AN: Thank you to the reviewers, it really helps knowing people's thoughts regarding the story. Not to mention providing a much needed moment of happiness after and before hectic days at work. The little bit of escape is both very helpful and appreciated.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 4

"In comradeship is danger countered best."

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

CATHERINE POV

"Damn piece of shit car," I curse again, kicking its tire. As if it's an animate object and can feel my violence.

Cursing again, I shake out my foot. I can certainly feel my violence.

Hearing an engine, I turn to see Sara pulling into the drive.

She shuts off the engine, closing her door as she steps up to the back of my car.

It was the epitome of bad timing after what happened between us last night that I had to call her this morning to ask for a ride. Seriously, only this ridiculousness would happen to me.

Our phone conversation was brief, Sara mostly listening before offering to swing by and give me a ride. It was a bit awkward, yes, but both of us apparently resolutely deciding to avoid the issue made it more tolerable.

"Problems, I hear?" Sara questions, stepping around the car slowly, eventually moving her eyes up to mine.

God bless her, she mostly succeeds in trying to keep the smile off her face.

"Won't start."

Sara raises a brow, "Want me to take a look?"

"You know what to look for?"

Sara shrugs. "Probably not, don't have the most experience with fancy pants Lexuses."

"Well," I shrug as well. "When you put it that way…"

I send her a look, "And, for the record, it's the car the FBI chose, not me."

She tries to hold back a smile, sending me an innocent shrug. "I wasn't judging, only realizing that I'm apparently in the wrong line of work."

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes, "Well, 'fancy pants' car or not, it's the rental company's problem now."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I answer, letting out a breath. "We unfortunately have enough work of our own to get started on."

I glare at my car one last time before gesturing back to the house. "I just have to run in and grab my bag."

Heading up the steps, my mother steps out at the same time.

"What's going on, Cathy?" she questions. "You're up making so much racket at this early hour. I do have neighbors, you know."

"Car trouble," I mutter, walking past her.

Grabbing my bag, I step back out of the house to find my mother approaching Sara, who is still staring at my car with a thoughtful expression.

"Mother!" I call, causing both her and Sara to turn.

My mother turns back around, completing her journey.

"You must be Sara Sidle," my mother states, looking Sara up and down.

"Uh, yes ma'am," Sara answers politely, shooting me a curious look.

"Nice to finally meet you," Lily says pointedly. "Don't believe I've ever actually seen you in person. Just on the news."

"Right," Sara says. "Nice to meet you, too."

"When Cathy had the boys over for dinner and things, I guess you were never able to make it. I don't remember seeing you when I would pick up Lindsey."

Sara grows more uncomfortable.

"I guess not."

"Mother," I cut into this ridiculously awkward conversation. "We have to get going."

"Of course," she sends us a sugary smile. "You have important things to do. Don't let me hold you up."

"It was nice meeting you," Sara offers, pulling her keys from her pocket.

My mother studies Sara, eyes moving from her feet, up her light fitted jeans, up her dark maroon sweater, finally landing back at her eyes.

"Be safe," she says, fake smile returning to her face.

As we get in the car, she places her hand along the frame of Sara's open window.

"Oh, Sara honey," she says in a stage whisper she knows we can both hear clearly. "That whole business about you being arrested for murder that was all over the television…"

Sara stiffens as her hand hovers with the keys just above the ignition.

"I never thought you did it."

Sara's voice is quiet, tight, "Thanks."

My mother smiles, stepping back and waving as Sara starts the car and pulls out of the drive.

"I'm sorry," I apologize for the thirtieth time since we started this drive.

"It's fine," Sara shrugs, repeating her own comment for the thirtieth time.

"My mother has very little, if any, tact."

"It's really okay," Sara changes lanes. "It's not the first time I've heard that same comment since the Basderic nonsense. I'm not naive enough to think it's going to be the last either."

"And hey," Sara sends me a smile, "at least she doesn't think I did it…that's a plus."

"Sara," I groan, covering my face in my hands.

I feel Sara's hand on my arm, the brunette giving it a small squeeze before returning her attention to the road.

"It's really fine," she tells me.

I watch her profile, wondering how the hell she can be so forgiving and goodnatured about this.

How she can be so composed, in general.

I was nervous to face her after the incident in the locker room. It goes without saying that we didn't part in the most comfortable of ways last shift. But, seeing Sara's attitude today, her characteristic calm and steady nature despite my mother's insensitive comments, I'm relieved to see the brunette's attitude and actions have returned to normal.

While I'm not one for avoidance, I think right now neither one of us are ready to address the issues last night brought to light.

My musings are interrupted by the ringing of my phone.

"Willows."

Listening to the caller, I hang up after a minute.

