AN: Hope everyone is doing well. Loved hearing from you guys last chapter and reading your thoughts about Catherine's decision. Was interesting reading people's opinions regarding what she should/shouldn't do.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 32

CATHERINE POV

It's a long night.

It's a long night because it's supposed to be everything that it isn't. Relaxing, enjoyable, fun, comforting.

As I hear Kelly and Lindsey laugh at something in the movie I can't pay attention to despite my best efforts, I sigh. This night for me is torture. One of the most stressful I've had in a long time. And, that says a lot.

Looking down, I feel a hand on my arm.

"You okay?" Kelly's eyes are warm, concerned, her voice barely a whisper to keep it out of earshot of my daughter who giggles again at the snowman singing some sort of song on our television.

"Yeah," I smile lightly. "I will be."

Kelly nods, respecting my privacy while she gives my arm a supportive squeeze.

"Can you watch her for a minute while I take care of something?"

Kelly nods again, giving me a small smile to let me know to take all the time I need.

"Thanks."

Getting carefully from the couch so not to disturb Lindsey who's singing along at our feet, I exit the room and move into my guest room.

The one that ironically recently held the very person my thoughts keep wandering to.

Knowing I've made a decision, I can no longer wait for this night to end for me to act on it. All day at work, all evening during our newly traditional dinner and movie night, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering to this very person, this very decision.

I can't keep prolonging this.

Pulling out my phone, I open my email.

Seeing the very email that's been causing me so much angst glowing back up at me in the dim room, I take a deep breath.

This is it.

Without another moment of hesitation, I reach down and do what I think I've known all along I was going to.

"Has anyone seen Sara?" I ask, eyes falling to those in the breakroom.

Nick shakes his head, "Nope, sorry."

It's the start of shift, so it's possible that she's not here yet. But, she's Sara Sidle, so actually it's really not possible at all.

"Tell her I'm looking for her if you see her?"

"Sure," Nick agrees, sending me a polite smile and nod.

Sighing, I pass Gil's office, already having looked there and finding it empty except for Gil himself, poring over some sort of creepy looking jar.

Confirming a second time that all the other labs are empty, I sigh, running my hands through my hair. We're working this rave case together, just as we have been for numerous shifts. Nearly every day I've come in, Sara's been tucked away in these back labs, already starting on our available evidence, filling me in on her progress when I join her.

But, today, the lab is completely without Sidle's presence.

Trying her cell again, I hear the call go immediately to voicemail. Which, gives me pause. The other times today I've tried it at least rang through before voicemail picked up. For the call to go straight to voicemail, it means her phone is turned off. Which, since it's her work phone, is against policy to do.

And, as I've previously established, Sidle isn't one to break policy.

So, the only other possibility…

"Shit." I curse my oversight.

I quickly dial another number.

"Brass."

"Hey Jim," I greet, already heading towards the locker room. "You didn't by any chance hear anything about Sara joining your guys up at the desert sniper scene today, did you?"

Jim doesn't even pause, "Yeah, she's here with my guys. Why?"

"Damn it," I curse. "Alright, I'm headed your way."

"Everything okay?" he asks cautiously.

"Yeah," I state, not wanting to drag him into this. "I just wish she'd have given me a heads up is all."

"She's been up here with us for hours already, Catherine. She probably just didn't want to wake you since shift is just starting."

"What the hell is she doing there in the middle of the night? Her shift is the same as my shift."

Jim laughs slightly, "When you've worked with her long enough you get used to Sidle not exactly keeping the same hours as everyone else."

I sigh, "She's going to burn herself out if she keeps doing stuff like this, Jim. The girl needs to sleep at least every once in a while."

Jim's line goes quiet before he laughs again slightly, "Yeah, I'll let you have that particular conversation with her. Good luck."

Shaking my head, I hang up, already grabbing my keys from my locker and heading out to my SUV.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…" I curse, taking a deep breath while my hands rest on my knees. Guzzling more water, I don't even care that some of it has dripped down onto my jeans.

Straightening up, I stretch my sore limbs as I pass the first couple officers, nodding in greeting.

"I see they found the location our shooter was at."

Head jerking up in surprise, Sara looks at me over the camera she has around her neck.

"Catherine?"

"Would have been nice to have heard about the development from you. You know, since we're partners on this case and all."

