AN: Thanks as always to those reading, following, and reviewing. Your support is what keeps the stories going. Hope everyone is doing well. Glad to have another reasonably timed update for everyone.

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CHAPTER 31

CATHERINE POV

"You guys sure you're okay?" Jim's gaze moves between Sara and I, looking us both over. "Because quite honestly you both look like you got in a fight with a very angry cat."

I laugh, having seen my own reflection this morning well enough to recognize the various scratches and scrapes along portions of my body, including my face. And, my quiet colleague standing next to me has quite a few of her own.

Getting serious, Jim places our service weapons on the desk in front of us. "I'm glad you guys are alright."

His eyes linger on Sara for a moment, the two sharing a silent bond and I note Sara's expression warming as she gives him a small smile.

"Thanks," I tell the police captain. "Everything cleared through IA?"

He nods, bringing his attention back to our weapons. "Probably the easiest IA investigation those people have had this year. Took them about an hour to clear your use of force reports."

I nod in relief, not having wanted to waste time on this case while IA performed some useless inquiry into why Sara and I discharged our weapons at the scene. I think it's pretty damn clear why we discharged our weapons. And, let's be honest, our 9mms could never have accurately targeted our suspect anyway – our bullets simply acting to create distraction and cover rather than legitimate attempts at a gunman located all the way across a damn canyon.

Taking her weapon, Sara wastes no time checking the safety and placing it at her hip. Following suit, it feels good to have things returning back towards normal. I want to get to work and nail this bastard.

"We good?" I question, making sure there's nothing else Sara and I need to do.

"You're good," Jim affirms with a knowing smile. "Go get that asshole."

"God," I breathe out, looking over the contents of the table in amazement. "How many shots did he get off?"

"By bullet count nine," Sara answers, her eyes joining mine as they focus on the metal shards already sorted for us on the evidence table by one of our team members. "Though by auditory count it was eleven."

Looking up, it takes me a moment.

"You counted his shots?"

"Yes," Sara shrugs. "Helps me know how many bullets we need to recover. Apparently we're still missing two. Although, to be honest, that's better than I expected considering the expanse of land and how many places they could have gone off."

I'm still shocked, "You were seriously able to get an auditory count?"

Sara finally looks up, confusion forming on her face when she sees my expression.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks, trying to figure out why I'm staring at her like this.

"No, no," I shake my head. "Quite the opposite. I feel like an idiot that apparently you were able to get a shot count while I was simply trying to keep from pissing myself while running for my life."

Sara looks away, her eyes roaming over the table as she appears to consider what she wants to say next.

"I…" she trails off.

Taking a breath, she taps her fingers along the table.

"I guess I've had some experience paying attention to my environment when in danger. Sometimes…sometimes it's the only thing that can save your life."

She doesn't say more, her voice trailing off and I know she won't comment further. But, it's enough.

Sara and I both share an unfortunate commonality. We've both been exposed to abusive environments. But, Sara's exposure included when she was a child. A time when knowing places to hide, people to avoid, safe havens and dangerous triggers are all a part of your daily living. A part of your daily struggle to stay safe, alive.

Her youth was probably filled with situations like this shooting where you're filled with adrenaline, not knowing whether you were going to live or die. After a while, your body stops panicking when entering fight or flight mode, instead you almost get conditioned to it. Your body and mind can remain calmer, more focused – helping you in your goal of getting out of the situation in one piece.

It's a gift not many people have – but a dark gift that no one should ever hope for.

Reaching out, I take her hand, holding on tightly when she flinches in surprise at the unexpected contact.

Running my thumb along her knuckles soothingly, I squeeze her hand in mine, letting it communicate that I understand the meaning lying underneath the surface of her words.

"You did well, Sara," I tell her quietly, hating the reasons behind her attention to detail in this case. Hating that this wasn't the first time her, or my, life was threatened. And, hating more that those other times had nothing to do with the job we hold.

Looking down at our joined hands, Sara stays quiet, her body still and silent.

Finally, she squeezes my hand back before she pulls hers away.

"We, uh," she clears her throat. "We should get these dusted for prints. Likely useless, but we should at least try."

Allowing her the request for change in topics, I nod, gathering up about half of the evidence bags containing the bullets to my side of the table.

For the next hour, we work in complete silence.

"Nothing."

Tossing down the folder on the table, I let out a long, exhausted breath.

"No prints, no trace, no DNA. Bullets were useless, the evidence from the scene itself is coming up empty. Our guys still haven't found where he was positioned on the ridge to look for evidence there…"

I rub my temples, trying to stop the frustration racing through me.

