Title: Catharsis
By: little arsonist
Pairing: Cath/Sara
Rating: PG-13 (non-graphic mention of rape)
Disclaimer: I wish I owned them.
Challenge: none, really, except I challenged myself with some help.
Spoilers: Right after 'Homebodies'
Summary: 'She shouldn't be here...'
Word Count: 475 (i went over the limit...)
Author's Notes: I combined the ideas for three past challenge fics never finished (light/darkness, Christmas, weakness) to finally write this angsty piece that's been bugging me. I needed to explore Sara's past or else my brain would've exploded. And her name isn't used a lot for certain reasons.

***

She shouldn't be here, not while so vulnerable and secretly in love with her.

But Catherine is who she needs right now. Tonight she'll hide any feelings for her easily, behind tears, and actually go to the door. Catherine will listen to her, and now she's ready to tell somebody about the shadows in her mind, about the past and present colliding to haunt her.

Catherine is the only person she trusts to see her in this time of weakness.

She made the call before leaving the scene and apologized for the late hour before saying hello. Catherine sounded concerned, offering an invitation to come over for coffee.

"I'll be there in an hour, and I'm sorry for bothering you on your night off."

She watches the house from the driver's seat. A single light shines in the living room window. Catherine's waiting.

She breathes deeply, gets out and makes her way to the front door. Halfway there, the light goes out but she keeps going. She's only a few minutes late.

The door opens before she can knock. Catherine appears, looking tired and ready for bed in her green robe.

"I was wondering if you were actually going to get out of your car."

She tries to laugh at the comment but tears are easier. She fights them though.

"Sara?"

Catherine leads her inside to the living room, eases her down on the sofa and sits close, right beside her.

"Sara, you want to tell me what's wrong, because you're scaring me. I've never seen you cry, ever."

She came to talk, so Sara tells her about the girl dead in her own driveway, dead because she tried to find who violated her. About Christmas Eves spent locked down in her apartment or at work in the light, where she knows it's safe.

That Christmas Eve she was sixteen, alone at home because her parents were at a party and her brother was out with friends. She heard the loud crashes and interrupted the intruder, the man police never caught.

(She didn't think telling someone would be like reliving it. She can smell the sour beer breath, taste the blood in her mouth from when she bit her lip, feel the fear like that night is happening again.)

"I spend the rest of the year pretending I'm fine. I take rape cases because it's part of the job."

Some tears have fallen but her lower lip trembles. She can't fight it anymore.

Catherine pulls her into an embrace as she breaks down, and she tries to remember when she cried like this before.

"I knew I could trust you."

Catherine kisses her forehead and moves back. Sara notices how red her blue eyes are now and realizes she wasn't wrong to come here.

"I'm glad you told me. You shouldn't have to suffer alone."

***