Catherine did a double take, convinced that she must be seeing things. But, to her dismay, the scene playing out before her was true.
Belinda was walking out of Sara's hospital room.
It was a slight consolation that the red-head looked equally looked put-out to see Catherine there, although it still didn't ease the sting of running into the woman again.
"Catherine." Belinda straightened up to her full height.
Catherine, choosing not to acknowledge the greeting, moved around the other woman to peer through the little window in the door.
Sara was curled on her side, asleep. For the time being, she looked fine.
Turning back to her counterpart, she placed her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders.
"What are you doing here? I thought Sara made her feelings about you clear."
If Belinda was surprised by the blunt question, she covered it well.
"I heard about the shooting. I wanted to make sure that she was okay."
Cath instinctively shot another glance at her slumbering colleague.
"What did you do?"
This time, Belinda bristled.
"I didn't do anything. We just talked." She paused, sensing Catherine's distrust. "She's fine."
Catherine, affronted at the attitude she was being faced with, made a point of opening the door to the little private room and peering inside. Sara looked fine, but she needed to hear the gentle sound of her breathing before she would be convinced.
Belinda laughed, shaking her head.
"Nothing much has changed, I see." She mused lightly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response. Taking a step closer, she leant down towards Catherine with a sneer. "And you had the gall to say that I was obsessed with Sara. I think maybe you need to take a look in the mirror."
"Obsessed ... that nut-job called me obsessed!" She huffed, yanking another grape off the vine and chewing on it petulantly. "I mean, who the hell does she think she is?"
Instead of answering, Nancy made a point of looking at her watch.
"Forty minutes. That's impressive."
"What?" Catherine blinked.
"That's how long you've been ranting about this for."
"I'm sorry." Catherine said without a hint of remorse. "Do you have someplace else to be?"
Nancy laughed, further irritating her sister, and slid her coffee mug aside.
"Do you remember the first coffee we shared after Sara moved to Vegas, all those years ago?"
"No."
"I do." The younger sibling smiled fondly. "You stormed into my kitchen complaining about her, and you haven't stopped since."
"I do not complain about her." Catherine snapped.
"Yes, you do! You swear about her, you downright insult the poor girl at times. And you worry about her." She paused, narrowing her eyes. "How many times have you picked up the phone to check on her and chickened out before you could finish dialling.
Realising that this was not a rhetorical question and her sister was expecting an answer, Cath sighed.
"I don't know, a dozen?"
"Right." Nancy grinned, sinking back into her seat with a satisfied expression.
"I worry about the boys, too!" She added defensively, not happy to leave it there.
"Yeah, but you can actually talk to them about it."
"I know that they won't bite my head off."
"Or maybe you know what to say to them, but you don't know what to say to Sara."
Catherine paused, trying to come up with an argument to refute that and coming up blank.
"Okay." She agreed at last, still not satisfied that Nancy had proven her point.
"Far be it from me to agree with Belinda; but face it Cath – she got under your skin the first time you met, and she never really left." Nancy smirked. "And the truth is, you love it!"
After Nancy's personality assassination, Catherine was in no mood for small talk or pleasantries as she swept past the reception desk into the maze of labs.
She was set on making her way to her office without stopping or speaking to anyone. However, as she skated past Grissom's office, something caused her to grind to a halt.
"Just a few more sessions, that's all I'm asking. Belinda's already agreed to it."
Belinda. Even the sound of her name made Catherine's blood run cold.
Catherine stepped closer, listening for Grissom's response to Ecklie's statement.
"Sara won't like it."
"Sara got herself shot recently." Ecklie pointed out. "I hardly think she's in the right headspace to make those kind of decisions – which is exactly why I think it would be a good idea for her to sit down with the shrink for a few more hours."
"No!"
Catherine heard the startled response, before she realised that it had come from herself.
Ecklie and Grissom both looked up in joint surprise at her rude interruption.
"Can we help you, Catherine?" Ecklie frowned.
"You can't send Sara back to the department shrink – that's not what she needs."
Grissom stood up behind his desk, a look of suspicious growing on his exhausted face.
"Catherine, this really doesn't concern you. Sara's not a part of your team." He pointed out with his usual tact.
"I still care about her, Gil." She snapped, choosing not to dispute this with him any further and turning her attention instead to Ecklie. "Sara doesn't need to speak to that woman – she just needs her friends around her. We can give her all the support she needs."
"Catherine; while your concern for her is touching, I think Sara's issues go deeper than you and Nick Stokes can fix."
Having said what he had come to, and desperate to leave the bickering CSIs before they could question his authority any further, he brushed past Catherine towards the door.
"I trust you'll tell Sara next time you see her." He added on his way out. "Give her my best, won't you."
Catherine turned from his departing figure to stare at Grissom, who was looking at her with a mix of admiration and confusion that only served to piss her off further.
She opened her mouth, but the angry and embittered thoughts that were flitting through her head never made it out. Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked out without a word.
And as she continued on her initial route to her office, panicked tears stinging her eyes, she sank her teeth into her lower lip and tried to figure out how she was supposed to tell Sara that her worst nightmare was about to come true.