"This guy tried to blow our heads off and we have absolutely nothing here to get him."

Taking in my words, Sara turns, heading to the coffee maker.

"We'll get him," she returns quietly but sincerely.

Snorting, I shake my head. "Not at this rate."

"Hey," Sara says when she turns back around with two full cups of coffee, passing one to me. "We've been at this less than 24 hours, Catherine. This isn't the end - we're just getting started."

"Yeah?" I question. "With what evidence?"

Sara's eyes search mine before she looks down at her coffee, swirling the liquid slightly.

"We're just getting started," she responds, repeating her words. Looking up at me, she matches my gaze. "We make a great team, Catherine, and we're going to figure this out. I promise you."

Watching the hazel gaze pinned on mine, I note the sincerity lying in hers. The honesty.

While most people uttering such words would come across as false promises, with Sara it somehow feels different. She has an eerie awareness and calmness to her that sometimes catches me off guard. She's one of the very few people I've ever met that can make me feel this level of trust and security, just by her words alone. Perhaps it's because her actions have always proven her right, proven that she is, indeed, trustworthy.

"I hope so," I respond sincerely, finally feeling some of my frustration leaving me, slowly transforming into motivation. She's right, were just barely in the first inning right now – this case is far from over.

And, she's also right about us being a damn good team. There's no one else in this lab I'd rather be paired with on this than her.

Sighing, I look down at my own coffee, taking a long sip before I grimace.

"God this is horrible."

Sara laughs lightly, for the first time today losing just a slight bit of the tension around her. I know last night was stressful for her, and our interactions this morning as well. So far today we have been trying to move on from it – to not let it set us back in the progress we've made between us so far.

I appreciate her efforts, and that she's been working hard to not shut me out today like she did last night. I can tell she's trying not to retreat back behind all her walls she had when we first met, and I appreciate that beyond words. While our progress forward has been slow, the last thing I wanted was to start moving backward.

"When's the last time you ate?" I ask curiously, feeling the coffee settling uncomfortably in my own empty stomach.

Sara hesitates, "Oh, uh…"

"If you have to think about it, it's been too long."

I know I haven't had anything since the quick apple I grabbed at my place this morning, and I know for a fact Sara didn't eat anything at my house. So, that puts us at least two meals behind. Sara probably more.

"Come on," I call. "I'm taking you to lunch."

She pauses, shaking her head, "Thanks, but I should really get back to…"

"To what?" I snort. "The evidence that we've already processed? Or the new evidence that doesn't exist?"

Caught, Sara swallows. "Sorry, I just, it seems like I should be doing something to help this case…I don't want to waste time or opportunity."

"I respect that, Sara," I state honestly. "And I feel the same, obviously. But we've exhausted the evidence we have right now, and we both need a break and some food before we can keep pushing forward. We're exhausted."

I pause, putting my free hand in my pocket.

"If you don't want to eat with me, that's fine," I tell her. "But at least let me get you some food. You're looking a little rough, no offense."

Sara raises a brow, "Thanks," she says with a light shake of her head. "And it's fine…eating with you…that's not…"

She takes a breath, gathering herself.

"I'd love to eat with you, Catherine."

Smiling, I laugh lightly at my younger companion, "That's a much better answer, Sidle."

Grabbing my file and storing it safely aside, I head to the door.

"Come on," I call. "I'm driving."

I hear an exaggerated sigh behind me that only makes me smile wider.

When Sara and I get seated, the first thing we order is real coffee. Not that crap they try to pass off as coffee at the lab. When the waitress walks away, Sara and I fall into silence. Thankfully, it's not an awkward silence, just a quiet, exhausted silence.

But, my interactions with Sara outside of work are rare, and I don't want to spend this one with my own thoughts. I want to spend this one with her.

"You know what you're going to get?" I ask.

She nods, having already closed her own menu. "Pancakes."

"Really?" I question with a raised brow. "For lunch?"

Sara nods, "Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Doesn't matter."

"Alright then," I nod, noting this information about Sara. "Strange food to be a favorite, but no judgement."

"What are you getting?" she challenges.

"Turkey wrap, fries. You know, a normal lunch item."

Sara smiles slightly, a small quirk to her lips. "Uh huh."

The restaurant isn't busy, and soon Sara and I have ordered and received our food.

"Plain pancakes…" I can't seem to understand my companion's food choice even after we've started eating. "Not even any bacon or sausage? God, and no syrup?"

