AN: You guys are beyond amazing...thank you so much for taking the time to review. It always brings a smile to my face. Finished this chapter a bit early, so thought I would go ahead and post it for you all. And yes, I apologize for the misspelling of Sofia's name in the last chapter (thanks sbz)...when I get a chance I'll go back and fix it.
Hope everyone is doing well.
Take care and enjoy.
CHAPTER 14
CATHERINE POV
"Need some string?" I ask, gesturing to Sara's hand that is holding onto the waist of her jeans.
Having left her belt back in the lab to fume overnight for prints, we are now making our way out to the parking lot to finally head home.
"Very funny," she tells me with an eye roll. "It just feels weird not having a belt."
Turning to me, she grows serious. "That and I'm a bit concerned due to the fact I'm not wearing any underwear."
I roll my own eyes at her, but my smile slowly fades when I catch her expression.
"Wait…no…seriously?" I question in shock, my voice raising a couple octaves.
Breaking out into her own small smile, Sara shakes her head at me. Or, more specifically, my gullibility.
"Hey," I call out when she starts to make her way towards her car. "Where do you think you're going?"
Sending me a questioning look, she raises a brow. "Home?"
Shaking my head, I unlock my Tahoe.
"Nope. I told you Sara, Nancy is going to take a look at that," I tell her sternly, gesturing to her face.
"I thought you were kidding," she mutters.
"No you didn't," I say, getting in my car.
Sara hesitates a few moments, likely calculating her options and just how much hell she will have to pay if she takes off.
With a dejected sigh, she slowly makes her way to my car and gets in the passenger side.
NANCY POV
Reading out on the porch, I glance up when I hear my sister's Tahoe pull into the drive. Returning my attention to the page in front of me, I curiously glance up again when I hear two doors open and shut instead of one.
Raising my brows in surprise as I recognize the other person as Sara, I lay my book in my lap. Sara hasn't been here since before her and Catherine separated. I honestly wasn't certain I would ever see her here again.
"I have a patient for you," my sister tells me as they step up onto the porch, her expression betraying the complicated emotions running through her right now.
Immediately moving my eyes to Sara, I get to my feet. "What's wrong?"
It's amazing, even with the tense way Sara and I left things between us, the thought of her being hurt takes immediate priority.
Shaking her head in obvious frustration, Sara sends Catherine a look as she answers me.
"Put your concerned eyes away. I have a glorified papercut."
"Papercut, my ass," Catherine mutters, reaching out to grab hold of Sara's jaw.
Turning the brunette's face to the other side to show me the injury in question, I see why my sister brought her here.
"Ouch," I mutter, taking a couple steps closer to get a better look.
Releasing her grip, my sister steps inside the house, "I'll get you what you need."
Nodding, I look Sara over for any other signs of injury.
Thankfully finding nothing obvious, I return my gaze to her face. "What happened?"
"Catherine can fill you in," she tells me, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
Trying not to be obvious with my continued scrutiny of her, I take note of how utterly exhausted she looks.
"Alright," I say, deciding to leave her alone for now.
Returning with my medical supplies, Catherine hands them to me.
"I'm going to head in and take a shower," she says, no doubt looking to separate herself from Sara. From the idea of having Sara under the same roof as her for the first time in what no doubt feels like ages.
Turning at the last minute in the doorway, she looks over at me.
"Nancy, be sure to check her leg. The way she's been limping the last couple days makes me think all is not well."
Her mission complete, Catherine disappears inside without another word.
Raising a brow, I turn back to the brunette.
"You might as well sit down," I suggest.
Finally drawing her dark gaze away from the door where Catherine disappeared, Sara sits herself down on the porch step.
"Relax," I tell her, noting her tension.
Looking over at me, I see a myriad of emotions swirling in her eyes before she reigns them in and tucks them neatly back inside. It's obvious that this night, this essentially forced interaction between the three of us, is leaving everyone a bit on edge.
