AN: Hope you are all doing well. Glad to finally be able to give you guys a quick update. Thank you so much for everyone's kind and thoughtful words last chapter - I enjoy taking these journeys with you all and always love reading your thoughts and insights. You guys are all amazing.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 30

CATHERINE POV

"You want anything to drink?"

Sara shakes her head, "I, uh, I could actually use a shower, if you don't mind," she gestures down towards her clothes that are covered in dirt and streaks of blood.

"Of course," I move further into the house. "Guest room's just past Lindsey's, there's a shower with clean towels. I'll put some clean clothes outside the door for you to use."

"Thanks."

Disappearing into the house, I decide I may as well do the same. I want nothing more than to get out of these grimy clothes.

Watching the dirt rinse off me barely minutes later, I wash my skin and hair at least two times, grimacing slightly at the various areas of my body that sting under the shower's warm spray. While most are just scrapes, it still burns uncomfortably under the water and soap.

But, like I said before, I'm damn lucky that's the only discomfort I have. That scene could have gone a hell of a lot worse.

Cutting off the water, I quickly towel off and dress.

When I step outside into the hall, I hear the guest shower just shutting off.

The kitchen is bright when I turn on the lights, making my way to the coffee maker to start a fresh pot. While it's perhaps not the best idea before we're supposed to be sleeping, I know I'm feeling anything but tired right now and could use the warm beverage.

And, I have every intention of adding some special ingredients to these particular cups.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I turn to see Sara hesitantly entering the kitchen, hair damp and wavy as it falls on the Montana folk festival t-shirt I lent her. I can't help the smile as I notice my sweatpants look more like capris on her endlessly long legs.

Perhaps following my gaze, Sara looks down at her clothing. Gesturing to the shirt, she raises a brow. "Never picked you for a folk festival type of person."

I smile, "We all have our secrets."

"How are you feeling?" she asks me, eyes moving over some of the scrapes visible along my elbows.

"Sore," I admit. "But nothing that won't heal in a few days. And, God, I really can't complain about a few scrapes when someone was literally aiming a sniper rifle at my head."

Sara nods, knowing just how badly today could have gone.

"How about you?" I question, noting she looks a little better with the blood washed off her, but still a bit pale, her own scrapes standing out against her skin.

"I'm okay," she answers predictably.

"Are you ever not okay?" I ask, not knowing whether to smile or roll my eyes.

Sara shrugs, "There was one time I tried to help someone jump their car. Connected the jumper cables to the wrong ends of the battery. That time I wasn't so okay."

I watch her, seeing the slight smile crossing her lips, and I can't help but laugh.

"You're such a dork," I tell her honestly.

Grabbing the coffee pot as it finishes, I pour the steaming liquid into two mugs.

"I didn't ask if you wanted any," I say. "But I've never known you to turn down coffee."

Sara nods, "Thanks."

Gesturing to the bottle of bourbon I brought down from my cupboard, I search her expression. She hesitates a moment before she nods. Adding the amber liquid to our drinks, I extend one of the mugs to her.

Moving towards the living room, Sara follows, sitting on my couch only after I do.

"You think our shooter from today was the killer from the rave?"

While I'd like to talk about anything other than that horrid scene right now, taking my mind back to that awful place, I know we need to discuss this.

"No," Sara answers. "The change in MO seems too drastic."

She goes quiet, but I can tell she's not saying everything she's thinking.

"But..." I lead her.

"But I think our vic from today is our killer from the rave."

I raise a brow at her theory, intrigued.

"And this killer?"

"Cleaning up lose ends from our prior scene. He's the real person calling the shots. The kill at the rave was his orders, but not his actions."

"Motive?"

"Drugs," Sara answers, and I realize she's already given this thought.

"Okay," I play out her theory in my head. "Today's vic was what then... dealer?"

Sara nods, "Deal went bad between him and our first two vics a the rave, obviously, as drug deals are not intended to end with the buyers being murdered."

"And today's shooter?"

"Supplier. Much higher up the operation."

I think it through, figuring it's as good a theory as any. Or, actually better than most I'd had going through my own head if I'm honest. Sniper executions are not low brow crime. And, criminals with that type of money and artillery often include a city's most affluent gangs - whom are almost always heavily involved in drug sales and dealings, among their other activities.

The evidence will ultimately have to lead us, but at least we are starting to develop a solid theory.

"Too strong?" I bring my attention back to the present when I notice Sara swallow her drink tightly.

Sara shakes her head, taking another small sip and keeping her eyes locked across the room.

