Title : Not What it Seems
Author : Melanie
Summary : Grissom’s sudden vacation leaves Catherine in charge and a new case aids in healing trust issues. This is the fourth story in my first CSI series. Sara/Catherine
Disclaimer : I’m just borrowing. All characters and everything else CSI belongs to Zuiker, Bruckheimer and CBS.
Rating : R.
Feedback : Always welcome. Fivebyfive13@prodigy.net
Archive : Ask me and it’s yours :)
Author’s Note : I just wanted to say thank you to all the readers out there that have taken the time to drop me a line and give me such positive feedback on the CSI series. I’ve tried my best to get back to each of you individually and if I’ve missed anyone I apologize J Your kind words are appreciated more than you know. Now…on with the fic!

“Catherine, before you leave I’d like to see you in my office,” Grissom said,
sticking his head into the locker room far enough to see Catherine nod in
response.

“Oooh, someone’s in trouble,” Nick teased after the door closed with a click. 
His smile was cut short by a harsh and unrelenting cough.   He turned his head
away from his colleagues and let it run its course.

“It’s a good thing I’m in court for the next few days,” Warrick interjected,
lightly smacking Nick on the back and turning his eyes toward Catherine. 
“Because whatever’s going on in this place is bound to creep its way into the
rest of us sooner or later.   And by the way my man over here is hacking up a
lung, I’m guessing sooner rather than later,” he added motioning to Nick.

“What I want to know is why Sara’s been MIA for the last couple weeks,” Nick
said, catching his breath.   “We’ve all been overextended trying to compensate
for her not being here.”

“Grissom told you guys,” Catherine said, sliding an arm into her leather jacket,
“she needed another couple weeks to recuperate from the shooting.”

“Yeah that arson case did seem to take it out of her pretty hard,” Warrick
commented.

“Whatever,” Nick said.   “There’s something going on,” he added, pausing to
sneeze a couple of times.  “And if I didn’t need Nyquil in an IV right now, I’d
be all over trying to figure out what it was.”

“You should take tomorrow off, Nicky,” Catherine said quickly, changing the
subject.

“Already taken care of,” he answered, grabbing his bag and crushing his baseball
hat onto his head.   “Told Grissom earlier I was out for at least two days.  I’m
headed to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Good,” Catherine replied and proceeded to head for the door.  “See you guys,”
she called over her shoulder.

“Good luck,” Warrick called after her.   Nick tried to speak, but instead just
managed to cough.




Catherine walked to Grissom’s office as fast as her legs would take her. 
Whatever was going on, and she was almost positive what the conversation was
going to be about, she just wanted to get it over with.   Mostly, Catherine just
wanted to go home, take a foamy bath, and catch a nap before she picked Lindsey
up from her sister’s.   For a fleeting moment, she even thought she might swing
by Sara’s again.  But she’d only be answered by a deafening silence through the
door so what was the point, really.

When she finally found herself outside of the open door, Catherine took a long
hard deep breath, closed her eyes, and nodded to herself in encouragement before
venturing inside.

“You wanted to see me,” she said, taking a few steps into Grissom’s office.

“Sit,” Grissom commanded, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

“What’s going on, Gil?” Catherine asked, slightly confused and mostly anxious as
she took the chair in front of the desk.

“Sara’s coming back tomorrow,” he said folding his hands on top of his desk.

“I know,” Catherine replied, crossing her legs and leaning back.

“Warrick’s in court for a few days.”

“Yeah, I know that too.”

“Nick’s out with the flu until his doctor gives him the okay to come back.”

“I kinda figured with the whole coughing, sneezing, phlegmy mess he’s been the
past couple days.”

“And I’ve been called as a last minute speaker at the forensics conference in
Chicago ,” Grissom said, looking at Catherine almost sideways.   “I’m leaving in
about three hours.”

Catherine felt her jaw open slowly and close again.   This happened a few times,
her brain still trying to register what that all meant.  Grissom was no help.  
He just sat there gauging her reaction and still looking a little less than
happy at the moment.

“Not only am I leaving you in charge,” Grissom said after he realized
Catherine’s mouth wasn’t functioning, “but it’s just going to be you and Sara. 
Unless Nick gets a miracle cure and the Vegas County courthouse blows up.”

“I see,” was Catherine’s only reply.   She uncrossed her legs and shifted in her
seat.

“Listen, I know that Sara’s request for extra time off wasn’t about her
injuries,” Grissom stated, catching Catherine’s eyes.   “And I know you know it
too.  Have you talked to her?”

“I’ve tried,” Catherine said, shaking her head.   “She won’t return my calls. 
When I stop by she pretends not to be there, but her car’s in the lot.  And
sometimes I can hear her breathing through the door.   Like she’s just on the
other side, but she’s got too much pride or something to open it.”

“And all this is about what happened in the parking lot at the station?” Grissom
asked with a slight furrowing of his brow.

“I don’t know what else it could be,” Catherine replied, leaning forward to run
a hand through her hair.   She looked up and waited until her eyes connected
with Grissom’s to continue.  “Gil, you know Sara is complex to say the least. 
Add the fact that she’s got enough baggage to keep LAX busy for a couple years
and you’ve got someone who has the potential to lose it at any second.   I think
you’ve learned as much as I have that sometimes Sara’s emotions overwhelm her.”

“And they only end up being her downfall in this field,” Grissom agreed with a
sigh and then shifted back to being very serious.   “Listen to me carefully
Catherine because I’m telling you this in order to keep you on the team.  I
suggest that you two work out whatever problems you have right now at least
enough to get through the next few days.  You will be working together and you
will get along.   Otherwise, you’re both going to be dangerously close to being
out of a job.  I’d rather not lose either of you, but this is getting out of
hand.  Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Catherine answered with a nod, knowing that he was right.  Hell,
Grissom always was right.

“I’m not trying to be a prick, Catherine,” Grissom said, softening up a bit.

“I know that, Gil,” Catherine replied with a small smile.   “I’m sorry this is
so out of control.   By the time you get back, I’ll make sure it’s taken care
of…one way or another,” she added grimly.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile of his own.   “Conrad Ecklie left his numbers
for you in case you need any assistance,” he added, sliding a piece of paper
across the desk to Catherine.   “The entire day shift is on call if you need
help.   I know Ecklie is an ass, but use those numbers if you’re in a jam.”

“I will,” Catherine agreed, pushing off of her chair to stand.

“And I’ll call Greg with my hotel number as soon as I get settled in.  And I’ll
still have my pager on at all times,” Grissom said also standing.

“Don’t worry.  We’ll be fine,” Catherine assured him, starting for the door.  
“Plus, I’ve always got cuffs and a gun,” she called over her shoulder.

“That’s comforting,” Grissom said to himself after she had left.  He slumped
back into his chair and sighed.  He hoped that when he returned to Vegas that
both Sara and Catherine would still be in one piece.

