THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

Before the call, there was monotony. Of course, every graveyard shift began with monotony, but Catherine remembered that that Monday had been particularly quiet. She recalled standing at the small kitchenette in the lab tearoom, stirring a black coffee, waiting for Grissom to join them. Somewhere above her a clock was ticking, behind her the sound of Nick and Warrick thumbing idly through discarded magazines. It was several minutes before Grissom arrived, walking in without even sparing them a glance, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read.

"I got the lab results from the scene in Death Valley," he began. "Analysis of the blood found details that it's not our victim's, but belongs to an unknown male. That means we have to go back over the evidence and question the family again. Sara, you -"

He paused, his eyes lifting to find his target and noticing for the first time that she was not among them. For a split second he looked disoriented; his sentence lost.

"Where's Sara?"

"Late," Nick reported. "Hasn't clocked in yet."

Grissom glanced around the table, then behind at the deserted corridor. He frowned, and Catherine followed his eyes to the clock on the wall. It was already fifteen minutes past midnight, past the beginning of shift. Usually, Sara was the first to arrive, well settled by the time Catherine entered the building, and usually accompanied by a stale air of having never left.

"She's probably overslept," Catherine suggested.

She did not voice her real thoughts, mention any of the little things she had been noticing over the past six months. There was Sara's increasingly dishevelled appearance, the dark tint under her eyes, the subtle smell of beer lingering on her breath. Thus far Catherine had never mentioned it, electing to protect the privacy of Sara's personal life. And she doubted that the others had even noticed. But after living her entire life in Las Vegas, Catherine was able to recognise the seedier side of the city long before the others.

"C'mon, the girl lives here," Warrick dismissed. "She's probably just ducked out for a bite to eat."

But Grissom ignored the comment. He took out his cell phone, checked the screen for messages.

"Has anyone heard from her?"

There was silence as they exchanged blank looks.

"Grissom?"

At the familiar voice they all looked up. Sofia Curtis stood in the doorway, one hand against the frame. Her expression was solemn.

"There's been a call over the radio," she informed them. "A 911 from Sara Sidle's apartment building. She's been attacked."

XXX

In the passenger seat of Sofia's car, Catherine seized the door handle. Sofia swerved through the late night traffic like a pro, her eyes locked hard onto the road ahead. Cars pulled over to make way for them as their siren pierced the air, and it was echoed by the car behind them, in which Grissom, Nick and Warrick followed. In the parking garage of headquarters there had been no time to find their own cars, but that did not matter now. As they careered into Sara's street, Catherine saw the usually quiet neighborhood was in chaos. Squad cars were parked haphazardly in front of the old brick apartment building, their flashing lights reflecting off windows up and down the street. The neighbours, roused from sleep, stood on the sidewalks in their pyjamas, fear etched into every face.

The tyres screeched as Sofia skidded to a halt. In an instant Catherine unsnapped her belt and was out of the car. She spotted Brass on the front steps of the building and made straight for him, Sofia jogging behind her to catch up.

"Is she all right?" Catherine called, shouting above the sirens, and police officers who were waving back the observers.

"She's alive," Brass confirmed.

Catherine searched his eyes for more information, but he offered none. He looked harried, and cast impatient glances at the crowd. As Grissom, Nick and Warrick joined them he led them inside. The front doors closed behind them and the noise immediately dimmed. Catherine found herself in a poorly lit hallway, a row of mail slots leading to an ancient lift with a dying light. Brass ignored the lift and went straight to the stairs.

Their feet were like thunder as they jogged up the levels.

"What happened?" Grissom called.

"Neighbours made the call. They heard shouting, saw an unidentified male flee the scene. They found her on the floor of her apartment, called 911."

They reached the landing of Sara's floor, and Brass turned to face them. He dropped his voice.

"No one really knows what the hell happened. The neighbours said they've never seen the guy before. Apartment looks like a tornado ripped through it, and Sara ..."

He trailed off. Catherine saw something flash through his eyes which made her heart sink with a thud. Her chest felt tight.

Nick asked the question, quiet and concerned. "She's all right, isn't she?"

"You'll see for yourselves," he answered cryptically.

XXX

The hallway outside Sara's apartment was crowded. Residents from Sara's level hovered outside their doors amongst a sprinkling of police officers, all of them watching the commotion with stunned faces. Many of the officers had worked with Sara, and all of them knew of her. Catherine followed Brass as he carved a path through the crowd, and the spectating officers stood back to let them inside.

When she reached the doorway, Catherine abruptly stopped.

"Jesus," Sofia breathed.

"Damn," Nick echoed.

