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"You scared me," Catherine said, kicking the door of the apartment shut and gripping Sara's upper arm tightly.
"I know," Sara said, allowing herself to be turned and backed against the wall.
"I didn't know if you were dead or alive."
"I know."
"I don't want to feel that again," Catherine said, kissing Sara's collarbone through the cotton shirt. "I don't want to be scared like that," kissing Sara once on the mouth briefly before taking a step away to look at her. "Promise me."
"Promise what?"
"That you'll always come home," Catherine answered, fingers fumbling as she undid buttons, pushing the shirt back over Sara's injured shoulder and peppering soft kisses along the bruises.
"Catherine..." Sara groaned, the pain of the light pressure offset by the cool kisses on the damaged arm.
"Promise," Catherine demanded, rubbing her cheek against the bruises.
And then Sara was twisting them around, pinning Catherine and kissing her back so aggressively that Catherine thought she was going to hurt her.
"Did she?" Dr. Kate Sutton asked.
"Promise?" Catherine asked, shaken out of the past by the question.
"Hurt you?"
"What? Of course not."
"Did you want her to? I mean," Kate said, holding up a hand to stop the interruption forming, "that you and she had just touched the idea of her sudden death. That often makes couples very… enthusiastic."
"No. If anything she seemed more controlled, more abstract after that. I'm explaining this badly. Hell, I'm not sure where any of that came from."
Dr. Sutton smiled. "Don't worry about how it comes out. Or why. Often the first couple of sessions are more babble unloading than structured information."
"This isn't a session," Catherine said in shock.
"It isn't?" Dr. Sutton asked. "You made an appointment."
"I wanted to thank you for being there for Lindsay. I really appreciate it."
"My pleasure and my job. Lindsay's my patient even if she doesn't see me regularly. But you could have done that with a phone call."
"She said something. Lindsay did," Catherine said, poking at the arm of the chair and looking anywhere but at Dr. Sutton.
"Mom, what's wrong with Sara?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I offered to watch a movie with her and she said no to both Nemo and Iron Giant and she never use to say no to them and then she offered to go rent the new Hillary Duff movie and she hasn't come back yet and when she does she'll make some lame excuse fifteen minutes into it and go home."
"Linds..."
"Did you two have a fight?"
"No!"
"Well, it feels like when you and Daddy fought," Lindsay said, chewing on her bottom lip. "Are you sure? Because sometimes you don't know when you and I are fighting. Or think we are when we're not."
"I think this is about what happened at work."
"Because she had to kill that guy?"
Catherine's voice caught at the bluntness, untempered by adult euphemisms. "Yeah. It's something she has to work through. And I'm not sure how to help her."
"Maybe Dr. Sutton can help."
"If Sara will go," Catherine said, fighting to keep her tone neutral. Afraid to colour Lindsey's opinion of Sara's behaviour with her own.
"I meant you, Mom. Maybe Dr. Sutton can help you understand how to help her."
"Lindsay's wise beyond her years," Dr. Sutton said as she went to the small coffee urn and poured two mugs. "I can't talk about Sara, only you."
"I understand that," Catherine said. "It's just, I don't understand why everything's so...so..."
"So what?"
"We were never the perfect couple. I mean, we can bicker for hours over some detail at work or what topping to put on the pizza. And the whole thing, her and me, it's still new in some ways. But the last couple of weeks, since the shooting everything's been going to hell."
"Everything. Your relationship? Her and Lindsey? Work?"
"No. Lindsey knows something's going on but Sara keeps it together for Lindsey," said before shaking her head in frustration. "That sounded bad. I mean, I think I notice it most when it's just the two of us."
"Notice what?"
"She started getting distant. I mean, my perception..."
"You don't have to qualify everything you say into psycho-babble, alleged, appears, perception. I do that automatically," Dr. Sutton said, sipping the coffee. "What do you mean by distant?"
"She's always been a homebody but lately she doesn't want to go out at all."
"Wanna catch a movie? Lindsay's at Nancy's and there's a new chick flick playing at the Brendan," Catherine teased. "Guaranteed to get you laid."
"No." Sara said, not looking up from her magazine. "Can't. I put in for O.T. Day shift is short staffed."
"You're going in to the lab? Tonight?"
"Yeah."
Catherine shook her head. "Why? You've gone in every single day since," Catherine said, pausing as she looked for an alternative reference, "your last long weekend."
"I need to do something."
"Going to a movie, with your girl friend, is doing something."
"Something important."
"I see," Catherine said coldly.
"That's not what I meant."
"But that's what you said."
"Damnit. I can't just," Sara started, voice raising, "I can't waste..."
"Waste?" Catherine interrupted. "You're not wasting. You're hiding. Again. For the love of God, Sara, just..."
"Oh please," Dr. Sutton interrupted. "Don't tell me you told her to get over it."
"No," Catherine said firmly. Dr. Sutton started at her for several seconds. "I told her to grow up," Catherine confessed with a sigh.
"Well, that's so much better. Then what happened?"
"She walked out. Started her overtime three hours early."
"Any problems at the lab? Is her work suffering?"
