Title: Contagion
By: Ranlie
Pairing: Cath/Sara
Rated: PG
Challenge: Star Trek: TNG Episode Titles
Summary: Someone's got to take care of her.
Word Count: 426
Notes: I tried to make it 400! I really did! I had it all cut down, and then more words came out of my hands. It was very traumatic. You should bake me some cookies.

***

Sara, sitting sullenly in the passenger seat of the Tahoe, glanced over at Catherine. Anybody else would be berating her for working a double shift while sick. Catherine hadn't said anything thus far, and she didn't look angry, but there was a tightness around her eyes that made Sara wonder if maybe she was destined to hear a lecture after all.

"I'm sorry," she tried to say, but she started to cough. Catherine shot her a look, to which Sara replied with a meek shrug.

"Playing innocent isn't going to work this time," Catherine muttered darkly.

A sip of water helped Sara to find her voice, raspy though it was. "Doctor gave me something for it yesterday," she offered. "I thought it'd be gone by now."

"Uh huh," Catherine muttered.

"I was gonna go home soon. You didn't need to drag me bodily from the...uh, body," Sara added, feeling the corners of her lips curling inexorably upwards. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if she was feverish. "The great part about dead people is that you can't make them sick. I mean, they're dead."

Sara was still grinning at her own wittiness when Catherine said, with some asperity, "Since you're obviously bent on killing yourself, I took the liberty of asking Grissom for three days' sick leave for you."

"Hey!" Sara wasn't smiling anymore. "You can't do that!"

"I did, and he let me. He didn't want you infecting everyone else," Catherine snapped.

Sara knew that she should be irritated, but she was too tired. On principle, though, she made an annoyed sound, and turned to look out the side window. It took a few moments to filter through her foggy mind that this area looked familiar...

"Isn't this your neighbourhood?" Sara blinked, trying to get a clearer look at the passing houses.

Catherine shot her another glare, but this one was softer. "I want to keep an eye on you. Lindsey had what you've got a week ago: she won't get sick again."

Sara didn't reply. A minute later, they'd pulled up into Catherine's driveway, and Catherine was standing at the open passenger-side door, pointedly waiting for Sara to get out. Sara didn't seem interested: her head lolled back on the headrest, and she was looking at Catherine with a faint smile on her lips.

"What?" Catherine asked, wary.

"You're mothering me," Sara replied. "It's cute."

Catherine still didn't look impressed, but her touch, as she reached up to brush Sara's damp forehead, was gentle. "Someone's got to take care of you."

***