AN: Hope everyone is doing well. As always, thanks for the reviews, I appreciate your taking the time to share your thoughts with me.

And, sb, thanks for the feedback, I'll try to keep it in mind as we go forward. As for the part about the 'girl' references – part of it is intended to be slightly rude and off putting. Maybe I'm the only one, but seems to me like the way an early Catherine would talk to/think of an early Sara. Cath not intending to be completely arrogant, but seeing herself as a CSI much further in her career, and life, than Sara who is still likely barely out of graduate school at this point. And, also, just a bit in general always seemed to me the way Catherine speaks to people sometimes, even when they are still relatively 'strangers' to her – such as in early CSI episode "Organ Grinder" (or whatever the episode was where they were talking about murder central) when Catherine hands Sara her kit in the hallway and says "All yours, girl." I appreciate your feedback.

Everyone take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 4

CATHERINE POV

"You told her?"

Gil looks upset, bordering on angry.

"Someone had to tell her, Gil," I say calmly. "She would've seen it on the news any minute, and she deserved to hear it from one of us."

"From one of her team members, yes," Gil corrects. "Not someone she barely knows who's here investigating her."

I watch my longtime friend, the rare emotions in his eyes. I know news of Gabriel's death has hit everyone on this team hard. But, especially Gil who always seems to become a mentor to those around him whether he wants to be or not. No doubt he and Gabriel were close. Just like he and Sidle are. The only thing worse than losing one friend, is having that loss linked to the actions of another, even closer, friend.

"I didn't want you to have to do it," I confess, the words making their way quietly from my lips. "That sort of news…" I let out a breath, "She already hates me, no reason I shouldn't be the one to tell her."

Gil takes off his glasses silently, and I know him well enough to know he's still pissed at me for telling Sidle about Gabriel, but I know that he's also relieved. My longtime friend is never good with emotions or heavy topics on a good day. Something like this, as serious as this, it would have sent him to a very uncomfortable place.

Knowing him, he would have paced outside Sidle's apartment for hours before working up the courage to tell her.

He didn't deserve that angst. And, his relationship with Sidle didn't deserve that terrible memory.

"I'm sorry, Gil." My hand reaches out, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm really sorry about Gabe."

The room falls silent, both of us knowing there's really nothing further to be said.

Now that Gabriel has passed away from his injuries, this case is a criminal case, just like I told Sidle.

That means I have about a week to complete my inquiry and submit it to the DA as part of the official workup. It will be presented, along with whatever evidence IA wants to provide, to the DA for a decision about being tried in a criminal court.

A case like this will absolutely get approved.

Then, the judge rules as to whether to proceed with an official criminal trial.

And, finally, the trial itself.

"Pick up, damn it," I curse, hearing the phone ringing and ringing just like it has the last hour.

"You've reached Sara Sidle. Leave a message and I'll return your call."

I don't bother leaving a message.

If she didn't return the first seven, she isn't going to return the eighth.

Hanging up, I toss my phone onto my bed in frustration.

All day, my head is filled with thoughts of Sara Sidle.

Where she is, what she's doing. Why she isn't answering her phone.

And, if I'm completely honest, whether she's okay or not has also passed through my thoughts at least a couple times. It can't be easy hearing that your partner is dead. Particularly if you had a role in it.

But, most of all, Sara's words keep running through my head. All evening while having dinner with Lindsey, I can't help but drift off to Sidle's adamant refusal to admit to her whereabouts. Stating it will not help Gabe's family.

But, I still feel confident about my own feelings. That no matter where she was, no matter what horrid thing she was doing, they need to know for them to move on.

Is Sidle really that selfish to deny them that to save her own reputation?

And, that's where my hesitation comes in. Where I've lost multiple hours of brain power.

Sidle isn't that selfish. Hell, she isn't selfish at all.

Reading through her casefile and speaking with members of her team, it's a damn surprise they haven't named one of the labs after this girl. Just like Gil alluded to, Sidle, despite being nearly the youngest member of the team, has bailed them each out more ways that I can count.

And, not just for minor things or taking an extra case here and there. She has put her career, and in some cases her damn life, on the line to help her colleagues. She's taken the blame for things on cases that were clearly another CSI's mistake. She's taken on more than her fair share of doubles and triples when other team members were working caseloads nearly half of hers.

She hardly has a blemish on her own record, but for the very few things that appeared to me to maybe actually be her own fault, she has taken full ownership.

This isn't the type of person who runs from responsibility. From ownership of her mistakes.

But, she is one who covers for the mistakes of others.

Looking up from my meal in surprise, I swallow the takeout spaghetti in my mouth.

"Oh my God…"

Lindsey looks over, sending me a quizzical look before returning to the television I've for once allowed to play in the background, knowing I wasn't going to be the good company my daughter deserves tonight.

Sara isn't one to hide her mistakes, but she will damn well fall on her own sword to cover up for others.