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

Sara drained her sixth beer of the night and called to the bartender for
another.  For two weeks, she hadn’t been at home unless the sun was out.   It’s
the nights that were tough.   It was during the dark hours that her head raced
with thoughts that she couldn’t quite unwrap her mind from.   Thoughts that all
brought her back to one place…outside Catherine’s house watching Newsome kiss
her and drive away.   At least with the loud commotion and music in the dark and
gloomy bar, she couldn’t hear her own thoughts.

So here she was doing the same dance she had done for just about every night
since she had taken another leave of absence from work.   Sara would get there
around ten or eleven and just start drinking.   By the fifth or sixth bottle, a
woman would appear on the stool next to hers.   Blonde, brunette, redhead.   It
always varied and it never mattered.   Sara got another couple of drinks for
free and then got asked the inevitable question.  Would she like some company
tonight?  Honestly, yes she would but it just wasn’t the right kind of company. 
She was still secretly hoping a certain blonde CSI would suddenly appear on
that barstool next to her and that they could just fuck all their problems away.
Sara just wished it was that simple.  It wasn’t.

Tonight like every other night Sara drank a few more beers, turned down the
latest blonde bombshell, and poured herself into a cab.  She had no idea what
time it was when she got home, but it was beginning to get light out.   It was
definitely late…or early.   Somewhere between three and six, she figured.  
Catherine might be out of work by now.   And in less than twenty-four hours,
Sara would be back at work and face to face with the one person that she had
failed to hold onto…the one thing she needed so badly it scared her to death.

Sara stumble out of the elevator on the second floor, sloppy hands keeping the
doors pushed apart so she could take small unsteady steps into the hallway.  Her
head felt light and somehow heavy at the same time.  She knew she needed to make
it into her apartment before passing out.   Once she was inside, any surface was
fair game.

Rounding the corner with her head down searching the pocket of her black leather
jacket for keys, Sara bumped into something hard and fast and quickly found
herself flat on her ass.   Before she could say or do anything a small, strong
hand was reaching down to help her up.  Once on her feet, Sara braced an arm on
the wall next to her to maintain her semi-wobbly balance and her eyes lazily
slid up the figure standing in front of her.   Those boots.   Pants mildly
flared out at the bottom.   That belt buckle looked eerily familiar.   Slight
bulging of the leather jacket on the right side.  A small spray of freckles in
the open V of a curve hugging red silk shirt.   Gentle dipping of delicate skin
in the hollow of an exposed throat.  Treacherous lips that lie.  Sad eyes.

Shit.

“What are you doing to yourself?” those lips asked, hands slowly reaching out
for Sara.  She stepped away quickly, struggling to sober herself up as much as
possible.

“What?  No ‘how have you been’, ‘why didn’t you call’, ‘it’s good to see you’,
pathetically tedious separation clichés you want to start out with first?” Sara
said with the slight fluttering of her eyelids.  Her drowsy eyes opened slowly
soaking in the blue ones in front of her.   “You always go straight for the
jugular, don’t you Catherine?”

“You’re drunk,” Catherine deduced, taking in the sloppy voice and pungent odor
of beer.

“Yes I am,” Sara replied, digging her keys out of her pocket.  “And now if
you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pass out…preferably on a nice comfortable
couch.”

“Back on the couch again?” Catherine asked as Sara moved past her sluggishly.

“Why would I want to sleep in that bed again?” Sara said without turning around.
She was fumbling with the lock and key when Catherine grabbed her roughly and
forced her to turn around.

“What is the matter with you?” Catherine hissed, close to Sara’s face.

“Get the fuck off me, Catherine,” Sara hissed back, through clenched teeth.

“Not until you tell me what I did.”

“Nothing.   You didn’t do a fucking thing.”

“Is all this about what I said at the station?” Catherine asked, not letting up
her grip on Sara’s arms and feeling the young woman tense under her touch.

“I think maybe it’s a little bit more than that,” Sara replied, clenching and
unclenching her fists at her sides.   “I think maybe it has something to do with
what happened a couple hours after that.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Catherine asked, confused.  Great, Sara
thought, now she’s going to act stupid.  Lie, Catherine, lie.

“Figure it out,” Sara spat at her and pushed Catherine hard, breaking their
contact and causing Catherine to stumble before getting her balance.

“You’re destroying yourself,” Catherine said pointedly, staring into dark cold
eyes that were threatening to destroy their owner.   They were beginning to
water around the edges.

“No,” Sara replied with a strained sigh.   “I’m just trying to forget you,
Catherine.   It’s easier this way,” she added and turned back to the door to her
apartment.  She concentrated through unshed tears and finally got the key into
the lock.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder at Catherine and quickly
walked into her apartment.

Catherine stood still; teeth clenched in anger, and was met with the slamming of
a heavy wooden door.   She shook her head, defeated, and began to walk away.  
She still had no idea what Sara was talking about, but tomorrow she was
determined to find out.

Twenty feet away, Sara collapsed on her couch still fully dressed.  Leather on
leather making creasing noises, hands clawing at her eyes in an effort to get
the tears to hold back.   She shut her eyes tight, tears still escaping out the
corners and let the sudden wave of drunken exhaustion carry her into a dreamless
sleep.

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

Sara showed up at CSI a half hour late and headed straight for the break room to
get a cup of coffee.   She ducked past Grissom’s office and breathed a sigh of
relief when she saw the door was closed and the lights were off.   About three
yards away from the break room, the relief exited her body like it couldn’t get
away fast enough.   She swallowed hard and tried to push the nausea and wobbly
stomach out of her mind.

“You’re late,” Catherine said, moving past Sara and into the break room without
looking at her.   Sara followed quietly, hands shoved in her pockets for
balance.

“Yeah, well…” she began.   “I bet Grissom’s ready to give it to me.”

“He would be if he were here,” Catherine replied, pouring two cups of coffee and
turning back to Sara.

“What are you talking about?” Sara asked , taking the coffee Catherine was
holding out to her.

“That’s what I came to tell you last night, actually.”

“And here I thought you came by just to give me shit.”

“Listen,” Catherine said in a firm voice, “we’re at work now.  You can hate me
all you want when we clock out, but right now we’ve got a job to do.”

“I don’t hate you, Catherine,” Sara replied, dropping her eyes to her coffee cup
and trying to peer through the blackness and burn a whole through the bottom
with her eyes.  “So, Grissom’s not here and I’m assuming you’re in charge. 
Where’s everyone else?”

“Warrick’s in court and Nick has a nasty case of the flu,” Catherine said,
draining her coffee and tossing the empty cup into the trash.

“So, it’s just me and you,” Sara said, adding two and two and almost physically
wincing when she realized she’d be working side by side with Catherine for a few
days at least.

“Unfortunately for you, yes,” Catherine said, looking Sara directly in the eye
and then walking past her and towards the door.   “You coming?   We’ve got a
fresh crime scene.”

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

“You’ve lost weight,” Catherine said as she drove the Tahoe to the crime scene
Brass had called her from.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Sara said, eyes focused on the hard glass of the window next
to her.

