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CHAPTER 18

"Some of your grief you have cured, and lived to survive; but what torments of pain have you endured that haven't as yet arrived."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

CATHERINE POV

Three months.

It's been almost three months since I left Vegas, since I saw Sara last.

Despite her promises to me, she never contacted me once after I left.

Not that I was surprised.

There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't wondered about her, worried about her. Worried about how she's doing, how her recovery is going.

About a week after I left, I got a middle of the night phone call from DB.

He was calling to tell me that Sara had had some 'complications,' that they'd brought her back into surgery.

I'd never been so scared as I was that night, waiting for his phone call to tell me she'd made it through the surgery okay.

I'm still not entirely sure what the complications were, or what the surgery was for.

DB, and all the team really, have been fiercely guarded about information regarding the brunette.

And, I know Sara well enough to know that's by her request. After I left like I did, it's clear the team is more than happy to respect her wishes versus mine.

I shouldn't be surprised. Leaving like I did was a shitty thing to do. It was unfair, harsh, and cold.

I left Sara to recover on her own while I up and left like she didn't just live out one of the worst experiences in her life because of me.

I chose a job over my friend.

I chose the easy way out of my own hurt emotions, choosing my comfort over the right thing to do.

"Babe?" I hear whispered next to me in the darkness. "You alright?"

"Yeah," I tell Ben, sending him a smile I know he can't see. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

I chose my comfort, my job, all of it, over Sara and the dark, tormented feelings she caused me every time I saw her.

I've chosen Ben and the life he openly offered me over the brunette and the life she denied me.

"Seriously?" I state, eyes wide. "You've got to be kidding me…"

"No," Ben answers, putting down the morning paper as he watches me read over the letter in my hand. The letter that innocently came with the rest of the mail.

The letter that nearly stopped my heart in my chest.

"In the end, after all the court sessions, he didn't take the plea…" Ben mutters.

"So now there's going to be a trial."

"Yes," he responds, eying me in apology. "But I guess at least it's a slam dunk case and gives you the chance to head back to Vegas and check in on everyone since you had to leave so abruptly."

"Right…" I state distractedly, eyes still roaming over the words on the paper in front of me.

Summons. Witness. Victim. Testify. Vegas.

I try to appear neutral, calm. To not let him see the true fear in my eyes.

The fear of seeing Sara again. Of facing the caring and kind brunette that I kissed, confessed my feelings to, then ultimately up and left in a fucking hospital bed so I could run back to the boyfriend she didn't even know I had.

No, that part I'm going to have to keep to myself.

"Copy of the disposition."

"Thanks," I mutter, taking the large packet of paper slid across the table to me.

"Sara should be arriving shortly, and she's already been briefed on everything."

"Good."

Eying me, the prosecutor meets my gaze.

"Let me know if you have any questions."

We spend the next minutes in silence, me reading over the large document in front of me that spells out all the charges in the case.

I still can't believe this bastard was arrogant enough to plead not guilty.

I still can't believe I'm back here in Vegas.

Straight off the flight, I headed directly to the courthouse.

I also took more than one detour to a couple different bathrooms to splash cold water on my face in a futile attempt to settle my nerves. It's going to take a hell lot more than some dribbles of water to steady the emotions rolling through me.

We both look up when the door to the briefing room opens.

My breath catches somewhere in my throat as I see who it is walking through.

God, it feels like so long since I saw her last.

Watching her walk in, my first thought is how good it is to see her up and about. The last memories I have of her, bloodied and broken, still haunt my sleepless nights.

Sara is the strongest person I know, and I had no doubt she would get herself out of that hospital, but it's so good to see her almost appearing like the Sara before all this happened.

But, for as much as she's back to herself, there are some definite changes.

Her hair is a bit longer, for example, falling just below her shoulders. I can't help but to think how good it looks on her.

But, the other changes are a bit less positive.

She's still extremely thin.

I know recovery must have been a long, hard road. But I'd hoped she may have been able to use the recovery time to put some weight back on. If anything, it seems as though she's almost lost some pounds since I saw her last.

