Title : Flames of the Past
Author : Melanie
Summary : A tough case leads Sara and Catherine back to their pasts and away from each other. Third story in my as yet unnamed CSI series. Sara/Catherine
Disclaimer : I’m just borrowing. All characters and everything else CSI belongs to Zuiker, Bruckheimer, and CBS.
Rating : NC17. for obligatory sex J
Feedback : Always welcome. Fivebyfive13@prodigy.net

Sara Sidle leaned back on her cushy black faux leather couch with a sigh and
threw her cotton covered feet up onto the coffee table in front of her with a
soft thud.  She clicked the tv onto A&E hoping to catch Bill Curtis doing his
American Justice thing, but was instead met head on by infomercials.   It then
occurred to her that the sun was barely up yet, but still it was cruising
through her mini blinds with a promise that this Wednesday morning would soon be
a scorcher.  Sara flipped to some cable movie channel that was playing some less
than stellar cop drama where the main point of the whole movie was to get the
female lead down to nothing but her birthday suit.   Still, she didn’t change
the channel.

Closing her eyes and stretching her arms above her head, Sara noticed that the
pain in the right side of her chest and body was just a faint memory of the
attack that had disabled her just weeks ago.   Two weeks, six days, and four
hours ago to be exact.   Or at least that was how long Grissom had forced her to
take a ‘vacation’.   Mostly Sara’s vacation consisted of reorganizing her
cabinets, her cds , her books…see a pattern here?   Taking long walks, long
drives, anything to get her out of her apartment and into the Mecca that is Las
Vegas.   Oh and not to forget long romantic nights staring at Catherine across a
dinner table or an extremely foamy bathtub.   Those were the nights Sara didn’t
mind so much…the ones where she wasn’t so restless.

Still, in a little over twelve hours, she’d be back on the job.  Slipping into
her work clothes, that somehow resembled her after work clothes too closely.  
Clipping on her gun, her cell phone, her ID badge.   Hell, she even missed her
smelly lab coat and Greg’s bad jokes and cheeky smiles.   The Crime Scene Unit
wasn’t just her job anymore.   All the people she worked with, she saw everyday,
she caught herself revealing small pieces of herself to…they were her family.  
In their absence, Sara couldn’t help but feel a little lost.   She smiled to
herself as she realized before the day was done, she’d have found herself…she’d
be whole again.

There was the sound of metal sliding into metal, a quick click, and the creaking
as Sara’s apartment door opened slowly.   There was the clicking of shoes on the
floor briefly as the door creaked closed again and then they were gone.   Sara
didn’t get up or even turn towards the entrance to her apartment, but a few feet
before the threshold of the living room, a floorboard squeaked causing her
visitor to suck in a breath and stop dead in their tracks.   Sara shifted on the
couch and let out a small chuckle that she couldn’t keep in any longer,
signaling that she wasn’t sleeping as her guest had probably thought.

“What in the hell are you watching?” Catherine asked as her eyes darted from the
half naked woman on the screen to the fully clothed woman lounging on the couch
a few feet away from her.

“Debbie does LVPD,” Sara answered with a smile as Catherine began walking to the
couch.

“I heard Grissom was in that,” Catherine replied with a grin of her own.

“That’s so gross,” Sara said flatly as the blonde woman fell back onto the couch
next to her with a tired and frustrated sigh.   “Rough night?” she asked,
placing a hand on Catherine’s knee.   Catherine nodded in response and covered
Sara’s hand with her own.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You’re on vacation,” Catherine said, looking at Sara with tired eyes.  “No work
talk, remember?”

“Actually,” Sara began with a jovial smile, “it’s officially Wednesday.  And
Wednesday just happens to be the day that I am no longer on my very cruel forced
vacation.  So let’s have it cuz I am way too starved for some forensics talk,”
she added leaning over to brush her lips against Catherine’s quickly.

“You are far too happy to be going back to work,” the older woman responded
before giving Sara what she wanted.   “A sixteen year old kid OD’ed on Ecstasy. 
It’s just so frustrating dealing with kids.  They’ve got their whole lives ahead
of them and then they do something stupid and it’s all over.”

“That’s the mother in you, Cath ,” Sara replied, squeezing her hand.

“I know.  It’s just that I can’t even imagine being so far removed from
Lindsey’s life that she’d end up on a slab before she can even drive.   The
kid’s parents didn’t even know where he was tonight,” Catherine said leaning her
head back against the soft cushion below her head.

“You’re not that kind of mother, Catherine,” Sara assured her.  “And you never
will be.”

“But how do we really know what our kids are going to grow up to be?  I’m sure
my parents never thought they raised the kind of girl that would end up
stripping in Vegas.”

“It’s true,” Sara said nodding.   “I mean, my parents had no idea what I was
doing when I was a teenager.   Of course, they were usually only around to glare
at me and occasionally give me a good right hook, but I could have been out
there robbing banks and they wouldn’t have had a clue.  Not that they would have
cared anyway.”

“So what were you like as a teenager?” Catherine asked, turning to Sara with
curious eyes.

“I was a serious science nerd,” Sara answered with a smile.  “Like that’s a
surprise.   But I spent most of my free time either draining multiple cups of
coffee at the local bookstore or smoking pot in Ryan Stanley’s basement while
attempting to sing in a really crappy punk rock band.   I can’t believe I’m
telling you this,” she finished, blushing and bringing her free hand up to cover
her face for a minute.

Catherine couldn’t help but laugh at the pictures she was getting in her mind. 
Sara with big eighties hair all stoned out and giggling like a school girl.  
And after about thirty seconds, Sara joined her.   She could actually remember
herself wearing ripped jeans that were pinned at the knees and listening to the
Sex Pistols until she wore the tapes out.

“How about you?” Sara inquired after they had calmed down.

“I was Daddy’s little girl,” Catherine replied.   “I did everything my parents
said…”

“Yeah, right,” Sara interrupted.

“Until they went to bed,” Catherine finished with a wicked grin.  “Then I was
all over the place.   Well, as much as I could be.  There’s not a whole hell of
a lot to do out in the country, but I managed to get kicked out of enough bars
that I narrowly escaped leaving home with a record.   Then I ended up out here
somehow and found myself at one of the clubs before I even knew what hit me.”

“Yeah, at least I was never a stripper,” Sara said sarcastically.   Catherine
swatted at her playfully before leaning into Sara and feeling something hard
wedged between them.

“Oh before I forget,” Catherine said leaning away from Sara and removing a sort
of large and sometimes noisy black object from the pocket of her suit coat and
placing it in the young woman’s hands.   “I guess it’s time I gave this back to
you.”

“My police scanner!” Sara almost shouted as she planted a kiss first on
Catherine and then on the equipment in her hands.  “Oh how I’ve missed you,” she
directed at the scanner before placing it on the coffee table and clicking the
knob to the correct frequency.

“Kids,” Catherine sighed closing her tired eyes as the static and noise of the
scanner filled the room and Sara grinned from ear to ear.

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

“Judging by that huge grin on your face, I’d say you’re happy to be back,” Nick
said as he fell into step next to Sara.   They were headed to the break room,
Sara’s body on edge with anticipation as she felt the familiar calm that being
at work had proven to give her.

“You have no idea,” she replied.

“Remember that time psycho stalker guy pushed me out the window?” Nick remarked
with a smile causing Sara to nod in understanding.   “Grissom put me on vaca for
twelve days.”

