AN: Hope everyone is doing well. Finally done with this chapter - bit long, but I've been told to stop apologizing for that. So, enjoy the long chapter that I'm in no way sorry for ;)

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 42

CATHERINE POV

I didn't go after her.

I don't think I would have even if I didn't have to watch over Lindsey.

When Kelly told me what happened, what Sara said to her before she left, all I kept focusing on was the fact that she left. She left.

I thought Sara and I were in a better place than this. That even though her interactions with Lindsey didn't go well to say the least, that at least she and I were in a place that we were talking about our issues, not hiding from them. She'd opened up so much these last months, sharing with me her thoughts, her feelings, being as transparent as I could ever hope for someone as private as her to be.

But, then she walked out without so much as a word.

And no, I'm not counting the apology she gave to Kelly to pass along to me. If she was going to leave, I deserved to have that apology said face to face.

When I arrive at the lab this morning, I head straight to the locker room, angrily tossing my purse into the metal locker with a distinct thud.

"Hey there," I hear a semi amused greeting from down the aisle. "You alright?"

Seeing Nick's expression, a mix of both amused and concerned, I give him a brief nod. "Yeah, just had a bit of an off weekend is all."

"Okay," he draws out, still eyeing me. "Well, if you need anything…"

"Thanks," I give him a small smile back, appreciating this new team and the way they always seem to look out for one another. "I appreciate it."

Ending our brief conversation, I head back out into the hall, glancing at my watch to discover there's still about twenty minutes before assignments. Deciding I want to get the show on the road, I change direction towards Grissom's office.

Sure enough, he's sitting there, sorting through assignment slips and case files.

"Morning," I greet, trying to put a genuine looking smile on my face.

"Morning," he returns, looking at me with a raised brow. "Something I can help you with?"

"I was actually hoping to get my assignment now since I'm here."

His brow only raises further. Shaking his head, he pulls out a slip from under a stack of papers.

"Apparently I'm graced with some very eager CSIs tonight," he states, handing over the item. "You up for a solo?"

Taking the slip, I nod, wanting nothing more than a solo, actually. It's perfect. No forced small talk, no trying to pretend like I'm in a good mood. No Sara.

Speaking of, I take an educated guess.

"Sara already out at a scene?" I ask, referencing his previous comment.

He nods, "She came in last night, actually, hoping to help out on a big case that was called in."

Figures. When Sara runs away from something, her work is usually exactly where she heads. Perhaps the only place she's ever truly felt comfortable.

"You let her?" I question, trying not to care about the answer.

"I did," he answers, "but we had another scene this morning that I switched her onto."

"Busy shift apparently," I state, noting his comment and all the slips still across his wooden desk.

"Death coordinates with no one," he tells me. "Good luck on yours."

"Thanks," I offer as I make my way out the door, ready to dive into work myself. Sara's right about one thing, this job serves as a great distraction when you need it to.

"You the newbie?"

The question draws my gaze around over my shoulder. Eying the tall, balding man, I regard the police badge on his suit lapel.

"Been here for some months now, but the newest CSI I guess, yes," I answer, not really sure how I feel about this guy. "CSI Catherine Willows."

"Well, let's just hope you're as good as the rest of your team and Gil didn't just send us his rookie dud." Glancing around, he gestures to the remote location. "We aren't exactly the royalty of Vegas out here, people tend to save the big guns for the big names."

Wow. Okay then.

"I haven't been a rookie in over 5 years, sir," I inform him, keeping my gaze firm. "Just because I'm new to Vegas doesn't mean I'm new to being a CSI."

Looking around at the fields and livestock, taking in the singing birds and gentle breeze through the trees, I give him an even darker gaze. "And I'm from a rural town just like this one, so if you think for one minute I value anyone's worth over anyone else's just because of the address on their driver's license, then you are sorely mistaken."

I hold his gaze until he lets out a small smile, an acknowledging nod tipping his head.

"I think you and I will get along just fine, CSI Willows," he tells me sincerely. "Welcome to Meadow Valley."

Keeping my gaze firm a moment longer, I eventually break it, looking down to the crime scene roped off some feet in front of us.

"You want to tell me about our scene?" I ask, wanting to get this case going.

Wanting to fall into my work mode, filtering out all unnecessary, and bothersome, thoughts from my head. Focus solely on the mission of solving this case.