Wetting a towel with a sigh, I assess the abrasions on her face.
"Turn so you're facing the driveway," I instruct her.
When she complies, I begin wiping away the large amount of sand and dirt marring her features.
"You get into a brawl at work?" I ask, trying to break the tense mood, wondering how in the world her face got this dirty.
Looking down, I see her jeans and a majority of her shirt are covered as well.
"Yes, actually," she responds, her stark features matching the terseness of her tone.
After a moment she swallows, furrowing her brow.
"I'm sorry, Nancy," she tells me, her tone apologetic this time around.
"Don't worry about it," I state, understanding that her snapping had far more to do with her than it did with me.
"Turn," I direct, gently angling her face towards the light so I can see the cuts better now that the dirt has been wiped away.
"You have a pretty deep cut along your cheekbone, the rest looks like just some superficial scraping," I tell her.
She doesn't say anything and I know she could quite frankly care less, that she is only here because Catherine forced her to be.
Dabbing at the cuts with alcohol, Sara doesn't even flinch.
When I finish, I toss the bloodied gauze into a pile.
"Let me see your leg."
Looking over, Sara furrows her brows, pulling herself to her feet.
"It's fine, Nancy. Just fatigued."
Watching her eyes closely, Sara grows tense under my gaze.
"What are…" she trails off, suddenly getting what I am doing.
"Fuck you, Nancy," she breathes out quietly, her voice disappointed.
Turning away from me, I grab her before she can take off. "Stop right there."
Freeing herself from my grip, Sara turns to face me darkly, "Why, Nancy? So you can breathalyze me as well?" She shakes her head, "Want a urine sample?"
"It's a fair concern, Sara."
"Maybe," she says, giving nothing away. "But it doesn't mean I have to stand here while you assess my pupil sizes to figure out if I'm high right now."
"Are you high right now?"
Shaking her head, Sara starts to walk away from me again. "Screw you."
"I could have told Catherine," I call out, my words effectively stopping her in her tracks.
Her back to me, I see her take a deep breath.
"I could have told Catherine but I didn't."
"What do you want, Nancy?" she questions darkly, turning around and taking a step closer to me. "To blackmail me?"
I don't answer and she takes another step closer. "Is that what this is about?"
"No," I respond, narrowing my eyes at her. "I wouldn't do that."
Sara watches me a moment, her expression about as pleasant as my own.
"Then what, Nancy? You want me to thank you?"
Shaking my head, I raise a brow. "I didn't do it for you, Sara. I did it for Catherine."
Sara nods.
"Good," she replies simply, genuinely.
"She has a right to know," I tell her sternly. "I think it's bullshit not to tell her. It's not fair to her."
Taking a breath, I shake my head. "But I can't put her in that position professionally."
Sara nods, "She's my supervisor. If she knew about it and anything happened at work…"
"Exactly." I fix my gaze with hers. "I won't wreck her career."
Nodding, Sara starts to turn away again.
"I won't wreck her career, Sara, but I will absolutely wreck yours."
Turning back to me, Sara narrows her eyes.
In the resulting silence, our heated gazes speak volumes.
"If I catch you using again, I will report you directly. Catherine will have nothing to do with it."
I fix her with a look.
"I'm not going to sit by and let you endanger the lives of those around you. Or your own. I refuse. This is my one and only warning."
Assessing me a moment more, Sara finally nods. "Fine."
Turning yet again, I shake my head.
"You don't have a car here," I remind her.
"I know," she answers, not turning around. "I'll walk."
SOFIA POV
Hearing the locker room door open, I immediately get to my feet. Rubbing my hands down my jeans, I watch as Sara enters the room, making her way to her locker.
Stepping around the row, I lean against the one on the end.
"Sara," I call out to announce my presence, hoping not to startle her as the lab is mostly deserted at this off hour. The only reason I'm even here is to try to catch the brunette before work. And, to do that, means I need to show up at least two hours before work even starts.
