Title : Carousel
Author : Melanie
Summary : Story number six in the series. A bit of humor. A fair amount of making out. And a case that’s as bizarre as its victim.
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Disclaimer : I’m just borrowing. All characters and everything else CSI belongs to Zuiker, Bruckheimer and CBS.
Rating : R for language and brief hanky panky.
Feedback : Always welcome. Fivebyfive13@prodigy.net
Archive : Ask me and it’s yours :)
Author’s Note : The idea for the next installment came to me about halfway
through this story and I’m fairly eager to get started on it. I had no idea when I wrote ‘Little Girl Lost’ that there would even be a second story let alone a seventh ! Your feedback has absolutely fed the fire and kept the series going. So as long as you guys out there keep enjoying it, more will inevitably come. Thanks, you guys rule.

Greg Sanders snuggled deeper into the warm cocoon of a maroon and black down
comforter.  Small clucking noises seeped through his dry lips as he opened his
mouth and shut it again, the bright sun slapping him in the face relentlessly as
he struggled to cling to slumber and realized the pain in his head just wasn’t
going to let go.  His toes grazed against something warm as he extended his
leg…something solid…something covered in soft, smooth skin.  Suddenly his eyes
flew open and squinting through the yellow halo of sunlight saw that he wasn’t
alone, and more importantly he wasn’t in his own bed.

He recognized the soft mane of dark hair falling gently over a short expanse of
exposed back.  Greg smiled faintly, burrowed his head deeper in the fluffy
cushion of pillow under his head and shifted slightly, closer to the form
sleeping soundly next to him.  He reached a hand out, fingertips hovering over
the strap of a heather gray, curve fitting tank top and closed his eyes,
breathing in the faint scent of patchouli mixed with sandalwood.   His hand fell
faster, so close to the heat of someone else’s skin.   There was a nervous
tingle in the pit of his stomach.   His memory was completely blank.   Confusion
of the previous night’s actions and circumstances quickly gave way to
curiosity…to a chance for the taking.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Greg,” Sara growled, squinting in the early afternoon
light and stretching her legs out straight.

Greg pulled his hand back swiftly and rolled onto his back, staring at a stark
white ceiling and feeling the rumbling in his stomach.   Sara yawned widely,
stretching long arms over head and rolled over to face the young man who was now
sharing her bed.   He folded his arms over his chest and looked at her out of
the corner of his eye.  She smiled at him as he sighed and exhaled deeply.

“So last night,” she commented.

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to be nonchalant about things he couldn’t quite
possibly remember.

“It was pretty…uh…intense,” Sara said after a slight pause.

“Intense.  Uh huh,” he said, raising a hand to cover his eyes from the sun.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if you were ready for another go,” she replied, placing a
hand on his stomach gently.

Greg felt his feet go numb, his senses kick into overdrive.   A heat was
starting at his knees and slowly working its way further up his body.  Sara’s
hand felt like a bittersweet weight bearing down on his mind as well as his
body.   He looked at her sleepy eyes, her sweet smile and nervously placed his
hand on top of hers.  Greg swallowed hard and rolled onto his side slowly
leaning his face close to Sara’s, eyes closed.

“Uh, Greg.  What are you doing?” she asked, with confused eyes, the heel of one
hand braced firmly against Greg’s upper chest.

“Huh?” he breathed, eyes shooting open fast, his mind racing…quickly falling
back into this reality.   The reality where he knew he was foolish to even think
this was going to happen.

“So we didn’t…uh…you know?” he asked, feeling his stomach sliding around his
insides like a carnival ride.

“Are you nuts?!?” Sara almost yelled, shifting backwards until she was at least
a foot away from him.   “Are you okay?” she added in a softer tone.   “You’re
looking a little green around the edges.”

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, almost tripping as he climbed out of the bed
quickly, hand held against his mouth firmly.

“Down the hall on the right,” she called after him, hearing the distinct sound
of someone barreling through a door and then the not so pleasant retching sound
that followed.

Sara grimaced for a second, feeling extra bad for the young lab tech and fell
back onto the bed.   She was in the middle of closing her eyes and stifling
another yawn when she heard the distant clicking of the front door about to be
opened.   She smiled almost widely.  This was about to get good.

Catherine removed her key from the lock and stepped into Sara’s apartment,
closing the door behind her quietly.   She dropped her set of keys on the
kitchen counter and removed her jacket, dropping it gently over the back of the
sofa.   Light from the bathroom was flooding into the darkened hallway and she
followed it slowly, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor faintly.   She
stopped dead in her tracks, peeking into the small room and returning her eyes
forward.  Then just to make sure, Catherine did a double take and shook her
head.   A few more steps later and she was standing at the foot of Sara’s bed
with her hands on her hips.  Sara, feeling her presence, allowed her eyes to
flutter open.

“Morning,” she said with a yawn that turned into a smile.   “Or afternoon,” she
added glancing at the bedside clock that read close to three.

“What the hell is Greg Sanders doing flexing in front of your bathroom mirror?”
Catherine accused with narrow eyes.

Sara couldn’t help but start laughing at the visual she had just gotten.  She
sat up against the short headboard and ran a hand through sleep scattered hair. 
Catherine was still standing there, the look on her face distinctly that of
someone waiting for an explanation.

“It stinks in here,” the blonde added, taking a deep breath and regretting it.

“That would be the thirty pack of Heineken seeping through Greg’s pores and onto
my freshly washed sheets,” Sara said, smile never faltering.   “He threw up on
the bartender…twice.”

“So you brought him back to your bed?” Catherine asked, brow furrowing and arms
crossing over her chest.

“Actually, I dumped his smelly ass on the couch.   Sometime between seven and
half hour ago he wandered in here,” Sara explained.

“You were at the bar until seven AM?” Catherine raised her voice.

“Sara, honey, where’s the coffee?” Greg asked, stopping cold in the middle of
the doorway when he spotted Catherine.   He crossed one arm over his Blink-182
t-shirt, the other hand tugging gently at the ends of his even messier than
usual hair.

“Catherine,” he said after clearing his voice.   “Nothing happened, I swear,” he
quickly stated as her eyes pierced into his own.

Catherine bit her lip and then couldn’t stand it any longer.  Her lips curled
into a smile just as the laughter rose from her chest and into the air.   Sara
joined her and the two turned to Greg who was smiling in spite of trying to look
slightly hurt and pissed off.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, smoothing his t-shirt down over his cotton Superman
boxer shorts and looking down to make sure Mr. Tricky wasn’t making a surprise
guest appearance.

“You’re lucky I’m not packin’ today, Flex” Catherine said in between giggles. 
“Coffee’s in the fridge,” she said, stepping closer to the bed and raising her
eyebrows at him and then turning to face Sara.

“Keeps it fresh,” Sara interjected.   “We’ll be out in a minute,” she added,
eyes fixed on Catherine’s as the other woman reached the foot of the bed and
pulled at the fluffy comforter with her fingertips.

Greg took his cue and fled into the hallway quickly.   He forgot to close the
door…on purpose.   His lips curled into a smile as he reached the kitchen and
quickly put on a pot of coffee, grabbing his wrinkled jeans off the floor and
struggling into them, nearly falling over in the process.   He saw the rest of
his clothes thrown all over the living room, a blanket and pillow lying
disturbed on the couch.   That’s when he realized he hadn’t been invited into
Sara’s bed, per se. 

“Oh God,” he moaned to himself and closed his eyes tightly, when it dawned on
him that Sara put him to bed on the couch and in the middle of the night he had
wandered into her bedroom.   How embarrassing, he thought and smacked the palm
of his hand against his forehead, wincing when his hangover headache began
pounding harder against the inside of his cranium.

Catherine climbed onto the bed and slowly crawled up over Sara’s lounging body. 
She grabbed the brunette by the waist and pulled her down slowly so that she
was now easily lying on top of her.  Catherine’s hair fell around the frame of
Sara’s face gently and it made her smile.

“Hey,” Catherine said quietly, leaning down to press her lips against Sara’s in
a rather uncharacteristically sweet kiss.

“Hey,” Sara replied with a grin once they parted.   She reached up to brush
Catherine’s hair out of her face, stopping to caress soft cheeks on the way.

“The next time I catch a half-naked man in your bed, I might not be so
forgiving,” Catherine teased with a wide grin, leaning into Sara’s touch.

“Trust me, Mr. Wandering hands had all his clothes on,” Sara replied, laughing.

“Poor kid,” Catherine shook her head and kissed her again.

“Poor kid who left the door wide open,” Sara said, turning her head to the left
and noticing she could see directly into the hallway.

“Think we should give him what he wants?” the blonde asked with a smirk, her
right hand trailing down Sara’s side stopping to squeeze a strong thigh.

“It’s tempting, really,” Sara replied, covering Catherine’s hand with her own. 
“But not until I burn these sheets,” she finished with a scrunch of her nose.

“You’re right,” Catherine agreed, making just about the same face.  She kissed
Sara once more before climbing off the bed.