“Okay, so maybe you do have an idea,” Sara said with a laugh, feeling Nick’s arm
fall across her shoulders as they continued to walk.

“It’s good to have you back,” he said, squeezing Sara’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” she replied as smiling eyes held her own.

“Hey,” Catherine interrupted them, slipping out of a side hallway in front of
them.  “Where are you guys headed?” she asked, looking at Nick’s arm around her
woman and grinning at Sara sideways.

“Break room,” Sara answered, covering Nick’s hand with her own and smiling at
Catherine wickedly, adding a wink for good measure. 

Catherine looked at Nick and tried to remind him with her eyes that it would be
a good thing if they could keep Sara away from the break room for a couple more
minutes.  When his eyes went wide in remembrance and sudden panic, she knew her
point had gotten across.  Sara tried to move forward, but Nick’s strong hand
held her back and Catherine didn’t seem to want to get out of her way.

“So Nicky, day shift caught that scumbag dealer from last night,” Catherine
said.

“Yeah I heard that,” he replied.   “You think they’ll be able to convict
though?”

“Girlfriend witnessed the transaction,” Catherine replied, “but getting a
manslaughter conviction for something like this is always tough.”

“Hey, I’m gonna grab a coffee,” Sara said, “you guys want?”   she asked, eyes
shooting from Catherine to Nick in question.  Catherine glared at Nick and
motioned to his arm around Sara.

“No?” Sara continued, unaware of their subtle exchange of thoughts.  She tried
to take a step forward, but Nick squeezed her shoulder and pulled her closer to
him.

“So what do you think, Sara?” he asked, looking into her confused eyes.

“What do I think about what?” she asked staring back at him and gently trying to
push off of him, but failing.

Nick’s eyes darted behind Catherine and caught a thumbs up from Greg before he
disappeared into the break room.   Catherine spun on her heels just in time to
see him closing the door behind him quietly.  She turned back to Sara and
grabbed the young woman’s free arm, pulling her away from Nick and leading her
down the hallway.

“Coffee, right?” Nick said behind them.  “Good, let’s go.”

“You guys are so weird,” Sara said, glancing back at him and then at the woman
beside her who was grinning to herself and still holding onto Sara’s arm.

“After you,” Catherine said as they approached the door.

“Whatever,” Sara replied, looking at Catherine with narrow eyes before opening
the door quickly and entering the break room to see it was already occupied by
three of her other co-workers.

Warrick was leaning against the counter hiding behind the sports section.  Greg
was in front of the coffee pot doing his best not to look at the door as it
opened and failing miserably.  And Grissom was seated at the table flipping
through this month’s latest forensics magazine.   Placed in front of him was a
small cake with the words ‘Welcome Back’ written in pink frosting.

“You guys,” Sara said as the redness crept into her face like a hurricane. 

Nick and Catherine crept into the room behind her, grinning.   Sara turned and
pushed at Nick’s shoulder playfully as Warrick made his way across the room.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Sara, giving her a toothy grin and kissing her
on the cheek briefly.

“Never been better,” she answered with a smile.   Warrick stepped off to the
side near Nick, revealing a rather embarrassed but smiling Greg behind him. 
“Your idea?” Sara asked with a smirk.

Suddenly, Greg couldn’t find his vocal chords.   And when Sara leaned forward to
brush her lips against his cheek and tousle his already messy hair, he felt his
body start to melt.   With wobbly legs he managed to find a seat before he ended
up on the floor on his ass.

Sara grabbed Catherine and pulled her into a hug that lingered a little longer
than it should have.

“You’ll pay for this,” she hissed into the shorter woman’s ear before pulling
back to give her a wink and a brilliant smile.   Catherine merely raised an
eyebrow in response as her lips curled into a grin.  Finally, Sara turned to
Grissom who had put down his magazine and was looking up at her with gentle
eyes.

“Sara,” he said, smiling with ease.

“Grissom,” she replied, smiling back.

“I hope your vacation was relaxing,” he said, eyes flickering over to Catherine
and back to Sara quickly.

“It was, thanks,” she answered.

“Good.  Before I forget,” Grissom said, reaching on the floor next to him and
placing a package on the table next to the cake.  “We all pitched in and got you
a little welcome back present.”

“You guys didn’t have to,” Sara said as she peeled the paper away from the box
underneath.

“Greg wrapped it,” Grissom said, smirking at the young man seated next to him. 
Greg just shrugged as Sara smiled at him.

“A new scanner,” she said, pulling the instrument from the box.

“Newest model.   Less interference,” Grissom explained, catching her eyes and
smiling.

“You guys, this is too cool,” she replied, inspecting the scanner from all
angles.

“Yeah, well we wanted to make sure you had something to do on your days off,”
Nick joked behind her.

“I think she’s got that covered,” Catherine interjected before anybody else
could speak. 

Sara started to blush again and Grissom couldn’t help chuckling to himself. 
Warrick opened his mouth to say something, but the loud ringing of a cell phone
interrupted him.  Everybody’s hands instinctively reached for their sides.

“It’s mine,” Grissom said, halting their searches. “Grissom,” he said, flipping
the phone open.  “We’ll be right there,” he said after a minute of listening and
shut the phone with a snap.

“I hate to cut the party short, boys and girls,” he said as he addressed all of
them.  “But we’ve got a fresh scene.”

“I’ll just make sure the cake gets into the fridge,” Greg said, mostly to
himself as the rest of the team headed into the hallway and out of the room.

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

“You said it was a fire,” Grissom stated as he made his way over to Brass.

“That’s what I said,” Brass replied with a nod.

“Internal only?” Grissom asked, glancing up at the apartment building before him
and noticing no external damage.

“Just wait until you see this,” Brass said and then added, “and that nice old
woman over there’s got something you might want to know about.”

“Sara,” Grissom said turning back to address the young woman.  “You and Warrick
go talk to the older woman near the fire truck.  Apparently she’s a witness. 
Come upstairs when you’re done.”

Sara nodded as she and Warrick walked over towards the fire truck where a short
woman with white hair was standing with her dog.

“Catherine, Nick, you’re with me,” Grissom added as he followed Brass into the
apartment building.

Over at the fire truck, a young man in suspenders with a sooty face was handing
the white haired woman a cup of steaming hot coffee.   Sara and Warrick
addressed the woman politely.

“Good evening, ma’am.   I’m Sara and this is Warrick,” Sara said introducing
them to her.   “We’re with the crime lab and we’d like to ask you a few
questions.”

“Alright, dear,” the woman replied, a miniature poodle yapping near her feet.

“First we’ll need your name.”

“Clara Daniels,” the short woman replied.   “Shush now, Scarlet,” she directed
at the poodle, who whimpered in response.

“Do you live nearby Miss Daniels?” Sara asked, jotting notes down on a small
pad.

“Oh yes, just a few buildings over.”

“Any reason you’re out so late?”

“Well dear, when Scarlet has to go she has to go,” Clara replied, taking a sip
of her coffee.

“I see,” Sara said smiling at the older woman.   “Can you tell us exactly what
you saw?”

“Well, I was walking Scarlet here and I noticed some smoke coming out of one of
the upstairs windows,” Clara stated clearly.   “And then I stopped to see what
was going on and that’s when the smoke started to get very thick.  I didn’t know
what to do.  I was going to rush home and call 911, but just then a nice man
came walking past the front of the building.”

“You saw a man?” Warrick asked.