Sara smiles, swallowing another forkful of pancakes adorned with butter only. "I'm a vegetarian, Catherine. So, no to the bacon or sausage. And syrup sort of ruins pancakes in my opinion, they're perfect enough without it."

I raise my brows, "You're a vegetarian?" I try to think back to the times I've seen her eating, to what she had at my housewarming.

"Yes," she answers simply.

"Huh," I respond, not knowing why it bothers me that I didn't know this about her. Seems like something you should know about someone else.

But, I guess when it comes to Sara and the mile long list of things I don't know about her, this should really barely register.

"I was five when I saw this guy we lived next to putting down an injured horse. The horse was suffering, but I still couldn't handle it. I wouldn't speak for days. That poor horse was probably better off being put out of its misery, but I knew then that if I couldn't handle that animal dying for that reason, there was no way I could handle what goes on with the animals that are killed for other reasons. Like food."

Her explanation surprises me, not having expected her to share anything further than necessary. It makes me smile, feeling like I'm finally getting to know her one small, tiny step at a time.

"Sorry," I offer, gesturing down to my wrap.

She shrugs, "Just because it isn't for me doesn't mean I judge others."

I smile, the answer being so characteristically Sara.

"Where were you?" I ask curiously. "Where were you living when that happened?"

Sara's expression tightens slightly, just enough for me to notice.

"New Mexico."

This time she doesn't expand on her answer, and I can read enough of her body language to know not to ask further. Nodding, I don't push, respecting that her childhood probably isn't the best conversation topic for the brunette.

"We had horses where I grew up in Montana," I state, turning the topic to me and seeing Sara's eyes raise in relief. "Five of them. I loved riding them, feeding them, brushing them. Pretty much everything about them." I laugh. "I'm pretty sure I preferred those horses to most people I've met in my life."

Sara smiles, "I can relate."

Smiling back, I take a bit of food before continuing. "My sister used to ride them competitively, but to me that just took the fun out of it. Made it into some kind of chore or responsibility."

"How old is your sister?" Sara asks.

"She's two years younger than me, so early 30's."

Sara nods, "She still in Montana?"

Smiling, I think of my sister. "Yeah, she actually owns a vet clinic up in the foothills close to where we grew up. Now she takes care of everyone else's animals."

"You guys close?" Sara asks, eyes genuinely interested.

"We were," I answer. "We sort of lost touch a bit when I was going through my Vegas rebellion phase. Nancy's always been one to follow the rules, straight A's in school, never stepping out of line. She couldn't understand my need to get away from it all. Couldn't understand why I was doing the awful things I was doing while I was here."

I shrug, "We've gotten closer again though as adults. Now both in much better places in our lives. I try to talk to her at least once a week, Skype when we can on the weekends. I couldn't be happier to have her back in my life – I don't know what I'd do without her."

Smiling, Sara swallows some of her coffee. "That sounds nice."

I hesitate, not knowing whether I have the right to ask Sara these questions in return. With anyone else I wouldn't hesitate, but with Sara I never know what the guarded CSI is going to be okay with or not. She so rarely talks about herself or anything personal that I have no idea where my boundary lines are.

"Catherine?" Sara questions, noting my expression.

"Sorry," I respond. "Just…"

I decide if Sara and I are going to keep moving forward, I need to be open with her.

"I was just wondering if you also had any siblings, but I wasn't sure if I could ask."

Sara watches me, her expression hard to read.

"Why couldn't you ask?"

I pause, not knowing how to phrase this. "You don't really open up about yourself," I say honestly. "And you've never said anything about your family. I don't want to push or make you uncomfortable."

Sara continues watching me, her gaze slightly unnerving.

Then, she looks away.

"I think you already know why I don't bring up those particular topics," Sara says, tone even and carefully controlled. "And so you already know the worst parts of it. What difference does it make asking about the rest?"

I watch her, my own eyes unable to look away from her profile.

"I don't think I do," I state sadly, voice almost a whisper. "I don't think I know the worst parts, Sara."

Her jaw tightening, Sara looks down, her eyes fixed on a spot near our table's window.

Clearing her throat, Sara takes in a deep breath, centering herself as she returns her eyes to mine.

"Whether or not I have siblings isn't a question that will give me much pause when you already know the other types of things about me that you do."

Sara ignores my previous comment, and it makes my heart clench, wondering if her avoidance is confirmation. And, somehow knowing it is.

Respecting her privacy, I respond to her spoken words versus her unspoken ones.

"Okay," I take a chance, "do you have siblings?"

Sara watches me a moment before nodding.

"Two," she answers. "Well, one."

Breathing in, she taps her fork against her plate quietly.