"You okay?" Sara asks as I watch my phone with dark eyes.

"We have another scene."

"Another scene…?" she glances over before turning into the next lane, voice and tone sober. "You mean…"

"Yeah," I breathe out. "Another victim."

Heading towards the street, I find Sara standing by the curb, leaning against a privacy wall.

Taking in multiple deep breaths, I clear my thoughts of the images from the alley behind me.

The dingy alley that now serves as the final resting place for our latest victim. The alley that holds so much violence, so much devastation and loss.

Moving towards her, I see her look up at me, watching me as I approach.

"Hey," she greets neutrally.

"Hey," I gesture to her hand. "I see you're back on the horse."

Sara nods, unapologetically finishing her cigarette. "Had to light it with some stones and a stick though, since someone took my lighter."

"Very funny."

I lean against the wall beside her.

"I may actually ask to borrow one from you before this trip's over," I confess.

"You alright?" she questions seriously, hazel eyes searching my expression.

And there, on clear display, is Sara's uncanny ability to assess and reach out to those around her.

"I'm tired, frustrated, and damn sick of chasing after this killer like some lost puppy."

Sara listens to my words, my honesty, taking a deep breath.

"We're doing the best we can, Cath," she offers quietly. "We can't create evidence that isn't there or leads that aren't legit."

"I know," I kick at the ground. "But it's still frustrating."

"I know," she mirrors my own words back to me. "But you're one of the best investigators in the country. Surely one of the best I've ever worked with. You can't tell me you honestly think there's someone else who could be moving this case along any faster or working it any better."

Standing there in silence for awhile, I shake my head.

"How do you always do that?"

My question clearly confuses Sara, the brunette quirking her head slightly.

"Do what?"

"So successfully comfort and reach out to help those around you."

She looks even more confused, clearing wondering why I'm questioning her when she was just being honest.

Taking a deep breath, I squeeze her shoulder.

"Thank you," I settle on saying.

"Sure," she breathes out, both of us remaining in silence before we return to the task of notifying another family that their daughter is never coming home.

"I need a drink."

Sara looks up, shooting me a curious look.

"I know it's not professional," I roll my eyes. "But I'm beyond giving a shit."

I toss my pen on the layout table, watching it skitter near the edge.

"I can't sit here another minute looking at this girl's beaten body, seeing her parents' devastated faces in my head, knowing we have yet again absolutely no useful evidence."

"We don't know that yet," Sara states gently. "There are still a lot of things running through trace."

"I'll bet you a hundred dollars not one of them is probative."

Sara watches me quietly.

"Come on," she states, pushing her tall frame to a stand, stretching out her muscles.

"Where?"

"You said you needed a drink," she answers slowly like I'm brain damaged. "So let's go get one."

"Where?"

"Finn's office. Bottom drawer."

My eyes widen.

Rolling her own eyes, Sara moves to the door.

"I was thinking one of the establishments that sell alcohol. But, dear me, wherever will we find one of those…"

"Alright, alright, smartass," I call out, getting to my feet. "I get it."

Hesitating as I get to the doorway, Sara gets serious.

"We've done all we can for today, Catherine. The evidence is going to be running for at least another couple hours. We need fresh eyes when we get the results."

Looking her over, I see, despite her upbeat demeanor, the paleness of her features and the exhaustion in her frame.

"Okay," I agree, knowing we both need a break. "But I get to pick the place."

"Seriously?" Sara calls. "This is the place you choose?"

I nod. "Yup."

"Seriously?"

"Sidle, get out of the car."

"But…this is…"

"I know exactly where this is."

She looks at me with hesitance. "This…"

"Yes, Sara, this is my home. And, this is me getting annoyed as I stand outside in the cold waiting for you to get your ass out of the damn car."

"Why here?" She doesn't make a move to exit the vehicle.

"Look," I tell her seriously. "I want to relax, not have to worry about a crazy bar scene or how I'm getting home."

Sara finally gets out.

"Your mother might disapprove of your drinking partner," Sara mutters, walking with me up to the front door. "Might worry I'll stab you with my drinking glass…"

"Sara," I snort. "My mother doesn't know you. And, more to the point, my mother is out of town."

"Yeah?" Sara's expression lightens.

Placing my hand on her back, I walk with her into the house with a smile.

"Yeah."

"So, your mother bought your home when you left Vegas?"

"Yeah," I hand Sara a wineglass, watching her as she looks over her surroundings. "She was looking for a place, didn't want to see it go on the market."

"It's beautiful."

"Thanks."

Sara takes a sip of her wine, eyes taking in the various items displayed on the bookshelf.

"You never told me you were such a good artist."

I groan, reaching over and practically dragging Sara away from the shelves.