"Sorry," Sara offers, but her voice is strained.

It's strange, but the woman who apologizes more than anyone I've ever met sounds like, for the first time since I've met her, she really isn't sorry at all. "My phone has no service up here."

In fact, her tone is clipped, almost angry.

"I noticed. During the multiple times I've been trying to reach you. Now straight to voicemail."

She looks up, her expression hard to read as her shoulders tense.

She doesn't bother apologizing again.

"Our guy was lying here, using this rock as shelter when he was shooting at us."

Her tone is direct, business-like. It shouldn't faze me, after all we're at work, but it seems off.

"You okay?" I ask, trying to grasp her seemingly sudden change in behavior towards me.

"I already processed the rock, the surrounding area. Found most of the bullet casings."

Her jaw is set, the muscles there working tightly.

"What can I do?" I ask. "You know, to help on the case I'm lead supervisor on."

Sara's eyes flash to mine.

"Like I said," she gets out. "I'm sorry. I heard they found the scene and I made a call to come out here and get a jump on processing. It was the middle of the night. I know you can't just leave Lindsey on a whim like that."

Her reasoning is sound, but there's definitely something underneath her tone. Something edgy and dark and not entirely benign.

She knows as well as I do that if she really wanted to get a hold of me, especially now that shift started, she could have.

"What's going on, Sara?" I ask her directly, arms crossing over my chest.

She stiffens, placing evidence bags into her CSI vest as she straightens up to her full height.

"I need to get these back to the lab."

As she moves past me, I grab her arm.

Whirling around, she pulls herself free.

"Don't touch me."

I shake my head, making sure Sara and I are still separated enough from the cops to keep this private.

"What the hell is your problem today, Sidle?" I question her.

"Nothing. Now can I please get these back to the lab?"

"No," I tell her. "Not until you discuss with me whatever the hell it is that's got you acting like this."

"No offense," Sara says tightly. "But it's none of your business. And it's not appropriate to be discussing now regardless."

I shake my head sadly, watching Sara's hard expression, the eyes that just yesterday seemed open enough for me to get glimpses into the woman behind them.

Now, they're cold. Angry. And completely unreadable.

"I thought we'd gotten somewhere yesterday," I say quietly, the sadness leaking into my tone. "I thought we were making progress."

Sara snorts, and the sound is harsh, mad.

"Yeah?" she asks darkly, fists clenched tightly. "So did I."

All but glaring in my direction, Sara steps widely around me, keeping her distance as she stalks off to start the long hike to our cars below.

It takes the entire rest of shift for me to catch Sara again. The younger CSI is brilliant at keeping herself away from me, always happening to have "just left" a room when I enter according to the person there. It's like she knows just the right places to be and not to be to keep me away from her.

But, there's one place that Sara can't avoid going.

And, sure enough, an hour after shift, Sara finally makes her way to her car. Her shoulders are slumped in exhaustion, and she rubs her temples as if fighting off a migraine. I know having trekked around the desert for hours and working essentially a double shift with how early she came in today has to have drained her. She barely sleeps as it is, and spending her waking hours hiking up damn canyons isn't going to help her at all.

When she reaches for her door handle, she catches sight of me out of the corner of her eye, hand stopping its motion.

"You can't be serious," she mutters, mostly to herself.

"You're not leaving until we talk about this," I tell her, stepping around the hood of her car so that I'm in plain view. "We're not doing this again, going back to you shutting me out and giving me the cold shoulder. We've come too far for that."

Sara shakes her head, "I have nothing to say to you."

"Sara," I call, moving forward until I'm nearly inches away from her, her own back pressed into her Jeep to give herself as much distance from me as possible. "Talk to me. Please."

I don't back down, and I see her getting more and more frustrated with every minute that passes.

"Please," she strains out through clenched teeth. "Get out of my way."

"Not until you talk to me," I counter, staying firmly planted in the way of her opening her door.

"Like I said, there's nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit."

Sara's hands tighten dangerously around her keys.

"Move out of my way. Now."

"Or what, Sara?"

She tenses, her body looking as though she would like nothing more than to shove me away from her so that she has room to open her door. If she were anyone else, I'd be afraid of her doing just that.

But, this is Sara.