"I had a younger brother, but he passed away. I also have a sister, older than me."

I pause, hesitant regarding what to say.

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother," I offer sincerely.

"Thanks," she says quietly. "It was a while ago."

I nod, knowing enough about her nonverbal cues to move on from that topic for now.

"You and your sister close?" I ask instead.

"No," Sara says with a light laugh. "Not at all."

"Oh?" I raise a brow.

"We, um, sort of also took different paths in life."

I nod, "Did she go all 'Catherine' on you?"

Sara smiles, shaking her head. "Not at all. She was the Nancy and I was the Catherine if that's the analogy we're going with."

Now I raise both brows, "Really?"

Sara nods, "What? You pictured me as the Nancy type?"

I nod, eyes wide as I laugh, "Yes. Have you met yourself, Sidle?"

Sara laughs as well, and I'm glad to see some of the tension leaving from our conversation.

"Like you," she answers, "I'm a bit different now than I was when I was younger."

I shake my head, staring at her.

"I can't comprehend this," I state honestly. "I can't picture you as anything but the dorky, brilliant, type A, stubbornly noble CSI that I've witnessed."

Sara snorts, "Thanks for that glowing description. I sound quite attractive."

I smile, while wishing Sara knew just how attractive she, and her personality, really are.

"You're being serious though?" I ask her one last time. "This isn't some version of your dry humor that you love so much?"

Sara nods, "Seriously. Noreen, my sister, she's a cardiac surgeon up at Johns Hopkins the last time I looked her up. Everything she did was about getting into med school, keeping a perfect record, perfect grades."

I shake my head, confused. "But, you went to Harvard, correct?" I ask. "Your own grades must have been damn near perfect."

Sara pauses, recalling I've seen her personal file listing all her past education. "Perfect grades? No. I just did really well on my standardized testing."

"How well?"

Sara pauses, blushing slightly.

"Oh," I respond, starting to get it. "So, your sister works tirelessly to pull off perfect grades, does well on her SAT, on her GRE, MCAT, etc. Meanwhile, her younger sister gets perfect scores on her SAT because she's just naturally a brilliant genius. So, younger sister who could care less about grades and status gets a free ride to Harvard while older sister who's applied herself since day one needs to fight her way into med school because her mind doesn't work like her younger sister's."

Sara watches me, eyes widening slightly.

"Uh…"

"Just admit I'm right."

"Sort of," Sara admits. "But Noreen's brilliant, that was never the issue. She just, it's more that we ran in different crowds growing up. I screwed up my life in so many ways while she always did everything right. I think it hurt her that in the end we ended up at the same place in life. It wasn't fair."

"You don't think she was also happy for you though? She's your sister, surely she'd want you to do well in life?"

"I think she feels resentful about a lot of things," Sara answers sincerely. "But other things happened beyond the school stuff. I think in the end there were just too many feelings that entered into it all…it became easier for her just to cut herself off from me than have to reconcile with everything."

"Other things…" I trail. "Other things like involving your brother?"

Sara nods quietly, "Some. Yes."

I know better than to push further, lucky to have gotten even this much from Sara. Piece by piece, I'm starting to fill in tiny portions of the Sidle puzzle. Long ways to go, but, finally a few pieces have at least been taken out of the box.

"So, what crowds did you run in, exactly?" I ask as my last question, not able to keep the curiosity at bay.

I've always pictured Sara being the girl on the math team or journal club in school – perfect grades and involved in a thousand activities, one equally as intellectual as the next.

"Uh…"

She pauses, genuinely struggling to figure out if she wants to tell me. It only makes my curiosity rise higher.

"Come on, Sar," I plead. "You know I was once a stripper. It can't be more surprising than that."

Sara still struggles, eventually sighing.

"The crowd I ran in...was mostly members of a gang I got involved with."

I laugh, I legitimately laugh.

And, Sara just narrows her eyes when she looks up.

"You wanted me to tell you, and then you laugh at me?"

"I'm sorry," I answer. "God, really, I'm sorry. That is just not what I expected you to say."

I try to wrap my head around it, Sara Sidle a member of a gang? No. There's no way.

"How? Why?"

Sara shrugs, eyes studying her coffee.

I can tell that she's being serious, and probably a little hurt by my reaction.

"Things weren't easy in our household growing up," Sara says quietly. "Then, stuff happened, and we got put in the foster system. We constantly got moved around from house to house. When that's your life, it's easy to feel like you don't belong anywhere. Like you don't have a family."

She looks up, her eyes heavy and dark.

"So, you join a different kind of family."

