Title: Sight for Sore Eyes

Fandom: CSI

Pairing: Sara/Lockwood

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,708

Spoilers: Inside the Box

Prompt: 40 Sight

Notes: An AU to an AU if you can believe that… part of the “Fool for Lesser Things” universe.

It is, in turns, a sight Catherine hoped she’d never have to see, and a sight that she prayed she would.

The former, because she’s never wanted to see one of her fellow CSIs injured – even Sara, a woman with whom she’s had what can only be described as a fractious relationship.

The latter, because she remembers hearing the worry in Brass’s voice when he called in the robbery at the First Monument Bank, remembers how her stomach turned over when she saw the crimson pool on the floor. It had been too easy to estimate how much blood had been there, to know how serious the wound was, and to estimate Sara’s chances of survival as not very good.

She should have known that Sara was far too stubborn to give in to those odds.

Still though, it’s hard to see Sara, usually so active, so driven to solve a case, lying pale and still in a hospital bed. Her skin is as pale as the bed sheets she lies on, dark purple smudges under her eyes, a network of tubes crawling snakelike all over her body. The heart monitor to her left beeps reassuringly, but it’s the tableau to her right that holds Catherine’s attention.

Cyrus Lockwood, in casual trousers but a green hospital scrubs top, sits beside Sara’s bed, holding onto her hand so tightly that Catherine’s afraid he’s going to leave bruises permanent as the furrowed lines on his brow are likely to be. His gaze hasn’t wandered from Sara’s face for as long as Catherine’s been in here, and his shoulders are fixed in a tight, straight line, tension fairly vibrating from every pore of his body.

They’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting for Sara to wake up, and their impatience is rewarded when she stirs slightly. Cyrus leans forward quickly, more quickly than Catherine would have thought possible, because he has to be stiffer than she is, and one of his hands reaches out, touches Sara’s hair gently. He doesn’t say anything, but Catherine sees the other woman’s eyes flicker, sees her lips turn up in a faint smile, and slowly, ever so slowly, Sara’s eyes open.

The smile on Cyrus’s face is almost blinding, and while loss of blood and anaesthesia combine to dim Sara’s, it’s not by much. “You’re still here,” she whispers, her voice cracked and broken, and when he leans forward to kiss her forehead, Cyrus’s chuckle has tendrils of curling brown hair moving over her cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, sounding so sincere that tears come to Catherine’s eyes. Vision blurred, she turns away, as much to compose herself, restore her sight, as to give them privacy. “How are you feeling?” Cyrus asks, and Sara’s mattress shifts as she moves slightly.

“I’m ok…” she replies, and Catherine doesn’t need to look at her to see the grimace on her face. “Achy…tired…” A pause, then, “Thirsty.”

Catherine hears Cyrus chuckle again, hears the sound of water being poured into a glass, and when she decides she’s composed enough, Cyrus is propping Sara up, helping her sip, admonishing her to be careful. Sara’s giving him a look that’s equal parts amused and touched, and Catherine knows without having to think how, that the other woman has no idea she’s even in the room.

That’s borne out by the surprised glance that Sara throws at her when Cyrus says, “And you’ve got a visitor too.” Catherine can’t blame her, knows she’s the last person that Sara expected to see here, and she shrugs her shoulders to deflect the question that she’s sure will be forthcoming.

“I just wanted to check that you weren’t going to leave me alone on the team,” she tells Sara, using humour to further deflect any issues Sara might have with her presence. “After all… we both know two strong women are better than any number of men, right?”

Sara catches the reference to their first meeting, smiles accordingly, smile growing wider when she sees the look of mock offence of Cyrus’s face. “Most men,” Sara says, squeezing his hand, and Catherine isn’t even tempted to roll her eyes, not when she sees the looks on their faces.

“Look, I’m just going to go,” she says. “Leave you two alone…”

Cyrus nods, but Sara surprises them both when she says, “Cath, wait…” Catherine tilts her head in question, sees Sara looking between herself and Cyrus. “I know you need to get back to Lindsey… but can you stay a while?” Her gaze lingers on Cyrus, and Catherine knows, with sudden insight, what she’s not asking.

“Lindsey’s at school,” she says, leaving out the fact that even if she weren’t, Catherine would be the last person she’d want to see. “So I can stay…Cyrus, why don’t you head home for a little while? Get some sleep, a change of clothes?”

