When Lindsey sloped downstairs mid-morning, she was surprised to find her mother sitting silently on the couch; her watery blue eyes staring blankly at the bookcase.
"Mom?" She called timidly, padding across the lounge in her fluffy bear-feet slippers.
Catherine turned slowly towards her, as if her head was detached from the rest of her body, and offered a weak smile.
"Morning honey." She croaked hoarsely, returning her gaze back to the far wall.
As Lindsey got closer, she realised that it was not the books that had her mother's attention so captivated. She was staring at a photograph of Lindsey. She was much younger, with sun-kissed blonde hair, a sweet smile and sparkling oceanic eyes. A picture of innocence if ever there was one.
And further to her distress, she saw dried tear tracks lining her mother's pale cheeks.
"Mom, what's wrong?" She squeaked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Catherine blinked at the question, utterly oblivious to her current appearance.
"Nothing sweetheart." She lied, holding out a hand and tugging her towards the couch. "I'm just tired, that's all."
Perching on the arm of the seat, Lindsey cast a glance around the room. Everything seemed so unfamiliar to her lately, like she was seeing the world through somebody else's eyes – the rose-tinted sheen of childhood was long gone, replaced by the cold light of day and a deep awareness of just how ruthless life could be.
And for the first time since coming downstairs, she realised what was missing from the room.
"Where's Sara?"
"Oh honey." Cath sniffed, tipping her head towards the ceiling in an effort to avoid bursting into tears. "She's not going to be coming around so much anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Sara and I ... we broke up."
Lindsey felt her whole body go stiff as the words, barely whispered, hung in the air between them.
"Because of me?"
Catherine shifted around to better face her and gripped her hand a little tighter.
"We just thought it would be for the best." She answered cryptically.
"But, you were happy with her, weren't you?" Lindsey pushed.
"Yeah, I was." Cath agreed sadly, reaching up to brush her child's silky sleep-ruffled hair aside. "But you're my little girl, and I need to be here for you right now."
Lindsey released a shaky breath, pulling away from the tender actions.
"Does that mean that you'll get back together one day, if things went back to normal?"
"I don't know." Cath shrugged meekly, dropping her hands into her lap and allowing her sad gaze to follow them. "Maybe."
It wasn't exactly a no; but it didn't profess hope either and Lindsey felt a pang of guilt shoot straight through her heart at the despondency in her voice.
Not only had she ruined her own social life, now she was systematically destroying her mother's too.
X x x
"Ow!" Sara yelped as her elbow collided painfully with the doorframe to Greg's apartment.
"Sorry." He hiccupped as he continued his concerted efforts to unlock the front door and hold his colleague up at the same time. "I can't drive one-handed."
Sara giggled, though she didn't know why because in her drunken stupor she hadn't understood the joke; and practically fell through the now open door.
Greg barely caught her by the waist and guided them both unsteadily towards the couch, where they landed in an ungraceful heap on the faded cushions.
"You've had too much to drink." He slurred.
"I have not." Sara asserted, climbing into a seated position and taking great care to pronounce each word as precisely as she could. "I can still remember why we were drinking, so it can't have been enough."
Following suit, Greg heaved himself upright and slung an arm around her shoulders.
"Well, if it's any consolation, I still love you."
She smiled up at him, nestling into the crook of his neck.
"You're the sweetest guy in the world, you know that?" She mumbled languidly against his collarbone.
"I know." He beamed, the smell of stale tequila washing over her as he dropped a kiss into her hair.
Drained of energy after their morning exploits, the two of them sank into the cushions in that position; their aching bones weaving together naturally.
They lapsed into silence, for a minute or an hour neither of them knew nor cared.
Finally, Greg spoke up again with a clear and level tone despite his utter lack of sobriety. There was no disappointment or malice in his voice, just a simple statement of fact.
"It's a shame you're gay. We'd have made a fucking great couple, you and me."
X x x
Warrick stumbled towards the source of the noise, blindly searching for the light as he rubbed the rheum out of his eyes.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but evidently his body had had other plans. He had awoken on the couch to the sound of impatient knocking and the football game, recorded from the night before, was now into the fourth quarter and the Saints were winning 24 to 21.