"Sofia," she responds simply as she places her keys and a pack of cigarettes on the shelf, letting me know I needn't have worried.
Something tells me it's hard to catch Sara off guard.
"I need to talk to you," I begin, shoving my hands into my pockets when I find I have nothing else to do with them. "Or, well, I wanted to talk with you. If you have time."
Finally turning to face me, Sara looks at me a moment before nodding.
"Sure."
Closing her locker, she gives me her full attention.
Seeing her intense gaze, I am suddenly finding this harder than I thought it would be. Taking a deep breath and telling myself to stop being such a coward, I straighten up to my full height.
"I wanted to apologize," I tell her seriously. "For yesterday."
Shaking her head, Sara looks genuinely confused. "You have nothing to apologize to me for."
Shaking my own head, I take a tentative step closer. "Yes I do. What I did was out of line, Sara. It was unprofessional and out of line."
"It's fine," is her simple response. "I was out of line, too. And for that I should be the one apologizing."
She shakes her head.
"The only thing I won't apologize for though, Sofia, is what I said regarding Catherine," she tells me seriously. "I meant every word of that."
I nod, "I know."
Assessing each other a moment more, Sara nods before starting to turn away.
"Sara."
Turning back around, she raises her brow in silent question.
"The reason I was so upset yesterday is because I expected more from you," I tell her, my voice quiet.
She doesn't say anything, just watching me.
"I've always felt the closest to you out of everyone from grave shift, and we aren't even particularly close." I shrug, pulling my hands from my pockets, feeling a bit awkward to reveal this part to her. "I've always respected you. Your dedication to your work, to finding the victims justice…I've always admired that about you."
Furrowing her brows, I can tell the compliments are making Sara uncomfortable. That reaction alone is part of the reason I've always liked the brunette. She was never in this job for the glory.
"The victim was always your only priority. Not yourself, not politics, not personal vendettas." I take a deep breath. "Which is why I was stunned and disappointed with what happened yesterday."
Stepping slightly closer to her yet again, I shake my head.
"I've heard the rumors about what happened between you and Catherine, of course. Who hasn't. But I don't care, Sara, that's your guys' business and no one else's."
I fix her gaze with mine.
"What I do care about though, is that your personal life doesn't encroach on my crime scenes." I keep my gaze serious. "And what happened yesterday between you and that woman, Sara? That was personal."
Sara doesn't look away. "Yes it was, and I'm sorry for that. I really am."
"I know you are," I tell her seriously, understanding that Sara is probably beating herself up more about losing her professionalism at a scene than I ever could. "Just like I am."
Sara nods, taking a deep breath.
Finally, a tiny smile starts to pull at Sara's lips.
"Catherine must have really scared the shit out of you when she no doubt lectured you about what happened yesterday."
Laughing, I am relieved to have some of the tension between us gone.
Sara and I have always been the type of colleagues to not want anything to do with office drama, simply wanting to do our jobs without any other crap interfering. Even having this type of 'personal' conversation with one another is more than uncomfortable.
It's something we've never needed before, and I genuinely hope never need again.
"She actually has a meeting scheduled with me later this afternoon," I tell her honestly. "Lord knows that's going to be a treat."
Sara lets out a laugh.
"Just tell her we squared things away once and for all in the locker room this morning. See what happens."
I laugh as well. "That's horrible," I get out. "But funny."
Sara smiles lightly, shaking her head before getting serious again.
"We okay?" she asks me.
I smile, sending her a nod.
"We're okay," I tell her.
Turning to leave, I can't help but gesture to her cheek with a grimace. "Your face on the other hand…"
Sara shakes her head, holding the door open for me.
"We're not going to talk about that."
CATHERINE POV
Observing her from through the interrogation room window, I watch the way the light plays with her hair. I watch the shadows as they move across her features, her eyes intense as they listen to the young man speaking to her.