Stepping into the hallway behind Catherine, Sara immediately smelled the sweet
aroma of coffee.  She smiled as it floated into her nostrils and straight up to
her brain, casting the last remnants of sleep far from her mind and body.   If
it was one thing she could say for Greg, it was that he brewed a mean cup of
coffee.

Grabbing Catherine by the back loophole of her jeans, Sara pulled them both into
the bathroom swiftly, kicking the door half closed and pushing Catherine up
against the inside wall with the tiniest of thuds.   Sara looked past the
genuine surprise in Catherine’s eyes and leaned forward to seize her lips
roughly between her own.   The kiss was deep and slow, Sara’s hands braced
against the wall for balance as Catherine’s slid around her waist and pressed
against the bare skin at the small of her back.  Sara only pulled back when she
began feeling light headed from lack of oxygen.   Catherine nearly stumbled
forward into her, eyes still shut tight.   Sara steadied her and took a step
back, opening the door fully and waiting for Catherine to slide past her into
the hallway.   The blonde gave her a questioning look along with a smile,
grazing a hand along the waist of Sara’s drawstring pants.

“Sorry,” Sara explained with a grin, “but staring at your ass just does that to
me.”

“Good to know,” Catherine laughed and headed directly into the kitchen.

Sara walked towards Greg, who was seated on the close end of the sofa with his
legs tucked underneath him and a steaming cup of coffee held in both hands in
front of him.   Sara turned her head at the tv, hearing loud crashing noises and
Greg’s laughter, and saw three little girls flying around Townsville trying to
save the world before bedtime.  She smiled and winked at him, happy that he was
smiling back at her and not looking awkward.  Passing by him, she tousled his
already messy bed head, gently rolling her hand around before stepping into the
kitchen. 

Catherine greeted her by passing her a cup of coffee along the countertop.  Sara
grabbed it and kissed her on the cheek from behind before taking a long drink
and savoring the warmth that slid down her throat and settled around her chest. 
She placed the cup back on the counter for a split second while she jumped up
onto it, her legs dangling against the cabinets.   The coffee cup was
simultaneously snatched up by her hands again and she held it close to her nose.

“I thought you were bringing Lindsey,” Sara commented as Catherine sipped her
own coffee and leaned against the counter next to her.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t,” Catherine joked, her eyes following Greg’s
laughter.  “Although, they are about the same age mentally.”

“I heard that,” Greg interrupted from the couch, but didn’t turn around.

“Anyway, there’s a big birthday party sleepover thing at her friend’s today.  I
just dropped her off,” Catherine explained.  “Which is convenient considering
it’s our night off and you said you were going to take me out.”

“I said that?” Sara teased, nudging Catherine with her bare foot.

“You also said I get to pick where we go.”

“I’m not going to fucking Hooters again, Catherine,” Sara warned.  “If all those
girls sold their boobs back they could feed a small country for a decade.”

“I’ll go,” Greg called from the living room and turned around to face them.

“Too bad you’re working tonight, Greg-O,” Sara taunted him.

“Actually,” he said, standing and checking his watch.   “I’m working in about an
hour.  So I better jet.  In case you hadn’t noticed, I am desperately in need of
a shower.   Any takers?” he asked before gathering the rest of his clothes.

“Catherine, do you mind?” Sara asked, pretending to try and slide off the
counter.

“Shut up,” she replied with the playful swat of the back of her hand and then
moved aside. “Bye, Greg,” she smiled at him.   “Excellent coffee.”

“Catherine,” he nodded at her and returned her smile, still a little embarrassed
at his earlier display in front of the bathroom mirror.

Sara followed Greg to the front door of her apartment.   He stopped to slip his
jacket on and turned around to address her.   There was the usual sparkle in his
eyes, even hung over at four in the afternoon.  Sara was really beginning to
treasure the bond they were forming.

“As always, I had a blast,” he said with a wide smile.

“Me too,” Sara smiled back at him.   “Although next time you might want to stop
when I tell you to.”

“Duly noted,” he replied, making a saluting motion with the first two fingers on
his right hand.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Back to the trenches,” she commented, stepping forward to fold her arms around
his neck in a warm and friendly embrace.   “Take it easy, huh?” she pulled back
and patted him on the arm.

“You know me,” he answered with a wide grin, slipping on his sunglasses and
slinging his backpack over one shoulder.   “So many bitches, so little time,” he
stated and slipped out into the hallway.

“Bye, Greg,” Sara said, catching the door and rolling her eyes at him.

“Bye, Sara,” he turned for a second to smile at her one last time and then
disappeared into the elevator.

“See something you like?” Sara commented, feeling Catherine’s eyes on her back
and turning around to catch the blonde head peeking around the kitchen doorjamb
at her.

“Just wanted to make sure you two weren’t making out,” Catherine answered with a
smile and retreated back to her coffee on the counter.   “You better get
dressed,” she continued as Sara filed into the kitchen close behind her.  
“You’re taking me to dinner and then we’re gonna have some real fun.”

“Real fun, huh?” Sara teased, sliding her arms around Catherine’s waist and
kissing the top of her head.   “Where are we going? Because it can’t possibly be
any better than what I’m gonna do to you in about two minutes.”

“It’s a secret,” Catherine explained.   “And you wish,” she added, prying Sara’s
arms from her waist and turning to face her.  “Greg isn’t the only one in need
of a good scrubbing.”

“If you insist,” Sara shrugged, “but I firmly believe in the conservation of
water,” she continued, advancing on Catherine with menacing playfulness in her
eyes.

Before she knew what had happened to her, Catherine found herself bent in half
over Sara’s right shoulder.   More than anything else, she was definitely
surprised, her feet kicking ever so slightly as Sara carried her down the
hallway.   Catherine smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as her head narrowly
missed the overhang of the bathroom doorframe.   She almost wished she had kept
her mouth shut.

********************

“Ugh, I really think I’m going to throw up,” an overstuffed Sara said, grabbing
her stomach with her free hand, the other threaded neatly through Catherine’s as
they walked towards their final destination.

“I told you that third burrito was too much,” Catherine laughed, squeezing
Sara’s hand gently and steering them around a sharp corner.

Catherine smiled and pulled Sara out of the way as two kids narrowly missed
barreling into them head on.   There was the rising noise of laughter,
conversation, and the loud blaring of the latest top forty radio.  The blinking
neon lights were almost blinding as Sara got her first glimpse of Catherine’s
‘secret’.  A tall man with big floppy shoes and a honking red nose smiled and
began stepping towards them.  Sara quickly moved past him and into the dirt
covered playground, the smell of rapidly popping popcorn making her nostrils
tingle.

“Creepy,” Sara said, a chill running down her spine as she turned to look back
at the clown they had just side stepped.   He looked back at her, grabbing his
crotch and sticking his tongue out in a foul manner as kids and their parents
brushed by him unknowingly.  

“Did you see that?” Sara asked, tugging on Catherine’s hand and motioning behind
her.

“See what?” Catherine replied, turning around in time to see the back of a bushy
rainbow colored wig and a clown waving at the passersby.

“Nothing, forget it,” Sara said, shaking her head.   “So Carter’s Carnival? 
What are we fifteen?” she teased Catherine as they waded through the dense
crowd.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Catherine teased back.  “Besides, you
know you’re loving it so shut up.”

“I’m sorry, but do you remember what happened the last time we went to a
carnival?”

“Yes.  That’s why we will not be going anywhere near the Tunnel of Love.  
However, I do have my heart set on the Ferris Wheel.”

“Not until I get me some of this very unhealthy carnival food,” Sara stated with
a smile and a sparkle in her eye.   “Where’s the cotton candy?”


*Two hours later*

“Ugh, I really think I’m going to throw up,” Sara groaned, clutching at her
stomach and walking out of the Tilt-a-Whirl with wobbly legs.

“I told you to wait until after we went on the rides to eat all that crap,”
Catherine teased her as they headed towards the Ferris Wheel, their last stop
before calling it a night.

They both felt it before they heard it, the distinct jabbing in the pit of the
stomach that reveals something just isn’t right.   Catherine’s hand was on the
arm of Sara’s jacket seconds before the blood curdling scream flooded the air
like nails on the chalkboard.   Instinctually, they both took off running in the
direction of the piercing sound into a dark corner of the fairgrounds they had
missed, past a smaller version of a bright red big top.

Sara turned the corner first and stopped short, Catherine slamming into her back
and steadying herself.   There on the ground, stuck between the very side of the
tent and the chain link boundary fence, was the body of what looked like a child
lying face down in the dirt.  Catherine felt her stomach lurch, Sara’s hand
coming up to her mouth momentarily until she saw the shape of the victim’s left
hand tucked close to the side of his body.  

Everything slowly shifted back in the other direction.   The fingers were short
and pudgy.   Legs muscular and stout and Sara could tell even from five feet up
that whoever was lying dead at their feet had a close cropped beard, stray
strands peeking out from their position against the ground.   It wasn’t that
this victim was any more deserving of death than a child, but it was slightly
easier to stomach.  

“Call 911,” Sara instructed Catherine as she knelt down and pressed two fingers
carefully against the side of the victim’s throat and felt no pulse.  “In fact,
you might just want to get Grissom and Brass down here,” she said, standing.  
“This guy’s skin is like ice.  He’s been dead a while.”