I want us to be able to relax, yes, but I don't want to get Sara inebriated either. She looks like her head is hurting bad enough right now without adding a hangover to her list of ails that will greet her in the morning.

Speaking of, I curse my stupidity.

"Shit," I reach out, lowering her arms when she goes to take another sip. "Should you be drinking that? With your head?"

Sara's eyes move closer, but still not meeting mine.

"Nothing is wrong with my head," she states tightly, like she's trying to explain addition to a kindergartner. "Just my ear from the noise. So unless this drink is about to start playing rock music I think I'll survive the experience of drinking it."

Releasing her forearm, I pull my hand back.

"Sorry," I offer. "Just concerned."

Sighing, Sara seems to lower her shoulders slightly.

"No," she says quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap…I just…"

"It's been a long day," I offer her an easy out.

After all, I'm not exactly doing the greatest with my emotions right now either. When I get flustered I tend to want to be close to those around me, Sara instead tends to push them away. We all have our ways of coping, and neither one is more 'correct' than the other.

Just when I think our drinks are going to be finished in silence, Sara's voice reaches me despite its soft tone.

"I appreciate that you care, Catherine. It's very…kind."

I'm worried that she thinks I care out of some feeling of obligation or politeness. Not that I just simply care about her. But, I'll take what I can get. And, I appreciate her stepping out of her comfort zone far enough to even say what she just did to me. Coming from Sara it really means a lot.

"That head of yours has a lot of knowledge that tends to come in handy. I have a vested interest in its wellbeing."

Sara smiles slightly, a gentle tug pulling at the corner of her lips.

It's small, but it does a lot to break some of the tension in the room.

"Are you going to turn this case over to the guys?" she asks, voice quiet.

Sara's question surprises me, but I can understand why she's asking it. Under these circumstances, it would be well within my right to reassign the remainder of the investigation to another CSI. Sara and I are now clearly personally involved, and some supervisors would follow strict policy regarding concerns of bias being raised in court. But, I've never exactly been one to follow all the rules quite so rigidly.

"Do you want me to pass it off?" I question honestly.

Anyone would understand not wanting to work a case after being shot at by the perp – in fact, most sane people would insist on being relieved from the case.

But, apparently neither Sara and I are sane as the brunette finally meets my eyes, looking at me like I've spoken in tongues.

"Of course not."

"The shooter could try again," I press.

"Then I hope he's invested as much money in bullet proof armor as he has in weaponry."

Sara's words are tight, harsh. It's clear that this case has riled her, that she did not appreciate someone taking shots at her and I while we had no reasonable ability to fight back. It's one thing to shoot at someone, it's another thing to shoot at them from the safety of a mountainside when you're the only one with a scope.

"I'm not handing this case over, Sara," I assure her, answering her original question. "Not unless you had wanted me to."

I reach towards her, placing my hand on her shoulder.

"This is our case, our fight. We're going to be the ones to finish it."

Looking over at me, Sara searches my gaze, and for what is probably the first time since I met her she doesn't move to get out from under my touch. Allowing the contact, she lets out a long breath, eyes lowering back to her mug as she empties the rest of her drink in one large swallow.

I'm not sure when exactly Sara and I realized how late it was, but once we did, we placed our cups in the sink, saying our goodnights and heading off to our respective beds.

Now, glancing at the clock, I note we've been asleep for about two hours. Or, at least I have.

Seeing a slight, fuzzy light flickering under my doorway, I push the covers down towards my legs. Stretching, I quietly place my feet on the floor, arms crossing over my body at the chill in the air.

Stepping silently out of my room, I move carefully down the hallway until I'm in the living room. There, sure enough, is a lone figure watching television with the sound all the way off. Seeing the closed captioning, I smile slightly. Only Sara would watch what looks like the history channel on mute.

Moving around the couch, Sara jerks away from me when she senses the sudden movement next to her.

"Sorry," I say gently. "I didn't mean to startle you, it's just me."

Taking a deep breath, Sara shakes her head. "It's fine, didn't expect to see anyone is all." Looking me over, she glances back towards the TV. "Sorry, I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Not at all," I assure her. "I was already awake, noticed the light."

"Sorry," she says again. "I can turn it off."

"Sara," I calm her with a small smile. "It's fine. Really."

She seems unsure, clearly worried and likely still trying to adjust to another person being here when she's apparently been out here alone for quite some time.

"Can't sleep?" I ask.

"I'm not…normally…I don't…" Sara seems unsure how to answer. "I don't normally sleep much."

