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Catherine glanced up at him from beneath her lashes.

"Hey Warrick," she cleared her throat nervously. "Can we talk? About what happened between us today ..."

He emitted a soft laugh, turning his emerald orbs towards the ceiling and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, that ...that was almost something." He acknowledged. "Cath, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to put you in that position."

"What position would that be?" She asked with a cocky smirk, making his cheeks flush as he recalled the memory of her body falling into his arms and her warmth seeping into him as he held her tightly against his chest.

"Let's just be thankful that guy interrupted when he did." Warrick continued, making Catherine's heart sink a little. "Otherwise who knows what might have happened."

Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she finally met his gaze across the table.

"There's always been something between us." She noted softly, letting a hint of vulnerability creep into her voice.

"Hey," he frowned, realising that their moment in the storm drain had had a bigger impact on her than he'd first thought. "You know I'd never let anything like that happen, right? I mean, I know we're just friends."

Whatever she had been intending to say in response to his earnest comments died on her lips, and she offered a weak smile to assuage his concerns.

"Right." She nodded, feeling her heart tighten in her chest. "As long as we're on the same page."

"I don't have a death wish and I'm not a drunk." She stated without being prompted, flicking her dark eyes towards his face. "In case you were worried."

"I'm not worried." Grissom shrugged. "I'm concerned."

Sara put down her magnifying glass and looked up with a scowl.

"Isn't that kind of the same thing?"

He shot her a small smile, silently conceding her point.

"We didn't really get chance to talk the other day." He continued. "How is your counselling going?"

She visibly stiffened, her barriers rocketing into place. She had told herself that, next time, she would tell him the truth; but she had been planning to initiate that conversation herself. She was not prepared for this.

"It's fine." She cleared her throat. "It's good, in fact. Really good."

She had resumed her laborious searching of the door for blood drops, but she could still feel him staring intently at her across the lab.

Finally, he seemed to accept her answer with an abrupt nod.

"Good."

"Catherine?"

She froze, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. She had been so close!

Sucking in a calming breath, she turned slowly and plastered a smile on her face.

"Yes Gil?" She asked pleasantly.

"Do you have a minute?"

She was tempted to say no, to tell him that she was going home to have breakfast with her daughter and forget the humiliating mistake she had almost made today.

But before the words could materialise, she took a second to actually look at her boss. He looked nervous, and that alone unsettled her enough to draw her into the dingy depths of his office.

"Have a seat." He gestured anxiously towards the chair in front of his desk, but Cath declined the offer.

"What's going on, Gil?" She asked with more frustration in her voice than she'd intended.

He fidgeted, folding and unfolding his glasses where they sat before him on the desk.

"It's about Sara."

Her curiosity peaked; Cath slowly lowered herself into the seat opposite him and raised an eyebrow.

"What about Sara?"

"She's had some issues recently. She's been seeing the office shrink for the last few weeks."

"Okay..." Cath drawled. She had been intrigued at first, but now she was starting to worry that he was building to something more serious than she'd initially anticipated.

"She ... she was picked up recently for drink driving – they didn't charge her!" He added hurriedly at Catherine's startled look.

"When was this?" She demanded, sitting forward.

"About two months ago." He shifted in his seat, beginning to question whether he was doing the right thing by sharing this with someone else. "She was only just over the limit, so they let her off with a warning on the proviso that she had some sessions with a PEAP counsellor."

"Grissom," she licked her lips, choosing her words carefully. "If Sara has a drinking problem..."

"She doesn't." He interrupted before she could finish the thought. "She's just ... struggling."

Catherine sat back in her chair and let her mind run through everything she had just been told for a moment.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked at last, her blue eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Because I'm worried about her, but I can't watch her all the time."

"And ... you want me to watch her for you?" She clarified.

"I want you to keep an eye on her." He paraphrased slightly. "She nearly got herself and Warrick blown up today and she doesn't seem at all bothered."

Cath nodded, pursing her lips. She had heard about that, and she had to admit that it had not come as a surprise. Sara had always been a bit of a loose cannon at times.

"Okay." She agreed, throwing her hands out. "I'll do my best. But you know that she's not going to take kindly to being babysat."

"I'm not asking you to babysit her, just look out for her." He insisted. "And Catherine ... please don't mention this to anyone else; including Sara. I don't want her to knowing that I've told you."

"Alright." She exhaled, standing up. "But I hope you know what you're doing, for her sake as well as yours."

"I do." He asserted, putting on his glasses to resume his work and essentially ending the conversation.

As Catherine stalked out of the office, her head reeling with this new information, the memory of a few days ago suddenly flooded back to her – the memory of finding Sara in a bar at eight o'clock in the morning – and she winced.

She tried to remember whether there had been a bottle or a glass in front of her, but the image was too blurry.

She had had a few drinks herself, but she still recalled the look on Sara's face. Concern, or sadness; perhaps. And the woman she was with, the woman who Catherine still hadn't managed to place, was holding her hands across the table, offering comfort.

She hadn't thought about that woman since leaving the bar; but now she was, it irritated her that she couldn't work out where she knew her from. The more she tried to picture her face, the more familiar she became. She was tall, with flame red hair that spiralled out in unruly ringlets. She was pretty enough, but had stern features. And something about the way in which she had been staring so intently into Sara's eyes made a knot start to form in the pit of Catherine's stomach.

Maybe Gil was right, and there was something going on in Sara's life that they needed to be worried about.

Perhaps it couldn't hurt to keep a closer eye on her young colleague.