********************

After identifying themselves to the carnival security guards and securing the
scene, the two women were more than relieved when they saw Captain Brass walking
towards them through the crowd.   A few minutes later Grissom’s graying head and
Nick’s boyish features thrust themselves through the dense mass of bodies,
eyeing Catherine and Sara suspiciously.

“I thought you two had the night off,” Nick commented, approaching them.

“We did,” Catherine replied with a nod.

“So, you’re here for what?” he asked with confused eyes.

“It’s called fun, Nicky.   Look it up,” Catherine answered, pleased by the grin
she got in return.

“Brass, what do we have?” Grissom asked, smiling at the two women before
stepping over to the shorter man who was eyeing the body also.

“Dead midget,” he answered flatly.

“I believe the PC term is little person,” Grissom corrected him with a smile.

“Whatever or whoever he is, he’s dead either way,” Brass countered.  “They don’t
have a PC term for that, do they?” he added with a smile of his own.

“Breathing challenged,” Sara offered, eliciting a smirk from Nick and brief
laughter from Grissom.

“Who discovered the body?” the lead CSI asked.

“The human garbage disposal over here,” Catherine commented, pointing to Sara
who had one hand raised also to implicate herself.   She shot Catherine a look
that could only be translated as ‘you’ll pay for that later’.

“Geez, everywhere you guys go you leave crime scenes in your wake,” Nick
observed, leaning forward to get a good look at the body.

“It’s not like I really have to ask, but you two didn’t touch anything did you?”
Grissom turned to the two women.

“Two finger pulse check, but that’s all,” Sara answered.

“Okay,” he sighed.  “Nicky, pass Catherine your case.  I want you to work the
crowd.  See if anyone heard or saw anything suspicious at all.   You don’t mind,
do you Catherine?” he asked, turning to her.

“Why not?” she threw her hands up in the air, grabbing the case Nick handed to
her.

“What about me?” Sara asked as Nick disappeared into the crowd.

“I think I saw a fried dough stand on my way in,” Grissom replied with a smile.

“Grab me one too,” Brass interjected.   “Extra cinnamon.”

Sara was obviously about to say something mean, probably laced with obscenities.
Grissom was lightly chuckling now.  Brass was smiling.   Catherine snapped on
her gloves and held a large camera out in Sara’s direction.   She winked from
behind a brilliant smile.

“Picture patrol,” she said with a smirk as Sara grasped the heavy, metal
instrument and checked the degree of focus.

Grissom walked a quick half circle around the body before stopping close to one
side and crouching down.   Sara started taking pictures while Catherine took her
place across from Grissom and picked a pudgy hand up in her own.

“I’ve got ligature marks,” she announced, rolling the hand at the wrist to
reveal a deep double line of red indents.   Sara knelt down and snapped a
picture as Catherine held the man’s arm out to her.

“Ankles too,” Grissom concurred, sliding the victim’s pant legs up to reveal
similar marks on both ankles.

“He’s married,” Catherine stated, still examining the man’s left hand.

“How can you tell?” Sara asked, pulling the camera away from her face for a
split second and not seeing a band or ring of any sort.

“Slight discoloration on the ring finger of the left hand.  No ring now, but
there was one once.  And recently.”

“Let’s roll him over,” Grissom suggested.

Sara waited for them small man to land on his back before taking another series
of photos.  Catherine checked his pants pockets as well as the chest pocket of
his plaid shirt and came up empty handed.  Grissom noticed a microscopic amount
of blood caked on the man’s face directly under the nostril and quickly swabbed
it.  Catherine placed a hand on the man’s neck to check for head wounds and
found the latex almost stuck in place when she tried to pull her hand back.  
She lifted the glove to her nose and sniffed it.   Pulling back she noticed a
small scattering of a light pink and blue substance and quickly stuck her tongue
out for a taste.

“Cotton candy,” she said with a smile, collecting a sample.

“Are you sure you didn’t touch the body?” Grissom asked Sara with a smirk,
enjoying himself immensely.   “So, you two were out on a date?”

“Tends to happen when you’re dating someone,” Catherine shot back at him
playfully.

“Carnival was your idea?”

“You know it,” Catherine stated.   “I’ve got some bruising on the knuckles over
here.   And something that looks like white paint.”

“Snap it and swab it,” Grissom directed.   “So what do you think?” he asked
Catherine once she was done.

“Blue discoloration of the lips.   Ligature marks.  Some signs of struggle,” she
surmised.  “Strangulation, maybe.”

“No petechial hemorrhaging,” he pointed out, opening and eyelid to show no
discoloration or broken blood vessels.

“Got me,” Catherine said, pushing to her feet and taking the camera back from
Sara, placing it back in the case and locking it up.

“You guys about done, here?” Brass asked.   “I’m about to get sick from all this
burning sausage smell.”

“I’ll take this guy back to the lab,” Grissom said, approaching the captain. 
“Try and get me an ID if you can.  You two can get out of here,” he added,
turning to Catherine and Sara.

Nick then appeared, weaving through the crowd looking slightly irritated and
dragging a tall man behind him.   He took the case Catherine was holding out to
him and stopped in front of Grissom and Brass to introduce his shadow.

“I got nothing from the crowd, but I did manage to find this guy,” he said,
pointing behind him with a thumb.   “I’d like you to meet Ezra Carter, general
manager and owner of this fine traveling entertainment goldmine.”

“Entertainment goldmine, my ass,” the tall man replied, shaking hands with Brass
and looking over his shoulder easily.

Ezra Carter was a towering six foot six inches tall.   And he was so thin it
looked as if a strong gust of wind would have knocked him over in a hurry.  His
hair was cut in a gray crew cut with spots of pure white showing through.   The
pants he wore could easily be described as high waters and his shows had to be
fifteen years old and were fastened with Velcro.   Basically, Ezra Carter looked
like a nice old guy.   Someone’s father.  Maybe someone’s grandfather.  Grissom
saw a wave of recognition flash past Carter’s eyes as they fell on the body.

“You know him,” Grissom said, more of a statement than a question.

“My God, Eugene,” Carter replied with a nod.   He wiped a hand across his eyes
before continuing, like if he applied that one action the sight would go away. 
“Um, that’s Eugene Blackman. My daughter’s husband.”

“Did he work for you, Mr. Carter?” Grissom asked.

“For over ten years now,” Carter conceded, not quite able to take his eyes off
the body yet.  “When I picked up the discount sideshow, he came with the
package.”

“Discount sideshow?” Catherine asked, confused.   “What do you mean by
discount?”

“I mean just that,” Carter answered.   “Bare essentials of sideshow
entertainment,” he said, pointing to the tent they were standing next to that
was currently closed.   “I wanted to add a little something mysterious to the
carnival and I didn’t have much money.   Mona Trippard and her crew were cheap
and relatively a small group and that was just what I was looking for.”

“And what exactly do you get with the bare essentials?” Grissom asked.

“Bearded lady, sword swallower, contortionist, juggling midget,” Carter
shrugged.

“You’re short one juggling midget now,” Brass commented.

“Mona Trippard is the woman that runs the sideshow?” Grissom asked, trying to
ignore Brass’ comment.

“Uh, yeah,” Carter agreed.   “If you really want to call her that,” he added,
seeing the confusion cross all the law enforcement agents’ faces and almost
enjoying it.   “If you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out what I’m going to tell
my daughter.”

“Might we be able to talk with her also?” Grissom asked.

“Won’t do you any good.   She’s up in Canada visiting her mother since last
week,” Carter said.   “Here’s my card if you need my services any further,” he
extended a small card to Grissom and nodded, making a slow retreat through the
crowd, his head almost hanging.

“Ok, let’s pack up,” Grissom said, motioning for the coroner’s guys to collect
the body.  “You two get going,” he added, turning to Catherine and Sara.

“We’re already here, Gil,” Catherine replied, shrugging her shoulders.  “Might
as well ride it out.”

“Nicky and I have it covered,” Grissom insisted and then began smiling.  “Now go
finish up your date already.”

“Date?” Nick asked, dumbfounded.   Brass was too busy conferring with the guys
packing up the body to hear.

“Bye, Nicky,” Catherine said, turning back to glare at Grissom for a moment and
feeling Sara tugging on her arm gently.

“Call me the second you get anything, Nick,” Sara said back to him and saw him
nod despite the furrowing of his brow and the narrowing of his eyes.

About halfway between the crime scene and the exit, Sara felt Catherine’s warm
hand slide into her own and she smiled.   PDA had never really been her thing,
but somehow with Catherine it wasn’t so much a choice as it was something that
felt natural and comfortable.   Apparently, Catherine felt the same way because
there was rarely a moment that they could keep their hands off each other even
for a minute.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” Sara commented as they
approached the exit and squeezed Catherine’s hand gently.

“Yeah well the quicker you get me home, the quicker I can make it up to you,”
Catherine almost purred, sending a welcome tingle into the pit of Sara’s stomach
and then lower.