Not defending my job, my worth, my credentials. Not playing the events at the museum over and over through my head, feeling the hurt of learning that Sara walked out, not wondering how the hell I'm going to repair what happened with Sara.

Not wondering if I even want to.

"Vic is a 23 year old female, found around 5:15am…"

As my new sheriff friend goes on with the details of this case, I focus on every word. This is one of my few solos since I've been in Vegas. And, perhaps just like this man suggested, I feel like I still have something to prove.

It's nearly the end of shift before I get back to the lab, dropping my evidence off on my way to the locker room. I'm going to be late to pick up Lindsey if I'm not careful.

As I enter, however, I immediately draw up short.

Damn.

The occupant of the room glances over, stiffening as they see who it is that just entered.

"Catherine."

Sara straightens up, and I'm reminded of the same move she used to do during our early encounters. Standing to her full height, every sense on alert as if she needs to be on guard.

I barely acknowledge her, trying to keep my own gaze off her as I head to my locker that's a few away from her own.

She takes in my silence, herself not saying anything more for a few moments. Then, seeing me grabbing my coat, she knows her time is limited.

"Catherine, we should talk."

Grabbing my keys and slamming my locker shut, I turn to fully face her.

"Really?" I question with a dark laugh. "You want to talk. Now you want to talk?"

Her face is stoic, the ever hard to read Sidle mask. But, her eyes give her away. She's struggling to keep herself composed, to pretend she's as unruffled about this as she's projecting.

"I'm sorry," she offers, her voice quieting as she keeps her gaze on mine.

"No," I shake my head, taking an involuntary step back. "We're not doing this. Not here. Not now."

Shaking my head, I narrow my gaze. "You're right, we needed to talk. But, we needed to talk before you walked out on my daughter and I. Before you left us there with Kelly as your messenger."

Sara's eyes flash with unreadable emotion, her body losing a slight amount of its rigidity, but her shoulders still pulled up tight and defensive around her.

"I fucked up," she acknowledges sincerely. "I know that. And I'm sorry."

I take another step back.

"I'm not doing this with you now," I repeat tightly. "I can't."

"When?" Sara questions as I get closer to the door. "When can you?"

I know she's right, I know we need to talk before this stretches on any further. There are issues that need to be addressed, big ones, and they need to be addressed before this drags out further. But, I believe I have the right to dictate the timing on this one.

After all, she's the one who turned down the opportunity to talk when we should have. That same day, before she walked out, and then maintained complete radio silence the entire rest of the weekend. These words with her now are the first ones she herself has attempted with me this whole time.

I'm not going to drop everything and listen the first moment she's willing to talk.

"I'll let you know when I'm ready to hear what you have to say," I tell her honestly. "Because right now I'm not. Right now I don't even want to look at you, to be honest. I need…"

I trail off, not knowing anymore what the hell it is I need.

"I'll tell you when I'm ready," I repeat instead.

She's silent, body stiffened once again as she takes the sting of my words. Clearing her throat, she keeps herself composed.

"Okay," she says.

Watching me a moment longer, she turns, focusing back on her locker as I complete my exit.

It takes me about three hours of tossing a turning to realize this isn't going to work. This punishment of sorts of making Sara wait is only punishing me. I haven't slept properly since the museum, and tonight is no different.

I know I'm not going to be able to rest and relax until this is resolved. One way or another.

I need to talk about this with her, we need to address it at least, before I'm going to be able to stop obsessing over it any time my mind is quiet.

Noting the time, I hesitate. It's almost 3:30 in the morning. It's decisively rude to be contacting someone at this hour, and it's likely unrealistic to think they'd even be awake. But, this is Sara Sidle.

Willows (3:28am): You're right, we need to talk. I want to talk.

Sure enough, barely a minute goes by before my phone vibrates with a response.

Sidle (3:29am): Okay. When?

Willows (3:30am): Now.

There's a bit of a longer pause this time, the brunette no doubt not expecting that answer.

Sidle (3:33am): Where?

Willows (3:33am): Can you come to my place?

Sidle (3:34am): Be there in fifteen.

And with that, our phones go silent.

Tossing mine aside on the bed, I take a deep breath, adjusting to what I've just done. To what's about to transpire.