"I don't know why in the world she insists on keeping that retched thing."

"Because she loves you?" Sara questions with a smile. "And no one can craft a turtle using finger paint quite as well as you can."

"I swear," I threaten, sitting beside her on the couch. "If you ever tell the guys…"

"I'm surprised they don't already know," Sara shrugs. "You know, from all the parties you had without me…"

"Jesus," I breathe out. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Sara smiles, "Probably not."

Our conversation continues on light topics, Sara asking a lot about how Lindsey's doing at college, what my team members are like in DC.

We talk, laugh, then laugh some more before Sara realizes how late it is.

Standing, she helps me take the now empty wine bottle and glasses to the kitchen.

"You mind if I borrow your phone to call a cab?"

"What?" I shake my head. "No, Sara, stay here for the night, it's late."

"No, it's fine-"

"Sara," I cut her off. "By the time you get back to your place, you're only going to get a couple hours of sleep before you have to turn back around and give me a ride to the lab. This way we both get some decent rest and just leave together in the morning."

She hesitates, fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

"Come on," I continue. "There's a spare room and I know you keep an extra change of clothes in your Tahoe."

Sara ponders the proposition a few moments more, but in the end I think exhaustion wins out and she agrees.

"Great," I smile. "Let me go get you some towels."

Waking in the morning, I stretch, glancing at the clock and the sun starting to filter through the windows.

Smiling, I remember the night with Sara, the easy conversation and the relaxing time we shared. The brunette succeeded spectacularly in getting my mind off the case, helping me gather myself back together so I can wake up today refreshed and ready to carry on.

Stepping out of bed, I grab a sweater from my chair and wrap it around myself before heading down the stairs.

Glancing around, I notice some muffins and coffee on the counter from the local bakery. Seeing blueberry, my favorite, I unabashedly consume about half before I take my first sip of coffee.

Looking around, I note that Sara isn't anywhere to be found.

Walking through the living room, I again glance around, drinking my coffee.

By the time I think to look outside, I swallow the last bite of my muffin.

Opening my front door, I see Sara sitting along my front steps.

"Hey," I greet with a smile. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing out."

Sara doesn't respond, and I sit next to her on the steps.

"Thanks for the muffins, and the coffee."

Sara still doesn't respond, and for the first time I pick up on her tension.

"Sara?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sara finally reacts to my presence, swallowing tightly.

"Sara," I try again in concern. "You're making me nervous…"

Seeing her darkened features, I furrow my brows, reaching out to place my hand on her leg.

The moment I make contact, Sara pushes away, hastily standing and taking a couple steps away.

"Don't."

Raising my hands in surrender, my eyes are wide.

"Sara, what's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, Sara's own eyes remain anywhere but near my own.

Pointing back near the house, she directs her dark gaze behind me.

Furrowing my brows and following her line of sight, I see a small brown package leaning up against the house.

Instantly, my stomach plummets.

Feeling the blood drain from my limbs, I turn my gaze to Sara, who is now darkly staring at the ground.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Her question hangs in the air, the hurt clear to read in her tone despite her efforts to cover it.

I breathe in, hanging my own head, trying to settle the pounding of my heart.

"Sara…"

I trail off, knowing there's nothing I can say to make this alright. There's no excuse for this.

"I…" I trail off, forcing myself to look up.

Seeing her dark expression, I force myself to give her the respect of looking at her regardless of how hard it is to see the hurt in her features.

"I saw him," Sara grinds out, forcing her own self to meet my gaze. The fire in her eyes is an intensity of anger I've very rarely seen in Sara.

Catching up to her words, my heart starts to pound through my chest.

"He was right here, Catherine," Sara forces out. "Walking away when I came back from getting the coffee and muffins."

She shakes her head.

"He was right here."

I'm sure I look paler than a corpse right now.

"If I'd known…"

She trails off, knowing she doesn't need to finish her statement.

I know exactly how badly I screwed up, the extent of the repercussions of my mistake.

"Sara…"

"No," Sara says tightly. "Don't bother."

Her gaze fixes on mine for a moment before she looks back at the package.

"I opened it," she says, trying to take in deep breaths and settle her emotions down to focus on addressing the issues at hand. "I picked it up to move it inside, but…there was blood…so I…"

Sara absently opens and closes her hands into tight fists.

I close my eyes, knowing her well enough to know she wouldn't have washed her hands in order to preserve the evidence. God only knows how long she's been stuck sitting out here with that blood on her hands before I woke up.

"What is it?" I ask, my voice now nearly a whisper.

"Skin," she gets out. "Hair."

I close my eyes.

"Whose are they?" Sara questions tightly.

