Chapter XXXV

Better than 'School House Rock'

Catherine was more than simply tired when she pulled into her driveway. She suffered from a bone-deep weariness that she hadn't been able to shake for what seemed like forever. She had a nasty headache pounding right behind her eyes and the coffee she'd been running on had soured in her stomach. She felt like the dreaded Time Bitch had slipped a few extra decades in on her while her back was turned. She had shed her jacket as soon as she'd fought through the pack, or was it school, of ravenous shark paparazzi and reporters. The sunglasses she wore barely disguised the dark circles and she might as well have packed her kit in the bags under her fatigued eyes. She climbed down from the Denali and left her kit, devoid of anything that would actually help the case in her opinion, lying in the back floorboard. She raised her hand more out of habit than greeting when her next door neighbor waved. She picked up the paper as she slid her key in the front door and shoved it open with her hip.

The interior of her house, the house she had fought tooth and nail to keep after Eddie had screwed her over, was dim, cool and quiet. She closed the door behind her, slipped her aching feet out of her heels one by one and almost groaned aloud at the instant relief the action gave her. She dropped her keys to the Department-issued SUV in the glass bowel she'd bought for just that purpose, and laid her jacket down beside it. She, uncharacteristically, still had her Glock holstered and on her and her laminate ID hanging beside it. Opening the collar and pushing the sleeves of her severely tailored white shirt up to her elbows, she headed towards the kitchen and tugged her knee high stockings off as she went. Now barefoot on the tile of her kitchen, she could hear the television in the den and the ticking of the central air unit. Dishes in the sink told her that Lindsey was up and had eaten. Her daughter had, predictably, not cleaned up behind herself. Catherine was too tired to care all that much. The dishes could and would be done later, the counter would be wiped clean. She would rather, today at least, wait then start a war with Lindsey now.

Catherine poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot that Lindsey must have brewed, and wandered over to the den. Lindsey's crutches were propped against the arm of the couch and a half full bottle of Dasani water was leaving a ring on the oak side table. MTV was showing some inane episode of brain-melting stupidity and the pink Dell laptop, Sam's last birthday gift to his one grandchild, was on the coffee table. Amidst the chaos was Lindsey withher cell phone in one hand and her iPod in the other. Lindsey's ankle was wrapped in an ACE bandage and propped on a cushion and the dark blonde teen looked distinctly unhappy. Then again, any red-blooded American teenager would be less than happy to be sidelined by a sprained ankle on the weekend. More than happy to take a load off, Catherine went around the couch and sat in the nearby matching recliner. For amoment, neither of the Willows women spoke. Catherine let herself relax into the chair and closed her eyes for a minute. It was good to be home.

"Is it true?"

Caught off guard by Lindsey's non-sequitur, Catherine cracked one eye open. "Is what true?"

Lindsey propped herself up against the arm of the couch. "That Alex Dupree used to be Sara's girlfriend? I mean Sara, the Sara you work with like every night."

Catherine let out a sigh, this was what she'd been hoping to escape from. She rubbed both of her temples, trying to ward off the headache that sprang up every time Alex Dupree and Sara Sidle were mentioned together."That was a long time ago, before Sara even moved to Vegas." She had always taught Lindsey that discrimination was wrong: color, creed, nationality, sexuality. Of course, while she had used Warrick as an example of how racism was wrong, she had certainly never thought to use Sara as an example, and certainly not one for sexuality. Lindsey, though, didn't seem fazed. Then again, at sixteen her daughter seemed to have more gay and bi friends at school than Catherine had ever heard of at the same age.

"That totally sucks." Catherine opened her mouth, but Lindsey continued. "Having like an ex barging in on your life again like so quick after a nasty break up. Sara has worse relationship karma then you do."

Catherine sat up strait and found herself blinking rapidly. "Excuse me?"

Lindsey smiled and shrugged it off. "No offense, Mom, but it's true. I mean first Mr. Grissom breaks up with her while she's still in the hospital and now like Alex Dupree just walks back in and totally drags Sara into a big scandal."

