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CHAPTER 17

"It is our relation to circumstances that determine their influence over us. The same wind that blows one ship into port may blow another off shore."

Christian Nevell Bovee

CATHERINE POV

"Hey," Morgan looks up at me in surprise. "You alright? Should you be here…?"

I smile, "I'm fine Morgan, I got cleared to leave the hospital days ago."

"Right," she says, a slight blush creeping up her pale skin. "Sorry. Just, you've been there so much with Sara…"

"Yeah," the smile drops from my face and I distract myself by glancing around the evidence in the room. "Thought I'd give her a reprieve from me for a bit."

Morgan doesn't comment, clearly knowing something is up but wise enough to let me be about it.

"Is this the evidence from the scene?"

Morgan nods, looking at me with sad, watchful eyes.

"Yeah," she breathes out.

A quick glance along the evidence being displayed is enough to make my stomach turn.

There's Sara and my ripped, bloody clothing along one side. Metal chains and restraints used to nearly kill Sara along the other side.

"Catherine…"Morgan slowly comes to move between me and the evidence table. "Don't do this to yourself."

I reach out, finally breaking my gaze with the bloodied items on the table to squeeze her arm.

"It's fine," I tell her seriously. "Seeing the items in person is no different than when I see them every night in my nightmares."

Morgan's expression shifts, her eyes growing even more saddened.

"Catherine…"

"It's fine," I tell her seriously. "We got those bastards, no one is going to die at their hands ever again."

I look up.

"It ended with us."

Morgan squeezes my shoulder, taking a deep breath before backing up slightly.

"How's Sara," she asks, changing the subject to something more pleasant.

Little does she know that the 'Sara subject' is the only one less pleasant to me right now than the previous one.

"She's alright," I state quietly. "Or at least that's what she keeps saying, right?"

Morgan smiles slightly while shaking her head.

"I thought I knew stubborn people, then I moved here and met her."

I smile despite the dark emotions churning inside my stomach at the mere mention of Sara's name.

"I think she's got a long way to go in her recovery," I state honestly, knowing the brunette is in pain no matter how hard she tries to hide it when I'm around her. No matter how hard she's tried to hide the long list of injuries she's currently battling.

"But she's Sara," I finally end up whispering, a small smile playing at my lips despite myself.

The brunette is nothing if not determined, and I know she's going to come out of this okay.

Like she said, her stubborn ass wouldn't have it any other way.

Swallowing tightly, I excuse myself.

Heading off to find DB, I take a deep steadying breath.

I'm about to have the second hardest conversations I've had this past week.

Entering her hospital room, Sara is sitting up in her bed, legs over the side, free hand clutching tightly to the handrail and eyes clenched tightly shut.

"You sure you're ready to be sitting up like that?" I question with raised brows, noting her slightly hunched posture.

"I damn well better be," she responds, eyes opening and a calm expression immediately returning to mask the previously pained one. "Because it's happening."

I smile despite myself. It's damn good to see her sitting up on her own again, though it may not be the wisest of choices.

Sara's been tenacious about her recovery so far, pushing herself a bit more every day, trying to rush her body along the process as quickly as it can handle. She's adamant about getting out of the hospital and back to her life.

Though, noting her pale features and tense posture she can't hide no matter how hard she likely wants to, I think the brunette is also being forced to acknowledge that even her body has its limits.

I commend her dedication, but I hate to think of her being in pain.

"Well," I tell her, trying to push my emotions aside. "I brought you something to help you celebrate your victory over the challenge of sitting up."

I extend out the coffee in my hand.

This is the first time I've seen Sara since the 'attempted kiss' a couple days ago. I checked in on her by speaking with Hannah over the phone multiple times a day, making sure she was okay.

I learned yesterday that Sara was doing the same thing for me via Brass.

I wish sometimes that Sara was a jerk, that way her rejection of me would hurt less. If she was a jerk, I could easily forget about her and put this all behind me.

But, the brunette has been nothing but kind to me, caring and concerned about me as I work on my own journey to recovery. Her quiet, supportive presence has meant the world to me throughout this hellish experience, and the idea of being without the caring brunette is terrifying.

But, it's now also reality.

I care for Sara deeply, but she made her decision clear. And, I need to respect that and let it go. Let her go.

But, even being in the same room as her right now feels like torture, my hands wanting to reach out and touch her, hold her.

It's hell, and it's unbearable.

I thought I was stronger than this, but after the latest events we went through, I guess I'm a lot less tolerant of emotional torture than I used to be.

"Seriously?" Sara asks quietly in disbelief, pulling me from my thoughts. "Is it…"

"Real coffee?" I nod. "You bet."

"Oh my God…" she mumbles, taking the offered cup. "Thank you."

