AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed - I appreciate your support for this new adventure more than you know. And, as to the question many of you posed regarding a C/S relationship in this story, I feel 99% certain there will end up being a C/S romance. May be a complicated road getting there, though. :)

Hope everyone is doing well.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 2

"It is one of the chief skills of the philosopher not to occupy himself with questions which do not concern him."

Ludwig Wittgenstein

CATHERINE POV

"Misty Godden."

Sara looks up, putting her pen down on the table.

Nodding, she slides over the boxes containing the evidence from the other scenes.

We spent most of shift today revisiting each crime scene. Then, when we got back to the lab, we started going back through the evidence from each victim, one by one.

Now, it's three hours past the end of shift and we've just made it to the last victim.

I'm exhausted, and I know the brunette can't be any better off. But, looking at her determined features, I'm reminded of just how hard it is to read Sara.

"Body found on the corner of Prince and Topaz," she reviews, slicing open the evidence seal. "Twenty six years old. Cause of death, stab wound to the lower back, just like the others."

We divvy up the evidence, just like we have for the victim's before her. Sara takes the trace evidence and crime scene photos while I take the victim's clothing and possessions.

Working through them in silence, we jot down our notes and impressions.

When I finish with my portion, I step out for a moment to grab some coffee from the breakroom.

Smiling at the various lab workers still here at this hour, I breathe in deeply, enjoying the feeling of being back to the halls and spaces that feel so familiar to me.

Though I love my job with the FBI, it feels good to be back on familiar ground.

Moving into the breakroom, I'm about to leave with my coffee when I turn and pour a second cup.

Reversing my path back to the layout room, I sit back down.

Glancing over and seeing the look of intense concentration on my companion's face, I would wager good money she never noticed that I left.

Sliding a coffee towards her, I watch as she doesn't react, writing more notes.

Pushing it further, I place it right under her face.

Finally, she looks up.

Curiously, she glances at me, the coffee, me again.

"Oh, thanks," she offers, putting her pen down.

"Sure," I smile.

Sara looks over her notes before taking a sip of her coffee.

"I think I'm finished."

"Me too," I tell her, though I think my leaving to get coffee was an indicator of that.

Sara nods, sitting up straight and moving slightly back from the table. Stretching out her shoulders, she picks up her coffee to hold it in her hands.

"Anything new?"

"No," I shake my head in frustration. "Just like the others, nothing I can see that wasn't pursued previously."

Sara nods. "Same," she says. "But at least now we're both personally familiar with each victim, each scene."

I nod, appreciating Sara's ability to see something optimistic in what could otherwise be seen as a damn frustrating experience.

Helping her pack up the last box, we place it next to the others along the counter.

"You headed out?" she asks me, finishing the rest of her coffee before tossing the cup in the garbage.

"Yeah, I should," I rub my eyes. "Not sure how much longer I can stay awake."

Watching me, she takes my empty coffee cup and tosses it out as well.

"You need a ride home?" she asks, trying to gage whether I'm too tired to drive.

"No, no," I wave off her concern. "Thanks, but I'll be fine."

She nods, following me out to the locker room.

"Where are you staying while you're here, anyway?" she questions as we move to our respective lockers.

"My mother's house."

Sara snorts, trying to control her facial expression.

"Sorry," she offers. "That came out before I could help it…"

Laughing, I roll my eyes. "No, laugh. It's ridiculous. And a nightmare."

"I thought you and your mom got along?" she probes, grabbing her keys from her shelf.

"We do," I agree. "But something about living with your mother when you're in your forties just feels wrong. On so many levels."

Sara smiles, closing her locker door.

"I'll have to take your word on that."

Walking out to the parking lot, I watch Sara get into her car.

"See you tomorrow," I tell her, unlocking my own.

She nods. "Drive safe."

When I arrive at the lab the next morning, I know Sara's beaten me in.

I know because her car is parked next to mine, but I also know because it's Sara.

"Hey," I hear the greeting as I pass by the parking lot towards the front door.

Turning, I smile in surprise at Sara herself.

"Hey there. I was just thinking about you…"

Sending me an odd look, she gestures towards the lab.

"I have everything all laid out in layout room 6. Thought we'd start working on the timelines and victomology. See if we can find any connections between the victims."

"Great," I raise my brows. "That sounds good."

Watching her, I quirk my head to the side.

"How long have you been here, Sara?"

She smirks slightly, "Not long."

"Right."

Turning to head inside, I look over at the sound of a phone vibrating.

Sara reaches into her jeans pocket, pulling out the offending device. Glancing at the caller ID she sends the call to voicemail, pushing the phone back into her pocket.

Raising a brow, I don't comment on her dodged call, heading towards the lab.

"What're you doing out here anyway?"

She hesitates.

"Nothing," she eventually shrugs. "Just getting some fresh air."

"Right."

Stopping, I turn to face her.

She stops as well, giving me a funny look for the second time in our brief interaction.

"Cath?"

I take hold of her shoulder. Feeling her tense, I turn her around.

Reaching into her back pocket, I pull out the items I knew I would find.

"Fresh air, huh?"

Sara turns back around to face me.

Eyebrow raised, she now looks at me like I've gone absolutely batty.

"When did you start again?" I question, gesturing to the pack of cigarettes and lighter in my hand.

"What makes you think I ever stopped?" she counters.

"Sara…"

She hesitates, eying her possessions currently in my possession.