Catherine frowned. "Lindsey where did you hear about Grissom and Sara?" More precisely how did her daughter find out when she had only learned of the break up a few days ago?

Her daughter fidgeted and a blush started to crawl up her face. "Um, I overheard you and Gran talking about it?" It was a shot in the dark and Lindsey had missed by a country mile.

Catherine narrowed her eyes and gave her daughter her hardest 'mom' look, "Lindsey." This was usually about the time that Lindsey would slump, stomp or run out of the room. Her current predicament combined with strict orders from her ballet instructor cut out those options. In short Lindsey Allison Willows was stuck. Catherine would wager her girl's college fund that she was trying to decide between another lie and whatever the truth was. Lindsey shrugged and slumped against the couch arm again, a sign that she was probably opting for the truth over a lie.

"Alright, remember when she was in the hospital after the desert and Gran dropped me off with you because she had to go do that thing for Grandpa Sam?"

Catherine frowned at the way Lindsey referred to Sam, but nodded. "Go on."

Desert Palms Hospital

Six Months Earlier

Why were hospitals always so cold? Not to mention the smell, the smell was probably the worst part: rubber gloves, alcohol and something else that she couldn't quite place. Lindsey tried to get comfortable in the plastic chair in the waiting room. No, the worst part was sitting, she decided, in a room full of cops and CSIs with nothing to do. She felt for them, she did. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned about Sara, either. Sara was pretty decent, weird but okay, plus she always gave the best gifts. Why the woman always sent hers in the same box with Uncle Jim, Lindsey didn't know. It was some weird thing with her Mom. Mom and Sara were like the two most popular girls in school. They co-existed and even acted like friends sometimes, but they really hated each other. Mom would probably freak if she found out that Sara was the one who'd given her the totally bitching boots and fifty dollar iTunes gift card for Christmas, so some things were best left unmentioned. Besides it wasn't like she hadn't sent Sara a thank-you card, with Uncle Jim's. It was like being a spy,but only one of them had a gun.

Maybe hate was too harsh a word, because she could tell her mom had been crying. Old people were such freaks sometimes. Speaking of old people, no one was looking her way. She'd been relegated to the corner of the room where a TV was showing a rerun of ER, which was kind of a gruesome show to show in a hospital. The sign that reminded people that cell phones were banned from the hospital was right below the screen, mocking her. How was she supposed to sit here in a room full of cops talking cop stuff all around her? Her mother was talking with Nick, total hottie, and Greg, an even hotter hottie, and wasn't looking her way. It was too easy to slip off into the hallway.

The rubber-alcohol smell was stronger, but just like in the waiting room, no one was paying any attention to her. The nurses were bustling around and the occasional normal person walked by, but they too were too caught up in their own drama to pay attention to her. Now if she could just find an empty room or something, she could use her phone and no one would jump her. As if a couple of texts were going to shut someone's pacemaker off or something, yeah right.

There were no empty rooms, she had quickly figured that much out. It was like half of Vegas was at the hospital for something. She'd almost had a heart attack when two cops came down the hall, but they too ignored her. She tiptoed past an open door, but paused when she saw Mr. Grissom inside. Of all the places she could have gone, she had found Sara's room. She was about to move along, quickly, when she heard Mr. Grissom's voice and stopped dead in her tracks.

"I can't be with you and do my job too. Every single night, you pull on that flimsy vest on and you take your kit out, and you put your life in my hands. I can't, I won't mess that up. I almost lost you Sara. I couldn't live with myself if-". There was a pause, "You're okay, this time. What about the next time, though, and the time after that? What happens when it's Warrick or Catherine or any of us? Greg was beaten within an inch of his life. Jim was shot. You and Nick were kidnapped and we damn near didn't get to either of you in time. Holly Gribbs died. I won't risk you, Sara, not aga-"

Oh My God. Major eew. Mr. Grissom was like eighty or something, he was old enough to be Sara's dad. Eew. Besides the fact that it was totally gross, it sounded like he was dumping her. Lindsey listened in the hall, by the wall, hidden from the door.