The gentle knock on the door has me startling slightly as I finish pulling my hair up into a semi presentable arrangement. Having quickly changed, I forwent any makeup or anything else. It's now nearly four in the morning, I'm going to look like it and that's just how it's going to be.

As I open the door, I pause a moment at Sara's own appearance. Unlike me, who threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to replace my pjs, Sara is still fully dressed in the same clothes she was wearing at work. Light jeans, black long sleeve shirt, CSI vest still zipped up snugly, likely to act against the chilly breeze I feel across my face through the open door. Knowing her, she didn't bring a coat to work.

"You want to come in?" I ask, not knowing where the best place to do this is.

"Wherever you want," Sara tells me, expression back to neutral.

"Let's do this inside," I state, the chilly breeze deterring me from wanting to stay out on the porch in the cold at this hour.

Backing up, I let her inside, noting how she stays by the door.

It's a stark contrast to how we'd been just days before, when she'd come over after shift when Lindsey was asleep. When we'd share coffee, movies. Share the small couch as we'd slept. The brunette moving around my home with relative ease, feeling comfortable in this space. Now, she's hesitant to even be in the same room with me.

"You can come in from the foyer," I state, my own tone direct.

"I, uh," Sara gestures down to her hip. "I have my weapon on me, I can't leave it in the car…but I don't want to have it in the house…Lindsey…"

"Were you still at work?" I ask, though the answer is now obvious. You could be at home without having changed from your work clothes, but you wouldn't bring your service weapon back out with you.

She nods, not saying anything further.

"Alright," I let out a breath. "Give it to me, I'll lock it away with mine."

She watches me a moment before reaching down and removing her gun. Checking that the safety is on, she holds it out to me.

Taking it, I disappear into my room, placing it into the safe I had installed on the top shelf of my closet. Closing it and being sure it's locked, I reenter the house.

"You may as well get comfortable," I tell her, noting her position still near the doorway.

Knowing this is it, that this is happening, Sara takes a steadying breath and moves to join me in the living room. But, she still doesn't sit.

Deciding to remain standing myself, I feel my arms crossing themselves over my chest.

"What the hell happened, Sara?" I ask her, diving into the heart of the matter.

There's no point in dancing around this, not at this point, not at this time of the night. We're here for one reason and we need to accept that.

"I'm sorry," she says to me, apologizing with heavy eyes. "I'm so sorry, Catherine."

"Stop apologizing," I tell her tightly. "Stop saying you're sorry and start telling me what the hell happened."

Sara turns, pacing slightly along my rug as she runs a hand through her dark hair.

"Lindsey knew we were dating," she says, confirming what Kelly had told me. "She clearly didn't like the idea, clearly didn't like me."

Sara keeps up her pacing, moving in tight lines, back and forth, back and forth.

"She and I…argued…over everything," Sara confesses, tone dark with self-inflicted anger. "I was arguing with a 5 year old child, with your daughter. I've never been so…"

Sara paces, shaking her head, searching for the words.

Stopping, she turns to me, meeting my eyes.

"I've never been so ashamed."

I know my daughter, and I know she likes to try to rile people. Hell, she does it to me often enough when she's trying to get her way. She's young, but she's smart enough to know what buttons to push.

"Why did you leave?" I question directly, wanting to get to the part that truly has me stuck.

Sara's eyes grow darker, her expression heavier.

"I had no clue how to act around her, Catherine," she tells me, this confession quieter, more shameful to the tall brunette. "I realized I had no clue about being around children, talking with them."

She shakes her head, letting out a tight, defeated breath. "No clue how to be the person you and Lindsey deserve me to be for her."

I raise my chin at this, at her words. "And what person is that?" I question. "What person are you presuming I want you to be for us?"

Sara accepts the challenging tone to my words, not backing down herself.

"Someone who knows how to help raise a child, how to help a child feel loved, supported, cared for." She keeps her gaze steady, "Someone who is more interactive then a damn wall who didn't know the first thing to say or do. Besides of coarse getting goaded into an argument with someone in kindergarten."

When I stay silent, Sara shakes her head.

"I thought I'd just know what to do, that it's something that would just come naturally to me as a woman or some bullshit theory like that," she states darkly, clearly upset with herself. "I was an idiot thinking someone like me would know the first thing about being around children."