It was not as bad as Catherine had imagined, but it was enough that the scene momentarily winded her. Everything stood overturned, furniture and possessions thrown in a confetti of violence. Near the television a beer bottle had been smashed, shards of glass covering the floor, but there was no sign of any blood. She noticed, too, more empty beer bottles abandoned on the coffee table, gathered together like bowling pins, and by the dining table what had been a pile of old forensic magazines were now scattered all over the room, pages open as if they had been thrown. A lone flower stood in a vase on a side table - as if at one point Sara had tried to let some beauty into her life - but all in all the apartment was dim and depressing. Then, too, Catherine noticed a peculiar absence of family photos. Not a single portrait was to be seen.

Grissom stepped past her, his eyes wide, stricken.

"Where is she?" Catherine asked, pulling herself together.

"In here," Brass said, and carefully began stepping through the detritus, leading them toward the bedroom. Catherine slowly followed, watching her footing, careful to not disturb anything that might serve as evidence.

A small passage off the living room led to the bedroom, but as they approached a middle aged paramedic appeared, holding up his hands to head them off.

"You are..?"

"CSI," Catherine supplied, flashing her badge. "She's one of ours."

"You're her colleagues?"

"Friends," Warrick corrected.

"Family," Grissom said flatly.

The paramedic nodded his sympathy, but did not drop his hands. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside."

"Can't we see her?" Nick asked.

"Not yet," the paramedic answered. "Not until she's stable."

"Stable?" Warrick repeated, but he was interrupted by Sofia.

"Well if she was injured you'd be taking her out of here, right? To hospital."

She glanced around pointedly, and Catherine then noticed too that there was no stretcher, seemingly no urgency to flee the scene. Something did not add up. But Catherine was saved the trouble of pressing for information when a second paramedic appeared, a motherly female who had evidently been listening in.

"You're close friends of hers?"

The question was directed to Catherine, but it was Grissom who replied.

"Yes," he said simply.

"Come with me," she said.

She held out an arm, singling out Catherine and Grissom to be led into the room. The short passage soon led to the double bedroom, and off to the left was an ensuite bathroom, the door open and light streaming out. Catherine knew straightaway that that was where Sara was, as the bedroom itself was deserted. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it seemed neat and untouched. Through the single large window Catherine could see the blue and red lights still flashing across the nightscape.

The paramedic lowered her voice to a near whisper as they approached.

"She's not doing too well, I'm afraid. She seems physically unharmed - just some minor cuts and abrasions - but it's hard to tell. She doesn't want us near her. She's huddled in the bathroom, won't speak, in some kind of shock. When I asked if she'd been sexually assaulted she said no, but that's all she's said."

"You don't think she's lying?" Catherine asked quickly.

She saw Grissom's eyes flit suddenly toward her, alarmed.

"No," the paramedic answered. "This is something else. I don't know what. But maybe you can talk to her, calm her down."

They stopped at the bathroom door. There were no sounds coming from inside. A third paramedic emerged from the room, joining his colleague with a look of surrender.

"Thank you," Grissom said pointedly. "We'll take it from here."

Like a gentleman, he let Catherine go in first. She edged in slowly, her heels clicking on the tiles, and paused once she'd rounded the door. Sara sat against the shower, a fluffy towel wrapped around her shoulders, staring at the wall opposite. She gave no signs to indicate that she had registered their presence, but seemed aware of her surroundings. As Catherine hesitated she closed her eyes a moment, as if focusing on her breathing, on pulling herself together. Underneath the towel Catherine could see she wore a peach satin nightie, and that goosebumps rained up and down her arms. Her feet were bare on the cold floor. She could see no blood, no physical injury.

Catherine spoke gently, her heart wrenched. "Sara ..."

Together they moved closer, crouching down on the tiles with her. Remembering what the paramedic had said, Catherine did not reach to touch her, but tried to move to catch her eyes.

"Sara?" Grissom probed softly.

She closed her eyes a moment, but did not shrink away.

"Sara, it's going to be okay now," Catherine told her. "Everyone's here. You're safe."

Sara opened her eyes again, and this time met Catherine's. They were steady, with no tears, but wracked with the reverberations of shock.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked.

But she did not reply. Instead, her hand trailed toward Catherine. For a moment Catherine thought she was reaching for her hand, searching for comfort, but her fingers instead took the hem of her leather jacket, lifting the corner away to expose her holstered weapon. Upon seeing it she immediately relaxed, sinking back against the shower, eyes closed. Relief swamped her features.

"You're safe, Sara," Catherine repeated.

"We're all armed," Grissom added. "We've got Nick and Warrick outside, Brass and two dozen police officers in the hallway."

