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CHAPTER 35

CATHERINE POV

Willows (5:31am): You already at the lab?

Sidle (5:33am): Yes.

Willows (5:35am): Why did I even bother asking? Kelly is taking Linds away for a bit. I'm on my way in. I want this guy out of our lives. ASAP.

Sidle (5:36am): Agreed. You okay? It's really early…

Willows (5:38am): Can't sleep while this guy is in danger of walking. What type of overly sugared coffee drinks is your favorite?

Sidle (5:40am): What?

Willows (5:40am): You heard me.

Willows (5:44am): SIDLE. I'M WAITING. I'm buying you a damn coffee and I am NOT taking no for an answer.

Sidle (5:45am): All caps. Never good. I guess…caramel latte? If you really insist.

Willows (5:45am): Perfect. See you in a few.

Sidle (5:46am): Ok. Uh, thanks?

"How's it going?"

Sara looks up as I enter the back lab she's in, putting down her pen and rubbing her temples.

"I keep hoping I'll see something new, figure out some new connection…"

"We'll get him."

Sara nods slowly at the words that seem to have become our unofficial mantra, letting out a breath as she looks up at the coffee being extended in front of her face.

"Thanks," she says. "You really didn't have to. But…it's appreciated. A lot."

Taking the cup, she downs a few swallows, her eyes closing briefly.

"Glad I got you the largest size," I comment as I sit myself across from her. "You look exhausted. How long have you been here?"

Sara opens her eyes, shrugging as she looks down at her watch.

"A while."

"Can't sleep either?"

Sara's eyes are hard to read when she lifts them back up to mine.

"Something like that."

The silence between us stretches on, the lab around us equally as soundless in this off hour. It's her, me, and a few random other people who never come to this part of the lab anyway. It's somewhat peaceful in its own way, and I can see why Sara likes getting here at these early hours to work. No distractions, no other obligations – just you and your case.

But, this particular early morning, there is another distraction here with us.

It's the other reason I suspect both Sara and I had trouble sleeping last night.

Knowing Sara's preference for avoidance when it comes to discussing her own feelings, I know she'll remain silent on the subject if left to her own devices. It was one thing for her to come out and confess what she did last night when I dropped her off, it's another thing entirely to expect her to bring it up again the very next morning under her own volition.

I came in early today to catch a killer, not discuss personal matters. But, I know myself well enough to know that I won't be able to fully focus on the former until I at least acknowledge the latter. To not leaving it hanging awkwardly and unspoken between us like it is right now.

"About what you said…" I start, hesitantly clearing my throat. I know there's no easy way to broach this, it just has to be put out in the open. "What you said last night."

Sara glances up, her eyes meeting mine before they return to study the lid on her coffee. She looks like she was half expecting this topic, for me to not be able to sweep it under the rug or wait until after shift to say something. She appears almost resigned to it, eyes downcast as she waits silently for me to continue.

"Did you mean it, Sara?"

This has Sara's eyes lifting back up to mine in surprise, her hazel gaze narrowing.

"Of course," she says, voice quiet. "Of course I meant it."

Sara's always been honest, sincere in her words, and she's likely wondering why I would question her now. And question her about something as important as this.

"I just want to be sure," I tell her. "I didn't want you to feel obligated to say something like that because you felt bad…for me…"

Sara shakes her head, "Catherine, I would never lead you on or fabricate something like that. I'd hope you know me better than that."

I let out a breath, nodding as I reach across the table to take her free hand in mine. Giving it a squeeze, I try to ignore the jolt of energy that seems to radiate from our joined hands.

"I do," I confirm. "I know you're better than that. And, I guess that's part of the problem."

I shake my head, lowering my own eyes to watch my fingers as they intertwine with hers.

"I always end up with the idiots," I state tightly. "It's only the liars, the cheaters, the Eddies, that seem to make their way into my life. To have feelings for someone like you, and then to have those feelings reciprocated?"

I let out a deep breath.

"It's just a little hard for me to trust in what's happening, what I'm hearing."

Sara's quiet, and I'm worried that I've shared too much.

Then, she tightens her grip on my hand, her thumb slowly running across my knuckles.