She's alluded to this answer before, and I've joked with her about her lack of sleep numerous times. But, seeing it in person somehow makes it sadder, and definitely not something to joke about. I can see her heavy eyes, her weary expression and fatigued posture. The girl is wrecked, and yet here she is watching a documentary about the international space station.

"Why not?"

Sara looks surprised at the question, perhaps not expecting it. Or perhaps not expecting me to actually come out and ask it.

Perching on the edge of the arm of the couch, I let her see I'm serious and that I genuinely want to hear the answer.

"I don't know…" she trails off. "I just never have, I guess."

It's a deflective answer, and she knows it. Somehow I expected it, after all Sara Sidle is the queen of deflection. But, tonight I'd hoped perhaps in the cover of darkness, in the spirit of what we'd just been through and the progress we've made in our relationship, that she'd be more willing to open up.

"Why?" I press again.

"Does it matter?" she counters.

I don't even hesitate.

"To me it does."

"Why?" this time it's her turn to ask, the question barely a whisper as her eyes shift away from mine.

"Because you matter to me."

The answer hangs between us, her eyes on the carpet, mine on hers.

It's clear she doesn't know what to do with this answer, this honest declaration that she can easily distinguish as truthful.

Remaining quiet, she tugs at the material of the pillow next to her, the saturated colors of the television playing off her features.

"You mind if I join you?"

Her answer doesn't come for a while, and I'm sure she'll make some excuse to leave. But, just as I've given up hope, she finally moves the pillow, clearing a spot for me without a word.

Joining her, we watch the television together silently, reading along about events and places that seem so foreign, so abstract from our own.

"Sara."

Reaching down, I gently run my fingers across the bare skin of her arm, carefully avoiding the various abrasions that cross through the tanned skin.

"Sara, sweetheart."

Hearing her heavy breathing give way to a low noise that sounds like a mix between a growl and a whimper, I become more aggressive.

"Sara," I state louder, squeezing her shoulder firmly. "Wake up."

She's still shaking, her body trembling so harshly that I can feel it all the way on my side of the couch.

"Come on, Sara," I call. "Wake up."

Pulling her shoulders, I gently but firmly jar her body until she's finally awake.

Immediately, she jerks upright, legs tangling with my coffee table as she stumbles to her feet.

"Hey, easy," I call. "You're okay, Sara. You're safe."

Breaths dragging in rapidly, her eyes shoot to mine, as if perhaps realizing for the first time that I'm here. And, then, glancing around, she seems to recall where she is.

"Fuck," she gets out, backing away a few steps as she tries to settle her breathing.

I let her collect herself, watching as she drags a hand through her hair, pushing the dark strands back from her face.

She's still shaking.

"You okay?" I question gently.

She nods, perhaps not trusting her voice quite yet.

She looks anything but alright, but I don't push her. However, when she starts to step away even further, I can sense what's about to happen just moments before it does.

"I should let you get some rest," Sara says. "Sorry I fell asleep."

"Is this why you don't sleep?"

Sara's eyes dart to mine, her dark gaze even harder to read in the limited lighting.

"I'll see you in the morning, Catherine."

"Sara, stop."

She ignores me and keeps walking, only stopping when I grip her elbow as she tries to pass the couch.

Pulling herself from my grip violently, she narrows her eyes.

"Don't."

Her tone is low, stern.

Without another word, she steps away into the darkness, disappearing down the hall into the guest room. The door shuts soundly, and not a second later I hear the lock on the knob click into place.

I have a problem.

I care.

I care a whole damn lot.

All I need to do is look down at the path I practically burned into the carpet in front of my guest room to realize just how damn much I care.

Yes, I knew I cared for Sara before this. My reaction when Kelly told me she had feelings for the brunette was enough of a wake up call for me to realize that my own feelings for Sara aren't entirely platonic. Not platonic at all, really. They're feelings a CSI shouldn't be having for their coworker. Especially not their subordinate coworker.

But, that ship has left the dock. Whether it's right or wrong or somewhere in between, the feelings are there. They're there and there's no making them go away, no ignoring them until they disappear, no denying this to myself any longer.

And, much to my surprise, they're even deeper and stronger than I gave them credit for.

I need to admit to myself not only that I have feelings for Sara, but just how much I'm feeling towards her. How much my heart feels like its being clenched and squeezed inside my chest at the simple fact that she's hurting and I can't do a damn thing about it.