“Yes, he was very nice.   I alerted him to what I saw and he called 911 right
away.”

“Where is he now, Miss Daniels?” Warrick inquired.

“I don’t know,” she replied.   “I turned around for a second and he was gone.”

“Can you tell us what he looked like?” Sara asked.

“I didn’t get such a good look.   He was wearing a ball cap so I couldn’t quite
see his face.   I think he was a jogger because he was dressed in workout
clothes.   You know, sweats,” Clara said, eyes far off and thinking.

“You didn’t see his face?”

“No dear, I’m sorry.  He looked quite startled and then he was gone,” the older
woman stated.   “But I do remember one thing.”

“What’s that?” Sara asked.

“His cologne smelled odd.”

“Really,” Sara said flatly and looked at Warrick with an almost amused
expression.  “Thank you, Miss Daniels.”

“If there’s anything else I can do to help, you let me know dear,” Clara said
sweetly, pulling Scarlet’s leash and hobbling back towards her apartment
building.

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

Grissom stepped into apartment 3A which happened to take up the entire third
floor of the building.  Brass led him into the room where the fire had started,
Catherine and Nick following close behind them.

The room was spacious, open, maybe a living area.   There were the burnt
remnants of a television close to the windows on the far side of the room.  A
recliner was fully intact a few yards away from the television.   The fire had
destroyed the far wall and creeped its way towards the wall housing the windows
when it seemed the fire department had arrived in time to put it out before it
spread anywhere else.   Laying in the middle of the room, a few feet away from a
glass coffee table, was the body of a middle-aged man.

“Does anyone else live here?” Grissom asked Brass.   “In the building, I mean?”

“Not as far as we can tell,” Brass answered.   “Every other floor is empty,
except for the basement.   There’s a washer and dryer and some stuff in storage.
  But other than that, this guy was the only tenant.”

“That’s slightly odd,” Catherine commented, coming to stand next to Grissom.

Grissom walked over to the body and beckoned Catherine over with a wave of his
arm.  She snapped a few pictures before Grissom knelt down next to the man and
examined the body.  The man must have been in his forties, his hair graying near
his temples and the slight scruff on his face.   He was lying slumped to the
side and his chest was riddled with bullets.   Five or six at the least.  
Miraculously the fire hadn’t reached him at all.

“Jesus,” Catherine breathed.   “Someone wanted this guy dead.”

“I’ll say,” Nick commented before walking past them and setting his case down
near the burnt television.   He began taking scrapings from the nearby area as
Grissom and Catherine continued to go over the body.

“I counted six,” Brass said, referring to the bullet wounds.  “I’m guessing
nine-millimeter probably close range.  No more than a few feet away.”

“Then what?   Killer decided to torch the place to get rid of the body?”
Catherine asked.

“Could be,” Brass answered.   “Looks that way to me.”

“So what stopped it from working?”   The blonde inquired as she turned the dead
man’s hand over to look for signs of a struggle.

“Little old lady was walking her dog and saw smoke,” Brass answered.

“She call it in?” Grissom asked.

“No.  Said she ran into a man jogging and he called it in.”

“Let me guess,” Grissom stated, “the man’s gone.”   Brass nodded in response.

“What’s this?” Catherine asked, holding up the man’s left hand, displaying a
thick gold ring with a blue stone.

“Sigma Kappa Tau,” Grissom read off the face of the ring.  “Yale, class of 73,”
he said turning the ring to the side.   “Take a picture and bag it.”

Catherine did as instructed.   Nick collected scrapings from the television, the
walls and the burnt floor in a few different areas.  Grissom went over the body
one last time and stood up to survey the room.   Catherine checked the man’s
pockets and came up empty handed.

“No ID, whatsoever,” she said, pushing off her knees to stand.

“We’ll just have to run his prints and see if we get a match,” Grissom said. 
“Or see if we can track down the owner of this building and ask him why he only
had one tenant.”


Warrick and Sara approached the three CSIs as they made their way out of the
building and onto the street.   The coroner’s team walked past them quickly,
going inside to collect the body.  Catherine and Nick explained what they had
found to the other two while Brass and Grissom tried to come up with whatever
leads they could.

“What about the old woman?” Grissom directed at Warrick and Sara.

“Went to walk her dog, saw smoke and ran into a nice young man,” Sara said,
emphasizing the last three words.   “He called 911 on a cell phone and when she
turned around he was gone.”

“We get a description?” Grissom asked.

“Nada, Boss,” Warrick answered.   “Baseball hat, sweats, and nothing else.”

“Except he had funny smelling cologne,” Sara said, shooting a smile over to
Catherine whose eyes lit up.   “What?” Sara asked, seeing a light click on above
the woman’s head.

“Funny smelling cologne,” she replied.   Five sets of eyes focused on her with
confusion.   “If you just started a fire what would you smell like?”

“Accelerant,” Grissom said with a smirk.

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

Grissom and Catherine followed the wailing guitar of Jimi Hendrix and it led
them into the coroner’s lab.  Luckily, Doc Robbins wasn’t playing air guitar
with his artificial leg this time.   He clicked the CD player off when he
spotted his two favorite CSIs push through the swinging doors towards him.

“What have you got, Doc?” Grissom asked, stopping at the autopsy table that the
victim was laying on.

“Six gunshot wounds to the chest,” he replied, and pointed to one directly over
the area of the heart.   “First one was fatal though, direct hit to the heart.  
Overkill, if you ask me.”

“What about the angles of penetration?” Catherine asked.

“First three went in upward, so your shooter was either shorter or on his
knees,” Doc Robbins explained, running a hand over his white beard.  “The last
three went in straight.”

“When he was on his back,” Catherine surmised.   “The last three were plugged
into him while the killer was standing above him.”

“Rage killing,” Grissom said.   “Whoever did this didn’t like our guy very
much.”

“That’s not it,” Doc Robbins said raising his eyebrows.   “Get a load of this,”
he said, pulling the sheet down over the man’s torso and past his genital area.

“Are those bite marks?” Grissom asked.

“That’s the first thing they teach you in self defense class,” Catherine said,
nodding.  “If someone forces you to give them oral sex, bite down as hard as
humanly possible.”

“Traces of accelerant on the body?” Grissom asked.

“None,” the Doc answered.

“You think we could get a mold from the bite marks?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”

“Catherine, call Sara and tell her to get Warrick and get down here to mold
these bite marks,” Grissom instructed.   “You send the bullets up to trace?” he
asked Doc Robbins as Catherine shuffled out into the hallway.

“Half hour ago,” he answered.   “I think the clothes are up with Nick also.”

“Good.  I want to know how and when this guy got his pants back on.   Before or
after he was shot to death.”

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

“Tell me you got a match on the guy’s prints,” Sara said, coming up behind Greg
at his computer.

“What are you gonna give me if I do?” he asked turning around in his chair to
address her.

“I’ll give you a swift kick in the ass if you don’t tell me what you’ve got,
Greg,” she replied in a husky tone and added a smile at the end.

“Be still my heart,” he teased before turning back to the screen and popping up
the info he had gotten.   “Jack Walters, perfect match.  Mid forties, convicted
of statutory rape about a year and a half ago.”

“He do time?” Sara asked, leaning over his shoulder.

“Nope.   Community service and probation.”

“Got a name of the vic?”

“Nicole Stafford, fourteen at the time.   You want an address?”

“Yeah.”