"Then trust me," Sara says quietly. "If you can't trust yourself, then trust me. Trust that I could never find it in me to give you anything but honesty, especially about something as important as this."

I look up, seeing her expression the most open I've seen it in a very long time. She's letting me see through her normally guarded gaze to what's underneath.

To the genuine sincerity that's underneath.

Squeezing her hand, I feel some of the weight leaving my shoulders. I know, deep down, this was one of my biggest concerns after she walked away last night.

"Thank you," I tell her.

She nods, giving my hand a final squeeze before she pulls back.

I know that one elephant's out of the room, but there definitely remains another.

"I know my feelings for you, Catherine," Sara says, this time the one to address the other elephant. "But I'm not sure you know your feelings for me."

"Because I don't know you," I finish for her. "Not the real you. Not well enough."

Sara nods, her eyes becoming heavier, the walls pushing themselves back up as she taps at the coffee in her hands.

"So how do we fix that?" I ask.

I messed up before, beyond description. How I went about solving this particular issue was inappropriate and misguided. But, acknowledging that now doesn't do anything to remedy the fact that the initial problem is still there.

"I don't…" Sara shakes her head, letting out a long breath that again reveals a deep exhaustion beneath it. "I don't know. What I did with Kelly…I don't know if I can…"

She runs a hand through her dark hair, jaw tight.

"I don't think I can look you in the eye and share those things…not again…"

I want to curse my friend, whom I love so dearly, for the way that she's impacted this strong person in front of me. I know Sara told Kelly the things she did for the very purpose of giving Kelly the choice of being with her or not. But, the damage Kelly did by making the decision she did is clear to read in the brunette's tense expression.

I can't blame Sara in the least for not wanting to go through that again. And especially not with someone she'll have to see every day for the foreseeable future.

Kelly was hard enough, and at least Kelly she can pretty easily avoid after getting her emotions dragged through the mud.

Me?

Not so much.

"We'll figure it out," I tell Sara, resisting the urge to reach out to her again.

Sara's not a touchy person on a good day, and she's particularly not touchy when she's as tense as she is right now. I don't think I can handle watching her flinch away from me, not after everything we've been through.

So, instead, I sit back, holding my own coffee instead of the hands I'd much rather be holding.

"I guess, for right now, we should make sure we have a future to worry about," I offer, allowing the change in direction that it looks like she wants. "We won't have anything to angst over if we're not alive to be doing it."

Sara squares her shoulders, leaning her elbows on the table. Looking up, her eyes hold the thanks for allowing the topic to drop right now.

There are a lot of decisions to be made, and it's not practical to think they can all be made in this moment. We made a huge step forward between us last night, and for now I'm going to have to be satisfied with that.

"You said Lindsey is away with Kelly?"

"Yeah," I nod, refocusing my thoughts on the case. "That man and the vile threats he made. I'm not naive enough to think that his reach is hindered by him being in a cell for the moment. That man has connections so deep that there's likely dozens of guys ready and willing to carry out whatever whim he desires, even while he's behind bars."

I clench my fists.

"Hell, he's probably even more motivated to do so now after..."

Sara swallows, jaw tightening as she looks down at my words.

"Hey," I state. "Look at me."

Sara pauses, but eventually she lifts her gaze to mine.

"I'm not blaming you," I tell her sternly. "Don't even think that for a second. He smuggled a knife into interrogation and sat there spewing threats against all our lives. What happened from there is a result of his own actions. You did nothing wrong."

"He…"

"It's. Not. Your. Fault." I press, allowing no room for argument. "He was already threatening us. You did what you had to do."

Sara's eyes leave mine to the evidence displayed before us, and I see her let out a shaky breath.

"Speaking of," I lean down, trying to catch her eyes. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Sara smiles slightly, shaking her head. "Like I said yesterday, I'm fine."

"Sara."

Her eyes close briefly, but she remains quiet.

"Honey…"

Letting out a breath, I hate this limbo that we're in.

We've established that we have feelings for one another, but we aren't anything to each other yet. She's not mine to comfort, not mine to help. As much as I desperately want to.

"I'm okay," she gets out, her own voice tight as she struggles with her own emotions.

Clearing her throat, she gestures to the table.