And, with that, it makes sense. Perfect sense. And I feel like even more of an ass for laughing.

Sara's childhood was violent, traumatic, and I don't even know half of what she went through. Of all people to be part of a gang, she's the perfect candidate really. She's simply unique in that she somehow got the hell out of there intact, got herself into Harvard and Berkeley. Made a life for herself.

"I'm sorry," I tell her honestly. "I just never would have suspected. But, knowing a little more about the journey you've taken to end up at this spot…" I shake my head. "It makes me even more proud of you."

Sara laughs lowly, dropping her gaze.

"There's nothing about my past to be proud of," she gets out. "I was so angry, so messed up. The things we did…the things I did…"

She shakes her head in disgust.

"I would trade where I am now to erase where I've been. In a heartbeat I would take that part of my life back if I could, no matter where it would put me now."

I pause, hearing the self-hatred in her tone, the darkness behind her words.

"Sara," I state. "We've all done things we wish we could take back. And, honestly, my own laundry list would make anyone sick. But, you at some point have to accept that it's there, that it's never going to go away, and you just have to come to peace with it."

Sara looks out the window, taking in my words as she remains silent.

"Hey," I call.

When she doesn't respond I reach out, gently turning her jaw until she's facing me.

"Your sister's missing out on knowing one hell of a fine young woman. A woman who I'm damn proud to know and have in my life."

Sara swallows tightly, her eyes fighting to stay on mine as they start to deepen with emotion.

"A woman who, every time she reveals to me just a little bit more about herself, I only get prouder of her."

Running my thumb across her cheek, I trace her cheekbone before letting my hand fall away.

"Now," I call, clearing the emotion from my own throat. "Eat your damn pancakes before you get any skinnier and there's nothing left of you for me to love."

Sara's eyes are on mine, her body completely still, before finally she swallows, clearing her own throat.

A small smile presses at her mouth, the brunette shaking her head as she lifts her fork.

As we pull back into the lab parking lot, I turn off the engine, getting out of the car as my phone starts to ring.

Glancing down at the display, I note the number.

"I'll meet you inside," I tell Sara.

She looks over at me, glancing towards my phone a moment before nodding. Turning and walking away, she gives me my privacy.

Taking a deep breath, I answer.

"Willows."

"Catherine, hi, it's Vince."

Already having recognized the number on my phone, I smile.

"Hey, Vince. Did you get my message?"

"I did," he states, and for once he keeps things strictly business, my former lab tech's tone uncharacteristically serious.

There's a pause, and what sounds like a long breath out.

"I have what you've asked for. But, Catherine, I have to warn you, this isn't like the last time."

"Meaning."

"Meaning with that Gabriel Williams guy I found pretty much nothing, as you know."

"And this time?"

There's another sigh.

"Let's just say this Sara Sidle person has a lot of very dark skeletons that she's hiding."

Taking my own deep breath, I keep my focus. After all, I knew this before I called Vince with this request. This is why I called Vince with this request.

"When can you get it to me?"

This time there's no pause.

"I pulled paper copies of everything relevant. I scanned it as a PDF and emailed it to you as an encrypted file. I sent it to you from a bogus email so this wouldn't get traced back to me. I have everything labeled as 'low lease rate' advertisements so anyone looking on your end will think it's spam. It should already be in your inbox."

I close my eyes at the finality of what I've already done, and what I am perhaps about to do.

"Thanks, Vince. I really appreciate you going out on a limb for me, especially now that I'm not even your boss or colleague anymore."

"Once a Montana CSI, always a part of our family," Vince says quietly. "Good luck with everything."

"Thanks."

As we hang up, I take a moment to breathe in and out, the burden of this decision already weighing on me. I know I need to learn what it is that Sara's hiding prior to discussing my feelings with her. But, to do that, I need to violate her privacy in such an immeasurable way.

After watching her struggle to share the couple things she did today during lunch, I feel my heart clenching in guilt at the idea of ripping open the rest of her life – the rest of the things she's hidden deeply down inside. Things that likely surpass what she told me today in regards to both severity and quantity by exponential levels. Things that she likely didn't even share with Kelly, giving my friend enough, but not all, of her secrets to make a decision.

Though my intentions are good, can I really do this?

Should I really do this?

Taking a deep breath, I decide that this decision is for later, when I get home from work. Right now, I have a case to solve.

But, even as I walk up the steps into the lab, my mind keeps jerking back to the person that I'm working the case with. And, to the file sitting in my email inbox that contains her deepest, darkest secrets.

AN: Thanks for reading.