For the last hour I've wanted to do nothing more than knock on this door. Hell, knock down this damn door and make her talk to me. Make her stop running and hiding her feelings, her emotions from me. Make her realize that she's not alone, that people care. That I care.

But, that isn't the way to get anywhere with Sara. You go after her like that and she'll shut you out even stronger than she did before. You can't force her somewhere she isn't ready to go. You have to be patient.

Which, unfortunately, isn't one of my strong suits.

But, it's the only way to handle this. To handle her.

As much as it pains me, I need to give her space tonight. It's too soon for anything else.

And, before I can even think about getting anywhere personal with Sara, she needs to know how I feel about her. It isn't fair to present myself as a caring friend or colleague when I have desires for more. Sara has been nothing but protective of me since the moment I met her, our scene hours ago a glaring example, and I owe her the respect of offering her the same.

But, before I go further down this road, I know there's something else I need to do.

I need to figure out what it was that Sara discussed with Kelly to make my friend change her mind about pursuing a relationship with her. As well as she hid it, I saw the damage Kelly's rejection did to Sara, and I can't let that happen to her again. I won't offer something to Sara only to retract it days later. I need to be sure I'm willing to travel this road to all the way to the end before I get on it at all.

But, to do that, I'm going to have to figure out how to go about getting the information.

Sara is unlikely to open up to me if I go to her directly, and asking her would play my hand anyway. To ask Kelly would feel like a betrayal to both of them.

I'm not sure the best way of doing this, but I've concluded that it needs to be done. I can't stand this limbo anymore. I can't stand Sara literally putting her life in danger for me while I in turn can't even enter a room to comfort her. She's been so selfless, so sacrificing, and here I am forced to stand by while she fights her own battles alone.

It's not fair.

This woman who has done so much for me, for my daughter, she deserves better.

She deserves someone willing and able to be there for her in return.

When I get up the next morning, I half expect Sara not to be there. To have called a cab or somehow gotten a ride out of here.

And, when I see the empty guest room, living room, and kitchen, I begin to confirm my suspicions. But, just as I'm turning to head back into the hallway to get dressed, I see my back door is unlocked.

On a hunch, I move carefully to the door, quietly pulling the curtain aside.

Sure enough, Sara is perched along the porch steps, sitting with her elbows resting on her knees, head propped up on tight fists.

Turning around, I give her a few more moments of peace before I interrupt her, cautiously stepping outside with a steaming cup of coffee in my hands.

Without a word, I sit next to her, extending the offered beverage.

Taking it, her head lowers slightly, eyes watching the steam rising into the early morning air.

Her feet are bare, her sweatpants pushed up towards her knees.

"I'm sorry," Sara eventually breaks the silence, her words quiet and her tone heavy.

I shake my head, "No apology needed."

Just like there's no explanation needed for what it is she's apologizing for.

We don't speak, Sara only moving occasionally to drink her coffee.

"Do you have a change of clothes at the lab?" I ask, trying to focus on neutral topics for right now. "Not that my pants don't look charming on you, but something tells me you'd rather wear something that actually reaches your ankles."

Sara nods, "I can put my jeans back on and change into my spare clothes at the lab."

"You sure?" I ask, having seen enough of her jeans to have spotted the amount of dirt and blood caked into the material. "I can try to wash them here."

"Don't bother," she tells me. "They just need to get me through the lab door and then they're off to the jeans heaven in the sky."

"At least keep my t-shirt until you can change," I suggest, knowing that as rough as her jeans looked, her shirt looked even worse. The blood from her ear alone discolored an unsettling amount of the material on the right side.

"You sure?"

"It's just a shirt, Sar."

Sara swallows, fingers tapping along her mug. "Thanks."

"No problem," I answer easily. "Besides, I owe you a sweater."

Sara smiles slightly, her expression finally losing just a slight bit of its edge.

"It can live happily ever after with my jeans."

Smiling as well, I lean back, silently enjoying the crisp, clean air of the morning until it's time for me to change my own clothes before we leave.

As I stand, I pause just before reaching the door.

"You're the strongest person I know, Sara," I say softly into the wisps of sunlight barely peaking up from the mountains. "You've saved my ass more times that I can count in the short time I've known you, put your life on the line for me when you had every reason not to. You are brave, loyal, and so damn courageous."

I lower my head, shaking it darkly.

"Don't you dare for one minute try to convince yourself that what I witnessed when you fell asleep last night makes me see you any other way. I've already seen who you are, Sara. Nothing could ever change that."

Without another word, I leave her to her private thoughts.

AN: Thanks for reading.