"The next victim's," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady. "He sends them after we find a victim, to let me know he already has another girl, and that we'll be finding her own body soon."

Sara's jaw tightens. "How long?"

"Since the first girl."

Sara shakes her head.

"You're being targeted by this killer," Sara struggles to get out. "And you don't think to share that with me?"

"Sara, I-"

"Stop," Sara again cuts me off. "There's nothing you can say, so let's not bother."

Breathing out, I rub my temples, knowing she's right, but wishing she would let me apologize to her.

I know well enough how shitty of a move it was to keep this from her. How important a part of the case this is.

To be honest, I don't really have a good excuse for it, either. I think me coming back to Vegas made me think I was somehow getting a fresh start on this case. I didn't want to delve back into the terror of receiving those damn packages at my apartment in DC. Knowing some killer back in Vegas wanted me to have them, tracking me all the way to DC to give them to me.

Perhaps I thought by not bringing it up, maybe the packages wouldn't follow me to Vegas.

"We, uh," I clear my throat. "We need to get this package to the lab. The others haven't been helpful, all the girls he picks, despite their pasts, haven't been in the system. There's been no way for us to use them to find the girl before…"

Sara remains silent, anger radiating off her in waves. And, she has every right to be angry.

"Sar," I broach gently. "We need to collect the blood evidence from you."

She doesn't comment, already knowing this.

Tightening her jaw, she remains keeping her hands away from her body.

"The keys to the Tahoe are in my front right pocket."

I nod, approaching her slowly, trying to make this as painless as possible. I know she hates being touched on the best of days, and right now, as mad as she is at me, I'm sure I'm the last person she wants in her personal space.

Holding her hip with my left hand, I reach down into her pocket with my other, grabbing the keys.

Moving into the drive, I open the trunk of the SUV, grabbing her evidence kit.

Making my way back up the drive, I set the kit down on the porch. Picking out a couple swabs, I approach Sara.

Holding her hands out on front of her, Sara's gaze remains averted as I swab the blood marring her fingers and parts of her palms.

"Alright," I look her over. "I think that's good."

Sara closes her hands, stepping away from me.

Grabbing her belt before she has a chance to move completely out of reach, I hold her there.

"Sara, I'm sorry," I get out before she can cut me off. "I'm so so sorry."

Her gaze remains off to my left, the tension in her body clearly palpable beneath my fingers.

Finally, her gaze meets mine.

"Okay," she whispers.

Deciding this is the best I'm going to get for now, I nod, letting go of her.

"If you don't mind," Sara looks towards her hands. "I'd like to get to the lab, take a shower…"

I know better than to offer her to take one here. I know she needs space to herself, to recenter herself. And, I know the brunette doesn't want to taint my, now my mother's, home with the blood of a girl we know is currently being tortured, and is soon to be killed.

She doesn't want me to think about that every time I step in my shower. And, I'm so grateful to her for that.

"Of course," I nod, packing up her evidence kit. "Just give me minute to get changed. Then we'll bag the package and head in."

Sara nods, her voice stopping me when I have my hand on the door.

"Is this why?"

I turn.

"Is this why you wanted me to work this case?" Sara asks. "Because I'm the one you can lie to and not feel guilty about it?"

Eyes widening, I'm too stunned to speak for a minute.

After all these years, to think she honestly thinks that's how I see her, that I would use her in that way, it's devastating.

"Sara," I breathe out, trying to steady myself. "That's not it at all."

Sara remains silent.

"Look at me."

Her dark gaze stays on the driveway.

"Sara," I state, this time my voice stern.

Moving up to her, I take hold of her jaw. "Look. At. Me."

Feeling her teeth clench tightly, she finally makes eye contact.

"Yes, the fact that the killer has been sending these demonic packages to me is the reason I chose you."

She starts to pull away, and I grab her side with my free hand, taking advantage of the fact she doesn't want to touch me with the blood on her hands to help free herself from my tight grip.

"This case, his packages, it all scares the shit out of me. And you, Sara Sidle, are the only person I trust to have my back."

I match her tense gaze.

"We've had our differences, yes. But, despite that, you're the person I trust most with my life, Sara."

I clear my throat, trying to keep the emotion from choking me.

"So, did I use you for my own benefit? Yes. Was it selfish of me after everything you've just gone through yourself? Yes. And for that I'm sorry, I really am. But don't you dare think for a minute it's because of any other reason than the fact I trust you in ways I can't explain. Ways that I don't trust anyone else on the team."

Sara continues to watch me, clearly trying to take in my confession.

Moving the hand clenching her jaw, I take the aggression out of my grip and move it down to squeeze her shoulder gently.

Saying nothing more, I turn back around to head inside and get ready.

AN: Thanks for reading.