AN: Thanks everyone who reviewed, it really means a lot. You guys are the best, and you honestly help keep the writing going - as foodwise alluded to, I'm never sure how many people are actually still interested in reading CSI fanfiction as it seems to have greatly dispersed as time went on and characters left the show and such. Nice to know there are still some people out there reading these as CSI is the fandom that I will always call home as well. Guess I'm just not ready to let some of these characters go for good quite yet.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 3

CATHERINE POV

"Are all your CSIs as charming as Sidle?"

Gil looks up from his paperwork as I take the liberty of placing myself in the empty seat across from his desk.

Taking off his glasses, he leans back in his chair.

"I take it your inquiry is not going well?"

"What do you think?"

Gil sighs, looking like he's aged years these last couple days.

"I think Sara can be difficult," he compromises, holding up a hand when I send him a look. "But she's a damn good CSI, Catherine. And a damn good person. There's no way she just up and left that scene without good reason."

"Then why won't she just tell me?" I ask, frustration coloring every word. "If her reasoning was so noble, then why the hell is she playing this game with me?"

"I don't know," Gil admits, the truth behind his words clear. Just as clear as the hurt. Like Sidle leaving me out is one thing, but betraying the friendship the brunette has with Grissom is another thing entirely.

"She's been distant for a while," Gil confesses quietly. "The team had picked up on it, but I think we all figured it was Sara just being Sara."

"Meaning?"

"Sara is quiet," Gil says. "Keeps to herself. She's kind, polite, and always has everyone's back, but she doesn't really let people in the same way they seem to let her in."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Gil answers softly. "It's just how she is."

"But it got worse?"

Nodding, Grissom rests his elbows on his desk. "She used to at least join us for some breakfasts, drinks after shift. But I started having a higher show rate than she did."

I smile, knowing that for Sara to be showing up to social events less than Gil means the girl pretty much wasn't showing up at all.

"She just," Gil sighs. "Seemed to shut down any time someone would ask her about anything remotely personal. She was never one to share, but she was never one to outright avoid people either."

"Anyone in particular she was avoiding?"

"No," Gil shakes his head. "Just the team in general. Got here before everyone, left well after everyone. Worked in the far labs in the back, where she wouldn't run into anyone. Her work didn't suffer…so…"

"So you let her be."

Gil nods, the thoughts running through his head clear to read by the slump to his shoulders.

"You couldn't have done anything to prevent this, Gil."

Looking up, Gil nods, his eyes thanking me for my words. But, they also look less than convinced.

"Whatever's going on with Sidle is her responsibility," I tell him seriously, reaching out to place my hand over his. "Not yours. Just like what happened at that scene. No one's responsibility but hers."

"I just," Gil trails off before looking up at me. "She's bailed out every member of this team nearly half a dozen times. Covered for all of us at some point in one way or another. This is…"

Gil swallows tightly.

"This is new for us. Having her be the one in trouble."

He laughs darkly.

"But perhaps it's because we were all too damn blind to see she was in trouble all along."

"You have Gil blaming himself."

"Excuse me?"

Sara looks over my shoulder, like she's expecting someone else to be standing at her door besides just me.

"Can I come in?" I ask, knowing this is not a conversation to be having in her hallway.

"Why?"

I raise a brow.

Apparently hearing the rudeness in her own statement, Sara takes a reluctant step back, gesturing to her open doorway.

Moving past her, I enter her apartment.

Looking around, I note the décor, the furnishings, everything I can about the space.

I'm not subtle in my observations, either. Sidle knows I'm here investigating her, and that I'm going to do everything I can to learn everything I can.

As my eyes pan over the interesting art pieces on the wall, landscapes that look sketched, I gesture to them, impressed.

"Your work?"

Sara doesn't answer, simply crossing her arms over her chest.

"What did you want, Miss Willows?"

"Gil seems to think you're in some sort of trouble," I state, respecting her decision to get back to business.

After all, I don't think the answers I'm seeking lie in the pencil strokes of her pictures.

Beautiful as they are.

At Sara's puzzled expression, I clarify.

"That you've been in some sort of trouble, even prior to this current situation."

Sara's eyes narrow.

"Why would he think that?"

"Apparently when quiet people become even quieter, it raises suspicion. Even when they are as good at hiding things as I'm beginning to suspect you are."

Shaking her head, Sara shifts her hands to her jeans pockets.

"Nothing's going on." She meets my eyes.

"You weren't withdrawing from your team like he claims?" I push. "Your colleagues wouldn't say that you were either, if I were to ask them?"

Sara's expression shifts, darkening slightly.

"Why does this matter?" she asks honestly. "Why do you keep pushing your way into this like there's something deeper to uncover?"

Sara's voice is dark, tone low.

"I made an error in judgement, left an active crime scene. My partner is fighting for his life because of it. End of story." She shakes her head. "End of your report."

