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CHAPTER 33

"Dishonest people conceal their faults from themselves as well as others, honest people know and confess them."

Christian Nevell Bovee

CATHERINE POV

Looking up, I do a double take, immediately putting down my pen.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper. "Are you okay?"

My visitor nods, looking from me to my office couch.

Eyes looking over the couch's occupant, Laura turns her attention back to me.

"I'm fine," she tells me, also keeping her voice quiet. "But I think the more relevant question is, is she okay?"

I look over at the brunette sleeping on the couch, turned with her back facing us.

"Been a rough couple shifts," I explain. "We had to go digging through the mines again today."

I sigh, remembering tonight's events in my head.

"She…" I swallow. "I found her doubled over behind our Tahoe when we were getting ready to leave."

"Her ribs?"

"Yes," I nod. "She's been pushing herself hard these last couple days. Trying to prove to DB that she's fully recovered and okay to be back out in the field full time."

"And now?" Laura asks quietly, eyes returning to her daughter's prone form.

"DB doesn't know about this," I confess, my own feelings regarding this particular topic still undecided. "I worked a deal with her that if she would agree to take some of her pain medication, I would keep this particular incident from Russell."

"What if he walks in?"

"He won't," I counter. "Most of the team went home hours ago."

"And you?"

I quirk my head.

"More to the point," I avoid her question. "You never answered me as to what you're doing here, Laura."

"Right," she gets out, moving only slightly further into my office. "I…Sara and I…"

Laura lets out a breath.

"We didn't have the best of nights last night."

I narrow my eyes in concern.

"What do you mean?"

Sara never mentioned anything to me this morning when she arrived at work. She joined us in the break room, pouring coffee and exchanging small talk like usual until DB showed up to give out assignments.

"She…" Laura hesitates, stopping herself. "I think maybe you should ask her."

"Laura," I call, shaking my head tightly. "If there's something going on, if something's wrong, I want to know."

Laura still hesitates, gaze anxiously looking over her daughter's sleeping form.

"She's not waking up anytime soon," I tell her. "I slipped an extra pain pill into her coffee."

Laura's eyes shoot to mine.

I'm only half joking.

Steeling herself, Laura breathes out.

"You know she sleeps with her gun now?"

I take in the question, mind flashing back to the incident in the locker room, the other incidents when I was staying with Sara.

"Yeah, I know."

"Well," Laura gets out. "She nearly put a bullet in my head the other night when I tried to wake her. Which I didn't particularly care for. We argued about it, as you know. I tried to bring it up again tonight, and we fought again."

"That's what you two were fighting about the other morning on the porch…"

"Yes."

Laura shakes her head.

"I think she was more upset by the fact that I caught her having a nightmare than the fact she nearly killed someone."

"Sara had a nightmare that night?" I ask in surprise, still trying to wrap my head around the night's events. "We were asleep on the couch."

"I know," Laura says, sending me a soft smile at the memory. "I came home to find you two lying there together."

Expression getting serious, she shrugs.

"Sara must have gotten up at some point. When I found her, she was in the upstairs hallway."

Laura shakes her head.

"At first I thought she was having a seizure, but by the time I got to her I realized it was a nightmare. But by then, it was too late. I had already grabbed her, and woken her."

"Damn," I mutter out. "I thought the nightmares had stopped."

Laura looks at me in confusion.

"She was having nightmares for awhile after Basderic," I explain. "But they seemed to get better…"

Laura swallows tightly, looking away.

"I don't think this one was about Basderic."

I study her carefully, trying to read her expression, her body language.

"Laura," I push firmly. "What's going on?"

Sara's mom remains quiet, resolutely avoiding eye contact.

"You came all this way because you're worried about her." I narrow my eyes. "Why?"

"I told you…"

"But you didn't tell me everything," I counter. "Come on, Laura, I'm a CSI."

Laura shakes her head.

"You need to talk to Sara."

"I've tried talking to Sara," I state sternly. "Now I'm talking to you."

The silence between us is charged, like the very air separating our bodies is vibrating with tension.

"Laura," I soften my expression. "Please. Help me to help her."

Laura's eyes fix themselves on the brunette, on the steady rise and fall of her daughter's breathing.

"Her father died this Saturday."

And, with those whispered words, the air between us goes from charged to dead still.

"Her…"

I trail off, clearing my throat, trying again.

"Her father's death…the anniversary…"

Laura nods.

"It's this Saturday."

I close my eyes, feeling my insides tighten.

No wonder Sara has been so on edge this week. Not just with me, but with her mom. Especially with her mom.

"She was begging," Laura's haunted voice interrupts my thoughts. "In her nightmare, she was begging for me to put down the knife."

My mouth opens and closes what I'm sure is half a dozen times.

I don't know what to say in this moment, I don't know how someone properly responds to something like that.

