutely nothing wrong. About any of it. And as for what I did regarding Chris," Sara trails off, her jaw clenching as she turns away, my hand falling from hers. "What I did to Chris was not a hard decision for me, Catherine. I'm ashamed to admit to you how easy it actually was. I couldn't let Nancy kill him, and killing him myself was the only way to prevent that. Simple."
I start to open my mouth, but Sara turns her gaze back to mine, effectively silencing me when I see the anger held there. "I don't regret it, Catherine. Hell, I don't really even think about it, no matter how sick of a person that makes me. But, most of all, I don't want you or Nancy or anyone feeling like you owe me something for killing that bastard. It was my choice, my decision, and I made it. Now I just want to move on. Please."
Looking her over, the tension in her frame, the fury burning in her eyes just below the surface, the tightly clenched fists, I understand her need to forget about her act that day – to put it behind her and try to forget it ever happened. She doesn't need to keep rehashing that awful event, or listen to others keep rehashing it, and I vow to myself not to bring up her decision to pull that trigger again. She let me express to her my gratitude for her sacrifice, her sacrifice that I will never ever forget, and now the best thing I can do for her is honor her request to let it go and move on.
"Alright," I tell her softly, gently taking hold of her hands and pulling her fingers apart so they are no longer in fists, lacing them instead gently with mine. Sara looks down at our newly joined hands for a moment, before her gaze falls back on my face.
"You can come to me, Catherine, any time you need to talk about what happened. Just, I don't want to talk about my decision to kill him. I'm sorry."
Sara's gaze is focused off to my right, and I know she is worried that her request to not talk about her killing Chris will make me feel like I can't talk about anything that happened with him at all. Sara knows how much we all need each other right now, and she is adamant about keeping herself available to me should I need to talk about any of the events that brought us to this place.
"Thank you, Sara," I tell her sincerely, knowing there is no way in hell I could make it through the road ahead without her. "I will certainly take you up on it. I have a feeling quite a bit, actually."
"Good."
Sara's eyes meet mine briefly before she turns her gaze out towards the horizon, swallowing as she tries to recenter herself.
"Sara?" I ask after a second or two.
"Yeah?"
"Where the hell did our coffees go?"
Sara snorts, a genuine smile lighting her face for the first time in a long while. "I set them down on the curb."
I furrow my brows, looking behind her to indeed find our two mugs sitting there side by side. "When did that happen?"
Sara laughs, "Right when you first pulled me to a stop to talk with you. From the look in your eyes, I had a feeling it would become a safety hazard to keep scalding hot liquid in your possession for the conversation that was about to come."
"That is so creepy, I was so completely focused on what I was trying to say that I didn't even notice..."
Sara sends me a look, "I know, you seemed a bit distracted, thus the decision to remove the items with the potential to cause third degree burns from the vicinity."
I shake my head, still a bit disconcerted but also a good deal amused as well. "Thank you."
Sending me a wink, Sara steps back to pick up our cups. Handing me mine, she joins our free hands together. "Anytime."
Continuing our walk, I am lost in thought for a bit as I think about everything that was said between us and everything that wasn't.
"Sara?"
Seemingly pulled from her own thoughts, Sara turns her attention to me. "Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something about Chris?"
Sara nods, "Sure."
"Do you think he picked Nancy because he knew who she was? Or do you think it was a stroke of fate that he discovered after they had already been dating?"
Sara lets out a sigh, "I don't know. I've asked myself that same question a billion times. As I would assume Nancy has as well. I don't think we will ever know."
I nod, hating the idea of my sister having to wonder whether the man she had been engaged to was only pretending to love her for their entire relationship.
"Can I ask you something else?"
Sara raises a brow, "Only if you promise to stop asking me if you can ask me things."
"Deal," I promise her. "Between me and you, do you think Chris could have been involved in the Vergenson cases?"
Sara takes a deep breath, the action letting me know that she has also pondered this question, this appalling idea. Knowing Sara, she has probably been mulling it over for days already.
"Maybe." Sara's narrow, her expression dark. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was involved somehow. He was a surgeon. The bodies in the Vergenson cases were all mutilated and altered by someone with surgical training. The missing cases that Officer Trenton removed from evidence, cases we know for sure he was involved in, were cases with similar types of dismemberment of the victims, simply without the redistribution of body parts. It's not impossible that those missing cases and the Vergenson cases were performed by the same person – a person whose violence and perversion escalated and evolved over time. Was that person both Christian Dane? I don't know. The timeline would fit. But, again, I don't think we will ever know unless something new happens with the Vergenson case."
Sara takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning the nearby tree line. "But, I hope for Nancy's sake, if Chris did have anything to do with the Vergenson cases, we don't ever find out. I thought I would give anything to solve that case. But, when I think about it, if Chris Dane is the solution, I pray that it never gets solved."
Taking my own breath, I squeeze Sara's hand tightly in mine. "I agree."
Walking a couple more minutes, we reach the top of the hill at the outskirt of our neighborhood. Turning around, we can see the houses laid out below us, the mountains a picturesque frame to the scene before us.
Without a word, Sara sits herself down, folding her arms across her knees as she looks out at the rooftops below. Sitting next to her, I smile as she readjusts her position so that I am resting between her legs, leaning back against her as she wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders.
Neither of us says anything for quite some time, both content to sit here and enjoy the rare moments of silence, of solitude, with one another. We know that as soon as we return to the house, we will return to our lives and everything that currently entails. But, right now, up here, we are, if just for a moment, physically and emotionally removed from it all.
And it is beautiful.
AN: Thank you for reading. As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.