"No but other people are noticing. Well, some are."
"What do you mean?"
"Catherine, what's up with Sara?" Greg asked.
"Something's up with Sara?" Hodges asked as he entered the break room.
"Yeah, can't you tell? She's pulling overtime, not talking to anyone except about a case," Nick said.
"Okay," Hodge said with exaggerated slowness. "How is that different? That's how she always is."
"No," Nick said.
"Not lately, anyway," Greg said grudgingly allowing Hodge's point. "Not since she started dating Catherine."
All three turned to Catherine.
"Don't look at me," Catherine protested, stirring her coffee furiously. "She's just... the shooting, I think she's having trouble with that," she added in a lower tone of voice.
"She was cleared, correct?" Dr. Sutton asked. "The investigation concluded beyond a doubt that it was a justified shooting."
"Exactly. Everyone who was in the house agrees that she had no choice but shoot Smith."
"Not everyone," Dr. Sutton corrected, smiling slightly at Catherine's obvious confusion. "Do you think Sara thinks that?"
"What?"
"You've been involved in a shooting, correct? The so-called Strip Strangler."
"How do you know about that?"
"I'm a member of the department's psych team. We were working up a profile before the Feds came in and, frankly, we shrinks play together better than the badges do in these jurisdiction pissing matches. Did you have a choice?"
"What do you mean?"
"Walk me through that incident. You arrived at the house, entered, saw the suspect..."
"He was turning toward Grissom, holding a large wrench, raising it to strike him."
"And?" Dr. Sutton prompted when Catherine fell silent.
"I assessed the situation..."
"Bullshit."
"What?"
"Bull. Shit. You made a split second decision, not an assessment. And you acted."
"He was a murderer. He inspired another murder. He..."
"He was a suspect. I'm not saying what you did was wrong," Dr. Sutton said, raising her hand to forestall any protests. "Now, imagine it was Sara on the stairs, not you. Do you expect her to react as you did?"
"Of course," Catherine said. "I mean," she added, shaking her head before adding doubtfully, "wouldn't anyone have done the same thing?"
"No. Some people would shoot immediately, as you did, to reduce risk to the hostages. Some would call on the suspect to drop the weapon. Some would try for a wounding shot or a single torso shot to incapacitate. Some people would be unable to shoot that gun at all even to save their own life."
"No! I'm sorry! I didn't want..."
"It's okay, it's a dream, hush now," Catherine said, rocking Sara. Easing her back into sleep.
"Mom?" called softly from the doorway to the living room.
"It's okay, Linds," Catherine said from the couch, Sara's head on her lap, the only light from the muted television set. "Sara was just having a bad dream."
"She's..."
"What Linds?"
"She's been having them a lot."
"I know, hun."
"But," Catherine protested, "it was black and white."
"No. It was glorious technicolour. You, in one split second, translated it to black and white, do or die. And you acted. "
"And Sara?"
"Sara is Sara, not you."
"I thought you couldn't talk about Sara?" groused Catherine, voice sullen.
Dr. Sutton laughed. "It's not talking about Sara to say that you and she won't react the exact same way to situation. When you're scared or angry, how do you react?"
Catherine paused, weighing her words. "I fight."
"And how do you see Sara react. I'm not asking what Sara does or thinks. What do you see?"
Again Catherine paused. "She withdraws. She..."
She was sitting hunched over on the stool, curled almost into a ball over her knees. The huge Cadillac sat on the hoist, ready to be ripped apart. Catherine stood, staring through the small window, uncharacteristically caught in indecision. Finally she took a step backwards, out of line of sight of anyone in the garage. Punching the speed dial and hearing, faintly, the ring tone start playing Dancing Queen.
"Sidle."
"Hey, sexy," Catherine said, voice at odds with her expression. "Any luck on the car yet?"
"Ah, no. It's... I'm..."
"Just page me when you find something. Or, just page me for no reason. Okay?"
"Yeah. Hey, Catherine?"
"Yeah?" Catherine said, eyes closing to hold back tears.
"Grissom asked if I could hang around a couple of hours. Finish up some things."
"Sure. Yeah. You up to coming over later? Or I could..."
"No. I think I should just crash at my place. Give Lindsay a hug from me, okay?"
"She hides?" Dr. Sutton prompted.
"Sure. If you change your mind... It's never too late. Okay?"
"That's what it feels like," Catherine said, feeling the tears start up and willing them to dry.
"Sometimes... sometimes it is, Catherine. And I don't want to wake up you or Linds."
"And you want to fight?"
"But I don't want to fight with Sara."
"And you can't. And you can't fight for her."
"What can I do?"
"Is she worth it?" Dr. Sutton asked, immediately holding up her hands in surrender as Catherine came half out of her chair. "Whoa, yes. I'll take that as a yes?"
"Yes."
"Catherine, you're an experienced CSI. You're qualified to interview victims and interrogate suspects. You know more psychology than most psychiatry interns and you deal with post trauma reactions every day at work. You know what to do."
"Will it make any difference?"