Greg scribbled it down on a piece of paper along with the mother’s name and
handed it to Sara.  Their fingers brushed past each other and Greg felt sweat
starting to bead on his forehead.

“So, Sara…”

“Yes, Greg,” she replied, looking him in the eyes.

“I was just wondering…I mean, if uh…”

Sara’s cell phone rang cutting through the air and into Greg’s ears like a
knife.  She held up a finger and he nodded in response as she flipped the phone
up to her ear.

“Sidle.”

“Hey you,” Catherine’s voice wafted through the phone.

“Hey,” Sara replied, a smile immediately decorating her face as she shifted into
the doorframe and away from Greg’s unknowing ears.   “So personal or work
related?”

“Right now, it’s all business,” Catherine replied.   “But later on at your place
I assure you it will be nothing but personal.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sara said with a laugh.   “So we have an ID on the vic.
  Jack Walters, age forty-five.  Convicted of statutory rape little over a year
ago.   Got off with community service and probation.”

“That sounds about right,” Catherine replied with a sigh.

“What is it, Catherine?”

“Grissom wants you and Warrick down here to try and lift a bite mark mold.”

“You guys have bite marks?   Where?”

“Use your imagination,” Catherine answered.   “And be colorful.”

“No way,” Sara breathed into the phone.   “You want me to mold that?!?”

“Make Warrick do it,” Catherine laughed back at her.

“Do you even know how badly you owe me tonight?” Sara growled seductively.

“If you think your hands are going anywhere near me after you put them on Jack
Warren’s unit, you are duly misinformed,” Catherine teased back at her.

“Aw, I promise to use antibacterial soap,” Sara mock pleaded.

“Shut up and get your cute ass down here so we can go home and I can start
paying my debts,” Catherine said quickly and clicked off her phone.

“So what were you saying, Greg?” Sara asked turning back to the young man with a
wide smile.

“It can wait,” he replied with a nervous smile and Sara smiled at him sideways
and made her way out of the lab.

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

As Wednesday night’s shift was quickly coming to a close, Nick rapped lightly on
Grissom’s door.  The older man looked up from the larvae sample he was prodding
at and pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

“Hey Boss,” Nick said with a sigh as he entered the office.

“What’s up, Nick?” Grissom greeted him.

“Just went over every inch of the vic’s clothes and I got nothing,” he replied,
shrugging off his lab coat with an easy roll of his shoulders.

“You sure?” Grissom asked with a raising of his eyebrow.

“Positive.”

“Somebody has to redress him at some point,” Grissom stated.  “Either we’re
missing something or whoever did it was very, very careful.”

“I got nothing on the pants, Grissom,” Nick assured him.   “And all I got from
the guy’s shirt was that there were powder burns suggesting close range.   Other
than that, I think we’re going to have to hit it from another angle.”

“What about the accelerant?”

“Greg ran it,” Nick replied.   “Says it’s paint thinner.   Was the guy doing any
remodeling, painting, anything like that?”

“Not that I could see.”

“So the killer probably brought it with him?” Nick guessed.

“And took it when he left,” Grissom added with a tiny smirk.  “Okay.   Good
enough, Nick,” Grissom said, returning to his bugs.   “Call it a night.”

“Me and Warrick are gonna grab some breakfast,” Nick said turning back in the
doorway.   “You sure you don’t wanna join us?”

“Thanks, Nicky,” Grissom replied, shifting the larvae from one container to
another.  “But I promised the kids here I’d spend some quality time.”

“Right,” Nick said with his patent boyish grin, before turning to leave.

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

Half an hour after their shift ended, Catherine and Sara had barely made it into
Sara’s apartment when Catherine found herself pinned up against the closed door,
her warm mouth melting into Sara’s ferociously.   They broke apart for mere
seconds each shedding their own jackets that fell to the floor in soft piles. 
Their lips immediately found each other again, each woman struggling for control
and dominance.  Sara’s strong hands digging into Catherine’s sides gave her the
upper hand.   Catherine tangled her hands in the brunette’s hair as Sara left a
scorching trail of kisses down the other woman’s neck and past her throat,
getting dangerously close to the emergence of soft breasts.

“It’s such a fucking adrenaline rush,” Sara breathed against Catherine’s skin,
her lips hovering above hot, pulsating flesh.

“What is?” Catherine managed to get past her lips after she caught her breath. 

In one fluid movement Sara had ripped Catherine’s shirt from her pants and
pulled it apart, snapping every button from waist to collar and not giving it a
second thought.

“Working on a case,” Sara answered, covering Catherine’s mouth once again and
giving her back the breath that she had stolen seconds before.  “Chasing down
leads,” she added in between her assaults on Catherine’s lips.

When Catherine couldn’t stand it any longer, the heat billowing off Sara’s body
and onto hers with a vengeance, she slid her hands over Sara’s breasts and
pulled at the button of her pants.   Sara moved her hands from where her
fingertips were threatening to burn holes on the soft flesh of Catherine’s
abdomen and caught the shorter woman’s hands in her own.  She brought them up
around her shoulders and looked deeply into intense blue eyes.

“Helping people,” she finished her train of thought that was cut short by
welcomed wandering hands.   Sara leaned forward, tugging at the stiff material
of Catherine’s shirt and pulled searing lips into her own, gently pulling on
Catherine’s lower lip with her teeth.

“It’s what you live for, isn’t it?” Catherine breathed out in a husky tone,
grabbing Sara by the back of the neck and pulling her forward so hard their
bodies were burning into each other.

“Right now,” Sara began, kissing Catherine hard, “at this moment,” she said
pulling back, desire growing more evident in her eyes with every passing second.
“There’s only one thing I’m living for.”

Sara slid her hand up and kneaded Catherine’s breast roughly, sliding her thumb
over an already taught nipple.   She felt Catherine’s breath catch in her throat
before she even saw it and her eyes never left the blonde woman’s as she used
her left foot to kick her legs apart.  Sliding a leg in between Catherine’s and
pushing forward, melting them into the door, Sara started grinding against
Catherine’s body with deliberate heat and rhythm.   Only pulling back so far as
to allow herself to slide a hand in between them, Sara quickly leaned forward
and crushed her lips against Catherine’s as her right hand tore apart the older
woman’s pants in one quick motion.

Catherine’s arms flew around Sara tightly as she felt long fingers sliding
inside of her.  She dug her hands into Sara’s back and squeezed her eyes shut,
her hips rocking in perfect motion with the rhythm of the hand pumping between
her legs.   Sara heard the distant sound of a steady knocking and dragged her
lips away from the salty skin of Catherine’s neck long enough to let her eyes
reveal that with every thrust of her skilled hand, their bodies were slamming
into the door with enough force to cause the wooden object to shake and wobble. 


As Catherine’s body convulsed around Sara’s fingers and she felt the other woman
shudder against her, Sara couldn’t help but grace her lips with a smile. 
Catherine pushed forward into Sara’s hand one last time, balling the taller
woman’s shirt in her fists, before dropping her head onto the strong shoulder in
front of her.  Sara retrieved her hand from its warm cocoon and wrapped her arms
around Catherine tightly, holding the woman close to her.

“Remind me to make you take vacations more often,” Catherine said after a few
minutes of steadying her breathing.

“All you have to do is flash me on of those brilliant smiles, Cath,” Sara
replied, pulling back to stare into the other woman’s eyes.  “And I’m all
yours.”

“You mean one of these,” Catherine teased, smiling widely.