I watch her, my expression still impassive.

"Someone like you?" I pose to the now silent room.

She goes quiet at this, eyes lowering to the coffee table between us.

"Someone like me," she confirms, eyes lifting back up to mine.

"Meaning?" I push, knowing we need to lay all our cards on the table if we're ever going to have any hopes of working through this. We can't keep things to ourselves, keep things buried, hoping they magically go away once they're far enough out of sight.

"Someone from the fucking foster care system," she says tightly, honoring my probing questions. "Someone whose examples of childhood interactions were mostly abusive, hateful, neglectful, or some combination thereof."

Her gaze is solid, her body language clearly telling me she's simply stating facts, that she's not looking for comfort or rebuttals. So, I don't offer her any.

"And so you just left?" I question. "You realized this was too much for you, me having a child, and you just left."

"I…" Sara thinks her thoughts through, working out how to state them. "I left because I wasn't good enough, Catherine. Not for you, not for her."

The room falls silent, no sounds breaking through the heavy air. When I step closer, closing some of the distance between us, Sara's head lifts warily, watching me as I approach. When I stop, I leave enough room between us to give me and her some space. But, not a lot of it.

"Do you think I had an instruction manual when Lindsey was born?"

Sara stays quiet, not answering what is essentially a rhetorical question.

"Do you know where I was when I had her?" I ask.

When she again stays silent, I continue. "I was in Vegas, working as a stripper. I was a former drug addict, using coke and alcohol to numb the fact that I was making money whoring myself out to an industry that cared absolutely nothing about me. To a man who cared even less. I was in a destructive, abusive relationship, carrying a child with a man I feared more than loved."

Sara's eyes work to stay on mine, to give me the respect I deserve by looking me in the eye.

"I didn't know the first thing about raising a child, my own examples being less than stellar." I tighten my jaw, trying to keep my voice quiet for the sake of Lindsey sleeping upstairs. "But you know what, Sara, I figured it out. I found myself accepting that Linds was simply too damn important for me to throw in the white flag, to not fight like hell to figure it out. For her sake. And so I did."

I shake my head, laughing lowly.

"I'm still far from the best parent on this planet, Lord knows. I've messed up along the way, sometimes in huge ways. But, the point is, I keep trying, keep working to be better, do better. Because she deserved that of me."

Sara's own jaw tightens, her head finally lowering as she angles it to the side.

"I wasn't disappointed with you that Lindsey didn't like you, that you guys got off to a rough start." I step closer, now invading her space. "I would never hold that against you."

The woman before me stands eerily still, taking in each of my words as her breathing is shaky.

"The only time I was disappointed in you, Sara, was when you walked out. When you gave up and walked out on us without a word."

She doesn't say anything, her body stiff and stoic under the weight of what I'm saying.

"Of everything you've done for me and my family, you've already been more of a parent, cared more for my daughter, than her own father ever did." I swallow tightly, forcing myself to get everything out while we're doing this, not wanting hidden resentments or regrets regarding words I didn't say when I had the chance. "The only time you've ever disappointed me, was when you did exactly what Eddie did when things got tough. When you walked out."

At this, Sara stiffens, no doubt struggling under the heavy blows I've just dealt her. But, I keep reminding myself, I need to be honest with her about how I feel.

"It makes me worry that you'd do it again. If we were a formal couple and you were in our lives, that when something happens, like it inevitably will, that you're the type to walk out and leave instead of facing it. To go quiet for an entire weekend, disappearing and shutting yourself off. Instead of working through it with me, together, as a couple."

This, of all things is the only hesitation I have regarding Sara Sidle. Not her dark past, not her secrets, not her introverted personality. None of it scares me like her walking out of that museum did. I can't be with someone if I'm worried their going to bail out and pull the escape lever if things take a turn. I can't have that worry looming over me, afraid to misstep or upset her, for fear that she'll leave.

"Do you know what Lindsey told me when we got home?"

Sara swallows, still struggling under everything I've just laid on her, now clearly thrown by the change in topic, the unexpected question. She doesn't answer, her eyes still to the side of me.

"We talked a lot about the fact she knew we were dating, about why she didn't like it, what was bothering her. We worked through it, Sara. And, what was bothering her had nothing to do with you. She thought me dating someone meant that I'd spend less time with her, be away from her more often than I already am for work. It wasn't about you, Sara."

