AN: Thank you, all of you, for all your support. Hope you are all doing well.
Take care and enjoy.
"I can see the storms rolling in. I pray we're all still here to see them roll out."
CATHERINE POV
"It can be another officer," Brass offers, watching Sara through the one way glass. "I would do it myself, but we need to get photos."
"No," I tell him, watching Sara as well. "She would rather it be Sofia then someone she doesn't know."
Nodding, Brass is silent for a few moments, keeping an eye on Sara as she stands against the back wall of the room, going nowhere near the interrogation table or the chairs that no doubt hold nothing but appalling memories for her.
"I can try to have this done in one of the back labs, but I don't want to create any stirrings about preferential treatment…" he states.
"No," I tell him again. "She wouldn't allow you to do it for her anyway."
Plus, I think silently, this way I can keep watch over her in case she needs anything or if this becomes too much for her. It may be selfish, but it's also realistic.
"How is she?" Brass finally asks the question that's really on his mind. "She gave me a 'fine' this morning, but I know there's more to it than that."
I nod, letting out a sigh. "I think there's a lot more to it than that. But you know her."
"Yeah, I do," Brass agrees. "Which is what worries me."
"Me too," I tell him honestly.
Before we can comment further, Sofia knocks on the interrogation room door to announce her presence before entering. That action alone reaffirms my decision to let her be the one to do this.
"Sara," Sofia greets, keeping her tone professional.
"Sofia," Sara responds, sending her a nod.
"You ready to give your statement?"
Taking a seat, Sofia looks up when Sara doesn't join her.
"I'd rather stand, if that's alright," Sara asks quietly.
"That's fine," Sofia simply responds, not pressing her further.
"Start whenever you're ready."
Sara takes a breath, then begins emotionlessly explaining what happened since the time she left the lab after Ecklie confronted her about her brother's prints being found on the gun.
"So he was waiting for you at your house?" Sofia asks, taking notes.
"Yes, he confronted me in the kitchen."
"'Confronted' you?"
"Grabbed me from behind."
I tense, trying to prepare myself to hear what happened between Liam and Sara before I got there. Things which I realize now I never learned.
"And?"
"And we struggled for awhile until he was able to subdue me."
"How did he subdue you?"
"Hit my head into the counter until I lost consciousness."
Stiffening, I close my eyes and try not to lose control of myself at the imagery playing through my head.
Sofia clenches her jaw, writing a few things down before looking back up.
"What happened when you regained consciousness?"
Sara fills in the rest of the events of that day for Sofia, but leaves key details of the conversation with Liam vague, simply stating they discussed 'the past'. Sofia presses only as much as is needed to have ample detail for the report, but allowing most of the topic of conversation to remain private.
When they finish, Sofia lets out a breath.
"I think you know what I have to ask you for next," she says, voice finally betraying her as conflicted emotions color the words.
"I know," Sara tells her, her own tone letting her know she understands that this is part of the job.
With a sigh, Sofia stands and takes hold of the camera she had set on the end of the table.
"My cue to leave," Brass says next to me, his voice strained and his body tense with anger at all that he just heard.
Nodding, I give him a supportive squeeze on his shoulder as he makes his way out of the observation room.
Sofia has drawn all the curtains to the outside department, and I step over and lock the door to this observation room so that no one unexpectedly walks in.
Casting a glance at the mirror as warning for anyone there without good reason to leave, Sofia sets her shoulders and approaches Sara. Asking Sara to roll up her sleeves, she takes photos of the visible injuries on her arms and face.
When it can no longer be avoided, Sofia asks Sara to remove her shirt.
Expression tense, Sara does as she's asked, her eyes looking up to the mirror. With striking accuracy, as they somehow always do, hers meet mine despite the mirrored glass.
"Arms out," Sofia requests gently.
Lifting her arms, Sara keeps her gaze locked with mine as Sofia moves around her, taking images of the various injuries displayed across her body.
Sofia's expression darkens as she sees the injuries beneath her lens. And, I watch it darken even further as she no doubt begins to notice there are a lot of scars on Sara's body, scars that have nothing to do with the reason she's here.