"The truth in this case isn't closure."

Sara's words ring back to me.

Sara isn't covering for herself.

She's covering for Gabe.

Fuck.

"What was Gabe involved in?"

"What?" Sara looks up, startled.

Looking around, she probably wonders how the hell I got here, how I found her in this remote location.

"You heard me."

"No," Sara counters, still looking at me like I'm crazy as she tosses off her muddy shoes.

"You aren't not telling me where you were to cover for yourself," I spell it out for her. "You're covering for Gabe."

I cross my arms over my chest.

"That's why you don't think the answers will bring his family closure. You don't want them to see him as anything but positive, especially now that he's gone."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Sara shakes her head, turning to throw her shoes in the back of her Jeep.

"Like hell," I counter, turning her back around to face me.

With that action, all pleasantries are lost.

It's clear that I'm not messing around. And, based on her darkening expression and the force at which she pulled away from me, it's clear that she isn't either. She looks frustrated, angry, and a whole lot of other things I can't quite place.

To be honest, Sidle looks like hell.

I'm not sure what she did following the revelation of Gabe's death at her apartment the yesterday, but it looks like nothing good. The already dark circles under her eyes that I noted when I first got here are now nearly black. She's pale, tense, and looks like she hasn't eaten anything substantial in days.

"What was he involved in?" I ask again slowly, each word deliberately pronounced, not wavering on this.

Sara's eyes narrow, "Are you really that desperate?" she questions. "So hellbent on finding some sort of explanation for this that you're willing to go after someone who's dead?"

She advances on me slowly. It's only one step, but its underlying message is clear.

I don't allow myself to feel the slightest bit intimidated.

"I came here to get answers," I tell her tightly. "And that's what I'm going to do."

"Leave it alone," Sara warns, her normally husky voice even lower.

"No," I respond bluntly. "You don't get to make that call."

"Why are you doing this?" Sara asks me darkly. "Seeking answers just for the sake of answers? Not caring what those answers will do to the people involved?"

"We don't get to make that decision," I tell her sternly. "On cases we don't get to pick what truths we reveal and which we keep hidden. Even the truths we'd rather not share deserve to be spoken."

My mind flashes back to over a dozen cases where I wish I could have hidden the evidence damning a suspect that deserves to be free. To not be punished for what they did – their actions more than justified in my mind. Like the little boy who used his father's gun to shoot the babysitter who kept raping him. The man who assaulted the drunk driver who took away his wife and children.

The people who don't deserve to be behind bars.

"If Gabe was into something he shouldn't have been," I say quietly. "I need to know. Justice doesn't pick sides."

"Gabe was one of the best people I ever knew," Sara says, eyes meeting mine squarely. "If you want to spit on his memory, then you're going to have to do it without my help."

I look her over, curiosity creeping in.

"Do you really not care?"

I shake my head.

"Do you really not care that you are facing serious jail time if this case goes the way it's headed?" I ask. "We're talking a criminal case here, Sidle. People have gotten life sentences for cases like this."

Sara remains quiet, her eyes studying the splashes of mud along the doors of her jeep.

"Whatever the truth is, not sharing it hurts your case. You do realize that, right?"

Sidle doesn't utter a word, but I know she's heard me. And, I know she already is aware of everything I'm saying. She's brilliant, to say the least, and she knows more than most people exactly what type of situation she's in right now.

But, she still refuses to say anything. Not even to try to save herself.

"I don't get you," I tell her honestly. "Not at all."

Sara swallows tightly, her eyes finally lifting to mine.

"Am I free to go?"

Looking her over one last time, I nod in resignation.

I can't help someone who isn't willing to help herself.

Palming my keys, I make my way back to my car.

I think I'm finally giving up on Sidle. Whatever answers I want to get on this case - about her, about Gabe - I'm going to have to get myself.

"You pulled his financials, his case history, his personal records…"

Sara's shadowy figure is somewhat difficult to make out in the darkness of my hotel hallway when I arrive back at my room a few hours later, but her voice is clear as day.

"How dare you."

"I told you I wasn't letting this go," I tell her without apology.

"You…" Sara lets out a tense breath. "You need to walk away from this."

"I thought I made myself clear…"

"You don't understand," she says, and something in her voice is different this time.

Instead of being angry, it's shifted almost to nervous.

"Sidle?"

"The answers you're looking for aren't going to help-"

"We've been through this."

"Let me finish," Sara states tightly.

"Fine," I cross my arms over my chest, closing the door to my hotel room slightly further to keep this conversation private. Or as private as it can be in the middle of a hallway. But, my daughter doesn't need to hear her mother arguing with a stranger this late at night.

"The answers aren't going to help," Sara says again. "But more than that, they're dangerous."

I search her shadowed expression for a moment before I let out a rueful laugh.

"Really?" I laugh. "That's the angle you're going with now?"