“That’s the one,” Sara replied, leaning forward to brush her lips over
Catherine’s slowly, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss in a steady rhythm that
caused Catherine to quickly feel like she no longer had her feet on solid
ground.

“Think we could maybe move this to a horizontal surface,” she said, holding onto
Sara tightly for support.   “Because I don’t think my legs are going to hold me
much longer.”

“Allow me,” Sara replied with a sly grin as she dropped her hands down to the
back of Catherine’s strong thighs.

In seconds, Sara had lifted Catherine off her feet and up against her. 
Catherine quickly responded by crossing her legs behind Sara’s back and kissing
her long and hard.   Apparently the young woman had gotten the majority of her
strength back…or maybe it was just the endorphins kicking in.   Whatever the
cause, Catherine found herself being carried down the hall to the bedroom
swiftly, Sara kicking the door closed behind them.

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

“Where’s everyone else?” Sara asked as she accompanied Brass and Grissom to the
apartment building where Nicole and Lauren Stafford were living.

“Warrick’s in court.   Nick has the day off,” Grissom said.   “And Catherine’s
downtown at the District Engineer’s office trying to see if she can find out who
owned the apartment building and for how long.”

“She went to Newsome’s office alone?” Sara asked, feeling anger creep into every
part of her body.

“We were trying to figure out how we could get the information without a warrant
and she volunteered,” Grissom explained.

“She volunteered ?” Sara asked, taken aback.

“Yes, Sara.  She volunteered,” Grissom said sternly, grateful that Brass was up
ahead of them a ways.  “We’re not going to have a problem with this are we?” he
asked with frustration in his voice.

“No,” Sara replied.  “No problem at all,” she said moving past him to catch up
with Brass.

Grissom arrived at Brass’ side just as he entered the apartment of the building
managers.  They were an older couple and were more than happy to help.   The
building was an old brownstone in a good part of town.   There was no doubt that
it cost a pretty penny to live there.

“Sorry to bother you folks,” Brass said flashing his badge, “but we’re looking
for a woman named Lauren Stafford.   This is the address we have for her.  
Apartment 6c .  But the name on the mailbox says ‘Taylor’.”

“Ah, yes,” the old man said running a hand over his bald head.  “The Stafford ’s
moved over a year ago.”

“Any idea why?” Brass asked.

“Not really,” he answered.   “It was all very discreet although I believe it had
something to do with the girl.”

“I don’t suppose you own this building?”

“No sir.  We just run things and get a reduced rental rate.”

“Who does own the building?” Grissom asked.

“Mason Stetson,” the old man replied.

“The lawyer?” Sara asked.

“Yes, I believe he is a lawyer.”

“Do you know where we can find the Staffords?” Grissom asked.

“I think they moved across town,” the man answered.   “Here let me see if I’ve
still got the forwarding address.”

The older man disappeared into his apartment and left Grissom, Sara, and Brass
to discuss what they had just heard.

“Mason Stetson of Stetson, Goldman, and Burns?” Sara asked.

“There’s no other Mason Stetson I know of,” Brass replied.

“They’re the major corporate law firm in Vegas.  And I hear he’s a major bastard
in the courtroom,” Sara said.

“He owns a building guys, so what?” Grissom said.

“So I bet this isn’t he only building he owns,” Sara shot back at him, still
feeling a tad bit pissed off at Catherine.

The old man took that moment to come back and hand a piece of paper with an
address scribbled on it to Brass.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the paper.

“I was wondering, Mr. Phelps,” Grissom addressed the old man.  “Did a man by the
name of Jack Walters ever live here?”

“Why yes,” the old man answered.   “He left about the same time the Staffords
did.”

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

On the way up the steps to the Stafford ’s real apartment building, Grissom’s
phone rang.   He flipped it up to his ear quickly.

“Grissom,” he said, stopping for a moment.   “Hi, Catherine.   Yeah.  Right. 
Good.   Meet us back at the lab.”

“What’d she say?” Sara asked.

“What we already knew,” Grissom answered with a smirk.   “Or what you already
knew.   Mason Stetson owned the Phelps’ building as well as the one from last
night.   And a handful of others.”

“I bet I know where Lauren Stafford’s going to be sending us,” Brass said before
entering the building and taking the elevator to the fourth floor. 

Just like the previous building, this one also housed the upper class.  When
they reached the door, Brass knocked on it loudly and identified himself.   The
door opened slowly and only a crack, the chain lock still attached.

“What do you want?” A blonde woman in her forties asked.   She was wearing
pearls and a silk blouse.

“My name is Jim Brass, Mrs. Stafford…”

“Miss,” she said interrupting him.

“Miss Stafford,” he corrected himself.   “We’d like to ask you a few questions
about Jack Walters.”

Lauren Stafford’s face went pale and she looked behind her quickly before
unlocking the door and stepping out into the hallway.   She regarded the law
enforcement officers with her hands on her hips and contempt in her voice.

“What about him?” she growled.

“He’s been murdered,” Grissom said.

“Can’t say I’m sorry,” Lauren commented, after letting the realization sink in.

“We’re aware of what happened to your daughter, Miss Stafford,” Grissom said
with a gentle voice.   “Why is it that you allowed Jack Walters to plead down?”

“Why don’t you ask his lawyer?” She slid at him.   “That bastard said he’d make
sure that any and all of my daughter’s colorful behavior would be extended to
the public and that her life would only get progressively worse.  I couldn’t let
him do that to her.  We had to move…to get away from that place so here we are. 
Nicole still can’t sleep through the night.”

“What was his lawyer’s name, Miss Stafford?” Grissom asked.

“Mason Stetson.”

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

Catherine headed down the hallway to Grissom’s office and noticed that no one
seemed to be back yet.   She was still a little thrown by her meeting with her
ex.   Paul Newsome had given her all the information she wanted and done his
share of flirting, but Catherine had tried to ignore it.   It obviously hadn’t
worked since he had told her to call him and attempted to kiss her before she
left.  Luckily, she was able to get away before that had happened.

She was so deep in thought that Catherine almost walked right past the print
lab.  She quickly stopped in her tracks and poked her head in the room
addressing the two men at work.

“Nick, I thought it was your day off,” Catherine commented, seeing him looking
over Jack Walters’ clothes with a keen eye.

“It is,” he smiled up at her.   “But something Grissom said yesterday got me
thinking.”

“What’s that?” Catherine asked, stepping into the room and walking over to the
table.  Greg sidled up next to her with a grin.

“Something about somebody else having to put the vic’s clothes back on.  So I
was trying to think of where I might be able to lift a print, when it hit me,”
Nick said, dusting a piece of metal and successfully lifting his print. 

“Belt buckle,” Greg said, raising his eyebrows.

“Bingo,” Nick said, holding the flimsy paper up in front of him.

“Now we just have to get a match and hope it’s not Jack Walters’ print,”
Catherine said.

“I’m on it,” Nick said as he slid over to the computers.   Greg started to
follow him, but hung back and addressed Catherine instead.

“So, Catherine,” he said smiling and trying to act cool.   “You think you could
put in a good word for me with Sara?” he asked with hopeful eyes.

“I’ll do my best, Greg-o,” Catherine replied with a smile, trying to stifle a
laugh.

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

Brass and his two CSIs finally found themselves in the very high class apartment
of attorney Mason Stetson.   He was a tall man with a shock of black hair that
was neatly trimmed and combed.  His face was strongly defined by razor sharp
cheekbones and when he smiled there was nothing but bright white staring back at
them.  Brass once again handled the introductions.