You'd think it was gold I was giving her. But knowing Sara's coffee addiction and the fact that she hasn't been able to drink anything but clear liquids since she's been in the hospital, to the brunette it's better than gold.

She takes a tentative sip, closing her eyes in pleasure.

"Catherine, you didn't have to do this," she says. "Thank you…"

"I cleared it with Hannah," I tell her. "But Dr. Roth knows nothing about it, so I suggest you try to keep it that way."

She nods, eyes closing in a rare expression of peace as she takes another sip.

"Look, Sara," I broach, moving around to place myself on the edge of the seat next to her bed. "There's something I need to talk with you about."

She opens her eyes, looking at me with concern as she gives me her full attention.

"Is this about the other day…" she asks in almost a whisper. "Because I-"

"No, no," I shake my head, cutting her off before she goes further, before she can utter more apologies, more words to rip my heart apart even further. "Don't worry about that. I need to talk with you about something else."

She goes quiet, obeying my request, but concern still colors her piercing gaze.

"I need to go back to Washington."

The words hang between us, Sara's expression barely changing as she tries to take in the news I just dropped on her.

"Okay…" she starts hesitantly. "When?"

Swallowing, I shake my head apologetically.

"Oh," she gets out.

The brunette's expression finally shifting, it's now much more guarded, and I have a hard time figuring out what she's feeling.

But, judging from the glints of emotion I catch in her eyes, I can pretty much guess.

"Sara," I breathe out. "I'm sorry. It's not by choice."

"No," she shakes her head, sending me a polite nod. "Of course, you have a job to go back to."

"It's just, they know I've been released from the hospital and cleared to fly…so they know there's no reason for me to still be in Vegas."

Sara swallows tightly.

"No reason…" she whispers, eyes fixed on mine before she looks away.

"Sara…"

"No, Catherine," she cuts me off. "The case is over. You have a job, a life to get back to. I understand."

The brunette is doing a damn masterful job of censoring her emotions right now. It's making me feel even more tense, having no idea what she's thinking. Just like how she's dealt with all her injuries, she reacts to this stoically, not revealing what she's really feeling.

"I'd stay longer if I could," I tell her. "I hate just up and leaving-"

"Stop."

It's Sara's words this time cutting off my apologetic rant before it can even start.

She brings her hazel eyes back up to mine. "It's fine, Catherine. Really."

"Are you going to be al-"

"I'll be fine," she again cuts me off.

"I want to hear updates," I tell her sternly. "I want to hear about how you're doing and how your recovery is coming."

"Okay."

"Every step of the way, Sara."

"Okay."

Breathing out, I hesitate only a moment before I reach forward, running my hand through Sara's dark hair.

I close my eyes against the emotions running through me.

When I open them again, I see Sara's own eyes are lowered, her features haunted.

Pulling back, I squeeze her good hand one last time and step away.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"It's fine," she responds quietly. "Take care of yourself, Catherine."

Backing out the door, I try to keep the tears from escaping as I gently close the door behind me.

Breathing in deeply to steady myself, I glance through her window in time to see her push the coffee I brought her as far away from her as she can reach.

If my conscience wasn't already screaming the same thing at me, that one simple action would have let me know how very not fine this is.

Plane landing, I silently grab my luggage. Walking the long way down the causeway, I feel like I'm in a daze.

All I keep seeing, all I keep thinking about, is Sara in that hospital room.

The brunette sitting there in shock at what I told her, pretending like everything was fine. But, I keep reminding myself that she told me there wasn't, and wouldn't be, anything between us.

So, I can't be blamed for heading back to DC.

Right?

I know she's in good hands with the guys and the team, they'll be sure she's taken care of and doesn't try anything ridiculous during her recovery.

But, I can't help feeling like I abandoned her. Whether we ever became anything more or not, I abandoned my friend.

But, the FBI needed me back, and I didn't have a reason to refuse their orders and stay.

Sara would have been that reason, but she clearly opted out.

So, back to DC I went.

I once again closed a Vegas chapter in my life, electing to stop putting off the inevitable and getting back to my real life now in DC.

Stepping through the gate, I make my way to the main lobby of the airport, heading towards the main doors.

"Catherine!"

Turning in surprise, I see the owner of the voice pushing off from his place on the wall.

"Ben?" I question in surprise.

"Hey," he smiles, nervous as he anxiously looks me up and down. "Are you alright? I've been so worried…"

"I'm fine," I tell him with a thankful smile, breathing out a tired breath. "Just exhausted. You didn't have to pick me up, I was going to call a cab…"

He shakes his head like I'm crazy.

"Of course I'd pick you up," he states. "They told me you were coming in. There's no other place I'd be."

He enfolds me in his arms, gently holding me to him.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispers.

Pulling back, he takes my hand in his.

"Come on, babe," he says gently. "Let's get you home."

AN: Thanks for reading.