On their way out of the Carnival grounds, they passed by the same clown that
they had passed on the way in.   He was still waving to the people passing by on
the street that was now clustered with patrol cars and news crews.   Sara held
onto Catherine’s hand tighter as they passed by him and dared to glance back one
more time just to prove to herself that she wasn’t going crazy.  The clown met
her eyes almost immediately, winked at her, and then shifted his gaze to
Catherine’s rear end and made a vulgar thrusting motion with his pelvis while
his face lit up in an evil grin.  Sara quickly turned around, shaking her head,
and dropped Catherine’s hand only to move her arm around the shorter woman’s
shoulders in a protective manner.

“So fucking creepy,” Sara said under her breath as they made their way to the
car.

********************

Grissom entered the coroner’s exam room whistling the last song he heard before
getting out of the Tahoe on the way back to the lab.  It was some excruciatingly
annoying country tune playing on Nick’s favorite station.   Doc Robbins was
hunched over Eugene Blackman’s body as Grissom made his way over to the table.

“I’m almost finished with the autopsy on your little person,” the Doc said,
eliciting a smile from Grissom at the gentleness of his last two words.

“So what killed him?”

“Take your pick,” Robbins answered, meeting Grissom’s eyes.  “Drug overdose,
heart attack, suffocation.”

“What?”

“Tox screen came back positive for cocaine, ecstasy, speed, and about four times
the legal limit for alcohol,” Robbins explained.   “It all could have been
lethal.  Also, Mr. Blackman’s arteries were just about all clogged up to the max
and I found traces of pizza, hot dogs, and cotton candy in his stomach.”

“You can’t be telling me this was accidental or self induced,” Grissom said
frowning.  “You saw the ligature marks, Doc.”

“Which takes me to the suffocation,” Doc Robbins nodded.   “Bluish lips and
fingertips, but the eyes are clear.   But I found this sticky substance all over
his body,” he continued, holding up a clear jar with a pinkish inside.   “And it
was caked on his lips.  So I opened his mouth and I managed to pull this out.  
It was jammed in his throat,” he said, passing Grissom another jar that was
filled with a hard, dark pink ball of some foreign substance.

“I froze it for you so it wouldn’t disintegrate,” Robbins added with a smile.

“This is cotton candy,” Grissom deduced.   “When it’s ingested and the warmth
and saliva melt it down to its basic sugary form.  So he choked to death?”

“From your ligature marks, I seriously doubt it.   They’re all even, no signs of
violent pulling or tearing and no fibers stuck in the wounds either.  But if I
had to make an educated guess, by the amount of scratching in the inner throat
and the blood on that hard sample,” the Doc said, pointing to the jar in
Grissom’s hand.  “I’d have to say someone forced that stuff down his throat.  
Possibly after feeding him large amounts of drugs and alcohol and incapacitating
him.”

“How about the facial area?   I found blood caked on his nose,” Grissom asked.

“Swelling indicates he received a blow to the face, but nothing out of the
ordinary.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Blackman was in a little scuffle
earlier in the day,” the white haired man explained.

“So you’re going to keep it ruled death by suspicious causes,” Grissom half
asked.

“For the time being,” Robbins agreed with a small smile.   “You’d better get all
those samples up to the lab.   Proving cause of death on this poor guy isn’t
going to be an easy task.  And I’ve got the father-in-law pushing for release of
the body.  It seems he’s afraid show attendance will plummet.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Grissom smiled back at him.   “If need be, lose the body.  I
promise to find it.”

********************

Catherine knew the phone was ringing, but kept her eyes shut tight in an
unconscious effort to banish the noise from her senses.   After the third ring,
Catherine tried burrowing her head into the soft pillow beneath it, Sara’s arm
instinctively tightening around her torso.   By the sixth time the shrieking
ring resounded in the darkness around them, Sara’s hand twitched underneath
Catherine’s and she groaned softly.   Catherine’s arm reached out violently, her
hand slamming down on the cordless phone, and lifting it to her ear without
opening her eyes.

“Hello?” she breathed, sleepily.

“Catherine?” Nick asked from the other end of the line.   “I’m sorry.  I thought
I dialed Sara’s number…”

“You did,” Catherine said, eyes slowly opening and her brain still not awake
enough to register any real information.   “Hold on a sec,” she added and held
the phone back over her shoulder in Sara’s direction.  “It’s Nick,” she said and
got up to slowly make her way to the bathroom after Sara’s arm released her and
gripped the phone.

“What’s up, Nick?” Sara yawned into the receiver.   “Other than me.”

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked, the gears in his head working
overtime.

“Other than my beauty rest, no,” she replied, raising herself to a sitting
position and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

“You said to call when we got something.   So I went to see Mona Trippard, the
woman who runs the sideshow…she’s a rather large woman and is in desperate need
of a shave,” he laughed for a moment.

“Bearded lady, I presume,” Sara smiled and clicked on the bedside lamp sending
an ethereal glow across the room.

“Man, this case just keeps getting weirder every second,” Nick said.  “Anyway,
she tells me that our vic’s been having some major problems with another guy
that works at the carnival.  So I run the name, Tommy Rickshaw, and there’s not
enough paper on the west coast to print out his arrest record.”

“Sounds like a solid lead,” Sara’s smile grew wider.

“Haven’t even heard the best part yet,” he interrupted.   “Two months ago,
Rickshaw was arrested in Fresno for assault.   The charges were later dropped,
but guess who he was beatin’ on?”

“Our dead juggler,” she answered, watching as Catherine stumbled back into the
room, running a hand through her messy hair and putting her pants on one leg at
a time.  “We just need to get dressed and we’ll be right in,” Sara said into the
phone and motioned at a grinning Catherine to grab the other pair of jeans
thrown hastily on the floor.

“Uh…sure, okay,” he replied slowly.   “Wait a sec.  You two are
naked…together…in your bedroom…”

“Goodbye, Nick,” Sara said and quickly clicked the phone off, falling to her
side with a sigh and pulling on her jeans.

“You’re going to give that poor boy a heart attack,” Catherine warned watching
Sara tuck in her tanktop as she finished buttoning up her own shirt.

“Oh come on,” Sara replied, throwing on a long sleeved fitted t-shirt and
slipping into her boots.   “Anyone who doesn’t know about us by now is in
serious need of new specs and a fucking clue.”

“Yeah, well writing’s on the wall now,” Catherine answered, fastening her gun to
her side and grabbing her cell phone.   “In plain view, no less.”

“How do you feel about that?” Sara asked, following Catherine through the
hallway and into the living room, grabbing both their jackets on the way.

“Relieved,” Catherine answered, slipping on her jacket and grabbing Sara by the
collar of hers to pull her in and press their lips together firmly.

“Me too,” Sara smiled and headed out the door behind Catherine, feeling a small
weight begin to rise from her chest.   Their days of being careful were starting
to look limited.

********************

There was a serious lack of oxygen in the car.   The windows were starting to
steam up.   Sara reached a free hand out and turned on the defogger without
moving her lips away from Catherine’s.  They were sitting in the parking lot at
CSI making out like teenagers.   All clothing remained intact and hands were
being more than respectable, sifting through hair, dragging against small
exposures of soft skin, just holding.

“We should probably go in,” Catherine breathed when the current kiss had ended.

“We should,” Sara replied, still just inches from Catherine’s face and then
smiled.  “But we won’t.”

“I’d forgotten how great this is,” Catherine said, brushing stray hairs off of
Sara’s forehead gently.   “Just kissing.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?   Or maybe it’s just you,” Sara said sincerely, leaning
forward to brush her lips against Catherine’s forehead.

“I don’t know,” Catherine said.   “I think you might have something to do with
it, too.”

“I am multi-talented.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

Sara was again leaning forward, her lips hanging above Catherine’s for a few
seconds, basking in the feel of warm, sweet breath so close to her own. 
Catherine’s eyes were beginning to close involuntarily when she moved a hand up
against Sara’s shoulder to hold her off.

“We have to go in now,” she warned, sparkle never fading from her eyes.

“Five more minutes,” Sara almost whined, tightening her arms around Catherine.

“That’s what you said a half hour ago,” was all that Catherine managed to get
out before her lips were, yet again, busy doing something more constructive.



Forty minutes later, a slightly lightheaded Catherine and a widely grinning Sara
finally made an appearance in the lab.   A short search for Nick left them empty
handed and Grissom’s office door was closed.

“I’ll grab the coffee,” Catherine said, turning towards the break room.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Greg,” Sara replied, turning in the other direction. 
“Grab Nick when you see him.”

Sara found Greg with his head on his table and the machines still sending a
soothing whirring sound throughout the world.   There was an open package of
Alka Seltzer next to a half empty glass of water and a box of saltine crackers. 
Sara smiled down at Greg, one hand covering his face as breathed evenly, caught
up in a sound sleep.  Suddenly the machine closest to the table began beeping
loudly.   Greg’s head shot up instantly, looking around disoriented.

“I said not to put that there until I was ready,” he whispered in a slurry
voice, clicking off the machine and turning back around, his eyes falling on
Sara.  “Hey,” he managed, slightly embarrassed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” she replied with a smile.   “Good dream?”