It took a moment - a moment of glancing between Catherine's weapon and Grissom's earnest protectiveness - but at last she nodded. She sank forward, sweeping her hands over her face. The towel around her shoulders slipped to the tiles.

Gently, Catherine reached a hand forward, and laid it Sara's shoulder. A thousand questions in her mind fought for attention, but she knew better than to rush her. She pushed them back, allowing Sara a moment of comfort. When Sara did not throw her off, Catherine slid a warm arm around her slim frame, and they listened as her breathing steadied, easing out of her shock. They repeated again that she was safe, that it was all over.

A moment later Grissom dared to ask the question that Catherine had been withholding. His voice was gentle.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

But Sara shook her head, evasive and exhausted.

"I'm all right," she said simply.

"Sara, did he hurt you?" Catherine asked. "Harm you?"

Sara met her eyes. Catherine could tell she knew what she was asking. But despite the paramedic's assurances, she had to be certain. She had to hear Sara say it herself.

"No," she replied.

The knot of anxiety in Catherine's chest unravelled. She gently stroked Sara's back, watching her slowly pull herself together.

"Where's your weapon?" Grissom asked.

Sara wearily shook her head, exhausted with the questions.

"Does he have it?" Grissom pressed.

Sara did not look at him, but gave a slight nod. A guilty expression passed through her eyes, as though she was kicking herself. Catherine continued stroking her back. No matter what might have happened, Catherine knew Sara could not be blamed if she had been overpowered.

"It's fine," Catherine said gently. "We'll sort it out. The main thing is you're all right."

There was a slight pause. Catherine could hear a murmur of voices in the next room.

"Can you stand?" Grissom asked gently.

She looked unsure, weak with shock. They both helped her, and together raised her to her shaky feet. Grissom cast an eye down at Sara's bare feet and skimpy night attire. Together they helped her into the bedroom, Catherine keeping a firm around Sara's shoulders. Sara's eyes went toward to the three paramedics, but Catherine held up a hand to them, keeping their questions at bay. They watched as Grissom went to Sara's wardrobe, sliding open the door to reveal a rail of work clothes. He took a long back overcoat and a pair of old runners and returned to Sara's side.

"Put them on," he said gently.

Sara's movements were slow, and Catherine moved to help her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brass edge into the room, checking if the coast was clear.

"I want you to take her to hospital," Grissom told the paramedics. "Get her checked out."

The paramedics nodded and started forward to help.

"She'll need a police guard," Catherine shot to Brass. "The suspect's got her weapon."

"You got it," Brass replied, taking this information in his stride. He looked over his shoulder, passing silent instructions to a colleague.

A moment later Sara was ready, and under the care of the three paramedics, they began helping her toward the door of the apartment. She was joined quickly by several police officers, and Catherine knew they would escort her down to the ambulance, and then stand guard at the hospital. She heard Nick and Warrick offer their support as Sara passed them, and after another moment, she was gone, and the two guys entered the room with Sofia.

Nick cast his eyes around at the perfectly neat room, then back over his shoulder to the warzone in the living room.

"I want the two of you to get started," Grissom replied, indicating Nick and Warrick. "Seal off the scene. I don't want anyone in this apartment who isn't a CSI."

Brass looked around. "You can't head this one up, Gil. She's one of your team. You gotta consider how that's going to look in the eyes of a jury."

"My people are the best, Jim. Sara needs the best."

"You gotta step aside," Brass said firmly. "Call Ecklie. Get someone else allocated. You can't have this one."

"I can," Sofia said.

They looked up, momentarily forgetting that Sofia still stood there.

"I'll take the case," Sofia repeated.

Catherine watched as a look of mutual understanding passed between Sofia and Grissom. She knew the two knew each other, that they had shared cases in the past and their mutual respect had developed into something of a friendship. Grissom offered her a small smile, and pulled some fresh forensic gloves from his pocket, snapping them on.

Brass looked lost for words, and after a moment shrugged. He changed track.

"So did you learn anything in there?" he asked. "You get a story?"

"She's still in shock," Catherine replied. "Holding back."

"The story's in the evidence, Jim," Grissom said. "That's all we need."

Brass shrugged. Catherine knew he was not interested in forensics until it gave him a name and a door he could hammer on.

"Well I'll leave you to it. I'm going to go canvas the neighbours. Take some statements."

He left. Catherine could hear Nick and Warrick setting up in the next room.

"Where do you want me?" she asked.

He looked up, raising an eyebrow. She realised then what she had said, but he did not laugh. Instead he pointed to the window, through which she could see the flashing lights of the ambulance.

"I want you to follow the evidence."

A bit different to my last CSI story, perhaps, but would be interested to hear what people think, if they'd like to follow the story further.