“When’s the last time you ate something that didn’t come in a bottle?”

“Couple hours before I saw you kissing Paul Newsome,” Sara replied flatly, her
body slamming into the door hard as Catherine nearly drove the truck off of the
road.

“What?!?” she said gripping the wheel and pulling them back into the flow of
traffic.  Catherine ignored the horns honking at her and threw a middle finger
out the window for good measure.  “You saw me kissing who?”

“For Christ’s sake, Catherine, I fucking saw you with my own two eyes,” Sara
answered, turning to look at the woman sitting next to her. 

Luckily, they pulled up to the crime scene about thirty seconds later. 
Catherine threw the truck into park and Sara already had one hand on the door
handle.   Catherine reached over and grabbed the arm of her jacket to stop her.

“Sara, we’re going to talk about this,” she demanded.   “Whatever you saw, I
promise you is not what you think it is.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Sara said turning to look at Catherine and
catching eyes that were screaming from the hurt they were exposing.

“I never do,” Catherine said in a low, piercing tone.

“This isn’t the time, Catherine.   And I really don’t think I can take it right
now, anyway,” Sara said, pulling away her arm slowly.  “We’ve got a scene to
work,” she added and slipped out of the car and into the cool night air.  She
breathed deeply, grateful for a space that wasn’t suffocating.   She saw
Catherine walking towards Brass and started to follow.

The crime scene was located pretty far out in the desert behind an old,
abandoned warehouse.  The blue and red light were flashing almost psychotically,
the scene riddled with plain clothes and uniformed officers.   There were too
many people there.   One word kept repeating in Catherine’s head.  
Contamination.   She wanted to make a good impression with Grissom, the higher
ups, her peers.  A contaminated crime scene didn’t figure into that equation.

Brass turned to Catherine to address her and she held a hand up and walked past
him saying, “Just a second.”

“Hey,” she called loudly to the crowd milling around the small square of barren
land.  When all eyes and ears focused on her, Catherine continued in a harsh and
demanding tone.

“Everyone here, leave,” she barked.   “You’re contaminating my crime scene.   Go
drink your coffee and socialize somewhere else.”

There were a handful of grunts and snide remarks, but the collection of officers
eventually did as they were told.   Catherine walked through the sea of bodies,
against the current and made her way over to the victim.  Brass smiled and
chuckled to himself.  Sara looked at Catherine and smiled in spite of herself
and her feelings.   She just wasn’t able to stop herself from acknowledging how
completely sexy Catherine was when she was in command.

“What do we have, Jim?” Catherine asked , placing her case down next to the body
of a blonde woman dressed in nothing but a towel.

“Caucasian female, most likely early thirties,” he said flipping through his
black notepad as he approached the body, Sara a few steps behind him.

“Most likely?” Catherine asked, peering down at the victim and assessing the
wounds in plain sight.

“No ID,” Brass answered.

“No ID, but she’s wearing a diamond accented Rolex,” Sara commented, kneeling
down and turning the watch over in her gloved hand.

“We can rule out robbery,” Catherine commented, catching Sara’s eyes and holding
them when she wasn’t met with complete disgust.

Whatever was going on between them was fading, even if just for the time being. 
They were doing what they did best and nothing could get in their way.   They
were a good team and they knew it.   Sara pulled her eyes away first and picked
up what looked like sand in her right hand.  She felt it for a minute and let it
slip through her fingers.

“We managed to isolate two distinct sets of footprints over here,” Brass was
saying, pointing to a small stretch of dirt a few feet away from the body. 
“They weren’t contaminated, I assure you,” he said as Catherine walked over to
photograph them.   Once she clicked off a few pictures, she turned back to Sara.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“It’s not sand,” Sara replied, motioning to the dusty substance around the body.
“It feels thicker, looks a little lighter,” she said bringing a handful to her
nose and sniffing it.  “I think it’s salt,” she added with a slightly odd
expression.

“That would make sense,” Brass said.   “This place was a beach up until about
five years ago.   Water’s about fifty yards or so that way,” he said, pointing
in the direction behind the body.

“Bag some,” Catherine instructed and Sara obliged.   Catherine titled the
woman’s head to the side and observed a large, almost gaping head wound.  “Blunt
force trauma,” she said.

“She didn’t die here,” Sara said, examining the wound and the absence of fluids
around the body.   “She bled out somewhere else.  This crime scene is secondary,
at best.”

“Dammit,” Catherine said under her breath.   “More work for us.”

“She was most likely dragged to this spot,” Brass said, motioning to the
disturbed salt mixture leading up to the body.   “By the time all four units got
here, there were no discernable tire treads left to isolate.  Sorry.”

“She was married,” Sara commented, lifting up the victim’s left hand and showing
Catherine the thin gold wedding band and massive diamond ring. 

“Quite the rock,” Catherine said.   “I’d say at least five carats.”

“So, we’re not dealing with Suzie Homemaker here,” Brass commented.

Catherine took a few more pictures while Sara continued to check out the body.
She started at the woman’s head and went down from there.  There were no signs
of a struggle, no material under the fingernails.  Near the victim’s hips, on
either side, she noticed two rough circular imprints.   About two feet further
down, she noticed two sharp linear imprints.   There was something shiny
sticking out of one.   Taking out a plastic bag and tweezers, Sara reached in to
grab the object.

“Catherine, check this out,” Sara said, forgetting about their animosity and
working with her closely.   When Catherine knelt down next to her, Sara could
feel the heat flowing from her body.  She could smell Catherine’s sweet perfume,
the saltiness of her skin.   She almost forgot the evidence she was supposed to
be concentrating on.

“What is it?” Catherine asked, peering at the silver plated v-shaped item that
Sara had just slipped into an evidence bag and was sealing.

“I have no idea,” Sara answered and motioned to the circular imprints.  “What do
you think those are?” she asked pushing her knee into the ground and standing.  
She looked down at the impression her knee had just made at the same time
Catherine did.  Their eyes went back to the circular impression near the body
simultaneously.

“Knee prints,” they said in unison and it caused them both to laugh a little. 

“One on either side,” Catherine commented and then took a few more pictures. 
“Kneeling over her.”

“But for what?” Sara asked, a hand draped lazily on her hip.

“Let’s get her back to the lab and find out,” Catherine said, bagging the watch
and rings before heading to the truck, Sara and Brass flanked on either side of
her.

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

“What’s up, Doc?” Catherine asked, walking through the swinging doors and into
the autopsy room.

“Catherine,” he said with a smile.   “Always a pleasure.”

“Finish the post mortem on our Jane Doe yet?”

“Have I ever let you down before?” Doc Robbins asked, pulling the sheet down and
exposing the young woman’s head only.  

“Cause of death?” Catherine asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“At first glance, you’d think blunt force trauma right?” the Doc asked.

“Judging by the massive head injury, I’d say yes,” Catherine replied.