"When she woke, she was still there, in that house in California," Laura whispers, voice choked with tears. "She was looking at me like I was the devil. Her finger was so close to pulling that trigger."

Laura shakes her head.

"Then, she realized where she was."

She struggles to get the words out, "She realized she was in Vegas. But, her finger never left that trigger, Catherine."

Sara's mom struggles to maintain her composure, her breathing ragged.

"I almost wish she'd done it," she confesses. "Put us both out of our misery."

"Laura…" I cut in. "Stop."

Looking up, Laura's tear filled eyes meet mine.

"That's not how she feels," I tell her. "Don't even think like that."

"How do you know?" Laura counters. "How can you know what Sara's feelings are about any of this?"

"I don't," I admit. "She won't talk to me about her past. But," I say seriously, "I know Sara."

Laura shakes her head, hands raising slightly in the air.

"Doesn't matter either way," she dismisses. "This isn't why I came. I'm sorry for distracting you from your work and making such a scene."

Wiping her eyes, she takes in a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"She wasn't answering her phone," Laura says. "And with everything coming up…"

Laura's eyes finally meet mine.

"I just wanted to be sure she was okay."

We both go silent, both knowing the nearly impossible feat of figuring out if Sara Sidle is okay.

"Mmfhghn."

I smile, feeling Sara start to stir against me.

"Cath…?"

"Sorry," I offer, my own eyes still closed. "About two hours into my paperwork I started to go a bit comatose. Figured joining you on my couch was more preferable than my hard desk."

"Mmm hmm," Sara agrees, adjusting our positions slightly to wrap her arm around my waist. "Wise decision."

Sara holds me close, her head resting near my shoulder.

"What time is it?" she questions, her voice husky from sleep.

"Just a bit after three."

"Good God…"

"Don't even start, Sidle. You needed the rest."

"Five hours on a couch isn't rest, it's a coma."

"A needed coma."

"Wasn't aware comas were ever needed."

"Are you being this annoying on purpose?"

Sara snorts, smiling innocently.

"Ugh," Sara groans after a moment. "I guess this means I need to get up, though."

"Why?" I counter, wrapping my own arms tightly around her waist. "Why on earth would you want to do that?"

"I don't want to. But I think I have to. I need to get home and at least change before shift."

Sara moves to face me.

"And, you need to let me give you a ride home so you can get some proper sleep," she says.

"Oh?"

"Don't even start, Willows," she repeats my words back to me. "You need the rest."

I smile, shaking my head.

"You're lucky you're so beautiful."

Sara laughs out loud at my comment, pushing herself to a stand.

"Come on," she holds out her hand to me. "Let's get out of here."

"Thanks for the ride."

Leaning in, I place a gentle kiss along Sara's cheek.

"Sure," she tells me, squeezing my hand before unlocking the doors of the Tahoe.

"Sara," I reach out, pausing her motions.

Raising a brow, she faces me.

I hesitate, wondering if I should really be doing this. Bringing up what I'm about to.

"Your mom was at the lab earlier."

As much as I don't want to bring up this particularly sensitive issue, it needs to be addressed. Sara would be pissed if she heard about it from her mom or from someone else first.

"What…?"

Sara's expression is confused, brows furrowed in question.

"While you were sleeping, she came by."

Sara's features are now much darker than they were just minutes before.

"Why?"

"To check on you."

The brunette swallows tightly.

"Why?"

"I think you know why, Sara."

My words are nearly a whisper at this point, my tone sensitive to the issue at hand.

"She…"

Sara trails off, and I can tell she is working hard to control her emotions.

"What did she tell you?"

"Just said you guys have been under a lot of stress lately," I try to sound neutral, casual.

"Catherine," Sara turns to face me, eyes piercing. "What did she tell you?"

Sara is usually one of the most calm and easygoing people I know. But, in this moment, I'm reminded that she can also be one of the most intense and intimidating.

"She mentioned your…altercation…with her the other night." I decide to be honest about her mother's visit. After all, I'm the one who elected to bring it up. "She also mentioned the anniversary of your dad's passing…"

I can see the emotions moving through Sara's eyes, through her tense frame.

Reaching out, I take her hand.

She shocks us both when she jerks away.

The car no longer seems cozy and intimate. It seems small and stifling.

"I'm sorry…" Sara offers quietly. "I didn't mean…"

"I know."

I know her reaction wasn't voluntary, but, it still hurts.

"I think you need to address things with your mom," I clear my throat, trying to get us back on topic. "It's clearly affecting you both."

I let out a breath.

"I know you said you aren't ready to figure out your relationship with her, but I think you at least need to talk with her about your reservations if nothing else, Sara."

Silence greets me.

"She's trying, honey."

"Really?" Sara responds tightly, teeth clenched in carefully controlled anger. "Is that what you think?"