“Is this about the fire in my building?” Stetson asked, pouring himself a
scotch.

“Yes, sir,” Brass replied.  

“But mostly it’s about the man we found murdered on the floor of that building,”
Grissom interjected.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Stetson said, turning around and bringing
the glass up to his lips, flashing a thick gold ring with a blue stone.

“That’s an interesting ring you’re wearing, Mr. Stetson,” Grissom commented,
eyes glancing around the room until they fell on a small box with a brass name
plate etched with the name ‘Mason Stetson, Sr.’ on it.   “And an even more
interesting case,” he said fingering the locked box gently.

“Yale, class of 73,” Stetson replied, motioning to the ring on his finger. 
“Sigma Kappa Tau, once a brother always a brother.”

“Is that why you let Jack Walters live in your building rent free?” Brass asked.
“Because he was a ‘brother’?”

“Jack and I roomed together in college.   He was from a working class background
like me.   My father was a cop for forty years before he died.   He busted his
ass on double shifts to put me through school,” Stetson answered.

“This is his service weapon?” Grissom asked pointing to the box.

“Only thing that I kept after he passed,” Stetson nodded.

“Nine-millimeter?”

“I believe so,” Stetson said.   “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

“A man was shot to death in one of your buildings, Mr. Stetson,” Brass answered.
“We’re just trying to figure out what happened to him.   It says in Mr.
Walters’ work history that he worked in the mailroom at your firm up until two
months ago.”

“That’s correct.  He did.”

“Why was he let go?”

“Jack had a way of getting himself into trouble,” Stetson replied, pouring
himself another drink.  

“Like with Nicole Stafford?” Brass asked raising an eyebrow.

“That was an unfortunate incident, Mr. Brass,” Stetson said.  “One that worked
out in Jack’s favor and has nothing to do with why you’re here.   Now if there’s
anything else you’d like to ask me, you can talk to my lawyer first.”

“These paintings are quite exceptional, Mr. Stetson,” Grissom said looking
around the living room at beautiful landscapes.

“My wife,” Stetson said, motioning to the walls.   “She’s at a show at her
gallery tonight, actually.”

“These are oil based, am I correct?” Grissom asked.

“Yes you are.  They take forever to dry, but Grace says there’s nothing quite
like the texture of oils.”

“The brushes are a pain to clean too,” Grissom commented, his mind rolling back
to the probability of paint thinner being present in the household.  He turned
to exchange glances with Sara, but she wasn’t in the living room anymore.

About the second Grissom and Brass started to ask Mason Stetson their questions,
Sara heard the faint noise of angry music wafting towards her ears.  She
followed the racket down a narrow hallway and ended up standing before a
partially open door.  Peeking through the crack, she noticed a small female body
in the outline of sparse lighting.   Sara knocked lightly and proceeded to step
about halfway into the room.

“Linkin Park,” she commented over the loud music.  “Great album.”

A startled girl, in maybe her mid-teens turned around from where she was
lighting another candle and clicked the music down a few notches when she saw
Sara standing in front of her.   The girl was short and thin, fingernails and
hair painted black.   Sara could see blonde roots creeping out from her scalp.  
She was wearing the biggest pants Sara had ever seen in her life and a huge
sweatshirt.

“Great in concert too,” Sara continued when she got no response.  “Intense.”

“You’ve seen them live?” the girl finally asked quietly, furrowing her brow.

“Couple times.   That surprise you?” Sara asked, easing into conversation.

“It’s just that,” the girl began, shoving her hands in her pockets shyly,
“you’re kind of old aren’t you?”

“I don’t look that old, do I?” Sara teased.  “How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” the girl answered, shifting nervously on her feet.

“I’m Sara.”

“Jewel,” the girl replied softly.  “So you guys are here to talk to my Dad?”

“Yeah,” Sara replied.   “My boss is out there now.”

“What’d he do this time?   Or is it just time for him to defend another one of
his scumbag clients?” Jewel asked with anger evident in her voice.

“Why would you say that?” Sara asked in a friendly tone.

“Because all his clients are guilty,” the girl responded, looking into Sara’s
eyes for a moment letting her guard down long enough for the pain to leak out. 
“He’s just real good at getting them off.”

“Jewel, do you know a guy named Jack Walters?” Sara asked.   She could have
sworn she saw the girl flinch at the mention of the victim’s name.

“Sure,” she replied.  “He was one of Dad’s college friends.”

“Did you ever know him and your father to have arguments?   Fights?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jewel replied, retreating into herself again.  “Dad didn’t
like for him to come around here.  Especially around me.  He never lets me do
anything,” she confessed, a small smile spreading across her lips.

“I know what you mean,” Sara replied, smiling back at the girl and feeling her
insides start to boil.   Something was going on in that house.   And when Jewel
smiled wider, revealing a mouth full of braces, Sara got a feeling deep in her
stomach that she hadn’t felt in a long time.   Rage.

Sara made it back into the living room in just enough time to see Brass and
Grissom finishing up their conversation with Mason Stetson.   Stetson was making
it very clear that the next time they came calling they would either need a
warrant or permission from his lawyer.   The three law enforcement agents headed
back   to the lab to pool their information.

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

Sitting around the break room table, the CSI team was finally getting to dig
into Sara’s cake as they all brought what they had to the table.  Sara had made
a pit stop to the lab first to test a theory she had and when she entered the
room, the anger poured off her body like a hurricane.   She threw a file on the
table and crossed her arms over her chest.   Four sets of eyes were fixed on
her.

“Fucking bastard was raping Stetson’s daughter,” she said with an edge.

“What are you talking about?” Grissom asked as Catherine reached for the file
and flipped through it.

“While you and Brass were with the father, I snuck down the hallway to the
girl’s room,” Sara explained.   “She was a real teenage mess, has some serious
anger towards her father.”

“You think he knew?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know,” Sara replied.   “The girl said Stetson didn’t like Walters
coming near her or their apartment even.  So then I figured something was up. 
The skin around this girl’s fingernails is non existent, it’s just raw skin.  
Then I’m ready to leave and she smiles this sad toothy grin at me.   There was
no light in her eyes.   And she wears braces.”

“And?” Grissom prodded.

“The mold Warrick and I tried to cast didn’t really work out.  It’s sloppy and
undefined.   But I kept it.”

“Traces of metal fragments,” Catherine read out of the file.  Sara nodded.

“What?”  Warrick said.

“Whoever bit Walters left tiny pieces of metal in the wounds,” Sara said with a
scowl.

“Jesus Christ,” Catherine breathed, running a hand through her hair.

“What did you guys get?” Sara asked Grissom.

“Wife’s a painter, oils,” he said.

“There’s our paint thinner,” Nick commented.

“Father was a cop.  There was a nine-millimeter service weapon sitting in a box
in plain sight in the living room.”

“The murder weapon, maybe?” Catherine suggested.

“And Stetson and Walters were in the same fraternity at Yale,” Grissom finished.

There was a knock at the door before Greg came bursting in waving a piece of
paper in the air and almost knocking Sara over.   She steadied him with two
hands before he turned back to the table.

“Got a match on the print from the belt buckle,” he said with a smile.  “And it
doesn’t belong to our vic.”

“Who, Greg?” Grissom asked.

“Guy that owns the building,” he replied.   “Mason Stetson.  His prints were on
file.”