“Well, about half an hour into my exam the body started to lose more heat and
look what surfaced,” the white haired man said pulling the sheet down to the
woman’s shoulders and revealing bruising around the her throat.  The purple
discoloration was harsh against the pasty backdrop of the corpse’s skin.  

“Manual strangulation?” Catherine asked, noticing the outline of fingers and
joints.

“That’s right,” he replied.   “Crushed larynx, burst blood vessels in the eyes,
blue discoloration in the lips.  The head wound didn’t kill her, but I did find
some hard white fragments in the wound.   I sent them up to trace.”

“You pull any prints from the neck area?”

“Catherine, do you know how hard it is to pull workable prints off of skin?”

“I take that as a no.”

“I said it was hard,” Doc Robbins replied with a smile.   “I didn’t say it was
impossible.   I sent them up with the other evidence I managed to pull.”

“Any signs of rape?” Catherine asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.   “I estimate time of death about eleven last
night.   She definitely had sex close to that time, but there are no signs of
forced entry.   I sent the seminal fluid up to DNA about an hour ago.”

“Do you know how close I am to throwing you on this table and making you the
happiest man alive, Doc?” Catherine teased with a sly grin, causing the older
man to blush slightly.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Thanks,” Catherine said, turning and making her way back up to the lab.  She
saw Sara when she was on her way to check out the footprints and noticed her
carrying an evidence bag of her own.

“You aren’t stealing watches now, are you?” she asked, stopping to stand in
front of the taller woman.

“Only after I’m done tracing it,” Sara replied with a smirk.

“Tracing it?”

“Yeah,” Sara explained.   “Usually when you buy a watch that costs more than a
Lexus, you register it.  Sometimes have it insured.   I’m hoping our vic was
that smart and maybe we can find out who she is.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you fit that big brain of yours into that small head,”
Catherine said with a smile.   Sara’s lips began to curl into a smile, but it
quickly became awkward and the two parted ways.  “I’m going to try and get a
make on these footprints.   Page me if you get a hit on the watch,” Catherine
called to Sara before disappearing into the DNA lab.

“Aye mamasita, you are looking mighty fine this evening,” Greg directed at
Catherine as she strolled into the lab.   She looked less than thrilled at his
comment.

“Cut the shit, Greg, before you get fired for sexual harassment,” she said
pointedly.

“Geez, no one can take a compliment anymore,” he replied, tugging on his lab
coat.  “I said the same thing to Sara a couple minutes ago and she nearly ripped
my head off.   Is she okay?   I mean, she’s looking a little peaked.”

“She’s fine, Greg,” Catherine lied.   “Just a little tired, I suppose.   Did you
run the test on the semen yet?”

“Affirmative, boss,” the young man said, lifting two pieces of paper off of his
workspace.  “There were two different contributions of seminal fluid in the
sample Doc Robbins sent up.  Your vic was a busy girl yesterday.”

“Great,” Catherine sighed.   “Thanks, Greg.”

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

After looking through the database for shoe treads for an hour, Catherine was
almost jubilant when she felt her pager go off.   It was Sara and she was on her
way.   A few seconds later, the brunette rushed into the computer lab nearly
breaking the door off its hinges.

“I got a match on the Rolex,” she announced with a smile.   “She had it insured
last year for about twenty grand.   Victoria Miles, age thirty-two.  Owns her
own Public Relations firm out of Reno.   Husband’s name is Roger.  I’ve got the
address right here,” she said, handing over the paper to Catherine.   “How bout
you?”

“Nothing much,” Catherine replied, running a tired hand through her hair. 
“First print is a running shoe; probably Adidas but I can’t be a hundred
percent.   The impressions weren’t deep enough to get a clear read.   The
second, I have no clue.  But I think by the separation between heel and body
that it’s probably some kind of boot.”

“Yeah, I’d go with that too,” Sara said leaning over Catherine’s shoulder to
look at the photograph.

Startled by Sara’s voice so close to her ear, Catherine quickly turned her head
and was met by a dark gaze.   Without even thinking, just doing what felt
natural, the blonde woman leaned over and pressed her lips to Sara’s firmly and
after a split second she felt Sara’s lips apply pressure back to her own.  
Feeling that maybe it was okay, Catherine started to part her lips.   Sara
stepped back suddenly, shaking her head and breaking their intimate contact.

“Don’t, Catherine,” she warned.

“I’m sorry,” the older woman apologized.   “I didn’t even realize…”

“I know, me neither,” Sara replied.  “But we can’t right now.   I can’t right
now,” she said, her voice threatening to crack.

“Okay, we’ll talk about this later,” Catherine said, backing down.  “I’ll call
Brass and we can go talk to the husband.”

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

Not an hour later, the two women and Captain Brass were standing in Roger Miles’
posh living room watching the very large man sit on his couch and cry like a
baby.  Very large meant just that.  Roger Miles was in his early fifties and was
about six and a half feet tall.   He weighed in at over three hundred pounds and
was dressed in one of the finest suits Versace had ever made.   Boy, that must
have been a lot of material.   He didn’t look a day over forty, except for the
slight receding hairline and the spots of gray scattered throughout.   The
retired stockbroker looked up at the three law enforcement agents and wiped his
eyes with the back of his shirt sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly.   “Here I am embarrassing myself.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Catherine responded.

“We know this is a hard time for you, Mr. Miles,” Brass said.  “But we need to
ask you some questions.”

“Anything,” Miles replied, quickly.

“Do you know anyone who would want to harm your wife in any way?” Brass asked.

“God no,” Miles said.   “She was in PR.  Everybody loved her.  She was
incredible, ran her own firm,” he added.
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“How long had you two been married?”

“Going on seven years now.”

“This is your second marriage, Mr. Miles?” Catherine asked gently.

“Yes.  My first wife died of cancer fifteen years ago.”

“Did you know Victoria was having an affair?” Sara interjected, wanting to get
to the point.   Roger Miles sat almost frozen, mouth slightly ajar.

“I had my suspicions,” he deadpanned, eyes suddenly filling with anger instead
of loss.  “I hired a private investigator about six months ago.   He assured me
my suspicions were wrong.”

“We’re going to need this PI’s name,” Brass stated.

“Sure.  His name is Caleb Sands.  He works out of Vegas.”

“Where were you last night around eleven PM, Mr. Miles?” Brass asked.

“My son and I were having dinner last night.”
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“Until what time?”

“I’m not sure.  Late,” Miles answered, annoyance starting to make itself evident
in his voice.

“We’d like to talk to your son also,” Catherine said.

“He’ll be back tomorrow.   You can come back then if you’d like.”

“Good enough,” Brass said closing his notepad.   “Oh and one last thing.   We’re
going to need a sample of your blood and fingerprints,” he added holding out a
folded piece of paper.   “We’ve got a warrant.”




“What do you think of the husband?” Brass asked as they made their way to the
front door of Caleb Sands’ apartment building.