Throwing the door open, he half-expected to find some unapologetic delivery guy who'd gotten the wrong house. Again.
Instead, he found a shamefaced Nicky clutching a six-pack of beer to his chest.
"Hey." He greeted, as if it summed up his entire reason for being there.
"Hi." Warrick echoed suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"
"Making amends?" The Texan suggested. "I was an ass earlier. And with everything that's going on at work, we can't be falling out with each other as well – not with Connolly sniffing around."
Warrick's defensive stance loosened a little and he gestured for his mate to come inside.
"That doesn't sound like an apology." Warrick pointed out, semi-seriously. Nick dropped his shoulders. He hated apologising; it disagreed with his stubborn streak. However – in this instance – he valued his friendship more than his pride.
"You're right. I'm sorry."He said at last. "You were right, what you said about the girls. They need our support and I'm behind them one hundred percent."
Warrick nodded, satisfied.
"Glad to hear it." He said coolly, eyeing the pack still clasped in Nick's hands. "You gonna share them or you just bring them to show off your bad taste in beer?"
Nick laughed, glad of an opportunity to break the ice, and moved to the kitchen. He was familiar enough with this home that he located the bottle opener in seconds and cracked open two drinks with a quick flick of the wrist.
Warrick pointed at the over-sized TV, where the game remained paused halfway through a field-goal attempt.
"You want me to rewind?" He offered. "I've slept through most of it anyway."
"Sure." Nick grinned, dropping onto the couch and handing his friend a foam-topped bottle.
This was reminiscent of so many scenes between them, he couldn't help but feel better about the whole situation. But there was still one thing lurking at the forefront of his mind.
"Hey Rick," he cleared his throat. "Once the game's over, how about you and I see if we can't make some sense of this case and clear Cath's name with IAB."
Warrick's green eyes scrutinised him for a long minute, before he silently tipped his drink towards him in a toast.
"Sounds like a plan."
X x x
Sara turned to glare at the patch of worn carpet in the hallway. She had made a habit of tripping over it lately and in her current state, it was damn near unavoidable.
Shaking it off, she turned back around and carried on towards her flat.
Further down the hall, she could see someone slumped on the ground outside a door. This was not altogether uncommon in her building, with couples frequently throwing each other out and people misplacing their keys in casinos or nightclubs. It was such a frequent occurrence, in fact, that Catherine had given her apartment building the unflattering nickname 'The Hostel'.
However, upon closer examination, she realised that this particular soul was no lost drunk, and it was her door that they were camped outside.
"Lindsey?" She blinked, sobering up in a heartbeat and quickening her pace down the dingy corridor.
The teenager heaved herself to her feet and held out her hands towards Sara. After sitting in this drafty dump for an hour, she had never been so happy to see a familiar face.
"You have to come back." She blurted out hurriedly.
Sara took a minute to steady herself, giving the girl a once over.
"Where's your mom?"
"She's asleep."
Not quite the elaborate answer she was hoping for, Sara shook her head. Deciding that she needed at least one shot of caffeine before she could make sense of this, she fumbled for her keys and practically shoved the child through her front door.
"How did you get here?" She asked once they were in private, moving instantly to her coffee machine. Lindsey watched her, surreptitiously using the chance to survey the flat. She had never been in Sara's apartment before. It was stylish, and a little unusual. A far cry from what she had expected.
A lot like Sara herself, she realised.
"Bus." Lindsey shrugged. "You have to come back, mom misses you."
Sara rested her elbows on the kitchen counter, clawing her fingers through her untamed hair.
"Your mom made the decision to end things, Lindsey." She pointed out tiredly. "I have to respect that."
"I know, but she didn't mean it. She loves you."
Those three words caused Sara to flinch and she barely stopped herself from dropping the mug clasped in her hands. Catherine probably did love her, and lord knows she adored Catherine. But that didn't change things.
"It doesn't matter." She said softly, more to herself than to Lindsey. "It's too late to go back."