I have no idea what he is saying.
But I also don't care.
I didn't come here for him.
If I'm honest, I didn't really come here for her either. I didn't even know she would still be here at this late hour. But, I caught a glimpse of her as I was headed to the room next door for my own interrogation, and found myself drawn here.
I could barely face her last night, could barely handle the idea of being in the same house as her. But right now, in this moment, I for some reason cannot muster the ability to look away.
Sara's expression is kind, gentle, listening to the suspect in front of her with understanding.
With empathy.
I watch her hands as they move to place a photo softly in front of him, her eyes pained as she watches his own fill with tears.
Sitting in silence, she stays with him as he weeps.
"Catherine?" Brass calls beside me. "You ready?"
Not taking my eyes away from Sara, I nod. "Be right there."
Jim doesn't comment, simply sending me a look before entering the adjacent room, leaving the door open for me.
I miss this woman, I find myself thinking. I find myself finally admitting. I miss this kind and warm woman that I fell so madly in love with.
I miss the woman that I was when I was with her.
She made me a better person, brought out the best in me.
I don't even know who I am anymore without her.
And, looking at her now, her face marred with gashes across her cheek, her eyes staring out amidst dark circles and ashen skin, I cannot help but wonder who she is becoming nowadays herself.
The anger and rage I saw in her yesterday genuinely terrified me. I didn't fear for my safety, of course not, but I absolutely feared for her own. Sara's a person who has so many demons lying just beneath the surface, demons that I know for a fact she battles against every day.
I am terrified that she is no longer winning those battles, that the woman I once knew is slipping away right before my eyes.
Watching her reach out to place her hand over the young man's arm, I come to a decision.
Maybe Sara and I have lost ourselves as a couple, but I refuse to let us lose ourselves as individuals.
I refuse to stand by and watch us destroy ourselves now that we find ourselves alone. Sara was too beautiful of a person, with too beautiful of a soul for that.
I think…I think it's finally time Sara and I talk.
CATHERINE POV
Knocking lightly for the second time, I almost think Sara isn't home when I hear footsteps approach the door. Pulling the door open, Sara lets out a surprised yet tentative smile when she sees me.
"Hey," she greets me.
"You mind if I come in?" I ask, absently cringing at how awkward it is to be asking permission to enter what was once my own home.
Shaking her head, Sara steps aside. "Of course not."
Stepping into the house that looks exactly as I remember it, I put my keys on the desk near the door. I literally have to restrain myself from hanging my coat in the closet out of sheer habit.
Sara is standing somewhat anxiously near the kitchen, obviously tense about what could have brought me here. Taking in her posture, I absently note how good she looks standing there in a pair of boxers and a black tank top.
"Where you headed to bed?" I ask as a sudden afterthought when her attire registers in my brain.
Looking down almost self consciously, she shakes her head.
"No, I was just framing some pictures in the living room."
Stepping further into the house, I see various black and white prints spread out along the furniture. Two frames lay open on the coffee table, and I recognize them as the ones that hang above the fireplace.
Looking over the images surrounding us, I am once again amazed by Sara's talent.
When we first moved into this house, Sara gave me an odd look when I asked if we could use the pictures she had hanging in her apartment to decorate the living room since I found them breathtaking.
She agreed, and only admitted to me months later that the reason she was so surprised at my choice in décor was because they were photographs that she had taken herself.
Absently walking up to the fireplace, I take in the frame that remains hanging.
Inside of it is the black and white photograph of an elderly woman. Her gaze is focused squarely on the camera, or more accurately, through the camera straight to the person behind it.
Her eyes are light in color, contrasted starkly against the sun tanned tones of her skin. Her thick hair is long, hanging in flowing waves as the wind takes several wisps of it along with it. The hair is grey, but brilliantly shining in the light of what appears to be a setting sun. The thick waves of the woman's hair are interrupted by a single feather, tucked gently into the flowing mane.