"Why is it that you keep trying to dissuade me from 'pushing my way into this'?" I counter. "If there's really nothing 'deeper to uncover'?"

"Because it's a waste of your time."

I send Sara a look that expresses that yet again she needs to try better than that.

"Because it doesn't matter," she states tightly. "Gabe got shot. Because of me. End of story. Stop poking around my life like it's going to give you some magic answers to all your damn questions. I've already given you the answers you need. Case closed."

"Not anymore."

Sara watches me, eyes narrowing slightly as she tries to make out the meaning behind my words.

"Maybe it didn't matter as much when we last spoke," I state, voice growing stone sober. "But it sure as hell matters now. For Gabriel's family. But also for you. This case is no longer an IA inquiry, Sidle. It's now a criminal case."

She continues to watch me, intuitive eyes searching my own.

I watch her body language slowly morph from frustrated to hesitant.

Nervous.

"What are you saying, Miss Willows?"

I take a slow breath. There's more than one reason for this particular house call. And, this reason is one that I loathe having to do.

"Gabriel Williams died an hour ago. Complications from internal bleeding from the shooting."

Everything is silent.

The apartment.

The air around us.

Sara.

Her gaze keeps searching mine, like she's trying to figure out if this is some sort of morbid trick.

I let her see the sad truth in my expression.

I wish like hell Gabriel didn't die, and I take no pleasure in informing Sidle of his passing.

"He died, Sidle. This isn't a game anymore."

Sara turns away, rubbing her temples with a hand that I realize is shaking.

The girl is damn good at masking her emotions, but that lone action lets me see through her current façade.

Just like in the locker room yesterday, she can stare you down and make it seem like everything is fine. And, if I hadn't walked in on her beating the shit out of her locker, I may have believed it. Just like I may have believed her stoic façade now if it weren't for that same hand, now bruised in deep shades of red, shaking despite her best efforts to control it.

"Stop fighting me, Sidle." I beg quietly. "Please let me at least help them in the small way of giving them answers as to why he died. They deserve at least that much, yes?"

"I can't," Sara whispers out, her eyes lowered and her hands now trebling so much that she shoves them deep in her pockets to try to hide it from me. "I'm sorry."

Breathing out, she shakes her head.

"I'm not trying to deny them answers. I'm not trying to be obstructive or difficult. I'm not trying to be this terrible person that you seem to keep believing I am."

Her eyes are on the carpet before she finally drags them up to mine.

"Please walk away from this," she requests, voice so sincere it nearly breaks under its own emotion. "You think the answers you're seeking will make things better, but they won't. You need to stop pushing and digging into this, Miss Willows. You need to close this case and go back to Montana."

I shake my head tightly, her genuine tone giving me pause, but her words putting me right back into the reason I'm here.

"Walk away from getting that family the answers they deserve? No way. And honestly, shame on you for asking me to."

Stepping again slightly closer to the tense younger woman, I shift my head to the side, trying to study the defensive girl before me and figure out what in the hell her deal is with this.

She claims to not want to be obstructive, but she's doing exactly that.

No reasoning, no explanations, just continuous refusal to share anything regarding this case with no indication as to why.

"Why the hell did you leave that scene, Sidle?" I press directly, sick of playing these games with her. "Because you were off doing something stupid?"

I gesture to the coffee table in her living room.

"Because you were off getting drunk or getting high? Is that what this is all about?"

She follows my gaze to the empty bottles of alcohol that stand out in her otherwise impeccably tidy home. The bottle of what looks like some sort of prescription medication laying mere inches from the alcohol.

"No matter where you were," I tell her tightly. "His family deserves to know what led up to his passing. They need closure. Not some strung out CSI trying to keep her job."

Sara shakes her head, "I wasn't…I wouldn't…"

She looks like I slapped her by just suggesting what I did.

"Those pills?" she bites out. "Are my fucking migraine medication. And the alcohol is from last night, obviously off duty and not on call."

"If you aren't hiding something, then why the hell are you refusing to work with me?!" I question sincerely. "If you aren't trying to cover for yourself, then why the hell are you doing this?"

Sara's eyes meet mine, and I nearly step back at the emotions they hold.

The anger is gone. Replaced instead by complete, utter devastation.

It's like she wants to say something, but knows that she can't.

Then, nearly as quickly as I saw it, it's gone. Looking away, she once again tries to tuck her emotions safely back inside. Only the slight shaking of her hands gives her away.

"Tell them whatever you want," she whispers out. "Whatever they need for closure. I was high, I was drunk – whatever you want the story to be, you have my blessing."

"I want to tell them the truth."

"Then you'll have to do that on your own," Sara states. "Because I refuse to do that to them. The truth in this case isn't closure, Miss Willows."

Swallowing tightly, Sara clenches her jaw.

"Now please get the hell out of my home."

AN: Thanks for reading.