She knows she’s not imagining the gratitude in Sara’s eyes, just like she’s not imagining the reluctance in Cyrus’s. “I’d really rather…”

“I understand.” Catherine holds her hands up, stopping the flow of words. “Believe me, I understand. But if you don’t take care of yourself, you’re not going to be any use to Sara.”

“She’s right Cyrus.” Sara’s words are quiet, but strong. “If you don’t get some fresh air, you’ll be in the bed beside me.” Too late, she realises how it sounds, and the smirk that Cyrus and Catherine give her has some much needed colour rising to her cheeks. “Not like that,” she amends, and all three chuckle.

“I promise to take good care of her,” Catherine tells Cyrus, and he heaves a heavy sigh, nodding.

“If you need me…for anything…”

“I’ll call you.” Catherine’s talking to him, but he’s not paying any attention to her, is instead looking at Sara. Catherine takes the hint, backs away, half turning to give them some privacy, somehow unable to completely turn her back. From the corner of her eye, she sees Cyrus lean down, pressing a kiss first to Sara’s forehead, then her lips, before letting his head rest against hers.

“If you need me…” he says again, and Sara gives him a small smile.

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him. “I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

“Better not,” Cyrus orders, kissing her once more before he straightens up. “I’ll see you later.” Then, to Catherine, “Thank you.”

Catherine lifts a hand in response, and then he’s gone. She’s not looking at him though, rather at Sara, who doesn’t take her eyes off Cyrus’s retreating form until the door closes behind him. Even then, it’s a long moment before she focuses her gaze on Catherine, and that blush is still high on her cheeks when she does.

“Thanks for that,” she says. “He worries, you know?” Her voice is sounding scratchy, and Catherine moves towards the bedside locker, lifts the glass of water that Cyrus had left, helps her sip from it. That done, she finds herself on the end of a patented Sara Sidle stare. “You cleared the case?” Catherine’s not quite sure what to say to that, not sure where to begin, but Sara must think she’s being quiet for some other reason, because her eyes narrow still further. “Cath, you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t… what happened at the bank?”

Slowly, Catherine sinks down into the chair beside the bed, and begins her story. Tells her all about a scissors and a scrap of material in a safety deposit box, about dead bank robbers in the desert, about how Sam Braun put this whole thing into motion. And, although she doesn’t intend telling Sara, she tells her the whole truth – that not alone is Sam Braun guilty as sin, he’s also her father.

Strangely, she feels better for confessing, but she’s not expecting absolution, is surprised when Sara says, “You can’t blame yourself Cath.”

Catherine’s laugh is brittle, hollow to even her own ears. “Oh, trust me, I blame him… I just… I hate like hell that you got caught up in all this.”

Sara shifts slightly, grimacing as she does so. “I’d’ve been caught up in this whether Sam Braun was your father or not,” she points out. “Besides,” she adds, “It could have been worse.”

Catherine is astounded, sure that the painkillers must have done a number on Sara’s thought processes. “How can you say that? Look at where you are… look at what they did to you.”

Sara pauses for a long moment, looking over Catherine’s shoulder, and Catherine has an inkling that the other woman is a million miles away. “You know…I wasn’t going to go into town today.” She lets that sit for a moment, then continues. “Cyrus got up first… he was going to let me sleep in… he worries about me. Except I heard him get up… and I decided to join him. That’s why we were both there.”

Catherine sighs. “Bad timing.”

“Was it?” Catherine doesn’t understand, tilts her head and frowns in confusion. “What if I hadn’t been there Cath? Ron Rubio was a Marine sniper… those guys don’t miss. The only reason I got hit the way I did was because I was moving… and because I wasn’t his target.”

The penny finally drops with Catherine. “You were pushing Cyrus out of the way.” She’d known that, just had never considered the implications of it.

Sara nods. “If I hadn’t been there… if I hadn’t done that… it’d be Cyrus here. Or maybe not here… maybe…” She squeezes her eyes shut, not before Catherine can miss the tears in them, and swallows hard. Catherine lays her hand over Sara’s, and after a second, Sara opens her eyes, nods once at her. “Cyrus is ok,” she says. “And I’m going to be. And you guys found out what happened. I think… I think I can live with that.”

It’s simply put, and there is nothing but sincerity in Sara’s voice, in her eyes. And in her face is a look that Catherine’s never seen there before, one that she recognises instantly – hadn’t she once told Grissom that it took a bad marriage to recognise a good one?

It’s love, pure and unvarnished, and that sight alone makes her feel better.