“So that puts him at the scene,” Sara said with a smirk.

“But it doesn’t put the gun in his hand,” Grissom replied.   “And everything
we’ve got right now is circumstantial.”

“But it will get us a warrant, won’t it?” Catherine asked.

“I’ll call Brass,” Grissom said.   “I’m pretty sure we can get a warrant for the
gun and a sight search.   Maybe that’ll give us the thinner too.   And we’ll
call Stetson down for questioning.”

“I want the daughter there too,” Sara said to Grissom.   “I think she might be
the key.”

“Nicky, you and Warrick wait here for the gun,” Grissom said.  “I want it tested
the second it gets here.  Greg, I want you all over this metal.  I want to know
exactly what kind it is, what it’s used for, and where it came from.  
Catherine, you and Sara are coming with me.   Shall we ladies?” he said with a
smile as he stood.

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

“My client would like to make it clear that he has no knowledge of this crime
and any questions directed at his daughter will only be answered as long as he
allows it,” Stetson’s lawyer, Craig Reilly said upon settling down beside his
clients in the interrogation room.

“Where were you the night of Jack Walters murder, Mr. Stetson,” Captain Brass
asked, from his standing position.

“I was out to dinner with my wife and daughter,” Stetson replied.  “Then we went
home and watched a video.”

“What video was it?”

“I don’t remember,” Stetson replied quickly.

“Let me make this simple, Mr. Stetson,” Brass said, stepping forward.  “You’re
lying.”

“Excuse me, Captain,” Reilly said.   “You do realize my client is here of his
own free will and unless you have something to charge him with, we’ll be leaving
now,” he said and began to rise.

“Sit down,” Brass said forcing him back down with a hand on his shoulder.

“Two months ago, Jack Walters was fired from his job at your law firm,” Sara
said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.   “About the same time,
your daughter entered into counseling,” she added, eyes flicking over to the
girl slumped in her chair with her head down.

“What has one got to do with the other?” Reilly asked.

“Jack Walters has a history of abusing underage girls,” Sara said.  “You fired
him because he raped your daughter.”

Jewel Stetson head snapped up, her eyes shot full of fear.  Mason reached over
and grabbed her hand, holding it protectively.

“When we recovered the body, we discovered bite marks in the genital area,”
Catherine said, pushing a paper across the table to Craig Reilly.  “There were
flecks of metal imbedded in those bite marks that are a perfect match to the
metal that braces are usually made of.”

“What does that prove?” Stetson shot at the officers.

“We also found that Mr. Walters’ had been redressed probably after death,”
Catherine continued.   “We were able to lift a print off of his belt buckle.  
It’s yours, Mr. Stetson.”

“Daddy,” Jewel said, her voice cracking as she looked to her father with
panicked eyes.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he replied, smoothing her hair.   “It doesn’t mean
anything.”

“Mr. Stetson,” Grissom began, “we’ve had your father’s gun tested and the
striations match.  It’s the murder weapon.  The paint thinner used to start the
fire most likely came from your wife’s private studio.”

As every piece of the evidence began telling a story, one that Mason Stetson was
could no longer take himself out of, the man began to realize he was stuck
someplace that even a six hundred dollar an hour attorney wouldn’t be able to
get him out of.

“Okay, I’ll talk,” he said.

“Mason, shut up,” Reilly hissed at him.   Stetson’s eyes flicked over to his
daughter in apology and then back to Reilly.

“It’s the only way, Craig,” he said before turning back to Grissom.  “When I was
a senior at Yale, I was involved in a plagerism scandal.   Jack Walters took the
blame and bailed me out.   He got expelled.

“From that point on, I took it upon myself to help him.   I felt I owed it to
him.  I got him a job at the firm.  Eventually, he sank all the way down to the
mailroom after the incident with Nicole Stafford.”

“Which you knew he was guilty of and still defended him,” Sara said pointedly. 
Her eyes kept falling back to the girl sitting across from her, eyes detached,
hands shaking.   Pain spread from her heart and down to her fingertips, gliding
across the table to rest in Sara’s hands.

“Yes,” Stetson replied.   “After that I set him up in his own apartment with no
one else in the building.  I thought it would be safe.”

“What happened to your daughter, Mr. Stetson?” Brass asked.

“One night, a few months ago, my wife and I were at a dinner party,” he replied,
choking back tears.   Jewel covered her face with her hands.   “He had…uh…he had
come to the apartment while we were gone.   And…he…he…we found Jewel rocking
back and forth on her bedroom floor.   She was my daughter, for God’s sake.  
She was my daughter and he didn’t even care.”

“You bastard,” Sara said through clenched teeth.   “You let him get away with
it. What?   You thought it would tarnish the family name?   So you continue to
let your daughter be a victim?”

“Sara,” Grissom warned in a stern tone.   “What happened two days ago?” he asked
Stetson, Catherine stepping forward to place a supportive hand on Sara’s
shoulder.   The young woman stiffened under the blonde’s touch, barely resisting
the urge to shrug her off.

“I went over to the building and I shot him,” Stetson said. 

“And you might have gotten away with it if you hadn’t run into that nice old
lady on your way out of the building,” Brass said.   “We pulled your cell phone
records.   You were the one who called 911.”

“So you killed Jack Walters and tried to burn the building down to cover it up?”
Grissom asked.

“Yes,” Stetson replied firmly.

“Daddy, no,” Jewel almost screamed at her father.

“Well, there’s only one problem with your story,” Grissom said.  “It doesn’t
follow the evidence.”

“What are you talking about?” Stetson asked.   “I killed him.  I did it.”

“No you didn’t,” Grissom said, astonishing it seemed everybody in the room.  
“Your daughter went over there to kill Jack Walters for what he had done to her.
But something happened and she got nervous,” he continued, his eyes glancing
over at the scared young girl across the table who was as much a victim as the
deceased.
 
“He attempted to force her to give him oral sex which is when she produced the
bite marks,” Catherine surmised, starting to get a feel for where Grissom was
going.

“Then she shot him,” Grissom said.   “Six times in the chest.  We found her
prints still on the gun, Mr. Stetson.   Not yours.  Then she really panicked. 
There was a call made from Walters’ apartment to your cell phone right around
the time he was killed.”

“You called your Dad because you needed help, Jewel?” Sara asked gently.  Jewel
nodded in response wiping at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“She told you what happened, so you grabbed the paint thinner and went to save
her,” Grissom said, noticing Stetson’s face growing tighter with every word. 
“You redressed him, leaving your prints on his belt buckle and tried to light
the apartment on fire.”

“But you were spotted on your way out and had to call the police in order to try
and save yourself, hoping that the body had been burned already,” Brass added.

“I don’t care what you say,” Stetson said roughly.   “I’m confessing to the
murder.  Arrest me.  But you’ll never get my daughter.  She won’t suffer
anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stetson, but the evidence doesn’t lie and a jury will see that,”
Grissom said with sympathetic eyes.

“A jury will see an abused and troubled young girl killing a man that has been
convicted of sexual assault before,” Reilly said.   “There’s no way they’ll
convict after the picture I paint them.”

“We’ll see you in court then,” Brass said.   “We’re going to have to arrest your
daughter for murder, Mr. Stetson.   And will be taking you in for accessory to
say the least,” Brass finished as he motioned for two uniforms to enter the room
and do their jobs.

Father and daughter cried and clung together one last time, words of apology
flying through the air with pleading voices.  

