AN: Hope everyone is doing well. Thanks as always to you guys who read and take the time to review. Love hearing from you and brightens my day.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 9

CATHERINE POV

"You should have told me!"

"I couldn't!"

"You take one of my CSIs and have her working undercover for the FBI, you damn well could have told me that, Jim!"

"The inquiry was of this department, Gil, it involved CSIs on your own team. The only way to keep this, and you, off the hook was to keep you in the dark." Jim shakes his head, his skin red with anger. "You're the supervisor, in a position of power. You're the last person I could have told about an investigation regarding internal corruption."

"So you just feed Sara to the wolves instead."

"That's not fair and you know it," Jim seethes, an angry finger pointing directly at Gil's chest. "Sara figured out the corruption all her own. Started running her own damn investigation into it. Triggered the FBI's attention. They knew they really had limited options at that point."

"Fire her or hire her," Gil seethes under his breath.

"We've both known that girl is too smart for her own damn good sometimes."

For the first time, Gil seems to let some of the anger push out of him, a weary exhaustion painting his features instead.

"You knew…this whole time…"

Jim stands silently in Gil's office, letting his friend come to terms with the latest revelations just slammed in his face.

"Who else?"

Jim doesn't hesitate. "Just Sara."

"And you."

Brass nods solemnly. "Sara came to me with her suspicions when she first started noticing something was wrong. Said I was…"

The detective trails off, realizing what he was about to say and the impact it would have on his friend.

"She said you were the only one she could trust."

Brass pauses, watching his companion.

"Yes," he eventually admits.

"How did she…what was it…"

Jim pulls his tie down from his neck, losing the knot as he lets out a breath.

"Evidence was going missing, but only a few cases here and there. Then things were checked out from the evidence locker with signatures she'd never seen in the log books before. Then, perhaps the most suspect, the missing evidence started coming back very quickly after the time it went missing. But wrong."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning weapons were logged back in as the originals when they weren't, clothing had been altered slightly, bullets swapped with nearly identical matches."

"To what end?"

"Sara had the same question. Started following the cases involving bogus or tampered evidence. Watched them proceed from start to finish. Saw guilty suspects getting innocent verdicts due to insufficient evidence, reasonable doubt, things you'd expect in some cases. Then she noticed innocent suspects getting sentences based on evidence that seemed entirely too good to be true. She pulled all the files, reworked all the evidence on her own. Said they had been very very careful, but not quite careful enough. Not to trick her, at least."

"Someone was, what, stacking the decks? Playing the justice system and manipulating it into getting the outcomes they desired?"

"The outcomes they were paid to accomplish," Jim affirms.

"How many?"

"Handful of judges, a few CSIs…" Jim hesitates, his expression again growing angry. "More than a few cops."

"And the trail originated from where?"

"Mostly the criminal element. Influential criminal establishments in this city approach judges to sway cases for their affiliates, offer a lucrative payout that only drug lords and criminals can seem to offer now a days. Payouts that certainly rival what most public servants would make in an entire career."

"Judge then turns to those on the inside to make things happen. Cops. CSIs. Make the evidence say what he's getting paid good money to make sure it says. He gets his cut, they get theirs."

Jim nods.

"Became quite an underground system, honestly. They had everything so streamlined that each case barely took more than a couple points of contact to completely sway the way they wanted. Very hard to track."

"But then came Sara."

Jim smiles, "Biggest mistake they made was to try to tamper one of Sara Sidle's cases."

Gil goes quiet, taking this all in. Then, he pulls his glasses from his face, rubbing his temples.

"My team?"

"Cleared," Jim reassures confidently.

"And Gabe?"

It's clear from his strained tone that this is a question he's been holding back asking. Likely for fear of hearing Brass' answer.

"I…"

Brass trails off.

"It's still an ongoing case," he says quietly. "I can't really comment more than I've already said regarding those that have been cleared."