"I can fill you in on what I've done so far…"

Watching her a moment more, I let out a breath. Then, straightening up, I allow the second change in topics.

Allow the final request to focus fully on our case for the rest of this day. And possibly the foreseeable days after.

Sara and I have a lot yet to discuss, to figure out regarding whatever the hell is going on between us. But, first, we really do need to be sure we're alive for it to matter.

Nodding, I grab the extra pen and paper sitting between us.

"I'm ready."

Tossing my keys on my counter, I quickly strip off my blouse, already half undressed before I make it to the bathroom.

This stop home is meant to be quick. Just enough time to get a brief shower, food, and some rest. Then, it's back to the case. While shift would normally be over by now, I think this case is a very valid and appropriate reason to be pulling a double. Nothing like death threats by a psychotic gang leader for motivation.

We have limited time before our guy is out on bail, and we need to make the most of it. Once he leaves our custody, I have a deep seeded feeling that he isn't going to be within our grasp again.

After I'm finished with my shower, I make a quick detour to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of wine to help me relax before laying down for a quick nap.

When I find myself tossing and turning nearly an hour later, however, I know it will take me a lot more than some white wine to stop all the thoughts running through my head.

And, to be honest with myself, only a minority right now are related to the case.

When I'm at work it's easy enough to focus on the case because Sara and I are both diligently working it from every angle, understanding the importance of getting this closed as quickly as humanly possible.

But, the second I'm alone, away from the lab?

I mean, in all sincerity, how am I supposed to be able to sleep when I just learned that Sara Sidle reciprocates my feelings, confirmed and reiterated by Sara herself this morning. But, we're trapped in this in between of not being able to do anything about it or pursue it until this damn case is finished.

Not only that, I'm worried that even once this case is finished there's nothing I can do on my end to progress things forward. The next move has to be Sara's. She's the one with the information needed to take the next step, literally the only one who can get us out of the limbo that we're in.

And, let's be honest. Sara is one of the most private and reclusive people I know. She tends to hide behind her walls, only stepping out from behind them when completely necessary. I'm worried that her revelations so far have already taxed her to damn near her breaking point. The next steps required are going to be even harder on the brunette, and I'm worried that she's going to retreat back into herself.

Going to say enough is enough right now after everything she's already been through.

And, honestly, I couldn't blame her if she did. It's selfish to expect or to ask anything further of the woman who's literally been through hell this past year. To expect her to yet again put herself aside and make herself vulnerable to someone else.

I just wish there was a way to relax her fears, to comfort her that her feelings, her emotions, her everything, are safe in my hands.

Sighing, I take a last large swallow of wine, turning out my light and forcing myself to try to quiet my thoughts enough to get some sleep.

One day, one step, one minute at a time.

It's the only way we're all going to get through this.

"I think I have something."

Sara's eyes move up to mine briefly before they focus back down on the printouts before her.

"Really?" I question, eyebrows raising in surprise as I step further into the lab. This is not what I expected to greet me when I walked in this morning.

Not at all.

For the last three days, Sara and I have been repeating the same pattern. Show up at an ungodly hour, stay until an equally ungodly hour, get frustrated at the sheer lack of progress, go home briefly, and then show up and do it all again.

It's been exhausting, infuriating, and complete hell.

Sara nods, jarring me from my thoughts as she gestures to the paperwork splayed out on both the table and the walls.

All I see is a lot of math. A lot of equations.

"Sara?" She looks over at me. "I'm going to need some explanation. Not all of us were taking doctorate level mathematical theorem courses at Harvard."

Sara blushes slightly, her head nodding as she clears her throat.

Gesturing to the printout nearest her, she slides it across the table to me.

"The original report on the partial print we found on the casing from the desert."

I nod, glancing over the page that I've already seen.

"Twenty seven percent match."

Sara nods, "Low match. Even on a good day, never hold up in court."

I nod, knowing percentage matches need to at least be in the 90's to be taken at all seriously.

"But the twenty seven percent isn't representative of likelihood."

I narrow my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The twenty seven represents what?"

I shrug, "The percentage in common with his actual print that's in the system. Twenty percent overlap with his reference print."

"Right," Sara nods. "So it represents how closely it matches to his known print. Not the likelihood that it's his."