Dr. Sutton sighed. "I can't promise anything. People, especially trauma survivors, are incredibly strong and incredibly fragile. Molehills and mountains, straws and camel backs. It all basically boils down, and please remain seated and calm, is she worth it?"
Although she had a key she knocked, waiting nervously until finally sounds of movement could be heard. The door opened, security chain still on, and Catherine realized that she had no plan or script.
"Hey."
"Hey," Sara replied.
"Can I come in?"
Sara hesitated before nodding, closing the door enough to disengage the chain before opening it wide. Not waiting Sara turned and walked into the apartment. Muffling a sigh Catherine closed the door and followed her into the living area.
"You look tired," Catherine said.
Sara looked down at rumpled T-shirt and flannel sleep pants before glancing at her reflection in the glass of a picture frame.
"There's no mirrors in her apartment," Catherine said abruptly. "I mean, in the bathroom but not in the bedroom or apartment proper. I use to think it was because she didn't put a high priority into her physical appearance."
"Use to? Now?" Dr. Sutton asked.
"I think it's because she doesn't like who she sees when she looks into them."
"Yeah, I guess I do."
"Have you been..." Catherine began before stopping abruptly when Sara's expression began to darken and her fists clench at her side.
"I haven't been drinking."
"I was going to say sleeping," Catherine said calmly.
Dropping wearily to the couch Sara shook her head. "No. That either. I, ah, shouldn't have assumed..."
"It's okay," Catherine said, taking the few steps to stand by Sara's knees. "Hey," she said, waiting patiently for Sara to look up before kneeling on the edge of the couch and perching lightly on Sara's knees.
With a sigh Sara reached forward to pull Catherine forward, settling her weight onto Sara's lap.
"We were sitting like this," Sara said after several minutes of silence, "a couple of months ago, and I told you all the things I was afraid I was capable of. Of violence. Of hurting you or Lindsey. I should have told you all the things I'm afraid I'm not capable of."
"Sara."
"Please, I have to say this," Sara said. "I'm not sure I'm capable of doing this, of being in a real family. I'm not sure I'm capable of putting you two first all the time and if I promise that... I'm not sure I'm able to keep that promise. To always come home, to never leave you. Because when I was in there I would have done anything –anything, Catherine- to get them safe. Even if it meant I didn't make it out."
"And you think I asked that of you."
"Well," Sara said, slowly, turning her attention away from Catherine. "Yeah."
"Because I did ask that of you," Catherine said, cupping Sara's face in her hands and making her turn towards her. "And it was wrong."
"Why? Shouldn't you, you and Lindsey, be my priority?" Sara asked, and, after a long pause. "Well?"
"I want to say this right."
"Okay."
"I think this," Catherine said slowly, placing her open hand over Sara's chest, feeling her heart pounding against her palm, "should be your priority. And then Lindsey and I and the job and everything else will take care of themselves."
"But..."
"No buts," Catherine said firmly. "I've been thinking. About you and me."
Sara closed her eyes, falling back to the couch and away from Catherine. "You, ah, think maybe we should take a break, you and I, until I get my head straight? Get this all sorted out? That's probably a good idea. In fact, it is a great idea."
"That's very understanding of you. Unfortunately, that's not what I was going to say."
"Not?" Sara asked, eyes snapping open in shock.
"No, more like you should move in, with Lindsay and me, so we can be there to help you look after this," Catherine said, hand pressing against Sara's chest again, "keep you close and the monsters away."
"Catherine…"
"Call me."
"What?" Sara asked, bewildered.
Catherine reached across, grabbing Sara's cell phone from the nearby end table. Handing the phone to Sara she pulled her cell phone from her belt. "Call. Me."
Without looking Sara pressed the speed dial combination. Immediately Catherine's phone began to play and, after a few seconds of confusion, Sara nodded in recognition.
"I told you that I knew you loved me when you offered to leave because of your past, remember?"
Sara nodded.
"This song reminds me of when I first knew I loved you," Catherine said. "When I realized I rather drive around all night with you, to make sure you'd sleep, than sleep myself."
"Cyndi Lauper or Celine Dion?" Sara asked, as the ring tone started over.
"Roy Orbinson."
"Ah," Sara said, turning away again to look for imaginary threads to pluck. "You said the L word," she said, sneaking a peak from the corner of her eye. "Twice."
"I did."
"No one's said that to me that hasn't hurt me."
"And I can't even promise that," Catherine said, sitting back and waiting until Sara looked up at her. "I'd like to be able to but obviously I hurt you a lot over the last two weeks."
"I forgive you."
"Move in?"
"Wendy was saying she was looking for a place closer to the lab," Sara said slowly. "I've six months left on my lease. I could sublet it to her. Just in case."
"You don't..." Catherine said and then nodded.
"I know I don't need an out for your sake. I need it for me. A safety net."
"I'm slow, Sara. But I'm getting it. Six month trial run."
"What can I do?"
"Understand that you can't heal her, only help and support her. Hold her. Love her. Be there," Dr. Sutton said. "Because she's worth it, right?"
"Hope I'm worth it," Sara whispered as she tightened the embrace and pulling Catherine back against her.
"You are."
THE END