She doesn't comment, keeping her camera fixed only on what is relevant for the case report.
Stepping back, she takes a full body shot from the front and the back, swallowing as she tries to keep her facial expression neutral.
I can understand her struggle as I feel my own hands shaking as they clench themselves into fists. It's heartbreaking to see Sara like this, to see her body so marred and mistreated. It's hard to see the angry red gashes, the deep bruises. Perhaps worst of all, though, it's hard to see the much-too prominent hip bones, the ribs that you can count.
I knew things with Sara had gotten bad, that she had been heading down a dark road for awhile, but seeing her like this now, it nearly renders me unable to breathe.
Reaching over, I take hold of the side of the window frame the same time that Sofia reaches over and hands Sara back her shirt.
"Thanks," Sara offers quietly, pulling her shirt over her head.
Gathering the paperwork from the table, Sofia makes her way to the door, turning to face the brunette.
"You take care of yourself, Sara," she instructs, her words professional while the look she gives Sara definitely is not. It's not the look of a colleague, but the look of a very concerned friend. "I'll see you around."
Sara nods, "Thank you, Sofia."
It's clear to the blonde that Sara's thanks is not so much in response to her words, but in response to her actions during this interaction. Her professionalism, her neutrality, and most of all her respect for Sara's privacy.
Nodding, Sofia steps out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.
"You ready?" Sara asks me, meeting me in the hall.
Her eyes, her expression, her body language are all tightly controlled, carefully masking her emotions regarding what she just went through.
I nod, trying to get my own expression and emotions back to something resembling normal.
I don't want her to see me fall to pieces, I don't want her to notice a change in the way I look at her, act around her in light of what I just witnessed.
"Let's swing by the break room," I suggest, taking a deep breath and settling my nerves. "I think there's someone there you might want to see."
Furrowing her brows, Sara doesn't comment as she follows me down the hallway.
Making our way inside, Sara is nearly tackled to the ground by a blur of fur and tongue.
"Mesa," Sara breathes out, gathering him in her arms and placing her face against his. "God it's good to see you, buddy."
Mesa licks her face eagerly, a few whines making their way out of his throat as his tail beats against the table leg.
Ruffling his ears, Sara gives him another squeeze before getting to her feet. Mesa practically attaches himself to her shins as she looks up to find another occupant of the room watching her.
"Hey," Nick offers tentatively, stepping forward. "Doc dropped him off when he heard you were here. I, uh, gave him some food and water, but he might still be a bit hungry…"
Sara sends him a nod, her expression polite.
"Thanks, Nick."
"Look, Sara," Nick starts, feet kicking at the carpet. "I want to-"
"No," Sara cuts him off. "It's fine, it's forgotten."
Shaking his head, Nick rubs his temples. "No way, I owe you an apology. I was out of line, I never-"
"Nick," Sara cuts him off again. "You were looking out for Catherine. I get it."
"But you're my friend, too," he counters. "I should have known something wasn't right. That it wasn't like you to do something like that."
Sara shakes her head.
"It happened, it's over. Let's just move on from it."
Nick looks like he still has the guilt of a small country on his shoulders, and I want to tell him to join the club. I think there are a lot of people who owe Sara an apology. A lot of people who turned their backs on her much too quickly than she deserved. And, I consider myself first in line in that group.
Nodding, Nick finally lets out a sigh. "Fine, but just know that I'm so sorry."
"I know," Sara tells him, her tone sincere.
He lets out a breath, sending me a nod as he heads out of the room and back to work.
Turning to me, Sara quirks a brow at my expression.
"How are you so forgiving?" I ask her genuinely.
If it were me, I would be pissed beyond belief if Nick pulled that shit on me, whether it in the end proved to be warranted or not. But, especially if it ended up not being warranted. I probably still wouldn't be talking to him.
"Life's too short, Catherine," she tells me simply. "And no one's truly innocent."
I watch her, keeping my gaze on hers.
Letting out a nod, I exhale.
"No they aren't," I agree.
Making our way back to Nancy's house, I can't help but glance warily over at Sara as I do so. It's hard to explain, but the better she seems to handle everything that's happened with Liam, the more concerned I get.