"You lost me."

"Think about it," she explains. "It matches his print at a twenty seven percent level. But, how likely is this print to have been someone else's? That's what really matters, yes? When I ran this print through the system there were no other partial matches."

She looks up at me.

"What percentage of the US population is in CODIS?"

I think back to the latest stats. "Around mid-thirties when you factor in those in national databases that include military or other non-criminal adjuncts of the database."

Sara nods, "So by that fact alone we've reduced the potential for this print to be someone else's by thirty percent. When you factor in the frequency of this print pattern, tented arches, in the general population, we can reduce it even further."

Starting to catch on, I nod, working it through my head. "So it's a twenty seven percent match to him, but we treat it like DNA. What is the actual percentage likelihood that it could be someone else's."

Sara nods.

"Still seems like there would be too many people in our denominator," I say, working the numbers. "For us to be able to say with certainty this print is his."

Sara nods, a slight smile growing on her lips.

"It is," she agrees. "Seven hundred and forty two people to be exact."

She gestures behind her to some of the equations scrawled out on the boards around us.

"But," she smiles wider. "That's prior to factoring in the other partials we retrieved that were too small of matches to even be valid in CODIS."

"Percentages of 10 or less," I state, following her thinking. "But when you apply them to the seven hundred and forty two others, you can use those other partials to further decrease possibilities of other potential matches."

Sara nods, "Even accounting for all other prints and people not in CODIS or other databases, our probability of another single person having all these same partials when you accumulate all the partials together gets very low."

I feel my throat tightening as the low hum of excitement starts traveling through me gains momentum with every further step.

"How low?"

She smiles, "Two."

I raise my brows. "You're kidding me?"

She shakes her head, "All this time, we discounted these partials because they're tiny, such low matches that our system isn't even willing to run them. But, when you put them all together into one large probability of someone else having these exact same partials all in the same person…"

"You statistically get two people." I shake my head. "Holy shit."

Sara smiles, "It gets better."

I watch her as she turns the paper nearest her to face me.

I see a large "0.0173%" circled in green ink.

I look up at her.

She points to it, "The probability of those two people with the same exact collection of partials being located in the same place as each other. Aka both being in Vegas."

"Holy shit."

I run my fingers through my hair, eyes working over all the papers around me. The papers that prove it's nearly statistically impossible for our partial prints to be owned and left at that scene by someone other than Marcus Kline.

"You think a jury can follow it?" I ask seriously, knowing my own very educated brain is struggling to keep up with her calculations, let alone a jury composed of people with all sorts of non-scientific backgrounds.

"We treat it like a DNA rule out," she suggests. "Use a computer graphic depiction of the process and how we get to the numbers we did."

Jurys like to see things visually. And, she's right, they trust when we give a percentage match regarding DNA – their minds shouldn't be completely closed to prints either. In the end, it's really no different. Partial DNA segments matched against each other versus partial prints.

"All this time…"

Sara nods, "We had the answers we needed, we just weren't looking at them the right way."

"My God."

Sara lets out a breath. "It's enough to book him for the murder, Catherine," Sara says. "The DA will accept this. Maybe we can even find more before the actual trial. But, for now…"

I let out an exhausted breath of my own.

"For now it's enough for probable cause."

Sinking against the table, I grip it tightly, feeling the waves of exhaustion and emotion passing through me.

"How…" I shake my head. "How in the hell did you think of this?"

Sara leans against her own side of the table, "I was sick of looking at all these useless partials, wishing there was some way to use them if only the damn percentage matches weren't so low. Got me thinking."

"Your brain works in a very unique way," I tell her sincerely, knowing we dismiss partials all the time because they are simply too low of matches to be usable. But, when you have a partial with enough of a hit to give you a name, it's an opening to extrapolate further data from there using those other partials and probability statistics.

It's genius, really.

"Sidle," I shake my head at the exhausted woman standing before me, adrenaline looking like it's the only think keeping her standing. "I owe you so much more than this coffee I brought."

Pushing the item across the table, I honestly want to kiss her.

Instead, I settle for something I don't think is off limits to us. Not at a time like this.

Moving around the table, I approach her, letting her see the intentions in my eyes.