“I don’t know,” Catherine said.   “I get a feeling he’s hiding something, but my
instincts say he didn’t do it.”

“Oh, come on,” Sara challenged.   “He knew she was having an affair.   Older
man, younger woman.   He was probably jealous as all hell.   Poor guy supplied
her with everything she wanted and she just shit all over him.”

“It’s good to know you’re going at this case with an open mind,” Catherine
criticized just as they arrived at Sands’ door.   Brass knocked.

“Vegas PD, open up,” he said loudly.  There was a rustling and then the sliding
of two locks.  Finally the door opened.  “Caleb Sands?” Brass asked holding up
his badge.

“That would be me,” Sands replied with a half smile.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Brass said.

“Come on in,” Sands offered, opening the door with his foot and allowing them
passage.  Once they were all inside, he closed the door and turned to them.

Caleb Sands was about five foot eight tops and had curly black hair.  He wore
thin rimmed glasses and three day old scruff on his face.  A loud Hawaiian shirt
covered a muscular upper body and dirty jeans and sneakers covered the rest of
him.  But the thing that was drawing Catherine and Sara’s eyes to him was the
way his left arm was curled into his side, and sitting motionless.

“Football injury,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of his dead arm. 
“I was all state in High School.  Senior year I took a nasty tackle.  I was
paralyzed for almost a year.  This is my only lasting injury.  That and no
chance for college.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Brass recovered for the two CSIs.   “We need to talk to
you about Victoria Miles.”

“What about her?”

“We were told you were hired to follow her by her husband,” Catherine said.

“That’s right,” Sands replied.   “Guy was convinced his old lady was stepping
out on him.   I followed her for months.  Not a damn thing.  You ask me, I think
he just wanted to get out of paying her alimony.”

“They were getting a divorce?” Catherine asked, confused.

“I really don’t know,” Sands answered.   “Usually that’s why people hire me.  
They want proof of deception that will stand up in court.   Adultery is the best
defense if your spouse is trying to get away with your money.  Victoria Miles
was a nice lady from what I saw.  Three or four times a month she’d check into a
little motel off the strip.   She'd take in a bottle of wine and a book.   Few
hours later, she’d go home.  No one came or left that room before or after she
rented it.   Just lonely, if you as me.”

“Yeah, well now she’s dead,” Brass said.

“What?”

“She was murdered last night.”

“Which motel was it?” Sara asked.

“Ming’s Lodging,” Sands answered.   “Quiet, out of the way place.”

“What kind of shoes are those you’re wearing?” Catherine asked, looking down at
tattered black and green running shoes.

“Adidas.”

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

“You like the PI, don’t you?” Sara asked as Catherine drove them back to CSI.

“I’m leaning that way,” she answered, eyes still fixed on the road.  “Bum arm so
he’d have to drag her.  The sneakers.  Following her for so long.  Something
about him just strikes me the wrong way.”

“Motive?” Sara challenged.

“Money,” Catherine replied.   “Husband maybe hired him for more than PI work.”

“I still like the husband,” Sara said, gripping the door handle tightly. 
“Betrayal.  Broken trust.  Those are major motivators.”

“Sara, listen,” Catherine began nervously as they pulled in the parking lot
outside of the lab.  “We need to talk about what you said earlier.”

“Just forget about it,” Sara interrupted her quickly.

“No, I won’t,” the blonde said, parking the truck and cutting the ignition. 
When Sara reached for the door, Catherine hit the automatic lock button.   She
was trapped.

“Catherine,” she hissed, more sad that angry.

“Do you think I’m cheating on you?” Catherine asked, getting right to the point.
She saw Sara’s shoulders tense, body still pointed at the door.   “Look at me,”
she added, placing a firm hand on Sara’s arm.

“No,” Sara defied her.   “I saw you two at your house the night we had that
fight,” she explained without turning around.

“You were spying on me?” Catherine accused.   Sara turned around, anger etched
across her face.

“I came to your house to apologize to you for being such a fucking asshole, for
being so goddamned insecure that I couldn’t see the best thing that ever
happened to me was standing right in front of my face,” she said in a raised
voice.

“Sara…”

“No, let me finish.  You wanted to do this,” Sara said, staring Catherine down. 
“You can imagine my surprise when Paul Newsome comes out of your house, hugs
you, and speeds away in his forty thousand dollar car waving out the window at
you.  Out of all the things you could have done to me Catherine, that was the
worst.  I trusted you with my feelings…with all of me.  And you just pissed that
all away,” she finished in a hushed tone, her chest tight and heavy.

“Did you ever stop to think that what you saw wasn’t what it seemed?” Catherine
asked, feeling anger creep into every crevice of her body.

“Spare me your bullshit stories,” Sara countered loudly.   “Your excuses, your
explanations, your lies…”

“I have never lied to you!” Catherine screamed back at her.   “You never want to
believe me, Sara, and that’s your fucking problem.   Paul came over to my house
and wanted to see me again and do you know what I told him?!?”

“I don’t fucking care, Catherine,” Sara spat at her, feeling her heart start to
break all over again.

“Who’s the liar now?” Catherine countered, seeing Sara’s face go pale.  “You can
say whatever you want, but your eyes will never lie Sara.   Your body will never
lie,” she said, her eyes burning into Sara’s as she quickly leaned over and
crushed her lips against the startled woman’s searingly.

Catherine kissed her roughly, passionately, forcing her tongue past Sara’s lips
and into the warm cocoon of her mouth.   Sara’s tongue pushed back, giving into
the kiss in spite of herself…in spite of the doubt and emotions running through
her head.   With her mind shut down and Catherine’s lips on her own, she had
never felt more secure…and more afraid.  And suddenly that security was torn
away from her.   Catherine pulled away and ended the tangle of lips and tongues
just as quickly as she had started it.

“When you decide you want to talk,” she said to Sara firmly, the brunette still
struggling to catch her breath.    “When you decide you want to hear what I’m
saying…when you decide you want to believe in what I’m telling you, you come to
me.   This is the last time I bring it up.   The last time I try so hard to fix
this when I don’t even know if you want it to work.”

With that, Catherine slipped out of the Tahoe and left Sara slumped against the
passenger side door, her head pounding and her heart racing so fast she thought
it was going to burst through her chest.

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

Immediately after the next night’s shift started, Catherine was in the DNA lab
hoping Greg would have the evidence to break the case.   She really didn’t think
it was the husband, but if it was then it would be a neat open and shut case. 

“Tell me you got a hit on something,” Catherine pleaded with the young man.

“I got a hit on something,” Greg replied and quickly added, “sort of.”

“What are you talking about, Greg?”

“Husband’s DNA has markers similar to one of the seminal samples from your vic,
but it’s not as dead on as I’d like it to be,” he replied.  “In all probability
it’s most likely his, but we’re not talking nine trillion to one here.”

“Any word on the prints?” she asked.

“Definitely not a match,” Sara said, appearing in the doorway with a cup of
coffee.  She was wearing yesterday’s clothes and her hair was pulled back
sloppily.