"Hownoble of you. The great Gilbert Grissom turns his back on love so he can be a better CSI. The only way to keep me safe is to leave me."

Seriously, no one could be so stupid. Lindsey silently cheered Sara on. Mr. Grissom would totally have to cave in. He didn't though, in fact, he left, which was like the bitchiest thing ever. Lindsey suffered through a minute of panic, afraid Mr. Grissom, the jerk, would see her. Luckily for her, though, one of the nurses rushed into Sara's room andMr. Grissom left without even glancing in her direction. She thought she was in the clear, but before she could figure out which direction to go in, the nurse came back out of the room."Oh."Shit, shit, double shit. She was so caught. The nurse, though, didn't ask her what she was doing in the hallway, she just smiled. "Oh, I didn't know Sara had a daughter, go right on in." The over-cheerful nurse all but pushed her into the room and left.

Lindsey quickly opened her mouth, then shut it again. Sara blinked and looked at her with her head cocked to the side. "Lindsey, what are you doing here?"

Lindsey pushed her bangs out of her eyes, "I came to see you, duh." It wasn't exactly a lie, after all. She walked into the room and scooched the bedside chair back a little before sitting in it. Sara, arms across her chest, didn't look very happy. Of course, from what Lindsey had just heard, she didn't blame her. "So you've had a bad day or two, huh."

Sara blinked and let out a weak little laugh. "Yeah, you could say that."

Lindsey folded her legs up under her in the chair. "So how long do you have to be in here?"

Sara blew out a half hearted sigh. "A few days."

Lindsey groaned and rolled her eyes. "No cell phone, no Internet, and basic cable, I could put you out of your misery now if you like."

Sara gingerly turned her body around to look at her. "I'll keep that in mind. So what are you doing here, your Mom wasn't making you hang out in the waiting room is she?"

Lindsey shrugged. "It sucks. There are all of these cops outside and like all your friends and they're all blabbing to each other, and I think there's another flower arrangement in there too."

"Good, I can open my own florist shop. She smirked at her own joke and then laid still for a moment, the sighed. "Sorry, I'm out of it right now." Lindsey only shrugged and they sat quietly for a minute.

It nagged at Lindsey, she knew it would be impolite, but—"Were you scared?"

Sara looked over at her, only half listening. "Hmm?"

Lindsey fidgeted. "Mom said you were trapped in a car, and it was flooding, were you scared?" She watched the 'ah-ha' moment cross over Sara's face and continued, "I mean, I had a cell phone and Mom came and got me, you all were there in like a flash. You were alone, though." She fell silent and hoped that she hadn't upset Sara.

Slowly, though, Sara nodded. "Just between you and me, I was scared out of my mind." Sara shuddered and then winced. "Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew they would be looking for me—your mom, Greg, Sofia, Nick, and Warrick—but I was scared."

Lindsey nodded. "My therapist,"she started, then she wrinkled her nose. "Don't look at me like that, everyone has a therapist now and Mom makes me go. Anyway, she said that bravery isn't the lack of fear but like doing something despite of it. So I guess that makes you the bravest person I know."

That made Sara smile, and that split her dry lips.

Lindsey didn't comment on the lip-splittage or the drops of blood, she handed Sara a kleenex and continued. "Hey, we have to stick together, it's a small but cool club we're in. The Psycho-Bitches-Almost-Got-Us-Drowned-In-Sports-Cars Club, there's a monthly fee but also a free tee-shirt." Sara laughed so hard Lindsey knew it actually hurt.

The nurse was at the door, probably to shoo her out, so Lindsey went ahead and stood up. "Oh, I didn't have flowers,"both she and Sara smiled, "but—" She dug into her purse and pulled out her iPod, "this has some stuff on it." Lindsey grinned. "Wouldn't want you to go crazy in here or anything." The nurse ushered her out, smiling, and told Sara's next visitor they could go in. Lindsey didn't recognize the woman, but hoped that her visit went slightly better than the one with Mr. Grissom had. Of course it would be really hard to top his visit. Lindsey paused at the end of the hall to watch the blonde woman go in and wished her luck. She, at least, looked Sara's age. Lindsey chuckled at herself, "Totally."