Gil watches his friend, perhaps trying to figure out if Brass is just letting him down easy, or if he's being truthful. Maybe deciding he ultimately doesn't want to know anyway, Gil straightens up.

Then, finally, he notices me standing by his doorway.

"Catherine."

Brass turns, surprised to see me now approaching behind him.

"Sorry," I offer, gesturing behind me. "I was just on my way to my car. Was hoping to catch you for a bit to get an update about what happens now."

Both of them watch me silently.

"You know, with Sara. And everything."

Brass continues assessing me, his distrusting gaze reminding me a lot of the brunette I just mentioned. I can see he cares for her, his protective nature evident.

"They're deciding now," Gil finally answers. "The DA and alternate judges have been called in and are meeting with the prosecution and defense in their chambers."

"But it's a mistrial, yes?"

Gil nods, "Yes, pretty much has to be. But the prosecution is going to have to decide whether they want to file a retrial."

"They wouldn't…."

I trail off, seeing Jim's expression.

"Right?"

Jim looks away, for the first time his strong façade wavering slightly. It lets me know just how much his own role in all of this has been weighing on him. And, knowing how protective he is of Sidle, I can't help but wonder if he somehow feels guilty for what's transpired with her. This case. Her being held in custody. Everything she's been up to this past year, on loan to the FBI.

And, to think they don't even know about the brunette's injuries.

"Can I see her?"

Both sets of eyes are immediately back on me.

"While they determine the outcome of this," I say. "Can I see her?"

They go quiet, no one saying anything.

"I'm a neutral party, clearly separated from whatever the hell has apparently been going on here in Vegas."

Finally, just when I think I've become invisible or my companions have become deaf, Jim straightens up.

"I don't see why not I guess."

"Thank you, but I'll be fine."

"Policy, ma'am."

The young cop doesn't spare me half a glance as he continues transferring Sara's cuffed hands from her waist to the silver loop bolted into the table.

Making sure she's secure, he moves to take his place outside the door. It's strange, but when he leaves I almost miss his presence. The atmosphere filling the room now is tense, heavy.

Uncomfortable.

"Sara…"

Sara swallows tightly, her head turned away from me. While she was never great at eye contact before, she's never been quite this avoidant of my gaze.

"We're alone," I affirm for her, in case that's what's making her so edgy. "Everyone's too busy figuring out what to do about the bombs your lawyer dropped to notice much of anything else, really. Including what the two of us are up to."

Sara doesn't look comforted. And, more importantly, she still doesn't look at me in general.

"Sara."

Gaze shifting downward, her dark hair obscures her features.

"Honey, please look at me."

She doesn't comply, her shoulders tensing slightly at my term of endearment.

"Why are you here?" she asks, smoky voice low.

"Where else would I be?" I counter honestly. "The whole city's practically shut down while people scramble to figure this out. They're going to have to wait for outside officials to come in as God knows how many people were named in that countersuit of yours."

Sara shakes her head.

"Not what I meant." She takes a deep breath, and I notice for the first time her breathing is shaky, haggard. "I meant here, with me."

I narrow my eyes.

Finally, Sara looks up at me, her hazel gaze as unreadable as ever. But, I get an underlying hint of confusion, perhaps even anger.

"This case is clearly over," she says tightly. "You don't need to investigate me any further. So why are you here with me?"

I look her over, the shadows crossing her features, the hollowed out cheeks, the hands she's wrapped into tight fists to try to hide the fact that they're shaking. Her shallow, forced breaths.

"What did they do to you in there?" I get out, voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide as my mind starts to put the pieces together.

Yes, she's defensive, she's angry. But, more than that, she's in pain.

And, judging by the force at which she's clenching her teeth together, quite a bit of it.

"Sara, God, I'm going to get the guard – you need to get medical help-"

"No," Sara reaches out, her hands jerking to a quick stop as she's reminded of the fact that they're chained down to the table. She shakes her head. "No, Miss Willows. Please don't."

