Nancy jumped as she re-entered the room, startled by the silent figure sitting composed at the kitchen table.

"Catherine." She gasped. "I didn't hear you come back."

The strawberry-blonde turned ever so slightly, cocking her head to the side.

"How's Sara?"

"She's fine, I just checked on her." Nancy replied, sliding nervously into the seat opposite her sister. "What's wrong?"

Catherine met her gaze and wordlessly nudged a small velvet box towards her.

Curious, Nancy cracked it open. Inside was a small, modest gold ring.

"A few days ago, Sara told me that she thought she was losing her mind. She came home to find her apartment door unlocked; she lost a case file ... and she misplaced her mother's wedding ring."

Nancy raised her eyes, starting to realise where Catherine was going with this.

"So, where did you find it?"

"In her apartment." Catherine straightened up. "It fell out of Belinda's bag as she was leaving."

"Belinda was there?" Nancy almost choked on her own breath. "What was she doing there?"

Catherine didn't answer, but her expression said enough.

"Wow." Nancy sank back into her seat. "What are you going to do?"

" Nothing." Catherine threw her hands up. "I can't prove anything."

"Cath, you have to report this." The nurse insisted, tapping the ring box. "She's stolen from her and broken into her apartment – she's obviously obsessed!"

"Nancy; Sara is in a very delicate state – I can't drop this on her now." Catherine hissed, her eyes instinctively flicking towards the ceiling. "I don't think she could handle any more stress at the moment."

"All the more reason to get this woman away from her as soon as you can." Nancy snapped.

Catherine clawed her hands through her hair, shaking it out in frustration.

"I can't talk about this now." She groaned, pushing her chair back and standing up. "I'm going to check on her."

Nancy watched her skulk out, pensively spinning the ring on the table.

She probably should have told Catherine what she had done; but maybe now wasn't the time. Either way, whether her sister agreed with her methods or not, at least she knew she'd made the right decision now.

"This sucks." Nick huffed, throwing the newly sealed evidence bag into the box with the rest.

"What?" Warrick sniffed, not looking up from his fingerprinting.

"This! Sara being attacked; I mean, what was she even doing here in the first place?"

Warrick's shoulders dropped and he heaved himself to his feet.

"Alright, maybe bringing Sara to this scene wasn't the smartest idea;" he conceded. "But Grissom couldn't have predicted that this was going to happen."

Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek sullenly, shaking his head.

"He should have done more."

Snapping off his gloves, Warrick shoved them in his pocket and patted his friend gently on the shoulder.

"Look, getting angry at Griss isn't going to help Sara right now." He pointed out calmly. "All we can do is process the scene and take it from there."

Nick's scowl deepened and his pout increased, drawing a frustrated sigh from his mate.

"I'm going to the car for more evidence bags." Warrick declared, stomping out of the little glass nurses station.

Alone, Nick made the most of his few minutes of privacy. He sank down into the swivel chair behind the desk and ran both hands through his short hair, finally letting his walls slip as angry tears sprung to his eyes.

The soft footfall on the stairs caught her attention and she glanced up with a lazy smile.

"Morning."

"Hey." Sara murmured, subconsciously tightening her bathrobe.

Catherine pushed herself off the couch and held out a hand towards her, but promptly dropped it when Sara visibly twitched at the offer of physical contact.

"Breakfast?" She suggested instead.

"No, thanks." Sara attempted a weak smile. "I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat something, honey." Catherine insisted, raising her hand again and this time gripping Sara's sleeve lightly and tugging her into the kitchen.

Sara slid into a chair, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. Catherine surreptitiously watched her while she busied herself pouring coffee and making toast. The young brunette looked more vulnerable than Cath had ever seen her.

For the first time since they had met, Sara looked completely at a loss of how to move on from here.

Catherine placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and leant down to put a cup of coffee on the table. She felt Sara tense beneath her fingers, but refused to release her. For what felt like an age, they remained that way; until Cath felt Sara gradually starting to relax under her touch.

Smiling to herself, Catherine squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"Good girl." She mumbled.

The sweet moment was interrupted by the sound of sullen footsteps stomping down the stairs.

As Lindsey materialised in the kitchen, Catherine dropped her hand from Sara's arm and offered a pleasant smile.

"Morning honey." She greeted warmly.

Lindsey looked silently between the two women, before rolling her eyes and sinking heavily into a chair.

Sara attempted to proffer a smile and, receiving a little more than a cold glare in response, promptly decided that she was in the way. Gathering up her coffee, she politely excused herself back upstairs to get dressed.

Catherine watched her go, a little disappointed that her minor breakthrough had been cut short. However, she realised despondently, she had bigger fish to fry.

Sliding into Sara's vacated seat, she folded her hands on the table.

"So, am I going to get a conversation out of you today?" She enquired calmly.

Lindsey's steely blue eyes glowered at her from beneath mascara-laden eyelashes.

"Why's Sara here?"

Catherine sighed, sitting forward in her chair.

"Well, she was hurt at work yesterday and I thought it would be best for her to stay with us for the night rather than going back to her apartment."

"What happened to her?" Lindsey pressed, her features softening a little. Catherine pursed her lips, debating how much she felt comfortable revealing to the child.

"Someone attacked her at a crime scene." She settled on at last.

Lindsey cocked her head to the side, considering this new information with an unreadable expression.

After a whole minute, she met her mother's gaze again.

"Can I eat my breakfast in the lounge?" She asked, as if the previous conversation hadn't even happened.

Catherine exhaled exasperatedly and waved a hand absently at her daughter.

"Sure, go for it."

As the girl left the room and the sound of Frasier filtered through from the next room, Cath propped her head up on the table.

Technically, her daughter was supposed to be grounded, with no leisure activities – including TV – but Catherine was too tired to put up a fight today.

She had been up all night, which was not an uncommon feat given her work hours; but suddenly she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep until this whole nightmare was over.