Reaching over, I pull her into a hug, holding her closely.

When I feel her arms finally wrap around me in return, I let out a breath. A long breath that represents all my frustration with this case, with the sleepless nights it's given me, with the flashbacks to that awful interrogation when he alluded to what he was planning for my little girl – just enough detail to make me want to vomit everything I ever ate, but not enough detail to serve as a chargeable threat.

Placing my hand into Sara's dark hair, I find my chin laying itself on her shoulder.

"Thank you," I whisper out near her ear, knowing she can most definitely hear me. "Thank you, Sara."

She nods against me, responding only by tightening her own grip.

Eventually pulling away, Sara gestures to the table.

"I need to get this written up for the DA."

I nod, gesturing to the coffees. "Then let's get started."

Sending me a small smile of thanks, she nods, letting out a final breath before squaring her shoulders for the final part of this task.

Yawning, I stretch, feeling the strange sensation of actually having slept through a full night. Submitting our report to the DA yesterday evening, Sara and I have finally finished our part of this case - done everything there is for us to do on our end. It's up to the DA now to confirm whether it's enough to go to trial.

Shuffling to the kitchen to make myself some coffee, I note that I still have a decent amount of time this morning to get myself ready for the day ahead. Gil was more than happy to give us the night to ourselves after finishing our report. Said something about it only being fair after we worked essentially a quadruple shift since we never really went home for more than a few hours these last days working the case.

Sara was still at the lab when I left last night, however, wanting to finish 'one more thing' before going home. Part of me wonders if she ended up going home at all. The case may be at a stopping point for us, but something tells me Sara has a hard time letting go and sitting back while the DA deliberates. If nothing else, she'll likely pick up working on one of her other open cases just to give herself something to do, to distract herself with.

Shaking my head, I decide to make some extra coffee to bring to my stubborn workaholic of a colleague.

Heading past my front door, I notice the shadow of something against the glass. Narrowing my eyes, I glance out the side window, getting enough of an angle to notice it's a large brown envelope.

Heart picking up its pace, I retrieve my gun from its lock box.

We may have just filed our case against Marcus Kline, but that sure as hell doesn't mean he's out of our lives. Not yet.

Making my way back to the door, I pull it open slowly, looking up and down the street before I bend down and pick up the envelope, careful to use my sleeve so that I leave no prints of my own.

Shutting my door and locking it, I deposit the item on my coffee table.

When I get a good look at it, I feel myself instantly relaxing. My name is written on the front in a barely legible handwriting. But, it's handwriting that I'd recognize anywhere.

Putting my gun aside, I turn the envelope over to open it.

Pulling out what feels like a very thick stack of papers, I set them down, lifting out the handwritten note that's attached on top.

Catherine –

I've included written copies of everything I thought was important for you to know. I trusted you when you said you deleted the electronic copies you received, so here is everything you need.

You may have been wrong about how you went about getting the information before, but as we both know, you have a right to what's in it before we even think about moving forward. So, here it is. This time given openly from me to you.

I'm sorry that I am not sharing these things in person, but if that was the way I had to do this it would take me a long time to feel ready to do that again. And, I don't know about you, but the idea of dragging this all out even longer seems less than desirable right now.

Whatever your decision ends up being, I think we both need a decision. We both need closure to this uncertainty that's been lingering between us regarding how we feel and where we're heading.

The information you need is all here. Take your time with it – whenever you are ready it's here.

I trust you know me well enough to know that I don't expect anything from you regarding this situation beyond honesty. You deserve the truth about who I am before this goes any further.

However you feel after reading this, I will respect your wishes and your decision.

Sincerely,

Sara

Sitting down on the couch, I feel the room around me disappear as all I can focus on is the thick stack of papers in front of me, on the woman whose life is splayed out among their pages – all her secrets and hidden sides decoded in their ink.

The woman who put herself out of her comfort zone to do this for me – to take this huge step in giving us a chance. Giving me a chance to dictate this decision and this timetable.

Closing my eyes, I run my fingers gingerly over the pages, hoping beyond hope that my views of the honorable and considerate woman that I've come to know, come to care so much about, aren't forever changed after reading what they hold.

AN: Thanks for reading.