"Sara…"

"Just don't, Catherine. Leave this alone."

"No," I stand my ground, not willing to back down this time. "I don't think you're being fair to your mom, or yourself."

"Fair…" Sara shakes her head. "Right."

"Look," I cut in. "I know I have no right to presume what your childhood was like for you. For your mother to have done what she did," I shake my head sadly. "I can't imagine, Sara. But you shouldn't let it destroy your futures. You guys both have a second chance here."

Sara's eyes are so dark they blend into the night around us.

"Second chance…"

Her cold tone echoes through the car.

"Sara?"

"Like I said before, Catherine, leave it."

"No," I continue to stand my ground. "I saw your mother today, how upset she was. I see how she looks at you, how she's been trying to establish some sort of relationship with you."

I soften my tone.

"No offense, Sara, but I see you continuing to punish her for a mistake she made years ago. One that was horrible and unspeakable, yes, but something she's already beating herself up for enough on her own."

"Stop," Sara forces out. "Don't say another word about her 'mistake.'"

"Sara," I continue my plea. "You can't keep doing this to her, to yourself-"

"She killed my father, Catherine!" Sara yells. "That isn't just some 'mistake' to forget about and forgive! That was my fucking father that she killed!"

The Tahoe is so silent I can't even hear our breathing. My eyes are wide at the sound of Sara's raised voice.

I try to form thoughts, words.

I don't think I've ever heard Sara yell like that.

Not at anyone.

"I…"

Sara struggles to form words herself, closing her eyes tightly.

"I need to get some air."

Without another word, Sara pushes her door open, stepping out into the night and closing it tightly behind her.

She takes a couple steps away from the vehicle, moving into my front yard. Hands reaching up, she runs her fingers through her hair, shoulders rising and falling in shaking breaths.

Closing my eyes, I breathe out deeply.

This isn't how I wanted this to go at all.

It's clear Sara isn't in a good place regarding the past nor the present situations with her mother.

And, I can't really blame her, to be honest. But, I'd hoped perhaps time had offered the brunette some amount of closure, if nothing else.

I know Sara and her mother can never move on when Sara's still this angry, this tormented.

Getting slowly out of the car, I carefully approach her, keeping a decent amount of distance between us.

"I'm sorry, Sara," I whisper out into the night. "I'm so sorry."

Sara's quiet, her back to me, her shoulders heavy and her breathing tight.

Minutes tick by. Then more minutes.

"It wasn't him."

I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out if I heard her whispered words correctly.

"What?"

"That night," Sara chokes out, voice strained. "She wasn't trying to kill him."

Sara falls silent, her hand shaking when she brings it up to her face.

"Sara…" I shake my head sadly. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me, sweetheart…"

Not turning around, Sara stays quiet, her face buried in the clenched fist of her hand.

Then, just as I'm about to approach her, she shifts, lifting her shirt.

Turning slightly, she nods towards a deep scar along the bottom of her ribs.

"She came into my room that night." Sara's words are so quiet I can barely hear her over the light breeze blowing through the trees surrounding us. "I woke up just as she plunged the kitchen knife into my side."

Sara swallows, profile pale and haunted.

"My dad," Sara chokes on the words before trying again. "My dad heard my screams, pushed her off me just as she went for a second attempt. He fought her for the knife…"

Sara swallows again, voice strained and laden with emotion.

"He told me to run…"

Sara chokes on a sob, dragging in a haggard breath.

"So I did…I ran…I hid…"

The brunette shakes her head darkly.

"When I finally came out…he was there…on my bedroom floor…but it wasn't him…he was cold…"

She chokes back another sob.

"She was screaming…in the corner…kept yelling at me…telling me it was a mistake…"

Sara swallows tightly, hands clenching into fists.

"But she was very clear in what she was yelling…the mistake wasn't her killing her family member…the mistake was killing the wrong family member."

Sara shakes her head, her features now dark and angry.

"So, yeah, Catherine, my mother made a mistake. We all did that night. She killed the wrong person. I ran away from my dad, I left him there, I hid while she…"

Sara swallows.

"I'm sorry if I can't find it in me yet to not see her mistake, my mistake, all of our mistakes, every time I look at her. That I can't help but wish she'd had better aim that night, fixed all those mistakes before they ever happened."

I stare, eyes wide in horror, mind trying frantically to catch up with what's just happened – what's just been revealed to me.

"I know it 'wasn't her fault'…that 'it was the disease that made her do it.' And so you can break bread with my mother all you want, Catherine," Sara grinds out angrily. "But forgive me if I'm not quite ready yet."

Stepping away, she rips open the door of the Tahoe, engine firing to life not a second later.

She's out of the driveway and down the street before I even have time to blink.

Holy shit.

AN: Thanks for reading.