To my readers who celebrate Christmas, I hope you had a lovely day yesterday; and to those who don't celebrate it, I hope you had a lovely Tuesday :)

I was a tad too busy yesterday to update, so it's an extra long chapter today :) I hope you enjoy it

x x x x

Catherine swung herself around the doorframe, scanning the room hurriedly.

"Hey, have you guys seen Sara?" She asked when it was apparent that the brunette was not hiding in here.

"No, but if you find her will you tell her that we need her back." Warrick mumbled, his gaze fixed on the docket of photographs he was currently analysing.

"Trust me, she won't be much help to you right now." Cath muttered; more to herself than the boys, but they heard her all the same.

Warrick finally lifted his head and frowned, noting the blonde's frazzled demeanour.

"What's going on?" He queried.

She emitted a frustrated huff, throwing her hands out to the side helplessly. However, before she could offer any explanation their conversation was cut short by the trilling of her cell phone.

She cast a brief glance at the small screen and relaxed just a little.

"Sara, where the hell are you?" She hissed into the phone, stepping away from the door for a little bit of privacy.

"I'm okay." Sara jumped in straight away, blatantly ignoring the question. "Have you told anyone?"

"No, not yet." Cath frowned. "But if you don't get your butt back here…"

"I will." Sara breathed, relief flooding her voice. "Please, don't say anything. I promise I will explain everything."

After a long silence, Catherine spoke again.

"I'm waiting."

"Not now." Sara shook her head, even though Cath couldn't see her. "Coffee? After work?"

Catherine ran a hand through her hair, deliberating.

"Alright, but you'd better tell me everything."

"I will." Sara nodded fervently again. "Just, promise you won't say anything to the boys."

Cath flicked her eyes back into the layout room, where Warrick and Greg were still staring at her in confusion.

"Alright. You've got an hour."

Hanging up, she turned back to the guys.

"Everything okay?" Greg asked, concern masking his boyish features.

"Yeah, just a misunderstanding." She shook her long hair out, pocketing her cell phone.

Warrick opened his mouth to question it, but she didn't give him chance. She had made a promise to Sara, after all, and the longer they had to question her on the matter the higher chance of her spilling the secret.

With a hurried excuse and a wave, she disappeared into the hall.

Greg and Warrick exchanged a bemused look, until Rick rolled his eyes.

"Women." He muttered, snatching the photos back up.

X x x

Catherine checked her watch for the tenth time since arriving, flicking her eyes frantically from the window to the door and back again.

Sara was five minutes late. Six minutes.

When she anxiety of waiting got too much to bear, she pulled out her cell phone and began to dial, just as the door opened and the sheepish brunette finally shuffled in.

"I was beginning to think you'd stood me up." Cath said, narrowing her eyes as Sara slid into the booth. She was keeping her head bowed, but Catherine could just about make out the bruise between her eyes.

When she didn't make any effort to move, Cath nudged one of the cups of coffee she'd ordered towards her colleague and waited for her to accept it before speaking again.

"Don't make me start pulling teeth." She said, raising an eyebrow. Sara looked up, puzzled by the comment. "You promised me an explanation. I'll get it one way or another." She clarified bluntly.

Sara's lips twitched into a half-smile, but the look quickly vanished as she began nervously fiddling with a stray napkin.

"Can't we just forget about it?" She asked hopefully, although she knew the chance of that happening was about as likely as the floor opening up beneath her feet.

"Forget about it?" Cath repeated incredulously, proving her assumption correct.

"Keep your voice down." Sara hushed, shooting panicked glances around them. Cath did as asked, leaning across the table.

"I thought we had a deal – I won't say a word to anybody on the condition that you tell me the truth."

"There's nothing to tell." Sara insisted, although Catherine's expression said it all.

"Honey, that bruise didn't get there all by itself." She pointed out. "So, tell me the truth or I'll tell the boys."

"Please don't do that." The obvious fear in Sara's shaking voice startled Catherine almost as much as the look in her scared, wide eyes.

"Sara, what aren't you telling me?" She begged, softening her tone. "I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to be." Sara swallowed. "I can … I'm fine. It's not what you're thinking."

"Right now, hon, I don't know what to think."

"I'm fine." Sara held her hands up, effectively ending the conversation. Reaching into her pocket, she tossed whatever change she had onto the table and stood up.

Catherine, too, was on her feet in a flash, grabbing her arm as she tried to leave.

"Sara, don't you dare." She snapped.

For the second time today, Sara flinched at the contact and wrenched her arm free.

And for the third time today, all Catherine could do was watch on helplessly as her troubled young friend disappeared.

X x x

She had been understandably worried when she'd found Sara bleeding over the bathroom sink; and now that Sara had run away from her – again – without explaining it she was downright scared.

Which was her personal justification for snooping.

She'd never had any reason to go to Sara's flat before, but she knew the woman's address had to be written down somewhere.

She could, of course, have just asked one of the boys. But that would have raised some eyebrows and she had made a promise to Sara not to tell. If there was one thing she knew about Sara Sidle, it was that she did not beg anyone for anything. And today, she had begged Catherine to keep quiet.

For that reason alone, until she knew what was going on, she would keep her word.