“You know you could prevented this whole thing,” Sara said getting to her feet
and glaring at the dark haired man across the table from her, “if you had put
that bastard away the first time he did it,” she added, knocking her chair over
startling Catherine before storming out of the room and out of the building as
fast as her long legs would take her.

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

Catherine slipped out of the interrogation room almost the second after Sara had
made her emotional escape.   Plowing through the glass doors in the front of the
Las Vegas Police Department, Catherine finally caught site of Sara’s retreating
form making its way deeper into the parking lot with every passing second.   She
followed after the tall woman with quick steps.

“Sara,” she called, weaving through parked cars and narrowly avoiding the odd
side mirror here and there.   “Sara,” she said louder, a few yards away from the
brunette finally catching her attention.

Sara stopped walking, ran a hand through her hair roughly, and didn’t turn
around.  She inhaled the fresh air deeply, willing it to cleanse the turmoil
growing inside of her.  Finally her head hung forward, hands resting on her
hips.  She still had her back to Catherine.

“What?” Sara said into the darkness in front of her.

“Don’t shut me out,” Catherine demanded in a low voice, hooking a hand around
Sara’s elbow and forcing her to turn around.   “Why do you do this?”

“What?  Why do I do what?” Sara replied, her jaw locking with frustration and
anger.

“Push me away,” Catherine responded, her anger level with Sara’s.

“Because I have to,” Sara said through clenched teeth.

“No you don’t,” Catherine countered, reaching forward to grab both of Sara’s
arms just above the elbow.   She looked up into dark, painful eyes for a split
second before Sara shrugged out of her grasp roughly and walked in a small
circle.

“Yes I do,” she shot at Catherine, running a hand over the back of her neck and
shaking her head slightly.   “Fuck Catherine, I was that girl,” she said, arm
motioning to the building glowing behind them.   “Fucked up, pissed off at the
world.   Used and abused and having no fucking clue how she’s supposed to make
it from one day to the next because she so fucking broken she can’t even imagine
how to put herself back together.   And now, at best, she’ll be in juvenile
detention until she’s twenty-one.   How completely fucked up is that?!?   She’s
the real victim here and she’s the one getting punished again.   Her fucking
father should be the one going to jail.   Jack Walters should have been the one
doing time.”

“We’re not the ones that make the rules, Sara,” Catherine said gently.  “It’s
our job to enforce the ones we swore to follow.”

“And what about girls like Jewel Stetson?” Sara challenged her, voice growing
louder with every syllable.   “You tell me how the fuck she’s ever supposed to
trust anyone ever again.”

“Goddamnit, Sara,” Catherine yelled, grabbing Sara by the lapels of her leather
jacket and catching her off guard.  “That’s not you anymore,” she said, her eyes
pleading with Sara’s to somehow snap out of it.   “You’re smart and successful
and you’re damn good at what you do.   And I know there’s still a lot of anger
stuck inside of you, but it’s fading and I know you know it.  I can feel it
every time you kiss me, every time you say you love me.   You were strong enough
to be a fighter and you don’t have to shut down anymore,” she paused, looking
into wide, teary eyes.   “Because the next time you trip, I’ll be right there to
help you get your balance.  You just have to trust me.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Sara said in a small voice, tears sliding down her
cheeks.  Catherine shook her head, feeling tears of her own starting to well up
and pushed off of Sara forcefully, sending the brunette back a couple of steps.

“Why do you have to make everything so hard?” she asked, looking into Sara’s
startled face.

“I’m not the one volunteering to weasel information out of my ex boyfriend,”
Sara shot back at her in disgust.

“Is that what this is about?” Catherine demanded, only being met with silence
and Sara’s unwillingness to look her in the eye.   “I was working, Sara.  That’s
all.  And I can’t believe you’re getting all pissed off over something that
meant absolutely nothing to me.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?” Sara asked, stepping towards the
shorter woman.   “You didn’t even tell me you were going there.   Why did you
hide it if it was as innocent as you say it was?”

“Because somehow I knew you’d react exactly like this,” Catherine shouted back
at her.  “I don’t know how many more times I can tell you I love you, Sara.  
Because if you don’t believe me, then what’s the point?”

And with that dagger hanging in the air between them and directing itself
straight towards the gaping hole Catherine was threatening to leave in Sara’s
chest, Catherine turned around and quickly began walking away.  She nearly
bumped into Grissom and Brass, stopping momentarily to ask the Captain for a
ride back to CSI.

“Catherine,” Sara called out after her, but it was no use.  She wasn’t going to
turn around and Sara couldn’t blame her.  “Fuck,” she said under her breath, but
loud enough for Grissom to hear as he walked over to her cautiously.

Sara averted her eyes as Grissom passed by her and opened the door to the blue
Tahoe.  He paused before getting in and stared in Sara’s direction, waiting for
her to move and join him.

“Get in the car, Sara,” he said sternly.  

Sara turned around, hugging her stomach with both arms, and slowly made her way
over to the car.  Once she was seated and strapped in, she turned her body to
face the window and watched as the bright Vegas lights passed her one by one.  
There had to be thousands of people milling in her eyesight and throughout the
strip, but there was only one face she couldn’t get out of her mind.

“I think we need to have a talk,” Grissom said as he eased the car into the lot
at CSI and parked it in its regular spot.

“Grissom, please,” Sara said, still not turning to look at him.  “I just want to
go home.”

“Fine,” he replied, putting his hands up in defeat.   “I want to see you in my
office first thing tomorrow before shift.”

“Fine, whatever,” Sara said, reaching for the door handle.

“Let me give you some advice, Sara,” Grissom said, stopping the young woman in
the middle of her action.   “Keep your personal life away from your work life.  
If what happened tonight happened in front of someone else, you would have been
dangerously close to unemployment.”

“Is that it?” Sara said in a drained voice, her head pounding and her hands
growing cold.

“No,” Grissom replied and then added in a softer tone, “you need to have a
little faith in people, Sara.   The whole world isn’t out to hurt you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said quietly, taking a step out of the vehicle.

“The only person you’re fooling is yourself,” Grissom said firmly before the
door to the truck was slammed in his face.

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

Three beers and a long, hot shower later, Sara found herself behind the wheel of
her car.  Her destination at first was unknown, but the longer she drove the
more she knew where she was going.  She pulled up across the street from
Catherine’s house and noticed her car in the driveway and the front light still
on.

Sara gripped the steering wheel tightly, searching her mind for the things she
wanted to say.  All she was able to come up with was a mass of thoughts blending
together and the words ‘I’m sorry’ sticking out like a sore thumb.   It occurred
to her that when it came to her relationship with Catherine those were two words
she was using all too often.   Sara knew she needed to start acting better and
decided that would be the first thing she would tell Catherine if she ever
managed to get out of the car and drag her sorry ass over there.

Taking a deep breath and smoothing the hair off of her face, Sara opened the
driver’s side door with a pop.   Looking over at Catherine’s house with one foot
solid on the pavement, Sara felt a sharp pain start in her stomach and flood
throughout her whole body.  As the pain settled on the tender space around her
heart, she watched as Paul Newsome wrapped his arms around Catherine, slipped
out the front door, and walked swiftly over to his car.

Watching the District Engineer’s car pull down the street and out of sight, Sara
retracted her leg and started her own ignition.   She pulled away with a hard
lump in her throat and betrayal swirling around her head like an unwelcome
guest.  Apologies would just have to wait.