Sara is so quiet, so still, her body tense enough that I see her hands working tightly into fists.

"Once we talked it out, and I told her absolutely none of her fears would happen, she told me she was glad that the person I was dating was you."

At this, Sara's eyes jerk to mine in confusion, finally meeting my gaze.

"She told me you were the only adult she's ever met that didn't agree with her about everything. That didn't placate her when she was wrong just for the sake of being nice."

I watch Sara's eyes as they turn unsure, questioning what I'm telling her, what she's hearing.

"She said you were honest with her, and that she felt like she wasn't just a kid to you. She liked learning your way of looking at things, the real way the universe works, not the way teachers dumb it down."

Sara's silent, still watching me, staring at me like I've grown multiple heads from my shoulders.

"I…we…" she gets out, voice barely a whisper. "We fought, the entire time…"

I shrug, "Have you ever met another adult who openly argues with a 5 year old?" Watching her, I angle my head. "You were everything to her an adult has never been. And, everything my daughter respects in her limited 5 year old way. She's young, but she's old enough to acknowledge adults talking down to her, belittling her ability to understand the world around her. You were probably the first person to contradict her and share with her your opposing views."

I watch Sara closely, trying to gauge her, "My daughter's a lot like me, Sara, in so many ways. She likes bullshit and phoniness just as little as I do."

"She…" Sara shakes her head. "She really didn't hate me?"

"She hated me dating someone until we talked it through. She never hated you, Sara. Quite the opposite."

I shake my head, feeling the emotions rising back up within me.

"Perhaps you would have known that if you'd bothered to stick around. To deal with the situation with me as a couple, not walking out because things didn't go the way you expected them to."

Her head lowers again, this time looking just as defeated and exhausted as I feel myself.

"The only thing about you that scares me is this tendency you have to run, to avoid, to hide away when things get personal for you." I keep my voice steady. "You did it all during Gabe's case, you did it when you got hurt and tried to hide it, you did it in the museum. I can't have that around my daughter. I need to know if we're going to do this, that you're going to be there. No matter if things happen, if we fight, if times turn tough. I need to know you're not just going to walk out and close yourself off."

"I thought I…" Sara struggles through, her voice heavy. "I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving so that…"

"So that what, Sara?"

The private woman lifts her eyes to mine, showing me the sincerity behind them. "So you wouldn't have to go through the trouble of asking me to leave yourself."

"You thought…" my eyes go wide. "You thought I'd break up with you, because of what happened with Lindsey?"

Sara's words ring through me, the genuine fear and expectations she had regarding my intentions. She thought she had one shot at hitting it off with Lindsey, that she upset my daughter and that was the end of it. The end of her and the end of us.

"Jesus, Sara," I state, eyes still wide in disbelief. "You're not some puppy I brought home from the pound on a trial basis. Ready to be handed back the second you pee on the rug or mess something up."

I shake my head, trying to get her to look at me.

"And, to be honest, I'm a little hurt that you think of me that way."

I'm sure Sara's had enough people in her life who treated her exactly like that. Foster homes who turned her back out onto the street the second things got hard, the second she did something wrong. But, she needs to stop thinking I'm anything like those people, anything like what she's experienced in the past.

"I'm in this for the long run," I tell her honestly, openly. "I'm in this and willing to work through whatever problems come up so long as we are a couple. The only way I'll ever walk out on you, or ask you to leave, is if we're mutually unhappy. If something happens that we someday aren't desiring to be together, mutually deciding to end things between us."

I step forward, taking her hand in mine, gently unclenching her fist to thread our fingers together.

"I'm not planning to walk out on you any time soon," I state. "And I want you to promise me that you aren't either. That what happened at the museum with you leaving doesn't ever happen again."

Sara's eyes are on mine, her hazel gaze holding so much beneath it.

"I promise, Catherine."

She shakes her head.

"I was an idiot, about so much, and I'm so sorry."

My free hand finds its way up, trailing along her jaw line before gently tracing along her lips, her body drawing still the moment my fingers make contact.