"This one's still my favorite," I tell Sara.
"Mine too," she says from behind me, apparently having moved closer while I was lost in the piercing gaze of the woman in the photograph.
A gaze that holds so much hidden emotion, so much expression, so much strength.
"She's stunning," I whisper, knowing Sara can still hear me.
Finally turning, I take in the brunette standing in front of me. "Just like her granddaughter."
Moving her eyes from the photograph to mine in surprise, Sara's gaze lingers on me as we stand together in silence.
Finally looking away, Sara returns her gaze to the picture.
"She was a master at photography, always taking her camera with her everywhere we went," she says, affirming the identity of the woman in the photo that I somehow always knew.
"The day that photo was taken she was teaching me how to use it," Sara says. "She let me take a picture with it at the end of the lesson to give me a chance to use what she'd taught me. I don't think she realized I was actually taking a picture of her, thinking instead I was focusing on the ocean behind her."
Sara smiles slightly, lost in the memory.
"When she developed the pictures, she took me out to a park and handed it to me along with her camera. She just smiled and said, 'You'll capture the world with this in ways I could only dream about'. I was so scared I would let her down."
Sara shakes her head, physically shaking herself out of her thoughts.
"Is everything okay? Did you need something?" she asks gently, obviously wanting to change the topic from her to the reason I am here.
Respecting her silent request, I step closer to her.
"Actually, I came here to check on you, to be sure you were doing alright," I confess.
"You haven't exactly been looking very well lately," I tell her honestly. "I knew if I called, you'd just tell me you're fine, so I decided to come over and see for myself."
"I'm alright. Thanks."
"Your hands are shaking," I state honestly.
"You make me nervous."
Looking at her, her expression is sincere.
"Why?" I ask, a bit thrown by her comment.
Stepping imperceptibly closer to me, her hand starts to rise as if she were going to reach out and touch me, but drops by her side just as quickly as it had been raised.
"Because you're Catherine Willows," she tells me simply, a solemn expression on her face.
Searching Sara's eyes, I tentatively reach out and complete the action she abandoned only seconds before.
Laying my palm flat against her chest, I take in the quickened heartbeat and the contrasting calm, steady breaths.
Sara Sidle, all calm stoicism on the outside and raging tempests on the inside.
She is so close, so near to me that I myself am finding it hard to breathe.
Lifting her own hand, Sara gently places her palm against my cheek, thumb moving softly across the contours of my face as if discovering them for the first time.
Before I know what has happened, or who is responsible for initiating it, my lips are touching hers.
Our mouths part cautiously, allowing each other hesitant access. Reaching forward with my other hand, I run it through Sara's dark hair, feeling her shift quietly as my hand grabs hold of the soft locks.
Pulling her closer to me, her hips come to rest against mine.
I don't know if it is the contact of our bodies that finally draws my attention back to the moment, but I am immediately pulling away once I realize what is happening.
"Sara…" I start, fingers tracing across my lips as they instantly miss the contact with hers.
She steps further away, putting some much needed distance between us.
"I'm sorry," she forces out, sounding like the words are strangling her.
"So am I," I state in a voice sounding nearly as pained.
And it's true, I am sorry.
I have missed Sara so much these past weeks, so deep has been the loss that it literally has felt like parts inside of me were dying. I honestly wonder, after sharing the deepest and most beautiful of loves with Sara, if there is even a way to be whole ever again without her in my life.
Having experienced this brief moment, this glimpse back into what we once had and the life we once shared, it's like losing her all over again to have to pull away.
"Why?" I whisper, forcing my eyes to hers.
I know mine are filled with tears, but I don't have any strength left in me to stand guard to my dignity.
She looks at me with a pained expression that begs me not to walk down this path.
"Why did you do it?" I ask again, feeling the tears finally free themselves from my lashes.