Which, is a very concerning prospect.

I also note some subtle scars on her that weren't there before. There's one along the side of her temple that I remember being cut from the glass window of the Tahoe.

There's another running through her left brow, and a third along the corner of her bottom lip.

She's still stunning, the scars doing nothing to detract from her beauty. Most people probably wouldn't notice them even, but when you know someone for as many years as I've known Sara, you notice.

"Sara," the prosecutor greets with a warm smile, interrupting my thoughts.

Reaching out, she places her hand gently on Sara's arm, giving it a supportive squeeze.

"You ready for this?"

It's clear the two are relatively close, probably having worked on this case together for a while before I got summoned to join.

"Yeah," Sara sends her a small smile. "More than ready."

Her voice is slightly huskier than I remember, and I wonder if having had to have more breathing tubes placed down her throat from her additional surgeries is to blame.

Emotions pulling at me, I try to remain calm.

Finally, I feel Sara's gaze on mine.

"Hi," she offers, expression neutral, carefully controlled.

"Hey."

"How was your flight?"

"Fine, thanks."

This is pathetic. We both know it, but don't dream of discussing anything else. I half expect one of us to comment on the weather.

"Alright," the prosecutor cuts in to our awkward exchange. "Both of your statements have previously been taken after the incident. They're in there for your reference if you need them, otherwise it's best to go from memory."

She sobers. "I'm sure neither one of you needs help in remembering what that man did."

The silence is our agreement.

"I'm going to give you both some time to review the materials. I have a couple phone calls to make but I'll be around if you need me."

We nod, watching as she leaves the room.

Poking her head back in, she directs her gaze to Sara.

"Remember what I said about being on the stand…" she states sternly. "If you need a break, or need to stand up, you let the judge know."

"Sure," Sara answers quietly.

Fixing the brunette with a last stern look, she exits.

"What was that about?" I ask, watching Sara as she leafs through the document in her hands.

"Nothing."

It's clear that it wasn't nothing, but it's even clearer that Sara doesn't want to talk about it.

"So, how've you been?"

Sara pauses her reading, the only reaction to my words.

It's lame, I know, but it's the best I've got right now.

"Good, yourself?"

"Good."

Sara nods, giving me a quick look before returning her attention to the document.

"Although," I start in hesitantly, deciding to try for some honesty. "It's been hard to transition back into work. You know, after…"

Sara finally pauses for real this time, hesitating before meeting my gaze.

"I know."

Her words are quiet, almost a whisper.

"You back full time?"

Sara takes in my question, her expression shifting slightly.

"Mostly."

I don't know what 'mostly' means, but again I hesitate to push a topic that Sara's clearly uncomfortable with.

After I up and left the way I did…I don't feel like I have a right to call the shots on anything regarding the brunette.

I sigh, realizing that my bridges with Sara have been burnt.

I knew it before I came here, but now it's been confirmed.

All I have to do is look in her eyes to know it's confirmed.

Before my thoughts can go any further, the awkward silence of the room is interrupted by the prosecutor.

"Hey guys," she pokes her head back around the door frame. "Just got a call from the judge. You're up first thing tomorrow morning."

Taking matching breaths, Sara and I both nod.

"You guys go home," the prosecutor suggests. "Get some rest."

"Thanks, Amy," Sara states, and I realize up to then I never thought to ask her her name.

"See you in the morning," Amy responds with a nod. "Six sharp."

"She doesn't mess around," I comment dryly as Sara and I gather our things in the room that suddenly feels too small.

"She doesn't," Sara confirms. "Which in her line of work is likely a requirement."

"Touche."

Heading out towards the front entrance, Sara and I descend the courthouse steps.

Getting to our cars, Sara sends me a nod.

"See you tomorrow."

With that, she gets inside, not sparing me another look as she backs out of her parking spot and takes off down the road.

"See you tomorrow," I mutter into the empty air.

Getting into my car, I rest my head on the steering wheel.

I'm back.

In Vegas.

With Sara.

Heaven have mercy on us all.

AN: Thanks for reading.