Despite the fact that she would very much enjoy hours of uninterrupted time with her daughter, Catherine had to sleep. She wasn't scheduled to go in tonight, but knew she would be called in anyway. She was a supervisor and extra hours, especially during high profile cases, were par for the course. She'd been working extra hours here and there all week. Between the trouble with Sara and the disturbing case, she was exhausted. Exhausted, weary to the bone, but unable to drift off to sleep.

She punched her pillow into a new shape and rolled over on her back to stare up at the cracks of sunlight that peeked around her blackout curtains dance on the ceiling. Hearing Sara's versions of events, detailing Gil's less than tactful breakup speech was one thing. Hearing it from her daughter was another. Lindsey was a completely unbiased witness—she had no reason to lie. On the contrary, Catherine was reasonably sure that her daughter knew about her problems with Sara. So wouldn't it have made more sense to lie, or not mention it at all? Who could understand the sixteen-year-old mind? Some days she practically needed an interpreter to understand what her daughter was saying, forget what she was thinking.

Still, it nagged at her. Lindsey's earnest concern for a woman she barely knew and her own inattention to the sensitive place Sara had landed herself in. Catherine closed her eyes. That sounded impersonal, cold even. She had been working with Sara for, what, going on eight years now? They'd had good times, very good times, and there had been some bad times. More bad times than good. Catherine sighed—most of the bad times had sprung from arguments that Catherine had whole heartedly egged on.

She turned over again, her silk pajamas bunched at her bust and she absentmindedly smoothed the shirt out. It wasn't, if Catherine was honest with herself, something that had never happened to her. She knew as well as anyone that you couldn't control your ex, be they male or female. Eddie and Alex weren't in the same league, but the same principle applied. Not to mention the fact that despite the obvious lingering feelings that Sara, at least, was resisting, their relationship was over and done. Sara had no knowledge of the other woman's life or decisions or anything. Now the press had honed in on the case, and that wasn't Sara's fault either.

In fact, if the press and paparazzi were on the case, they would uncover the women's connection in no time. Sara stood to lose much more than her place on the case, her whole career would be destroyed. Catherine linked her fingers behind her head and sighed. None of this was Sara's fault, so why was she treating the other woman like it was?

At first, it had been Gil. She had been so certain that it had been Sara who had dumped Gil, Sara that had made him so sad. She could scratch that now. Why, though, had the idea of Sara and Gil bothered her in the first place? They'd all known that there was some kind of bond between them, something that went beyond friends and supervisor-CSI. Before the kidnapping, hadn't they both been happy? Happy was good and God knew they both deserved to be happy. So what, exactly, had riled her up? Maybe it was because she hadn't known. Would that had made a difference, being in on their little secret? Greg had known, and she was pretty sure Jim had figured it out somewhere along the way, but she'd been clueless.

She rubbed her hands over her face again and again. She had been the one all but attacking Sara the whole time. She'd been, to quote herself, going off the deep end and verbally attacking Sara, when, according to Lindsey, she probably needed a kind ear and a strong shoulder to lean against.Old habits were hard to break, especially when it came to her working relationship with the brunette. Looking at it now though, it was petty, and even worse, it was hypocritical of her. She had bent and broken rules here and there her entire career. As for Alex coming onto Sara, she had met some of her boyfriends on the scene, and it wasn't like you could control what other people did anyway.

"Hypocrite is not a good look for you," she said, her voice loud in the otherwise silent room. Sara wouldn't want an apology, but that didn't mean Catherine couldn't stop acting like an ass from here on out. She was probably skirting around some of the more touchy issues, but for now her guilt was satisfied and her decision made. That being done, Catherine closed her eyes and began to drift off.

Author's Note: Happy Saint Patrick's Day to All! Ugh I just overdid the cheerful.