Clenching her jaw, I know Sara is fighting the urge to wipe the tears from my face like she has always done before. Instead, she stands tensely, her body literally vibrating with the emotions she is fighting to keep at bay.
"Because I was an idiot," she finally says with self-directed disgust. "I was an idiot who made some very bad decisions."
"Was I not enough? Was I not good enough to you? Did you fall out of love with me?"
I know I sound pathetic, especially since I have been so adamant all this time that I didn't want an explanation – that no explanation would change what happened and therefore none was necessary.
But I think it's finally time I put to rest some of the ghosts that have been haunting both my waking and sleeping moments.
Ghosts that have been given life from all the self-doubt and dark thoughts created by my subconscious to explain the spiteful action taken by an otherwise gentle and loyal woman.
"No," she chokes out, eyes wide, "God no."
Looking like she is about to be sick, she takes an involuntary step back. "My Lord, have you been thinking that all this time?"
Pulling my eyes away, I nod slowly, "That and about twelve hundred other things to explain what you did."
"Catherine," she starts, waiting for me to drag my eyes back to hers before she continues. "You were never anything but perfect. In every way. Both when we were together and still now."
Her eyes are earnest, desperate, "I know I have no right to ask you for your trust, but please at least trust me enough to believe me about that."
Feeling more tears fall at her words, I know that she is speaking honestly. I have to admit, it is a huge relief to know her actions had nothing to do with me, but it doesn't do anything to take away my confusion.
"Then why?" I ask, not too proud to beg for understanding.
Shaking her head in what appears to be revulsion, she lowers her gaze.
"I was intoxicated, Catherine."
She pauses to force herself to meet my gaze, to give me the eye contact she knows I deserve. "I was very, very intoxicated."
Taking a moment to let her words sink in, I don't know whether I feel better or worse with this new information. All this time I had assumed that Sara had consciously made the decision to sleep with another woman.
Now, it's seeming more like a wretched mistake than a vindictively contrived plan.
"Did you know her?" I ask, even though I've already pretty much figured out the answer from hints Nancy has given along with portions of Sara's confrontation with the woman yesterday that I overheard.
But, even so, even though I essentially asked her this yesterday, I need to ask her directly right now, need to hear her say the words aloud.
"No," she says, "I have no idea who she was."
I nod, taking her words at face value.
"That's why you wanted the pictures from Nancy," I state, again needing to hear her confirmation of what I already suspected. "You were trying to figure out who she was."
"Yes," Sara confirms.
"And the prints from the belt?" I ask.
"Nothing. She doesn't have a record."
I let out a breath, trying to adjust to the answers I have been given and the answers that have been confirmed.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I ask her.
I hate to admit it, but if I got inebriated enough to have a one night stand that I didn't remember, I would almost certainly use it to my defense, use it to beg my lover to give me another chance.
She clenches her jaw. "Because it's not an excuse. How or why it happened doesn't change the fact that it happened," she says. "The only thing that really matters in the end is that it happened."
Looking at me, I see the guilt and remorse playing across her dark features. "I'm Eddie."
I shake my head at her words.
"You could never be Eddie, Sara," I tell her honestly.
She doesn't say anything, and I know it's her way of stopping me from having to go further to reassure her that I don't equate her to my ex husband.
She doesn't believe me, still categorizing herself with him, but she doesn't want to turn this into a situation where I am forced to compliment or comfort her.
That mere action alone emphasizes just how much she is not like Eddie.
"I…I have to go," I say, suddenly overwhelmed with the situation, feeling like I need to get away from here, away from her, so that I can think clearly again.
This has all rapidly become much too heavy, and the weight of it all is focused squarely on my heart.
"Okay," she says, the caring look in her eyes letting me know she gets my need to run at this moment.
Turning and grabbing my keys, I throw a wave over my shoulder.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Catherine," I hear spoken quietly as I close the front door behind me.
AN: Thanks for reading.