“Have you been here since last night?” Catherine asked the weary young woman. 
Sara tried to stifle a yawn.

“I found her passed out in the print lab when I got in this afternoon,” Greg
answered for her.   “You should have seen it.  It was so cute.  The snoring and
the drool.”

“Shut the fuck up, Greg,” Sara said with a forced smile.   “Do you have the
results on my funky white shit from the head wound yet?”

“You do snore, you know,” Catherine commented as Greg hustled over to his sort
of desk to get Sara’s paperwork.   There was a softness in Sara’s tired eyes
that Catherine recognized and smiled at.   Sara looked down, but not before
Catherine saw the small smile creep onto her face.

“Survey says ceramic or porcelain,” Greg said handing Sara her results. 
“Consistent with material used to make bathroom fixtures.  Tubs, sinks, stuff
like that.”

“That would explain the towel,” Catherine said, stepping past Sara into the
hallway.  Sara followed her.

“Hey, no problem,” Greg called after them and shook his head.

“So I guess you were right about the husband,” Sara commented as she and
Catherine walked down the hallway.   “I guess everything isn’t what it seems on
the surface.”

“You’re quite knowledgeable for your age,” Catherine joked.

“I’ve had some time to think,” Sara replied.   “In between the drooling and
snoring, of course,” she added with a grin, still keeping her eyes straight
ahead.

“You want to get a room?” Catherine asked, tilting her head to look at Sara and
was rewarded with a genuine smile and chuckle.




Half an hour later, they were standing the office at Ming’s Lodging.  It was a
small motel, and eerily quiet.  If people were getting it on there, they sure
weren’t making a lot of noise.   The manager was a short Chinese man named Mr.
Chen.   He was jovial and more than cooperative.

“Do you remember a woman named Victoria Miles?” Catherine asked.  “She would
have been here a few times a month.  Always paid with a Corporate Visa card.”

“Of course,” Mr. Chen replied.   “Miss Miles was very nice.  She never stayed
the whole night and she left the room exactly as it was when she entered it.”

“How about this man?” Catherine asked, pushing a photo of Caleb Sands to Mr.
Chen.   “Do you remember seeing him here?”

“Oh yes,” Mr. Chen answered.   “He come with Miss Miles the last few times.”

“What do you mean with her?” Sara asked.

“They come in together.   He pay for room,” Mr. Chen replied with a sour look on
his face.  

“You didn’t like him?” Catherine asked, reading his face.   Mr. Chen shook his
head.

“The last time he was here, two days ago, he left an awful mess in the
bathroom,” the short man explained.   “Broke the sink.   I had to charge his
credit card.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chen,” Catherine said with a grin.


Sara drove back to CSI while Catherine called Brass and told him to get a
warrant for Sands’ DNA, prints, and shoes and to meet her at his apartment.  His
credit card records were waiting for her up in the lab.   Sara decided to talk
to the son while Catherine and Brass hammered Caleb Sands for information.  It
never hurt to cover all your bases.

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

Sara found Alex Miles sitting by the pool in the back of the Miles estate
drinking a forty ounce of Heineken.   Where his father was big, Alex was toned. 
He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, but he was still far too old to be
Victoria’s son.  

“My Dad said you’d be coming tonight,” he said as Sara approached the area where
he was sitting and took a seat on the recliner next to his.

“I just need to ask you a couple of questions,” Sara addressed the young man.

“Ask away,” he said, taking a swig of his beer.

“What time did you and your father get home from dinner the other night?”

“About ten.   I went down to Doyle’s Pub to knock back a few.   As far as I
know, my Dad was waiting for Vicki to get home.”

“How was your relationship with her, her being your stepmom and all?”

“When my Mom died, Dad had the endless trail of twenty year old bimbo
girlfriends just with him because of his money,” Alex explained.   “Vicki was
different.  She owned her own business before she even met my Dad.   I admired
that about her.  She wasn’t in it for the money.  She had some of her own.”

“It says here that you worked for her?” Sara asked, reading through Brass’
notes.

“I graduated from Texas A&M last year.  I still have no idea what I want to do
so Vicki hooked me up with a job at her firm.”

“Did you know that the firm was having major financial difficulties?  That she
was very close to losing all she had?”

“No, I had no idea,” Alex replied, not quite pulling off the lie and Sara knew
it.

“A co-worker said she heard you and Vicki in her office yelling at each other
just days before she was killed,” Sara accused.

“Listen,” Alex said defensively, his temper starting to flair.  “It doesn’t take
a genius to figure out Vicki was cheating on my Dad.   But we were still close. 
She was going to divorce him and I was trying to talk her out of it.”

“Did your father know about her plans?”

“God no,” Alex replied, standing.   “My Dad had nothing to do with what happened
to Vicki.  He wouldn’t do that.  He couldn’t.”

“Thanks for your time, Alex,” Sara said, and left him to drown his sorrows in
his drink.




She arrived at the Vegas Police Station just in time for Caleb Sands
interrogation.  Sara entered the room as Brass and Catherine were standing back
and talking quietly amongst themselves.   Catherine nodded at her right before
she turned to the nervous man sitting at the table.

“You want to tell us what’s going on, Mr. Sands?” she asked.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“We’ve matched your DNA to the semen found in Victoria Miles at the time of her
death,” Brass commented.

“You wrecked Mr. Chin’s bathroom, Caleb,” Catherine said, leaning forward to
address him.  “Fragments from the sink were found imbedded in Victoria Miles’
skull.”

“I’m sure once we hit that place with Luminol, it’ll light up like a Christmas
tree,” Sara said, getting in on the interrogation.

“Maybe if you cooperate, we’ll see if we can’t work something out,” Brass lied.

“I didn’t kill her,” Sands said, terror in his voice.

“The evidence is mounting against you, Mr. Sands,” Catherine said.  “Once we’ve
matched your prints to the ones taken from around Mrs. Miles’ neck, you’ll be
lucky to get off with life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What?  She wouldn’t leave her husband for you so you strangled her to death?”
Sara asked pointedly.

“What?  No,” Sands demanded, shifting nervously in his chair.

“No, you weren’t having an affair with her?” Brass asked roughly.

“No,” Sands replied.  “I mean, yes I was having an affair with her.   But I
didn’t strangle her.”

“What happened, Caleb?” Catherine asked, sitting down in front of him.

“She wasn’t cheating on Roger until we met,” he explained.   “She caught me
following her one night and started talking to me.   Vicki was the loneliest
person I had ever met.   She was empty inside, unhappy.  Said for once she felt
alive…when she was with me.

“The night she died, we slept together.   She needed to get back to Roger
because he was having dinner with his son so there wasn’t much time.  Vicki was
always in a hurry.  I was watching tv when I heard a crash come from the
bathroom.  By the time I got there it was too late.