“Yeah, until you walked in,” Greg answered with a smirk.   “I heard you guys
found the dead little man.   Shouldn’t that mean the case is off limits for you?
  You know, conflict of interest or some legal mumbo jumbo like that.”

“Apparently not,” Sara surmised.   “Or maybe Grissom just wanted to break up our
date because he’s jealous he’s not getting any.”

“Massively strange visual,” Greg said shaking his head.   “And oddly arousing in
a way.  So, you two are in for the night?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sara answered, trying to shake off Greg’s last comment.  “We’re just
trying to find Nick.”

“He’s been looking for you guys for like an hour now,” Greg said, standing and
moving past Sara to the door almost bumping head on into Catherine and her
steaming hot coffee cups.   “Ohhh, coffee,” he moaned, grabbing a cup out of the
stunned blonde woman’s hand.  “ You are an angel,” he added, kissing her on the
cheek swiftly and hurrying down the hallway. 

“Check down near the bathroom.   I think he said he had to take a leak,” he
called over his shoulder and disappeared around the corner.

Nick emerged from around the same corner a few seconds later to find Sara
smiling and laughing next to Catherine who was just shaking her head and
complaining about caffeine depravation.   He walked up to them slowly, folder
shifting from one hand to the other.

“What took you two so long?” he asked once he was standing in front of them. 
“Wait.   Don’t answer that,” he said, shaking his head.   “I’m meeting Brass at
Rickshaw’s trailer at the carnival.”

“You do know it’s almost three, right?” Catherine asked.  

“I have a feeling this guy probably won’t even be home yet,” Nick stated,
motioning to his folder.   “He’s got two convictions for soliciting
prostitutes.”

“Want some company?” Sara asked with a smile.

“Absolutely,” Nick nodded, eyes shifting from Sara to Catherine and back again
and then again, a small almost uncomfortable smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m gonna hang out here.   Help Grissom,” Catherine stated, looking at Nick
suspiciously.   “I’ll see you later,” she said to Sara and touched her arm
before walking away.

“Hey, you ready?” Sara asked, snapping her fingers in front of Nick’s face.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, falling into step with her on the way out of the
building.  “I’ll drive.  I don’t want you steaming up the windows,” he added
with a wide grin.

“You sneaky bastard,” Sara said and shoved him playfully as they stepped into
the parking lot.

********************

Tommy Rickshaw’s trailer was behind the fairgrounds of the carnival and
surrounded by a dense expanse of woods.   Sara and Nick both got the creepy
feeling like they were stuck in some cheesy horror sequel where a crazed madman
wearing a hockey mask or a head shaped like a pumpkin was going to run out at
them at any second.   As they walked up to the trailer, which could most
accurately be described as a large silver toaster, they saw Brass standing near
the door.   He was on his tip toes trying to look through the window.

“So, you and Catherine are you and Catherine,” Nick commented, still out of
earshot from the captain.

“It appears that way doesn’t it?” Sara answered with a half smile.

“I don’t know,” he answered, almost hurt lacing his voice.   “That’s why I’m
asking you, Sara.”

She stopped, grabbing his arm to make him stop too.   And then she turned him to
look at her.

“Yes, Nick,” she said, holding his eyes, an apology apparent in her own. 
“Catherine and I are…very involved.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  We didn’t
really tell anyone.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyes and body language softening.

“Well, Catherine told Grissom back when I got shot,” she replied.  “And then
there’s Greg…”

“You told Greg Sanders before you told me?!?” he cut her off.

“I had to,” Sara insisted, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder to calm him down. 
“He kept asking me out.”

“I’m the last to know, aren’t I?”

“Well…” Sara began; turning to look at Brass who was standing with his arms
crossed waiting for them.

“That’s just great,” Nick mumbled, half to himself half out loud.  “Small town
Texas boy always the last to know everything and eyes shut too tight to ever
notice anything…”

“Are you two going to stand there all night or would you care to help me find
the missing clown?” Brass called to them.

“Wait,” Sara said, mind almost racing.   “Rickshaw’s a clown.  You didn’t tell
me that,” she turned to Nick.

“Uh, yeah.  Mostly entrance greeter,” he answered her and started walking
forward.   “No answer?” he called to Brass.

“No light on.  No movement inside.  No sign of him, whatsoever,” the stout man
answered, turning to rap on the door again.

About thirty yards to her left, Sara saw a shadowy figure walking away from the
woods and towards them.   She immediately began walking towards it, her hand
immediately going to her right side and resting snuggly against her gun.   Nick
and Brass were still trying to look in the windows when the person Sara was
walking towards suddenly bolted in the other direction.   She took off running,
not even calling out to her colleagues first.

Her feet hit the dirt on the ground unevenly, the terrain ragged and slightly
rocky in spots.  Sweat began to bead on her forehead and drip down her back in
small droplets.   Her lungs were stinging with every quick intake of breath, but
the length of her strong, swift legs promised to get to her to the suspect
promptly.   She heard Nick and Brass in the distance behind her just as she only
a few yards away from the man running from her.   He looked back at her and
stumbled.   She took this as her best opportunity to disable him and pushing off
her right leg lunged at him.

Sara felt her shoulder connect with the middle of his back even before she was
able to throw her arms around him and take him down to the ground with her.  The
man landed underneath her, face down in a grassy patch of fairgrounds, halfway
between the woods and the trailer.  He made a pained grunting noise as Sara bore
down hard on top of him, sliding up to dig a knee into the small of his back as
hard as she could.   As he tried to squirm underneath her, Sara quickly released
the snap holding her gun in place and removed it even more swiftly, pressing it
against the side of his head forcing it back down into the dirt.

“Arms to the side, asshole,” she commanded, pressing the barrel down more firmly
to get her point across.

He complied with her request, spreading his arms wide.   When she looked closely
at the side of his face visible to her she saw a dark purple bruise forming on
his jaw.   She also could have sworn she saw knuckle imprints.

“That’s a nasty bruise you’ve got going, Tommy,” Sara teased, her legs
tightening where she straddled his waist.

“Fuck you,” he spat sideways.   “Where’s your bitch?  I wouldn’t mind sticking
it to a fine piece of tail like that,” he said with a snort and stuck his tongue
in and out a few times.

Sara didn’t even think twice.   She pulled her right hand back fast and jabbed
Rickshaw in the kidneys twice with the butt of her gun.  He groaned in pain and
shut his eyes tight trying to suck in a breath and having difficulty.  Nick’s
boots stopped beside them, kicking up dirt in Rickshaw’s face unintentionally.  
Brass arrived a few seconds later.

“Cuffs,” Sara said, holding out her left hand, her right once again pressing the
gun against Rickshaw this time in the middle of his back.

Brass quickly grabbed the set off his waistband and handed them to Sara.  She
quickly cuffed Tommy Rickshaw and stepped off him, rolling him over in the
process.   Grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt, she pulled him to his feet
and found she was looking him straight in the eye.   She didn’t like what she
saw looking back at her.

“Why’d you run, Tommy?” Brass asked, taking one of his arms.  Nick moved past
Sara to take the other and they all walked him back towards the trailer.

“I don’t like cops,” he answered.

Tommy Rickshaw was five nine tops, possibly shorter without his heavy work boots
on.  His head was shaved right down to the scalp and was now pouring with sweat.
  Nick felt the large mass of muscle underneath his hand and knew that if
Rickshaw decided to struggle and run they were going to have a hard time pinning
him down.  He had a few tattoos scattered over his forearms, a sure sign of
someone who had done time in the state penitentiary.  And at the moment, his
eyes were bloodshot and he smelled like five pounds of marijuana.

“You’re not high right now, are you Tommy?” Nick asked, taking a whiff of him.

“So what if I am?” he answered gruffly.

“That would be a direct violation of your probation,” Brass enlightened him with
a smile as they approached the trailer.

“Door’s open.  Come on in,” Rickshaw said with a smile as they entered the
large, metal mobile home.

Once they were inside and had managed to put the lights on, Rickshaw was seated
on a sofa a few feet away from a small kitchen.   He was still cuffed, this time
in front of him.   Sara started looking around while the men began questioning
him.

“How well did you know Eugene Blackman?” Brass asked.

“What?  The midget formerly known as Casanova?” Rickshaw laughed.   “I didn’t
know him at all until he took it upon himself to stick his nose into my fucking
business.”

“You knew him well enough to get arrested for assaulting him two months ago,”
Nick commented.

“Like I said.  He was putting his face in where it didn’t belong,” Rickshaw said
through gritted teeth.  “Fucker’s married and still can’t keep his hands off my
ladies.”

“Don’t you mean bitches, Tommy?” Sara called from her position in the kitchen
area.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” he shot back at her with a smile.

“So you and Eugene Blackman were in a fight over a girl?” Brass asked.

“Basically.”

“And what about earlier tonight?”

“What about it?”

“Bruise on your face is fresh,” Nick pointed out.   “And we’ve got your clown
makeup on Eugene Blackman’s knuckles.”

“Good for you.  Doesn’t mean I killed him,” Rickshaw stated.

