It had been a struggle to get back into work mode, but Warrick and Greg had sensed her mood and wisely left her be for the remainder of the shift.
After dodging Grissom who, atypically for the antisocial scientist, had also noticed her peculiar disposition this evening, she managed to escape without having to explain herself to anyone.
Clicking down the metal steps into the underground parking lot, she stalked towards her car, shaking her shoulder-length locks out in frustration. She had acquired bangs recently, but she still wasn't convinced by them. Her mother wasn't either, which made for endless fun during babysitting handovers. Who knew there were so many different ways for one to criticise a hairstyle?
When she reached her car, she got her second fright of the day, as a figure emerged silently from the shadows.
"Oh." Cath placed a hand on her chest, taking a moment to catch herself. "Sara?"
The girl shuffled forward, a new nervousness to her demeanour that she hadn't possessed earlier.
"I wanted to apologise." She cleared her throat. "I shouldn't have walked out on you like that, that was rude."
This was not quite what Catherine had expected and stalled the older CSI for a moment. Whatever epiphany the younger woman had suffered since lunch, it had certainly mellowed her tone. Nodding briefly in acceptance of the apology, Cath walked slowly towards her colleague, looking her up and down in an attempt to assess the reason for the sudden change in attitude.
She looked wiped out. Cath could only assume that the reason she was down here so early was a deliberate attempt to avoid another conversation with Nick about why she looked so drained. And understandably so, because there is no way she'd wriggle out of it so easily a second time.
"Come on," she held up her car keys. "I'll take you home. You're in no fit state to drive."
x X x
To Catherine's utmost relief, Sara had not argued. More than likely due to lack of energy rather than any actual desire to be stuck in a box with her for half an hour, but Cath wasn't complaining.
Although, they didn't actually speak much on the drive, with Sara too busy dozing and Catherine occupied attempting to remember how to get to her apartment. She had only been here a couple of times before – once to drop Sara off after their shared beer in the wake of Hank's infidelity, and again the following evening to pick her up for work, since her car was still at the lab.
On both occasions, she had never made it further than the parking lot.
Having managed to navigate her way without assistance, she rolled the car to a stop and threw it into neutral, causing Sara to stir. She stared out of the front window for a few seconds, trying to gather her bearings, before offering an embarrassed smile at being caught napping.
"Are you okay?" Cath asked, switching off the engine and turning to face the passenger.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Sara stated hoarsely, straightening up.
Yet, despite the assertion, she made no apparent effort to get out of the car, seemingly needing a minute to reorient herself. When she looked back towards her chauffeur, she appeared marginally more alert.
"Would you like to come in for coffee?" She asked, a touch of resignation about her voice, for she likely already knew Catherine's answer.
x X x
She was instantly struck by the colour scheme. Apparently, Little Miss 'I only own black clothes' was secretly a fan of the deep warm tones. The walls in her lounge-cum-bedroom were dark red, stylishly accented with black-framed artwork. The couch was yellow – a bold choice, but it worked, especially against the yellow curtains hanging in front of the balcony doors. With the early morning sun streaming through them, the whole room appeared bathed in a beautiful golden glow.
As she surveyed the small studio apartment, Catherine felt something jump at the back of her leg, almost causing her to fall over.
"Oh!" She gasped, spinning around. "Hello?"
The little dog danced around her feet, his tail wagging with excitement at the prospect of a new friend.
Sara, heading straight into the kitchenette, smiled to herself at the sight.
"I think he likes you." She commented lightly.
Catherine crouched down, stroking the scruffy little pup. He had a blue collar on, with a tag. Turning it over between her fingers, she found Sara's address engraved into one side and a name on the other.
"Maverick." She hummed, flicking her gaze towards Sara. "Well, that sounds about right."
The brunette laughed at the sarcastic comment, letting it slide. She could explain that she hadn't actually named the dog; but why not let Catherine have her little joke.
Maverick continued to investigate Cath curiously, as she stood back up and proceeded to continue her assessment of Sara's compact home, this time through the perceptive eyes of a Criminalist.
The bed hadn't been made and yesterday's clothes were discarded in a heap on the floor. The sink was filled with dishes – almost exclusively coffee cups, it had to be noted, and there was about three days worth of unopened mail sitting on the table.
Knowing Sara as she did, she suspected that this was not a common occurrence for the Californian neat freak, who had once admitted to Catherine that she never left the house without making her bed and emptying the trash, just in case she never made it home again.
Sara appeared by her side and presented her with a mug, interrupting her train of thought. She accepted the drink and the offer to sit down, sinking onto the couch, where Maverick immediately jumped up alongside her.
"You know that you can't do this alone, right?" She began. Nothing like getting straight to the point.
Sara appeared to have been expecting the remark and released an exasperated sigh, leaning back into her chair.
"Cath, we've been through this..."
"Yeah, I know. You don't want help; but I'm afraid it doesn't work that way." Catherine insisted. "Sara ... you have cancer."
The younger woman visibly flinched, which was exactly the response Cath was hoping for. Harsh as it may seem, she needed to hit home how serious the situation was.
"You are in for a rough few months, honey." She continued earnestly. "You don't have to broadcast it to the world if you don't want to, but there is going to come a point when you need support. Please let us be there to provide it."
"You make it sound easy." Sara half-joked. "I've never been very good at accepting help from other people."
"I'm shocked." Catherine deadpanned, earning her a small smile of acknowledgement. "You're not just someone we work with, Sara – you're a part of our life. You don't get to hide things like this from us. You may not like it, but that's just the way it is."
"I know." Sara agreed meekly. "I just ... I've never had much that I could call my own. The only two things I've ever really had going for me were my health and my work. If I'm going to lose one, I hoped at least I could keep the other intact."
Catherine smiled sympathetically, touched by this uncharacteristic candidness from her cagey young friend.
"You'll still have your work. Your job's not going anywhere."
Sara shook her head slowly. By now, Maverick had become bored of being ignored and wedged himself beside her on the chair, where she began absently scratching him behind the ears.
"That's not enough. I can cope with the treatments and the side effects and everything that goes along with it. But I cannot cope with going into work every day and being pitied by everyone I see. I don't want people to start treating me differently because of this." She explained firmly. "I know that I might have to tell people eventually, but if I can carry on as normal for the time being, I want to."
Catherine cocked her head to the side, considering this.
Casting her eyes around the apartment again, she found herself replaying Sara's words in her head:
"I've never had much that I could call my own."
From the looks of her home, that was true. Sara truly did not own that much stuff. In fact, she managed to fit her entire life into two rooms. Catherine had never really given her colleague's personal life much consideration until now; but between her lack of personal possessions and obvious disconnect with her family, there was clearly more to it than meets the eye.
As much as it pained her to admit it, Sara wasn't really asking for that much to want to keep one small part of her life untainted.
Placing her coffee mug down on the table, she reached out both hands, waiting for Sara to tentatively place her own in them.
"I won't tell anyone else at work about this." She promised. "For now! But only on one condition."
Sara resisted the urge to roll her eyes, having sensed an ultimatum coming.
"Go on."
"You have to let me in. I want to know what's going on, every step of the way." Catherine stated, her solemn blue eyes radiating her desperation. "I want to help."
Sara's lips twitched into a knowing smile.
"Something tells me I'm not going to have much choice in that, whether I agree or not?"