"Aha." She hummed, extracting Sara's personnel file from Grissom's dyslexic filing system and quickly scanning the first page for the information. Scribbling it down on a scrap of paper, she replaced the folder and slammed the filing cabinet shut. Her destination safely in her pocket, she turned to the door triumphant, only to practically walk into Grissom.

"Oh!" She gasped, clutching her chest. "Jesus Christ Gil! Don't sneak up on a person like that!"

Ignoring her shock, he merely quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What were you doing in my filing cabinet?" He inquired suspiciously.

A whole host of potential excuses flashed through Catherine's mind, but she only managed to form one into words.

"Tidying." She blurted out. "This place looks like a bomb site! Don't you ever clean up in here?"

She surreptitiously sidled around him as she ranted, taking his look of surprise as acceptance of her lie and quickly striding to the door.

"Honestly Gil, I don't know how you'd cope without me!" She finished, strutting out and instantly disappearing around the corner, leaving the confused man to ponder the strange encounter in her wake.

Down the hall, she pressed her back against the glass walls and released a deep breath.

X x x

The noise startled her awake and she flashed her eyes hurriedly towards the door.

Kirsty wasn't meant to be coming round tonight.

She stood up on shaky legs, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.

Thanks to several hours spent with an ice pack, the bruise was barely noticeable under makeup. Unless you were looking for it of course. But right now she was not wearing any and the purple marks around her eyes were bright as day. She had intended on going to bed, but evidently had only made it as far as the couch.

Reaching the front door, she took a deep breath and swung it open.

The surprised eyes staring back at her, however, were not the ones she had expected to see.

X x x

Catherine didn't really know what to expect, but she was surprised when the door swung open to reveal a startled Sara donning penguin-decorated pyjama pants and a Harvard t-shirt. Her brunette curls were tousled and she looked equally as surprised as Catherine.

"Hey," the blonde said softly, looking Sara up and down. "Cute PJs," she smiled, trying to break the ice. Sara immediately became self-conscious and folded her arms across her chest defensively.

"If you've come to yell at me, save it. I'm too tired." Her voice was weak and thick with exhaustion.

"I'm not here to fight Sara." Catherine smiled gently; well aware of the fact that she was on Sara's property, and the girl was not known for her openness when cornered. "Can I come in?"

Sara deliberated shutting the door and actually going to bed, but ultimately she knew it would be pointless. Catherine would only keep trying.

Or she would enlist help.

Stepping aside, she let the woman brush past her into the flat and shut the door – ensuring to bolt it, just in case.

Cath was surprised by Sara's apartment. It was small, but homely. Deep red walls and dark wood floors created an atmosphere of warmth and the tasteful furniture was inviting. It was a single room, apart from the bathroom. The bed in the corner was undisturbed and the creased cushions on the cream faux-leather couch indicated Sara had been napping. The TV was still on, muted, and the news presenter continued to gesture wildly to himself.

Sara had already begun making coffee. She seemed nervous, but more relaxed than she had been earlier in the day. "Can I get you anything?"

"Sure, coffee would be great thanks." Cath replied while surreptitiously investigating the apartment. There was a guitar propped up against the bookcase. She didn't know Sara played guitar.

The brunette handed her a mug and they sat down in unison; Cath on the couch and Sara on the chair. Catherine noted how she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them – she looked more vulnerable then she had ever seen her before, almost child-like.

"Sara, about earlier…" Cath started but she was abruptly cut off.

"Can we please not talk about that?"

"I'm sorry Sara, but we have to talk about it sometime." She insisted, leaning forward. "If someone's hurt you then I want to know who."

"It's nothing like that." Sara murmured, keeping her gaze low.

"Well it sure as hell looks like that, so unless you've got a better explanation…"

"I'm sick." The lie slipped out beyond Sara's control, but it had the desired effect. Catherine stopped talking and eyed her carefully.

"What do you mean?"

Sara shifted, trying to think on her feet.

"I … I collapsed. That's how I hit my head."

For the first time, she felt herself relax a little as Cath seemed the buy the excuse. The older woman put down her mug and moved to perch on the edge of the coffee table, gripping Sara's wrists lightly.

"Are you alright?" She asked, concern swimming in her blue eyes. Sara felt a pang of guilt at putting that look on her face, but it was too late to go back now.

"Yeah, I … it happens sometimes. I keep meaning to go to the doctors, but…"

"Well, I can go with you if you like?" Catherine offered softly.

"No!" Sara gulped, shaking her head. "No, I'll be fine."

Cath shook her head in loss.

"Sara, hon, how long has this been going on?"

"I don't know." She shrugged weakly. "A few months I guess."

"Oh Sara, you should have told us. What if this had happened at a crime scene?"

"I know, I'm sorry." She murmured, the first genuine thing she had said all morning. "I thought I could handle it at first but it started to get worse."

Catherine took her hand carefully, rubbing her thumb over the back of it in small comforting circles.

"I wish you'd said something sooner."

"Yeah, me too." Sara cleared her throat.

She hated lying to her friend almost as much as she hated living with the knowledge that she'd put that sad look in those ocean blue eyes.

Then again, when she thought about it, not everything she'd said tonight was a lie. Take out the part about being ill, and the rest was pretty much accurate.