“You’ve got quite the colorful past, Mr. Rickshaw,” Brass said, flipping open
his black notebook.   “Robbery and assault as a juvenile.   Burglary. 
Possession of narcotics with attempt to distribute.  Assault.   Driving under
the influence.   Assault again.  Soliciting a prostitute.   And most recently a
six year stint up state for manslaughter.   Your version of a barroom brawl.”

“Got out for good behavior,” Rickshaw said.   “You ever kill anyone with your
bare hands, officer?”   He asked and then looked to Nick and then Sara.   “It
sucks the fucking life out of you…even a bastard like me can’t handle that,” he
said and shifted his gaze to his hands.

“So tell me how someone like you gets a job in a carnival around kids,” Nick
said.

“That’s not me anymore, man,” Rickshaw insisted.   “I learned my lesson.”

“It was you two months ago, Tommy.”

“Maybe even last night,” Sara said, approaching them holding up a plastic bag
containing a pair of white clown gloves.   “How much you want to bet this is
Eugene Blackman’s blood on your gloves, Tommy?” she said with a smile.

“Don’t you need a warrant for that?”

“Plain sight.  It’s fair game,” she answered. 

“How about some truth now,” Brass demanded.

“Eugene was at it again tonight.  I was talking to some girl and he comes up all
trying to get on her shit,” Rickshaw admitted.   “So we got into it.  But as you
can see he took a good shot at me too,” he said motioning to his face.

“You got anymore drugs hanging around here?” Nick asked.   “Cocaine, X maybe?”

“No fucking way,” Rickshaw stated.   “Listen, I smoke a little pot and I drink. 
But that’s all.  I don’t touch any of that other stuff.”

“Somehow I just don’t believe you,” Brass said.

“That’s your right, but let me tell you all something,” Rickshaw answered
angrily.  “People can change.  I’m never going back to jail.  I got out six
months ago and out of the blue Mr. Carter offers me a job.   I’d never seen the
guy in my life.   Some stranger’s giving me a second chance and I’m not going to
fuck it up.  I’m never going back to jail.   Never.”

“We’ll see about that,” Brass stated and hauled the man up to his feet.  “I’m
taking him in for violation of parole,” he said to Nick and Sara.   “Give me
ring when you’ve got something else.   But don’t take too long.”

“Hey why don’t you send your fine ass girlfriend to see me,” Rickshaw said to
Sara, settling back into his tough man attitude as Brass led him out of the
trailer.  “Actually, I might just send someone to see her myself.   Can’t be
that many hot little blonde numbers working for the Vegas Crime Lab.  I’ll just
have to look her up.”

“Shut up,” Brass instructed as he shoved Rickshaw head first into the doorjamb
before throwing him into the back seat of his unmarked.

Sara’s jaw set in frustration and anger, fire rising from her chest to her eyes.
Her fists balled up and she took a step towards the car.   Nick’s strong hand
held her back.

“Chill,” he said softly and steered her towards the Tahoe as Brass pulled away
and waved at them.   “Let’s go.  We’re done for the night.”

********************

“Why the fuck would Ezra Carter look up a guy like Tommy Rickshaw and give him a
job at a fucking carnival of all places?!?” Sara said in frustration as she
drove Catherine home.   “Doesn’t he know how dangerous that is?”

“Maybe he does,” Catherine replied, turning to look at her.  “Maybe that’s
exactly why he hired him.”

“What?  He hired Rickshaw to kill Blackman and make it look like it could have
been an accident?” Sara asked, turning her eyes to Catherine and then back to
the road.
“Maybe he knew Eugene Blackman was cheating on his daughter,” Catherine
suggested.  “There’s not much a parent won’t do for their child.”

“But I didn’t get that kind of vibe from Carter.   Did you?” Sara asked as they
pulled into Catherine’s driveway.

“No, but it wouldn’t be the first time either one of us was wrong,” Catherine
answered. 

“When have I ever been wrong?” Sara asked with a smile and exiting the car. 
“Specifically.”

“I thought you were staying at your place tonight,” Catherine said as she met up
with Sara at the start of her walkway.  

“Changed my mind,” she answered, noncommittally and kicked at a small rock.

“You don’t think that guy’s actually going to send someone after me, do you?”
Catherine asked, one finger hooked under Sara’s chin forcing her to look at her.


“I’d just feel better if I was here,” Sara replied, placing an arm around
Catherine’s shoulders and steering her towards the house.   “Besides, gives me
an excuse to stay close to you,” she added with a grin.

“You know you never need an excuse for that,” Catherine said seductively and
pulled Sara into the house, closing the door tightly behind them.

********************

The next night found Catherine and Sara back at the carnival, which seemed to be
doing pretty good business in spite of being the recent location of a murder. 
Or maybe that was the reason business seemed to be booming.   Grissom had
instructed them to interview the last two employees of the sideshow and return
to the lab to decide on a course of action.   They were running out of time on
Tommy Rickshaw’s parole violation and if they were going to charge him they were
going to have to do it soon.   While Sara was almost fully convinced they had
the right guy, she felt compelled not to leave any stone unturned.

“So I’ve got Kiki Williams, contortionist,” Sara said, as she pulled back the
heavy material of the red tent and allowed Catherine to enter first.

“Holy God,” Catherine exclaimed upon entering and seeing a petite
African-American woman folding both legs up over her head at an odd angle.  She
tilted her head to the side and almost grimaced.

“You can do that, can’t you?” Sara nudged her playfully.

“Dream on,” Catherine answered, looking back at the woman and flinching.  “My
guy must be over there,” she said pointing to the other side of the tent.  
“Sword swallower.”

“Meet you back here in a few,” Sara said and walked towards her assignment. 
“We’ll practice later,” she called to Catherine, earning her a wide smile and a
twinkling of eyes.

Catherine walked towards a man with his bare back to her.  She was immediately
struck by the fine definition of shoulder and back muscles hidden under a wide
expanse of tattoo ink.  The man stretched his arms out and she was convinced
there wasn’t a centimeter of untouched skin on his entire upper body.  Shoulder
length black hair covered the man’s neck, but still Catherine was sure she’d
find an elaborate design hidden there also.   His right arm was reaching out for
the large sword leaning up against a small table when Catherine realized she
should probably make her presence known.

“Jake Ashland,” she said, causing the man to stop and turn around.

“Yes,” he answered, red eyes staring into hers.  

It took Catherine a minute to collect herself and realize he was wearing color
contacs.  Jake Ashland was run of the mill sideshow.  Old school almost.  Not an
inch of his face wasn’t tattooed and there were enough piercings to make any
doctor cringe at the probability of serious infection.   Catherine especially
liked the large bull ring through his septum and the equally large rings through
his nipples.   She shook her head and averted her eyes, embarrassed by her
staring.

“It’s okay,” he said in a slightly non-welcoming voice.   “This isn’t the first
time I’ve been ogled, Miss…”

“I’m sorry,” Catherine apologized and clipped her ID badge off long enough to
show him.  “Catherine Willows.  Crime Scene Investigation.”

“I wasn’t aware this was a crime scene,” Ashland said, and motioned to his
sword.   “I assure you I’m only going to use this on myself.”

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night, to Eugene Blackman.”

“What about him?”

“Know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?” Catherine asked.

“Anyone who wanted to hurt shortstack Blackman would’ve had to take a number and
stand in line behind me,” Ashland answered, eyes flaring.

“Why?”

“Which reason you want first?”

“All of them,” Catherine answered, suddenly feeling like she shouldn’t be there
alone with Jake Ashland in such close proximity to a sword.

“What is it you’d call this part of the carnival?” Ashland asked, spreading his
arms wide.   “Kiki can do things with her body you’ve never imagined.   Mona is
the real deal, no prosthetic add-ons.   And I do just about anything the boss
wants me to.   I’m a sword swallower by title, but I do so much more.   I can
lift a bowling ball with nothing other than the greatest gift God can give a
man.  So, what would you call a place like this, Miss Willows?”

“A sideshow,” she offered.

“We prefer the term freak show, Miss Willows,” he said, his voice quickly
becoming intense and full of spite.  “Back when circuses first began we were the
main attraction.  Back when authenticity and truth meant something to the world.
  We were awe inspiring and now we’re nothing but a joke.   A sideshow for kids
to come and laugh at.”

“What does that have to do with Eugene Blackman?”

“He was worse than any of the people that pay their two-fifty to glance at our
apparent weirdness .  And he basically had no talent.   A midget that juggles,”
Ashland said with a chuckle.   “How freakish.   Bullshit.   We were still trying
to get our raises and Eugene starts trying to get old man Carter to add midget
wrestling to the show and hire more people like him.   You can’t even imagine
how much it pissed me off that Eugene had plans to make us even more of a
mockery.   I can’t believe Mona ever hired him in the first place, but if you
want my expert opinion I bet it had something to do with her recreational
tastes.”

“How did you get hired, Jake?” Catherine asked.

“Mona’s troupe was already with the carnival about two years.  When I graduated
high school, Mr. Carter hired me right away,” he replied, crossing his arms over
his chest.   

“Did you know him before that?”