"You're clearly hurt," I counter tightly, trying to keep my angered voice out of earshot of the guard standing outside. "And I'm not just talking about the fucking stab wounds you already had. You're in even more pain than that, if that's even possible. Something else happened, didn't it?"

"I'm fine."

I match her gaze sternly.

"Don't." Shaking my head, the severity of my threat rings clear. "Don't you dare, Sidle."

Sara looks away again, hiding her eyes from me as things again get too personal for her.

"Please," she tries again, voice sincere. "You don't realize how many people are involved in this case."

I'm reminded of Brass' words I heard just under an hour ago.

More than a few cops.

"Shit."

My anger rises, realizing just how dangerous of a situation Sara is in. Situation she's been in while this case prepared to go to trial. I'm certain more than a few of the cops who have personal stake in this case have made themselves known to Sara during her stay in their own backyard.

Just like someone made themselves known to her that night in the desert.

I shake my head, wishing I could do something. Reach out to her, help her. Anything other than just sit here while she trembles in a metal chair across from me, chained down to the table like an animal.

"You…"

I trail off, not knowing what to say, what to do.

"Was it worth it?"

The question escapes my lips before I realize I've asked it.

Swallowing, Sara finally drags her gaze back to mine.

"To be able to get justice for all those victims whose cases were fixed before they could even start because some corrupt bastards wanted to fill their greedy pockets?" Sara clenches her jaw. "Damn right it was worth it."

Sara's hazel eyes bore into mine.

"Worth all of this and so much more."

"You need to get her out of there."

Brass looks up from his cell, for the first time truly seeming to acknowledge my presence.

"Miss Willows?"

"Sara," I cut in quickly, trying to speed this up. "If you care about her, you need to get her out of that fucking jail."

He narrows his eyes.

"She's surrounded by the very same cops she's currently handing over to a federal investigation."

"We've taken precautions," Brass looks at me closely, eyes searching mine. "Has something happened, Miss Willows?"

I hesitate, not wanting to betray Sara's trust. But, more importantly, I need to get her help. Or, at least the hell out of where she currently is.

"You need to get her transferred somewhere safe," I brush off his question.

Watching me a moment more, he presses a few buttons on his phone before bringing it to his ear.

"Curtis," he says quickly. "I need you with Sidle. Now."

Hoping this 'Curtis' is someone who can be trusted, for now I'm going to have to place my own trust in Brass.

"I'm on it," he promises me, sending me one last look before he leaves the room in a hurry.

"Hello?" I answer groggily, so sleep deprived that I'm only half awake as I pull my phone to my ear.

The events of the last 24 hours have been a whirlwind. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally.

"Catherine?"

"Gil?" I question, becoming more awake as I sit up in bed, pushing the covers aside. "What's wrong."

"Nothing," he assures, voice quiet as he perhaps notices the hour he's calling at. "I just thought you would like to know that the case against Sara has officially been dropped."

I let out a relieved breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"For good?"

"For good," he affirms. "Prosecution declined to file for a new trial in light of everything."

"They'd be stupid to think they'd ever get her for anything now, knowing she was following orders from the FBI."

Gil expresses his agreement.

"They're releasing her from custody later tonight after the final paperwork goes through."

"Good," I breathe out, closing my eyes under the weight of everything that's happened these past hours.

"Anyway," Gil states quietly. "I'll let you get some sleep. Just thought you'd want to know."

"Of course," I assure him. "Thanks."

"Oh, and Cath?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we could meet tomorrow morning?" he pauses for a minute. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Raising a brow, I try to read his tone. Coming up empty, I slowly nod though he can't see me.

"Sure."

"Good, see you in the morning. Eight o'clock at the café across from the lab?"

Feeling my curiosity, and if I'm honest my nerves, rising, I tighten my grip on my phone.

"I'll be there."

AN: Thanks for reading.