“She slipped on a pool of water in the middle of the floor from the shower leak.
Hit her head so hard it cracked the sink in half almost.   God, there was so
much blood,” Sands sobbed.   “I didn’t know what else to do so I cleaned up the
mess and dumped her in the desert.  I just dropped her and I didn’t even look
back.”

“I don’t think you’re telling us everything, Mr. Sands,” Brass prodded in an
angry tone.

“But I am,” he replied, crying.   “It wasn’t my fault.  I didn’t want her dead. 
I wanted to marry her.”

Catherine was about to say something offhand when her cell phone rang.  She
stepped back and flipped it open.  A few seconds later she slammed it off and
banged her fist against the wall.   Sara walked over to her and spoke in a low
voice.

“What’s going on?”

“That was Greg,” she explained.   “Sands’ DNA was a match…”

“But the prints weren’t,” Sara finished for her.

“He’s telling the truth.   He didn’t kill her,” she said and turned back to
Brass.   “Keep him here until I call you,” Catherine instructed and then turned
to Sands.  “You move and I’ll have you convicted of murder before you can say
‘wrongfully accused’.”

Sara followed the smoke trail left by Catherine’s feet hitting the pavement with
such speed.


“Greg, run the prints again,” Catherine demanded back at the lab.

“Catherine, we already ran them half a dozen times,” he explained.  “They’re not
a match.”

“Fuck,” she cursed and rested her hands on her hips.   Catherine relaxed only
when she felt Sara’s strong hands kneading her shoulder muscles.

“So we’ve got a husband who has motive and no evidence,” Sara said aloud.  “A
boyfriend who says it was an accident and no real evidence.”

“And a dead woman who hasn’t been able to tell us one thing that makes absolute
sense,” Catherine finished for her and leaned back closer to Sara.  She was
pleased when Sara didn’t move away.

Sara’s eyes flicked over in Greg’s direction and froze on the tile at his feet.

“Where did you get those boots?” she asked, kneeling down to examine one closer.
Catherine followed her eyes and stepped closer.

“Nick’s locker,” Greg replied.   “Aren’t they cool?  He went to school in Texas,
you know,” he said explaining why he was wearing a pair of studded cowboy boots
with pointy soles. 

“What were you doing in Nick’s locker?” Catherine asked, skeptically.

“He asked me to get some things for him cuz he’s gonna be out for a couple more
days,” Greg said innocently.

Sara tapped her finger on the v-shaped silver reinforcement of the toe area of
one of the boots and got up quickly.

“I know someone else that went to school in Texas,” she said, “and I think he
forgot something at the crime scene.”

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

Roger Miles stood with two detectives on the other side of the reflective glass
of the interrogation room at the Vegas police station.   He watched in a quiet
nervousness as two women and a stout man entered the room and approached his
son, who was leaning back in his chair and looking as smug as he did the day he
was brought into this world.   One detective flipped a switch near the glass
window and voices suddenly flooded the room.

“Can I go home now?” Alex asked as Catherine and Sara sat down across the table
from him.

“Sure,” Catherine replied.   “As soon as you tell us why you did it.”

“Fuck you, lady,” Alex replied, angrily standing up and sending his chair
careening backwards.   “Where’s my fucking lawyer?”

“On his way,” Brass said.

“Now why don’t you sit down before I have to throw you over my knee and give you
the spanking you’ve needed since the day you were born,” Catherine commented
with a menacing smile.

“I could enjoy that,” Alex replied, giving Catherine the once over before
sitting back down.  “I always did like older women.”

Sara couldn’t decide whether she wanted to laugh a little or reach across the
table and strangle the rich little bastard.   She gritted her teeth and began
leaning forward.   Catherine’s hand on her knee under the table stopped her.  
Sara composed herself quickly and motioned to Brass over Catherine’s head.  The
captain threw an evidence bag on the table.

“Are these your pants?” Sara asked the young man seated across from her.

“So what if they are,” he replied.   “Wanna borrow em, butch?”  On the other
side of the glass, Roger Miles was ashamed that someone carrying his name would
project himself in such a manner.

“Actually, allow me to take you through Crime Scene 101,” Sara answered,
grabbing the bag.  “When a person commits a crime two things always happen.  
First he takes something from the scene away with him,” she said motioning to
the material in the bag.  “There are trace deposits of salt on the knee areas of
your black jeans.”

“I was at the pub when you say Vicki died,” Alex said smugly.

“The evidence tells a different story,” Catherine replied firmly.

She slid a glossy photograph of Victoria Miles dead body across the table.  Alex
Miles’ eyes slid over it slowly, memorizing each detail that he already knew so
well.

“At first we were all over the PI, Caleb Sands,” she explained.  “But your
stepmother was strangled, Alex.  And Caleb Sands only has use of one arm.”

“And strangulation is usually a crime of passion,” Brass commented.

“What’s the second thing?” Alex asked, not looking up.

“What?” Catherine asked.

“What’s the second thing that happens when someone commits a crime?” he directed
at Sara, raising cold eyes to look at her.

“He leaves part of himself behind at the scene,” Sara responded.  “In addition
to seminal fluid that was an exact match,” she continued, producing a clear
plastic evidence bag and holding it in front of him, “you dug your feet into the
ground so hard, you left part of your cowboy boots behind, Tex. ”

“We’d like to see your left shoe, Mr. Miles,” Brass said.

Alex Miles’ cool demeanor was suddenly beginning to crumble.   He closed his
eyes and swallowed hard, reaching down and grabbing his left foot.   He tossed
the boot onto the table in front of Catherine and Sara, revealing a v-shaped
discoloration in the area where the silver accent had once resided.

“Still doesn’t prove I killed her,” the young man commented.

“No, but your fingerprints around her neck do,” Catherine shot back at him,
bagging the boot as evidence.

“So tell me, Alex, how exactly does someone sleep with their father’s wife, kill
her, and feel absolutely no remorse?” Sara asked, leaning forward.

“It’s quite easy, actually,” he replied, flatly.   “I was in love with her
before that fat bastard even married her.   We started sleeping together over
three years ago, whenever I’d come home on break from school.  I wanted her to
leave him, to be with me but she wouldn’t do it.

“Then last week, she tells me she is going to divorce my father.  But not
because she wants to be with me.    Says she’s met someone else and they’re
going to take my Dad for all he’s worth.  So I followed her.   I saw her with
that low class low life Sands and I’d never wanted to hurt someone so much in my
life.

“A couple days ago I went to go talk to Vicki, to catch her on her way out of
the motel.  Instead I saw him drag her into his car; dump her body in the
desert.   I wanted to make sure she was really dead so I walked over to her
body.  Only I saw her moving.   I felt her pulse.  And I was so happy,” he said
looking from Catherine to Sara and then to the glass behind them.  “Not because
she was alive, but because I’d get to be the one to take the life from her.   I
squeezed so hard I thought I was going to pop her head off her body and I had
never felt so satisfied.”

Roger Miles stared into the eyes of his son, the eyes of a killer, the eyes of
Judas.   He turned from the glass and walked to the exit door of the hidden
room.