“I grew up two blocks away from the Carters.   Went to school with his daughter.
  Do you know what it’s like to get tormented day after day for years just
because you’re different?” he asked.  “I doubt that you do, Miss Willows.  
Ezmerelda Carter knew what I went through because the kids teased her too.  Her
Daddy was a Carnie.   Kids don’t let you forget things like that.   Needless to
say we fell in love almost immediately.”

“Which is about to give you motive, Mr. Ashland,” Catherine warned him.  “I’d
have to advise you to invoke your right of getting an attorney.”

“I’m not worried, Miss Willows,” he answered with a shrug.   “I didn’t kill
Eugene .  I probably should have for all the shit he was putting his wife
through, but I didn’t.   She tried to explain to me once why she married him.  
He must have been a completely different person around her because the man she
described didn’t exist in Eugene Blackman that I could see.”

“Do you know who he was cheating with?”   Catherine asked.

“Different girl in every town.   There’s a guy that works for Mr. C,” Ashland
replied.  “He’s a clown.   Think I’ve seen him mostly doing greetings.   Tommy
something or other.  Anyway, he came on about six months ago.  He and Eugene
were always getting into it over girls.   And if you ask me, neither of them
deserved any of them.”

“Jake, do you think Mr. Carter knew that Eugene was cheating on his daughter?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded.   “Ezmerelda tells her father everything.   And I made
sure she knew what was going on.”

“I just have one more question, Jake,” Catherine said.   “If you don’t like it
here, why don’t you work someplace else?”

“Would you hire me, Miss Willows?” he asked, standing before her looking more
like a well of color than anything else.

“You could tone it down a little…”

“Yeah, all you straight laced business types would love that,” Ashland answered,
cynically.   “Stripping off who I really am.  Betraying the truth of my
existence.   Compromising what I believe in and for what?   Money.  A nine to
five job that’s just going to suffocate me and bore me until I’m dead?   No
thanks.  I’d rather be ridiculed for being me than revered for being someone I’d
never recognize.  I don’t expect you to understand, Miss Willows.”

“Jake,” she said, stepping closer to him and holding his frightening eyes.  “You
see that woman over there,” she said, pointing to Sara who was laughing and
talking to the contortionist.  “She’s my girlfriend.   So I think I do know a
thing or two about having to fight to be who you really are.  One day people are
going to stop staring, Jake.  What are you going to do then?”  She asked and
began to walk away.

Jake Ashland caught her by the arm and turned her back to look at him.  His eyes
were softer now, watering around the edges.  He firmly took her hand in his and
shook it, a genuine smile spreading across his inked face.  It was then that
Catherine realized how handsome a man was lurking behind all of those
illustrations.

“Good luck, Miss Willows,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” she answered with a small smile of her own and headed towards the
entrance.  “And if you want a job, Jake, I think I might know just the guy to
hire you,” she said, turning back to him for a second.

“Goodbye, Sara.  You’ve got my number,” Kiki Williams was saying as Catherine
reached their area of the tent.

“Bye,” Sara replied with a wide smile.   “And thanks,” she added, falling to
Catherine’s side on their way out of the tent.

“I’m sorry, but was she flirting with you?” Catherine asked, once they were back
into the cool night air.

“What? No,” Sara insisted, waving her off.

“She gave you her number.”

“Entirely case related.”

“You are such a bad liar,” Catherine accused with a smile.

“Fine.  She was giving me pointers,” Sara admitted, shyly.   “I wanted it to be
a surprise.”

“Pointers?” Catherine asked, dumbfounded, and started thinking.  “Oh,” she said
when it finally hit her.

“Yeah,” Sara answered with a laugh.

“When’s our shift over?”

********************

“What’d you two get over at the big top?” Grissom asked when they arrived back
at the lab and were all huddled in the break room with large amounts of
caffeine.

“Eugene Blackman was cheating on his wife and she knew it,” Catherine offered,
swigging on a coke.   “So did her father.”

“But all fingers still point back to Tommy Rickshaw,” Sara added.  “Bad blood
between them.”

“But enough for murder?” Grissom asked.

“He killed a guy by accident once in a fight.   What’s to say it didn’t happen
again?” Nick asked.

“Because this guy died by having cotton candy forced down his throat, maybe,”
Grissom informed them.   “And he was tied up at the time.”

“Oooh,” Sara said, so completely uncharacteristically that it caused everyone to
turn and look at her.   “Sorry.  Catherine and I figured out what made the
ligature marks last night,” she said with a smile.   Catherine turned her head
and blushed.

“Enlighten us,” Grissom said.

“Handcuffs,” Sara replied, grin almost touching her ears.

“How…wait…what…”

“It’s okay, Nick,” Grissom said, touching his shoulder.

“See, the marks on Blackman’s wrists and ankles have two even rings half the
way,” Sara explained, pointing to the picture on the table.  “Just like
handcuffs have a small space between the two metal semi circles.   Plus it would
account for the lack of fibers.   And I checked with Brass.  Cops retrieved two
sets from Rickshaw’s trailer when they went back to search it.”

“Good work, you two,” Grissom said with a smile.   “Although I’m thinking the
word work wouldn’t really apply here.”

“Hey, blood from your white glove came back positive for your dead midget,” Greg
said, sticking his head in the room and passing the printout to Nick.

“But Rickshaw already admitted to fighting with Blackman earlier in the night,”
Catherine stated.

“No epithelials on the cuffs Brass sent over either,” Greg informed them.  “In
fact one of them doesn’t even close all the way.  It’s broken.”

“What about the father?” Grissom asked.

“Don’t think so,” Catherine said.   “He’s like someone’s nice old grandfather.”

“Go talk to him anyway,” Grissom instructed.   “If you’re still convinced
afterward that he’s in the clear, call Brass and stop back at Rickshaw’s.  They
had to let him go about a half hour ago, but they’ve got uniformeds watching his
trailer.”

“What about you guys?” Sara asked.

“We just got a fresh scene,” Nick said.   “Apparently it’s pretty bad. 
Warrick’s already on his way there now.”

“Call me when you solve this one,” Grissom said, exiting the room.  “I have
complete faith in your abilities and Greg’s always around if you need help…or
someone to throw up on you,” he added with a smirk, nudging Greg on his way out.

“Don’t look at me,” Sara said, holding her hands up as Greg glared at her.

********************

“Weren’t we just here?” Sara commented as they entered the carnival once again,
noticing Tommy Rickshaw’s absence at the front gate.

“I’m not leaving this time until you take me on the Ferris Wheel,” Catherine
warned as they spotted Ezra Carter near one of the booths and walked over to
him.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greeted them politely.   “How’s the investigation
coming?”

“Actually, that’s why we’re here Mr. Carter,” Catherine explained.  “We need to
talk to you.”

“Sure,” he said and led them over to a more quiet area.   “What can I do?”

“Did you know Eugene Blackman was a drug user?” Catherine asked.

“I had my suspicions,” Carter nodded solemnly.   “Just as I had my suspicions
that he was cheating on my daughter.”

“Really,” Sara said, almost disappointed.

“Just because a man is barely four feet tall doesn’t mean he can’t have a heart
twice his size, Miss Sidle,” Carter remarked.

“Let me cut right to the chase, Mr. Carter,” Catherine said.  “Why would you
hire a man with Tommy Rickshaw’s record?”

“I was afraid of this,” Carter answered, wiping a hand over his face.  “I know
some things of infidelity myself.  When my wife and I were first married, about
thirty years ago, I wasn’t as loyal a man as I am now.  The woman I cheated with
got pregnant and I would have nothing to do with her.   She died soon after our
son’s birth in a car accident and that little boy got lost in the system.

“As I got older, I realized my mistake.   I was depriving my daughter of the
brother she should have known.   And more importantly I was depriving that boy
of a father…of a family.   I found Tommy while he was in jail and when he
finally got out I offered him a job, a new start in life.   It was the least I
could do for leaving him so long ago.”

“Does he know you’re his father, Mr. Carter?”   Catherine asked.

“I haven’t had the courage to tell him yet,” he answered.   “But I assure you,
he couldn’t have done this.”

“I’d like to believe you, Mr. Carter, but the evidence is saying that he most
likely did,” Catherine said sympathetically.   “We’re on our way to arrest him
now.”

“Please let me talk to him first, Miss Willows,” Carter pleaded.  “There are a
few things I’d like to say to him.”

“Sure, Mr. Carter.  Go right ahead,” she obliged him.  “We’ll give you half an
hour.”

“Thank you,” he said and bowed his head before leaving them.

“Half hour is plenty of time for the Ferris Wheel,” Catherine observed, grabbing
Sara’s hand and dragging them over to it.

Once they were buckled in and on the way up, Sara pulled Catherine close to her
and watched as the sky seemed to come closer to them every second.  As they were
growing nearer to the straight up position at the top, Sara was glad that the
two-seater was slightly oversized.  She turned the upper half of her body and
guided Catherine with her so that her chest was flush up against the blonde’s
back.  Catherine managed to brace the flat of one foot against the far side of
the bucket and let the other hang off the side.   She felt Sara’s tongue slide
along the outside of her ear and shivered involuntarily.