The person who was willing to get hit by my abusive ex to keep me protected. The person who has angry looking gashes across multiple parts of her body from where she tackled me and dragged me to safety, willing to get fucking shot if it meant keeping me protected.

The person, who for whatever reason, seems incapable of making her bark match her bite.

At least when it comes to me.

"Sara," I step even closer, our bodies now nearly flush against each other. "Please."

Jaw tight, she turns her head to the side, pressing it against her car window to keep as much room between us as physically possible.

"Willows," she grinds out. "Back the fuck off."

All attempts at professionalism have now left us, her words indicating a clear line between this interaction and her forced politeness this morning in keeping things professional while at our scene. This is after the end of shift. This is after hours. This is finally allowed to be personal.

"Why?" I counter. "So you can just run away and shut me out again? No thanks."

"You have a daughter to pick up, correct?" she asks tightly. "You can't stay here all evening blocking my Jeep."

I shake my head, trying to resist the urge to strangle the woman before me, at her infuriatingly stubborn behavior.

"Are you running because you finally shared some things about yourself with me?" I ask, grasping for answers at this point. "Shutting me out because you feared I was getting behind some of your walls?"

Sara doesn't answer, jaw tight and body remaining completely still.

I'm not going to get anywhere like this, the stubborn brunette willing to just wait me out until I need to leave to get Lindsey.

Deciding to force things forward, I reach out, turning her face towards mine.

And, that does it. Immediately, Sara flinches away from my touch, her strong shoulders pushing forward, trying to separate her body from mine.

My own body reacts immediately, purely on instinct as I grab her shoulders, pushing her back into her car before she can displace me. The thud her body makes is loud, echoing through the empty parking lot.

Before I can apologize for the force, I hear Sara's voice, low and cold.

"Get your hands off me."

"I let go as soon as you start talking."

It's not ideal. After everything Sara and I have been through together, putting my hands on her is the absolute last thing I want to be doing. But, my instincts kicked in before I could work through the situation rationally, and now I'm left holding her in place. While I'd rather not be in this position, I know the moment I relinquish it Sara will bolt. And, honestly, I'm worried that the consequences of that might be even worse.

"Fuck this…" Sara pushes her body against the metal frame of her Jeep, trying to get enough leverage to push me away.

Pushing her back just as strongly, I make the decision to keep her firmly in place.

I know this is a million miles from acceptable. But, I also know Sara Sidle. I know that if I allow her to walk away right now I may never get another chance. She'll block me out and keep giving me the silent treatment for ages to come, just like she did both during and after Gabe's case. If I'm going to get any answers, if Sara and I are ever going to move forward from this current cold avoidance, it has to be now.

"Stop," I call when I see her pressing tightly against her car to try to get away. I can see the parts of her body trapped between me and the metal, and I don't want her to hurt herself, not when she's already been banged up enough on this case.

"Sara, stop," I state again when I see her struggles continuing, her leg trapped awkwardly between me and the side rail of her car.

"Jesus," I call, feeling her body literally shaking with strain to get out from my grip. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

She laughs darkly, head slamming back angrily into her window in defeat as she finally concedes she doesn't have enough leverage to get herself away from me without my help.

"That's funny?" I ask tightly, my own anger soaking through my words.

"Coming from you?" Sara gets out. "Yeah, it is."

"Me caring about you is funny?"

Sara shakes her head, still pressed into the window.

"You pretending to care about me is funny."

Her words are dark, angry, and so full of hatred that I almost loosen my grip. But, I hold on tightly, feeling like we're finally getting somewhere. She's trapped, and she knows there's no quicker way out of this than through it.

"Why do you think I only pretend to care?" I ask her tightly. "Because you're wrong, by the way."

Sara's eyes finally land on mine, her expression dead serious. Her gaze so stern that it cuts straight through me.

"Do you really have no idea what this is about?" she questions, voice almost disbelieving.

"Do you think I'd be doing this if I did?" I respond just as disbelieving.

Sara's eyes burn through mine, her hands clenching but staying as far away from me as possible, forcing herself not to touch me. Not to hurt me.

"You think I want to hear anything you have to say when you've done nothing but fucking lie to me this whole time?" she counters tightly. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

I wait in silence, not knowing how to respond even if I could find the words.

"You said you were done investigating me," Sara says coldly. "You said you dropped Gabe's case. That we were starting over. That you wouldn't fight my reinstatement."