"About a year and a half ago."

Now I raise my own brows.

I left about a year ago. A year and a half ago is while I was still working here.

"I never noticed," I state quietly.

Sara's eyes move up to mine.

"I never wanted you to notice."

I watch her for a moment before shoving her cigarettes and lighter in my pocket.

"Catherine?" she questions, hand reaching out for her possessions.

"Nope," I tell her, turning to head back in the lab. "Your contraband stays with me."

"Contraband?" she snorts. "You make it sound like I'm shooting heroin."

"Nope," I climb the front steps. "Just giving yourself lung cancer."

"Catherine…"

Turning, I fix her with a look I perfected for Lindsey when she was being ridiculous.

"You're not getting them back, Sidle. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Deciding to pick her battles, Sara sends one more look down to my pocket before opening the lab door for me.

"I'm going to grab a coffee," she says. "I may or may not bring you back one. I'm going to have to think about it."

I laugh, rolling my eyes at her.

"See you in the layout room."

"So how are things in DC?" Sara questions as she writes another note on our layout board with erasable marker.

"Good," I answer honestly. "I'm really enjoying the work I do. And I have a good team of people around me."

Sara sends me a genuine smile over her shoulder.

"Good," she says, expression turning more serious. "I know things here were getting a bit rough for you before you left."

"They were." I've never hidden the fact that the circumstances before I left were neither fair nor tolerable to me. "I needed a change, move on and start new somewhere else."

Sara nods. "You're happy?"

I smile at her concern. "I'm happy."

She searches my eyes. Seeing my honesty, she nods with a small smile before turning back around to face the board holding our timeline and information on all the victims.

We continue to work in silence.

But, watching her as I look up, I can't keep quiet about something that's been on my own mind for awhile.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" she answers distractedly, making another mark on our board.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened with Basderic."

She pauses, arm suspended over the board mid-word, my comment clearly catching her off guard.

Resuming her writing, she doesn't turn around.

"Thanks."

I shake my head, knowing she can't see me. Sara's always been stoic – never letting on when she's hurting or upset. She guards herself and her emotions so tightly that it's hard to get a read on how she's feeling about anything.

"Are you alright?" I take a risk by asking.

I know from experience she hates being asked if she's okay.

But, that's just too damn bad.

"I'm fine," she answers predictably, continuing to make notes on the board. "It's over."

I watch her for a while longer, not knowing whether to push further.

"The guys kept me informed."

She nods, not commenting.

"I wish you would've told me yourself, Sara. Or talked to me about it at all, really."

She pauses, but still not turning around.

"Why?"

Putting down my own pen I lean back in my chair, piercing the back of her head with my gaze.

"When Nick was going through his tough time, when he adopted Sam, you updated me on how he was doing and let me know what was going on so I could check in on him."

She remains silent.

"When DB was going through issues with his family, you were sure to mention it to me."

Silence.

"When Greg was taking his CSI level III exam, you told me so I could send him some words of encouragement."

Standing, I move around to lean my hip on the table across from her.

"What made you think I wouldn't want to hear about that bastard Ronald Basderic stalking you, trying to frame you for murder?"

I shake my head, wishing she would turn around and give me her eyes.

"Sara, what made you think I wouldn't care about you like I care about the rest of the team?"

Sara remains quiet.

I wait her out, letting the silence grow so she knows I'm waiting for an answer. That the question wasn't rhetorical.

"I was fine," Sara eventually states. "It wasn't some big-"

"Bullshit," I cut her off. "Don't even try to tell me it wasn't a big deal. You got arrested, Sara. Processed. He drugged you, stalked you, tormented you. Then, he tried to kill you."

"I know," Sara says, finally turning around. "I was there."

"Then stop trying to convince me it was no big deal," I plead, voice softening as I see the tension in her frame, the darkness in her eyes.

"It's over. Whether it was a big deal or not. That's all that matters."

"Sometimes the event is over," I say softly. "But its impact on carries on for a long time."

Sara's attention goes to the marker in her hand.

Taking a deep breath, Sara straightens up, eyes returning to mine.

"Thanks for your concern."

With that statement, I know the conversation is over. That she's politely telling me to drop it.

I watch her go back to work, this time her body more tense then before.

I know I shouldn't have expected anything else, but I still feel somewhat upset by Sara's dismissal of my concern. I didn't expect her to open up and cry on my shoulder, I know she isn't the type, but I'd hoped perhaps she had become a bit less stubborn since I'd left.

Thought maybe the time and distance between us had done something to open a new line of communication between us.

But, if anything, she seems even more closed off to me than she was when I worked with her.

Which, is saying a lot.

"I think I may have found a connection between two of our victims," I call out, moving back around the table and granting her wish of dropping the topic of Basderic.

For now.

"Yeah?" she questions, now giving me her full attention.

"Yes," I confirm. "Two of the vics worked, for a brief time, at the same nightclub."

"Really?" Sara questions in surprise. "I would've thought we'd have caught that before."

"The club had a different name when the first vic worked there, but I recognized the name."

Sara raises a brow.

"Wanna check it out?" she asks, an excited smile pulling at her mouth.

"Absolutely."

Focus shifting from a psychopath to a serial killer, we head out in pursuit of our first genuine lead.

Here's hoping I start having more luck with this case than I've had so far with Sara Sidle.

AN: Thanks for reading.