I shake my head with a roll of my eyes.

"Nice try, Sidle."

Turning to go about my evening, I'm startled when a tight grip pulls me back around.

"I'm serious." Sara shakes her head. "You need to walk away from this, Miss Willows. Now."

"Or else?" I sarcastically mutter.

"Listen to me," Sara bites out. "This isn't a game anymore. You've played your hand by requesting those records. Your inquiry is no longer hypothetical. People will notice."

"Yeah?" I question. "What people?"

"Just…people."

"Please," I laugh again. "You're going to have to do better than that."

"I can't," Sara counters. "Just…please. You have to trust me on this."

"I don't trust you," I tell the young woman honestly. "You've pretty much lied to me since the first day I got here, refusing to help this investigation in any way."

I put myself in her personal space.

"So excuse me if I don't decide to start taking you at face value now that I've finally started to get somewhere. In fact, it seems the more progress I make, the more desperate you're becoming to stand in my way. Am I getting too close to those answers you keep trying to bury?"

"Please," Sara states, tension hanging on every word. "It isn't safe. You need to drop this now."

If I'm honest, Sidle's words have the hairs on the back of my neck raising slightly. Something about being cryptically warned about imminent danger by a shadowy figure in a back lit hallway will do that to a person.

But, as much as her words have me slightly on edge, they also excite me.

Sidle wouldn't be here if I wasn't onto something. If the answers I'm seeking weren't within my reach.

I always suspected there was something wrong with this shooting that resulted from supposed negligence by one of the brightest and most cautious CSIs I've ever witnessed.

Now, I know for sure.

Opening the package at my door the next morning, I peel off the legal evidence labeling, noting my Montana lab address.

"Vince, you are the best…" I whisper with a smile as I step inside and dump the contents out on my hotel bed. "Let's see what you've found."

The good, and perhaps in some ways bad, part about living in this era is that things like video surveillance know no geographical boundaries. Having given my tech guru in Montana the address of Sidle and Gabe's crime scene, he was able to search the area for all public safety cameras in the vicinity.

Looking through the package, I see a written report of his findings, along with a small flash drive. Wasting no time, I push it into my laptop's USB port.

Letting the file load, I soon have numerous back and white images filling my screen.

Filtering through, I note multiple images of Sidle's Tahoe passing various traffic cameras. Noting the time stamps and locations, my quick cursory glances seem to show me that Sidle's timeline was at least truthful. Time of arrival at her scene seems accurate, along with the time for when her car was spotted again after leaving the scene.

Though, I'm disappointed to see that there are only a few images of her car after leaving the scene.

One at a traffic camera very near the crime scene, and a couple others at intersections leading west from the scene.

Then, the images stop as she apparently enters locations without surveillance - giving me no definitive answer as to where she went. But, at least the directionality tells me she was headed away from the lab, giving me a place to start.

Flipping through the rest of the files, I see that one of them is a video file. Clicking on it, a note from Vince pops up.

"Thought you might find this interesting. –V."

Pressing play, I notice that this is the video version of one of the still images of Sidle in her car leaving the scene.

I see her stopped at the light, just like the image showed. But, as the video progresses, I note that she looks over to her passenger seat. Then, I see movement in the grainy images as she reaches for something. Squinting, I try to figure out what she's doing.

Then, suddenly, with a glint of light reflecting off the object in her hand, it becomes very clear.

Silently, I watch Sidle pull back on the slide of her service weapon. Effectively loading her gun and readying a bullet in the chamber.

Leaning over, she replaces it back on her passenger seat just as the light turns green and she exits the intersection.

She was headed away from the scene, away from the direction of the lab.

And, wherever the hell her destination was, she brought her service weapon. Loaded, cocked, and ready to be used.

What the hell…

Leaning back, I take a moment to digest this all. Digest the dark thoughts now starting to circulate around my brain.

Gabe was left alone at a scene. Gabe got shot. Sidle is seen leaving the scene, loading her weapon. Gabe's shooter is still unidentified. Assumed to be one of the suspects from the B and E returning to scene, but never proven. Also, gunshot wound was a through and through, bullet never recovered. And, more interestingly, neither was the shell casing.

What if…

I swallow against the outrageous thought.

What if Sidle can't tell me where she went because she didn't really 'leave' the scene at all.

Sure, drove a few blocks away. But what's to say she didn't circle back a different way. Didn't pretend to leave the scene because she's damn smart enough to do it for the sole and fucking clever purpose of creating her own alibi at the time of his death. Yes, she would get in trouble for leaving him alone, but she'd have a hell of a better chance at defending herself against that than her being at the scene at the time of the shooting - putting herself on the suspect list that every police officer and CSI in this city is analyzing with a microscope.

Taking out my cell, I call Gil.

As soon as he answers, I ignore pleasantries.

"I need Sidle's gun."

AN: Thanks for reading.