Her jaw tightens so harshly that it looks painful.

"So why the hell do you need to pull my financials? My legal history? My medical files?" her eyes flash with anger. "My fucking foster care records?"

Hazel gaze burning into mine, I feel my breathing start to draw to a halt.

Holy shit.

"You really thought I wouldn't find out?" she asks again seriously. "That I wouldn't get a call from my lawyer that someone had been accessing my sealed records?"

She swallows tightly, like she's trying to keep her disgust at bay.

"That it wasn't easy to figure out from there where they were sent to? Or, more aptly, who they were sent to."

This time, when she goes silent, she stays that way. Her body shaking with anger, frustration, disgust, and probably a thousand other things.

"I…"

My voice cuts off, like all ability to think, to speak, has been robbed from me.

All this time, facing this decision, I never considered the possibility that I was already caught – that the brunette was already aware of what I'd done while the email was still sitting, waiting in my inbox for my decision regarding whether or not to open it. That it was already too late.

Pulling a stunt like this on someone who was deceased was one thing. A lot easier to get away with. Pulling this on someone like Sara Sidle is something else entirely. I should've known that the smartest person I ever met would be more than capable of figuring out that her personal information had been accessed, tampered with.

"I didn't…."

Sara nearly growls beneath me.

"Don't you dare," she says. "Don't you dare deny that you requested a fucking background check on me."

Her eyes are almost challenging, daring me to counter her claims.

"You requested everything available about me. My family's history, my foster system notes, my complete medical files. Everything."

"Yes."

My word is a mere whisper, acceptance of guilt for the transgression she already knew I'd committed.

The hurt, the devastation that I can now make out across her features is so much harder to take than the anger. She didn't need my confirmation, but the word serves as the final nail in the coffin, the final twist to the knife that was already lodged in her back.

Immediately, I let go of her.

I can't stand to see the emotional hurt in her eyes, coupling it with the physical hurt of keeping her pinned against her car is just too much.

God, how could I have even…

I keep my body close, but I take a full step back, letting her move away from the hard metal framework of her Jeep.

"Sara…"

My voice trails off, eyes barely able to lift to hers.

"I…"

Clearing my throat, I force my gaze to remain even with her own.

"What I was trying to say before…wasn't that I didn't do it, but that I didn't open it."

She stays quiet, my statement doing nothing to dilute the heavy emotions swirling in with the greens and browns of her eyes.

"I deleted the entire thing last night." I say. "I didn't read a word of it."

Sara lets out a small snort, eyes darkening.

"So that makes it okay?" she questions. "You pulled information about me that included everything about my childhood, my parents, my foster families. Things that have nothing to do with this job, with Gabe's case. Things that…"

She looks like she's torn between punching something and throwing up.

"And you think what you did is okay because you didn't open it?"

The tight laugh that leaves her lips gives me chills.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Willows."

"It's not okay," I counter, my voice wavering with all the thoughts and emotions sinking through me. "It's not okay at all."

I lower my head, breathing out tightly. "I just wanted you to know that I didn't…I didn't read any of it."

Her own breathing is tight, heavy, the silence stretching between us until she finally breaks it with a question spoken so quietly I almost miss it.

"Why?" she asks, so much hurt, so much betrayal bleeding out into the whispered word. "I thought you were okay with Gabe's case being closed. I thought…"

She struggles to finish.

"I thought you finally trusted me."

Her words cut straight through me, landing sharply in my heart, my conscience. Shredding apart my insides as I witness the devastation my actions have caused to the innocent person they involved. At the damage they've done to the very person I was trying so hard to keep from hurting yet again.

When I don't answer, she takes this as affirmation of her fears, starting to turn away.

"That's not it…" I call weakly, her body pausing slightly as she has her hand on the Jeep's door.

She doesn't face me, her head lowered.

"Then why?"

I pause, mind frantically searching a way to tell her the truth. Tell her the real reason I sought out her deepest and darkest secrets.

But, my pause lasts too long, the brunette shaking her head and stepping through the narrowly opened door of her Jeep, squeezing inside as she keeps the door millimeters from reaching me.

My mind racing, heart thundering in my chest, she's gone before I can catch my breath - let alone voice to her the thoughts, the feelings that I seek to express.

AN: Thanks for reading.