Just like with Nick today, Sara has been eerily calm about everything, remaining so neutral and stoic that I have to keep reminding myself that she just lived through some of the most horrific events one could ever imagine.
I know somewhere inside she is battling with everything that's happened, but it's so masterfully tucked away that I even find myself occasionally hoping that she really is doing as 'fine' as she insists on telling everyone she is.
But, I know better than that.
I know her better than that.
It's almost like she's still in shock, like she hasn't quite processed everything that's happened. I honestly don't know what the hell is going on, but what I do know is that there's definitely more going on than meets the surface.
A lot more.
NANCY POV
"Getting your fix while you can?" I ask with a smile, stepping up against the porch railing.
"I don't know, I'm still convinced all those threats from the airlines about smoke detectors and federal regulations are bluffs," Sara counters, turning her head away from me as she exhales smoke out into the evening air. "I bet they're not even functioning."
I shrug. "Give it a try. Let me know."
Finally, Sara's expression lightens just a shade.
"What time is your flight?" I ask, keeping my voice even.
"In three hours."
Nodding, I lean my arms against the railing, watching Mesa get his ears tugged by my neighbor's 4 year old.
"Thanks for taking him while we're gone," Sara tells me, following my gaze.
I raise a brow, "Not a problem at all. In fact, you may have to bribe me with money and deeds to get him back after."
Sara quirks her own brow, "'Deeds?'"
"Yes," I tell her ominously. "Deeds."
Shaking her head at me, we watch Mesa give a woeful look in our direction when his new playmate decides it would be fun to try to stack pebbles along his head to see if they will balance there.
"Part of me hopes he bites her, just to see what happens," I offer.
Eyes shooting to mine, Sara sends me a look.
I purposely keep my expression flat as she searches my face, my own eyes straight ahead.
"One of you was adopted," Sara mutters under her breath, turning back out towards the yard.
Smiling, we watch Mesa and my neighbor awhile longer.
"Speaking of my sister, I'm going to go see how her packing is coming along," I eventually tell her.
Sara nods, tapping her lighter against the wooden rail softly.
Turning in the doorway, I take a breath.
"I hope you have a safe trip," I offer. "And I'll miss you."
Sara angles her head back towards me, taking her own breath.
"Thank you, Nancy."
CATHERINE POV
"You feeling okay?" Sara questions, eyes watching me carefully.
"Yeah," I offer, trying to swallow a couple times. "Just get a bit motion sick when I fly."
"Did you take anything?"
I nod, "This is me after taking something."
Sara's eyes narrow in concern.
"Here," she offers, handing over her ginger ale.
"You sure?" I ask, having already finished mine about twenty minutes ago.
Sara nods, "Positive."
Raising the glass to my lips, I take a couple swallows. "Thanks."
Eyes glancing anxiously out the window for what has to be the hundredth time, she turns her attention back to me.
"Why don't you close your eyes for a bit, we've got about forty more minutes until we touch down."
"Maybe," I tell her vaguely, hating the idea of leaving her to herself right now. It's clear that she's nervous, the tension in her body only growing with every passing minute we get closer to her home state.
I can't fathom what she must be feeling right now.
"Have you been back to California since you first left?" I ask her quietly.
Looking at me, she's silent for a moment before turning her gaze back out the window.
"No."
"How old were you?" I push just a bit further.
"Eighteen," she answers. "When I left for school."
"When you left for Harvard," I tell her with a small smile. "You don't have to be modest."
She lets out a small smile of her own. "It always feels pretentious no matter how you say it."
I shake my head at her. "Did you earn or buy your way in?"
Furrowing her brows, she looks at me in confusion.
"Scholarship or trust fund?"
Raising a brow, she shrugs.
"Scholarship," I answer for her, knowing she's too humble to voice the answer herself. "You earned your spot. That's not pretentious, it's impressive."
She looks over, watching me.
"Raising a child as a single mother while putting yourself through night school," she counters quietly. "That's impressive."
I feel myself blush in spite of myself, at her words that hit a deep spot inside me that has always been a bit insecure about my education, about my academic path into our profession.