“What are you doing?” Catherine asked as Sara’s left hand came up underneath her
jacket and began kneading one of her breasts slowly, the brunette’s mouth slowly
moving down to the soft flesh of Catherine’s neck.   “We’re in public,”
Catherine warned, leaning into Sara’s touch nonetheless.

“Look around you Catherine,” Sara instructed.

Catherine turned her head to find the car behind them was empty.  So was the one
in front of them.  In fact, upon closer inspection, they were all empty.  And
Sara and Catherine were stopped at the spot highest from the ground below.   She
craned her neck to look at Sara suspiciously.

“I slipped the guy fifty bucks to stop us up here and get everyone else off,”
she explained.  “Top of the world,” she added seriously before leaning forward
to take Catherine’s lips in a searing and commanding kiss.

The position they were in was awkward and tricky, but if a one-hundred and
twenty pound woman can walk on her hands with her legs behind her head, sex on
an amusement ride was not out of the question.   Sara continued her assault on
Catherine’s lips, feeling a hand reach back and dig into her hair roughly. 
Popping a few buttons on Catherine’s blouse open, Sara slid her left hand
inside, caressing the warm flesh gently.   She felt Catherine’s breathing come
quicker, her pulse speed up, and with her right hand quickly released the button
of the blonde’s jeans and entered her swiftly and smoothly.

Catherine pushed off the side of the bucket with her foot and into the rhythm of
Sara’s hand.  Their kissing became needy and erratic until Catherine broke away
suddenly, struggling for breath and biting her lip tightly as a bittersweet
pleasure drifted over her body.  A cry of final release swept up into the air
and falling to the roaring crowd on the ground below them.

Catherine leaned back into Sara as the ride began moving again and laughed. 
Sara refastened all of Catherine’s buttons from behind her and smiled against
silky blonde hair.  They began shifting apart as the ride neared the bottom,
still slightly breathless and grinning widely.   Sara kept Catherine’s hand held
tightly in her own and smiled at her sideways.

“Technically, we’re still on the clock you know,” she commented.

“With all the overtime they force on us, we should be having sex at work more
often,” Catherine replied only half joking.

“I’m going to remember that you said that,” Sara said as they exited the ride. 
With her free hand she slid another fifty bucks into the ride operator’s hand
and smiled a thank you at him.  He merely smiled and nodded back.  That was
possibly the best hundred bucks she ever spent.

As they were walking towards Tommy Rickshaw’s trailer, Catherine’s cell phone
began ringing.  She flipped it up to her ear quickly.

“Willows.”

“If you want to break your case, get over to Mona Trippard’s trailer now,” an
unrecognizable male voice commanded.   The phone went dead.

“Hello?  Who is this?” Catherine asked the dial tone and then threw the phone
back into her pocket.

“What is it?” Sara asked.  

Catherine said nothing, instead grabbed her hand and took off running in the
direction of the side show tent.   Once they reached the boundary fence,
Catherine let go of Sara’s hand and without stopping they both jumped it, Sara
only using one hand.   They took off again sprinting, Catherine leading them to
a trailer that resembled Rickshaw’s only it was slightly bigger.

Catherine made her way to the door, unsheathing her gun on the way and holding
it in front of her with two hands.   She motioned for Sara to follow behind her,
grabbing the brunette by the back of the neck and kissing her hard one last time
before readying herself to enter the trailer.

“I love you,” she stated, simply and tried the door to find it was locked.

Sara stayed close to her, gun drawn also, as Catherine leaned back and moved
forward quickly.  Her shoulder hit the flimsy door with force, pushing it open
instantly and Catherine nearly fell in after it.   She balanced herself enough
to enter the trailer on two feet; gun extended and turned to the left following
a small hallway towards a dim light.

Catherine pulled apart the sliding wood panel door and stepped into Mona
Trippard’s bedroom, raising her gun at the two tangled figures on the bed.  A
great beast of a woman with a full beard dropped the cotton candy she was
holding and quickly raised her hands above her head.  A short, naked man lying
on the bed tried to do the same but was impeded by the hand cuffs holding his
wrists and ankles in place.   There had to be at least fifteen bundles of cotton
candy strewn on the bed and floor, both blue and pink.

Sara came in behind Catherine and quickly looked away.   She looked back again
just to make sure neither of the two had any weapons.  It appeared they didn’t. 
She turned around again, her eyes falling on a small vanity behind the door. 
Sara took small steps towards the mirrored table and picked up a small gold band
between her fingers, turning it over in the palm of her hand and walking back
towards Catherine.

“Check this out,” she said, holding the ring out to Catherine.   “I think we
just found Eugene Blackman’s missing wedding band.”

“Are you alright, sir?” Catherine called to the man on the bed.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” he answered in a small voice.

“Was this woman hurting you?”

“Uh, no ma’am,” he said, emphatically shaking his head.

“Okay,” Catherine said, lowering her gun.   “Why don’t you release him, Miss
Trippard and both of you get dressed.   We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

A short distance from the trailer, one set of shining red eyes looked on from
the deep, dark woods.

********************

“Bearded lady?  No way,” Nick said when Sara and Catherine arrived back at CSI.

“Well, not really,” Sara corrected him.   “They were all kinky sexin’ it.  Mona
Trippard tied him up, but Eugene was so wasted on his drugs that he went at the
cotton candy too fast and BANG!  Stops breathing and has a major coronary at the
same time.”

“And since he’s married to the carnival owner’s daughter, Mona panicked,”
Catherine continued.  “She waited a few hours, hid the ring, and then dropped
the body next to the tent and screamed.  She figured that he died naturally so
there wouldn’t be a problem.   Imagine her surprise when a murder investigation
was opened.”

“So, why didn’t she just come forward and tell us what happened?” Nick asked.

“I think she was afraid of being fired,” Sara answered.

“And having her dirty little secrets let out,” Catherine added.

“Speaking of dirty secrets,” Nick started with a smirk.   “I’m happy for you
both.  At least now we get a few dozen more smiles out of grumpy over here,” he
said shaking a thumb at Sara.  “I just wish you’d have told me sooner so I
didn’t look quite so much like a moron.”

“Sorry, Nicky,” Catherine apologized sincerely.   “We weren’t quite at the
telling stage yet.”

“Greg Sanders,” Nick stated flatly, and was about to say something else when his
pager went off.   “Saved by the bell, ladies.  It’s Grissom.”

“Need help?” Sara asked.

“Nah.  You two already missed one day off this week,” he replied on his way out
of the break room.  “You owe me breakfast tomorrow, though.  Lunch even,” he
added smiling, before disappearing down the hallway.

“Let’s go,” Catherine suggested.   “This night can’t possibly get any more
bizarre.”

“Spoke to soon, Cath,” Sara answered, throwing an arm around her shoulders and
whispering in her ear.

“Why the hell not,” Catherine responded as they walked down the hallway.

Sara peaked her head into the DNA lab, Catherine following suit.  Greg was
pulling a sweatshirt over his head and grabbing his backpack.  He still looked a
little worn and tired, but lit up a bit when he saw them.   The smile that took
over his face was almost blinding.

“That girl of yours is like a carnival ride,” he directed at Sara, not quite
remembering what movie he heard that in and realizing it was starting to
irritate him.

“What?” Sara said, brow furrowing in anger.   “Are there fucking cameras
following us around?”

“I went to high school with the guy who runs the Ferris Wheel,” Greg explained. 
“He remembered I worked here and called.  Asked me if I knew you guys.  I said
no, of course.   I don’t want to be associated with that kind of behavior,” he
added with a sardonic smile.

“Up for a little late night action?” Sara asked with a wink, dismissing her
anger and his babbling.

“Where to, ladies?” Greg asked, moving towards them.

“New Karaoke bar near the strip,” Sara answered with a grin.

“Hells yeah,” Greg said enthusiastically, following them into the hallway. 
“I’ve got dibs on ‘Oops I Did it Again’.”

********************

Across town, a serial killer was meticulously carrying out his second murder. 
All the while, the gears in his head were turning.  Pictures playing on a
filmstrip in the deepest recesses of his mind.   He saw nothing but pain and
hurt and revenge.   Revenge for a life taken, an investigation closed too soon. 
A result he had no control over, that he had tried to erase but couldn’t.  As
life faded away in front of him at the tips of his fingers, two words repeated
in his head over and over again until it was all he could remember.   All he
could think about.  Two words.  Alliterative.   A name.  A life not worthy of
living.  An execution to be carried out.  Two words that fell like an axe.  
That were the sole fuel for his breath.   The cycle was finally started and
nothing would stop him now.   Two words to be eliminated, extinguished from the
human race.   Her days were numbered now.  I’m coming for you.  Sara Sidle.

• Main CSI page
• The new stories
• Gil/Greg stories
• Gil/Nick stories
• Gil/Warrick stories
• Nick/Greg stories
• Nick/Warrick stories
• Greg/Warrick stories
• Nick/Bobby stories
• Jim Brass stories
• David Hodges stories
• CSI: New York stories
• CSI: Miami stories
• Other pairings & threesomes
• Gen CSI stories
• C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation: The Complete Ninth Season