Disclaimer: All characters are owned by someone else (i.e not me, unfortunately). Hopefully, no copyrights were breached in my making of this fic (I didn't mean to!) and I made no money doing this whatsoever. This is purely for my entertainment, instead of studying!











"Come on!" Sara yelled at the traffic. She raised her hands in a helpless shrug and brought them back down on the wheel with a resigned thump. She was meant to be meeting Catherine to discuss Nick's birthday party, and Sara had spent extra time at the lab today, trying to get all the evidence she needed analysed, analysed. Happy that her report could now be filed, she was stuck in traffic.

She honked her horn once more before turning on the radio. The soft strains of Tori Amos began to play, and Sara started to calm down. She really hated driving in rush hour.







Half an hour later, she was walking up the path to Catherine's front door, or what was left of it. As she cautiously stepped inside, her boot crushed some shards of glass to powder.



What the heck happened in here?



Her hand instinctively reached for her gun as she started calling out for Catherine. When she saw a large pool of blood on the floor, she began to get worried.



"Catherine? Where are you?" she called, hoping for a response. It was then she discovered the body lying next to the smashed up coffee table. She gasped when she realised it was Eddie, and though she didnt want to admit it, was glad he was unconscious.



What did he do to her?



Quickly scanning the room, she noted some blood drops on the edge of the coffee table. Catherine's gun lay on the floor several meters away. Her gun? Sara started down the corridor until she realised the bathroom light was dimly lit. Tapping on the door, she almost smashed it open with urgency.



"Oh, my God," she exclaimed as soon as she had it open, dropping her gun and running straight for the unmoving form near the toilet.



Catherine's face was deathly pale, the blood from her temple standing starkly out against the shocking white of her complexion. Her breathing was shallow, and Sara pressed her fingers to Catherine's wrist. Her pulse was thready and irregular.





Laying her friend down as gently as she could, so as not to cause any further damage, she assessed the extent of the injuries before getting a towel to prop up Catherine's head. Just as she was about to go and call an ambulance, a hand weakly grabbed her arm.



Sara almost jumped with fright.





"Please...don't," asked Catherine, her voice scarily weak and vulnerable. Sara said that she had to, but, difficult though it was, decided against her better judgement. Her sudden protectiveness startled her; since when was she so concerned about Catherine? She laid her feelings down to the circumstances.





After getting some supplies from the kitchen, she quickly returned to the bathroom, only to find Catherine trying to get up.







"Oh, no, you don't," she ordered, trying to get Catherine to lie back down. She was obviously agitated, a sign of a head injury. Catherine was surprisingly coherent, however. She shot Sara a death glare, or at least tried to, and Sara admired her friend's perseverance.





"I didnt call anyone, so don't worry."



She felt Catherine relax at that statement, the strained look on her face becoming less intense. She realised that Catherine was starting to get distracted, and tried to test her friend's eyesight. Reassured that the head wound was not serious, she turned her attention to unbuttoning her friend's shirt; she was pretty sure Catherine's ribs had been bruised, as she was having difficulty breathing. She gasped as the shirt gave way to reveal deep purple bruises colouring Catherine's ribcage, like some sick kind of artwork. She winced as she gently applied pressure to the area, her friend writhing in pain underneath her.





"Catherine, I'm sorry, but I need to do this," she apologised, over and over again.





"You're not feeling dizzy? Nauseous? Sick?"



"No."



"How about your arm? Can I have a look?"



Catherine grudgingly held up her arm for inspection. She watched as Sara reached for some antiseptic and cotton wool. Her movements seemed oddly elegant and fluid-like. She started to drift off, before Sara roughly jolted her awake.



"Catherine, I need you to stay awake for me, k?"



Catherine dumbly nodded her head. She tried not to grimace when Sara started cleaning her wounds, but it hurt. Sara winced, but soon she was finished.





Sara sat down and sighed. She smoothed back Catherine's hair for a moment before deciding that she really had to move her patient. However, the problem still remained of what to do with Eddie. Deciding not to move her friend for the time being, she opened the bathroom door and walked silently down the hall. Eddie wasn't there, and the door moved slightly in the breeze. She wasn't sure where he was, but as long as he wasn't here - that man scared her. Reaching the kitchen, she splashed her face with cold water, trying to calm her nerves slightly. Then, with wobbly legs, she made her way back to the bathroom. Catherine was still unconscious, and Sara allowed herself to watch her friend for a couple of minutes. She looked so peaceful, like an angel, but marred with bloody contusions and bruises. The regular rhythm of her breathing reassured Sara - she had been so worried about her friend that she hadn't had time to think about how much Catherine actually meant to her until now.





Carefully, she picked Catherine up, and, with no difficulty, carried her through to the bedroom - she was as light as a feather. She rooted through Catherine's drawers until she found what she was looking for - some loose pyjamas. Carefully, so as not to wake her up, Sara managed to change Catherine and tuck her into bed. She left the room and returned with a book, some painkillers, a basin, and an extra blanket. Then, taking off her shoes, she slipped into bed beside her, keeping a slight distance between herself and the sleeping form of her friend. She read for the rest of the night.

On to Chapter 3...