In a field full of Rhoads scholars and doctorate degrees, it's hard sometimes not to feel a bit out of my element, to feel like I need to hide the fact that I used money from stripping to attend night classes at a community college. While I believe I have proven myself more than competent at my profession, I've always feel that on paper I must look like a practical joke.
"What was your degree?" I ask her, absently wondering how it's possible that we never talked about this before.
I feel like these are things I should have known about her.
She pauses for a moment, and I immediately suspect the problem.
"Physics," she tells me before I can comment.
"And?" I counter, letting her know she's been caught.
Rolling her eyes briefly, she sighs.
"Quantum mathematics."
Raising a brow, I try to hide my smile at her embarrassment.
"Really?"
"Yes," she answers lowly, obviously not finding this conversation as fun as I do.
"Hmm," I hum. "That's so hot you have no idea…"
Finally letting out a snort, Sara shakes her head.
"Can we talk about something else?" she asks with a groan.
"Sure," I shrug. "Were you valedictorian or salutatorianof your class? I can't seem to recall which…"
"Jesus," Sara groans out. "You're relentless."
"You're a smarty pants, get over it."
"I think I want my ginger ale back."
"And a smartass."
Smiling, Sara shakes her head before her eyes travel to the window. Her expression faltering for a moment, she swallows.
Taking a breath, she steadies herself, turning back to me.
"Tell me about your school," she asks quietly.
And so I do. I spend the rest of our flight talking with her about college memories, classmates and lab partners from hell, teachers who inspired me.
Mostly, I try to distract her, and also distract myself, if I'm honest.
Sara is clearly dreading this particular visit, and the idea of the unknown is provoking its own anxiety within me.
Pulling up to the bed and breakfast, I scan the area around me as Sara goes to get our bags from the back of our rented SUV.
Handing me one of my bags, she takes the rest as she moves to head inside.
"Cath?" she questions when I make no move to follow.
"I can't wait to see this place come morning," I tell her honestly. "I can smell and hear the ocean, it's so close, but too dark to see."
Sara raises a brow, casting a glance out towards the blackness to our left.
Touching down in San Francisco, we drove the rest of the way to Tomales Bay, finding a bed and breakfast with available rooms for the night.
Stepping forward, I join her and we complete our journey inside.
"Welcome to Tomales Bay," I cheerful man in his sixties greets us as we enter. "Are you the two lovely ladies I spoke to on the phone?"
"Yes," I answer, glancing over at Sara as she moves her eyes around the room, taking in every detail. "You still have rooms available?"
"Of course," he answers, filling out some of our information before handing us each a key. "The rooms are adjacent. I'm Daniel if you need anything."
"Thanks," I offer, taking in a breath, still trying to process Sara's request that we have separate rooms.
"First time here?" Daniel asks.
"Yes," Sara finally breaks her silence, answering before I can. Sending him a pleasant nod, she lifts her bag to her shoulder. "Here to see the sights."
I quirk a brow, but don't comment.
"Excellent," Daniel says with a warm smile. "Let me know if you want any suggestions of places to see."
"Thank you," Sara tells him, and I grab my bag as we make our way up the wooden staircase.
Heading down the upstairs hall, we quickly find our rooms.
Opening mine, I cast a glance in Sara's direction as she fits her key into the lock.
"'Here to see the sights'?" I question her.
She doesn't comment for a moment, her hand pausing on the door handle.
"You'll understand later," is her eventual, vague reply.
"Okay," I tell her simply, not daring to push her on a trip as emotionally heavy as this one already is. Hell, she could tell that man we are here to start a brothel for all I care.
"See you in the morning?" Sara asks quietly, eyes on mine, but nearly impossible to read.
"Sure," I tell her, wishing there was something else I could say, do.
Nodding, Sara moves to enter her room.
"Sar," I call her back at the last minute.
Her head pokes back around the door frame.
"Yeah?"
"Goodnight," I tell her quietly.
Her shoulders lose just a shade of their rigidity, her expression softening slightly.
"Goodnight, Catherine. Sleep well."
AN: Thanks for reading.