"Going forward you talk to me, you stop apologizing to me and you simply talk to me, Sara. You stop convincing yourself you're not good enough or that I will change my mind about how I feel about you. Stop telling yourself this is too good to be true, that this won't work out, that I'll turn my back on you if times get tough. Stop getting in your own way, and..."

I hesitate, my voice catching in my throat at the words lingering there. The magnitude of them.

"And let yourself be loved."

Eyes heavy, Sara's search mine, the greens more prominent in the low light, flickering back and forth between my own.

"I love you, Sara," I confess fully, the words and the meaning clear, despite my voice being a mere whisper as I get the words out from my tight throat. "I've fallen so deeply in love with you."

It's moments, ages, each passing by with heavy ticks of the clock, the hard beets echoing the ones in my chest.

"But can you trust me enough?" I ask her, my eyes now the ones searching hers. "Can you trust me enough to let me love you?"

In all our time together, Sara's been open about wanting to fight for a relationship with me, wanting to pursue something and give us a try. But, throughout, every time we start to get close, start to make progress, Sara's doubts take over. Just like when she thinks because of the museum I'll break up with her, when she thinks because she was in a bad place with Kelly that I'd be upset with her, when she thinks because her body is scarred that I'll be disappointed or disgusted by her. When she seems to think I'll someday realize who I'm with and reconsider, that she's not worthy enough for me.

She is so wrong, so mistaken. She has no idea how worthy, how above worthy, she is. How it's perhaps me, not her, who is the unworthy one.

As I watch Sara's haunted eyes, the moisture glistening along their surfaces, I know I've reached the source of this all. The source of Sara's deepest fears, the ones she's so carefully tucked away under her brave exterior. For all her strength, courage, dedication to fighting for us to have a chance, I think deep down she never expected it to work out.

Under it all, she's afraid of this. Of love. Of trusting that it's real, genuine, and lasting. That it can be happening, and that it can be happening to her.

After all, everything in her life has taught her otherwise.

It's why she's quick to leave, to shut down and shut herself off. To leave others before they have a chance to leave her.

For all her sacrifices to me and my family, literally endangering her life multiple times, her body still holding the scars of those decisions, those actions, this would be the hardest sacrifice of all. To submit to me enough to give me not only her body, but her heart. The heart that has more walls and guards than I've ever seen.

To submit to me enough to trust this, trust me, with all of her. Completely.

That, ultimately, is Sara's struggle. Has been since we met.

"I..."

Sara swallows, eyes glistening as she watches me, breathing shaky as they lower to the floor. It's a painfully long set of shaky breaths before she finally lifts them back up.

"I trust you," she gets out, the silence of the night allowing me to hear her confession. "I'm yours, Catherine."

Lowering her head, she holds tightly to my hand still in hers.

"All of me," she promises. "It's yours."

Using my hand still hovering near her lips, I tilt her chin up, matching our gazes.

I see her, truly see her, all of her. Everything ever hidden, ever in shadow, is now in front of me.

Leaning in, our lips meet, the kiss perhaps our gentlest that we've ever shared, but it's also the most meaningful. The most passionate because it's raw, it's without boundaries, without walls, without barriers.

I know in this moment that I'm ready. That I'm ready to commit to Sara, to break down my own self imposed boundaries that I placed between us. For Sara, her deepest hesitations were always emotional - trust, love, openness. For me, the emotional was never an issue. It was the physical, the taking of that step to finally fully being together as a couple, being physically intimate with one other.

I think part of me needed to see Sara's own boundaries all finally lifted, to have everything laid bare and both of us without any hesitations, any last walls between us, before I myself could trust this relationship as something headed towards long term. Not a fling, not giving into lustful desires, but love. True, exposed, honest love.

Sara's given me that final requirement I needed of her, placing her defenses down before me, handing them over and laying them at my feet. Trusting me with them, trusting me with herself.

It's in turn given me everything I need to trust Sara, trust this relationship.

I'm ready.

I know that it's not here, now, with my daughter sleeping above us that this final step will take place, but that doesn't matter. The knowledge that it will happen, that I'm ready and willing for it to happen, is the most important piece. When it happens is yet to be determined, but it will happen. And, that's enough. That's all I needed for that burden, that struggle, to finally be lifted from my shoulders.

Pushing forward, I deepen the kiss, my emotions mixing with her own.

I'm finally ready.

AN: Thanks for reading.