“Mr. Miles, will you be providing your son’s legal representation?” the DA asked
him.

“I no longer have a son,” he said without turning around and walked out of the
room.

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

After Sara had gathered her things, she headed to the parking lot.  She spent
the next ten minutes looking for Catherine’s car and came up empty handed.  
Sara couldn’t blame her really.  For all that was going on between them lately,
it all mainly being Sara’s fault, she wouldn’t want to talk to herself either.

“Need a ride, woman?” Greg asked coming up behind her.   “It’s only a death trap
if you keep your eyes open,” he added with a smile.

“Thanks Greg, but I’m all set,” Sara replied.   “Have you seen Catherine?”

“Left about half hour ago,” he answered, adjusting his backpack.  Sara nodded
and looked down at her hands, slightly disappointed.

“Sara, you think maybe you wanna go out with me sometime?” Greg said so fast he
almost didn’t understand himself.   “Like on a date,” he added shyly.

“Greg, I’m flattered, really,” Sara said, feeling slightly awkward and honored
at the same time.  “And I’d love to, but I’m sort of involved with someone right
now.”

“Oh,” Greg said, raising his eyebrows.   “I’m sorry.  I had no idea,” he
apologized.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.   I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” she replied,
touching his arm gently.

“Speaking of secrets,” he said quickly.   “I need to get over to Nick’s.” 

Sara watched him retreat towards his car and turn to address her once more.

“Hey Sara,” he called at her.   “So is this guy better looking than me or what?”
he asked with a smile.

“Ask Catherine,” Sara called back at him, turning to find her own wheels and
take them over to Catherine’s house.




Sara gently opened the screen door at the front of Catherine’s house and rapped
on the front door gently.   Peaking her head through the glass windows to her
left, she saw the blonde woman come out of the side room.   Her shirt was
untucked and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.   Catherine peered back at
Sara through the small windows and quickly unlocked the door.  She opened it
slowly, a finger held up to her lips.

“Come in,” she said in a very low whisper, motioning to Sara with her hand.  “I
just got the little rugrat to go back to sleep,” she explained, closing the door
behind Sara.

“If it’s a bad time…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Catherine cut her off.   “I’ll go put on some coffee. 
Watch out for the toys,” she called over her shoulder softly, bare feet padding
on the linoleum gingerly.

Sara had nearly made it down the hallway to the kitchen, eyes fixed on
Catherine’s weary form measuring the coffee grounds, when she felt something
solid connect with her shin.   She careened into the wall next to her with a
loud thud, gritting her teeth in pain.  Both Catherine and Sara stood absolutely
still for about thirty seconds waiting for a small voice to reveal itself.  When
the little girl was a no show, they both smiled and Sara took a step forward.

“Mommy,” came a voice from behind Sara. 

She saw Catherine’s face drop in exhaustion and quickly turned to look at the
vision behind her.  Lindsey was walking sleepily, one hand rubbing her eyes and
the other holding a stuffed rabbit loosely.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Sara said softly as the little girl continued to walk towards
her slowly.

“Sara,” Lindsey said, suddenly waking up and rushing forward. 

Sara bent down to gather the girl into her arms and squeeze her tightly with one
arm, the other coming around to thrust a bouquet of Sunflowers at the young
girl’s surprised mother. Catherine took them with a smile.

“Points for originality,” she commented as Sara shifted Lindsey to her left hip
snugly.

“Roses are so overdone,” Sara replied.   “I’ll take care of Sleeping Beauty
here.   You go relax.”

“Thank you,” Catherine said warmly, holding Sara’s eyes and seeing the taller
woman smile widely.

“What do you say, munchkinface?” Sara said carrying Lindsey down the hallway to
her room.  “One bedtime story and then you’re back to sleep?”

“Do I get to pick the story?” the little girl asked.

“Of course.”

“Deal,” Lindsey replied.   Catherine heard the exchange from the kitchen and
exhaled slowly.   Maybe Sara was finally coming home.




Forty-five minutes later Sara entered the living room to find Catherine sitting
on the far end of the couch arms hugging one leg as the other rested on a beat
up wooden coffee table.   Sara slumped down on the opposite end of the couch and
leaned her head back against the soft cushion.

“Your daughter has the strangest taste in literature,” she commented, looking
over at Catherine who was peering back at her.

“I know.  She doesn’t get it from me,” she said with a smile.   “Which one was
it today?”

“The Raven,” Sara answered.

“That’s her favorite,” Catherine replied, her smile growing wider.  “Did she
make you do the squawking noises?”

“What do you think?  My throat’s starting to get sore,” Sara laughed.

“I knew I should have followed you two,” Catherine teased.

“Shut up,” Sara shot back, playfully nudging Catherine with a long arm.

They sat there staring at each other, the silence surrounding them as
threatening as the feelings coursing through their veins with the urgent agenda
to escape.  Catherine turned her head away first, looking forward at a tv that
wasn’t on. 

“So…” she said.

“Yeah,” Sara added, looking down at her hands in her lap and picking at her
fingernails.  “I know I say this too often to you, Catherine, but I am sorry,”
she said quietly.

“I know, but one day that’s just not going to be enough,” Catherine replied,
still looking straight ahead.

“I know that,” Sara agreed, nodding.  

The brunette got up slowly, walking closer to the woman sitting on the other end
of the couch.  Stepping over Catherine’s outstretched leg easily; Sara lowered
herself onto the coffee table and sat down directly in front of the blonde
woman.   She held Catherine’s eyes with her own for a few endless moments before
speaking.

“I know I’m not an easy person to be with,” she began, taking one of Catherine’s
hands in her own.   “I overreact and I’m stubborn.  Sometimes I feel so much
when I’m near you that I feel like I’m out of control and I’m not used to that. 
I want to let my guard down, to let you in all the way…to trust you,” she
continued, pausing and looking down at their interlocked hands.   “It scares the
shit out of me, Catherine,” she said and looked up, “because I do trust you.  
That’s new to me.  And I’m trying…”

“Sara, nothing happened between Paul and me,” Catherine interrupted her, feeling
the need to explain.

“I know, Catherine,” Sara said nodding.   “Part of me had known that all along. 
But the part of me that is so blindly in love with you fooled me into believing
something else.  I was afraid I would lose you and that’s something I can’t even
think about because I’d go crazy without you, Catherine.”

“You know, there’s a part of me that is almost glad you reacted the way you
did,” Catherine admitted.   “The jealousy, the passion that you let escape made
the way you feel about me so clear.  It’s never easy to get inside your head,
Sara.  Sometimes I have no idea what you’re thinking or what you’re feeling.  
But your actions are unmistakable.   Your actions are true.  You don’t censor
yourself.  That’s what I love about you and I don’t want you to lose that.   As
much of a pain in the ass as you are, I don’t think I’d be able to breathe
without you,” she added with a smile.

Sara returned the smile and slid onto her knees, wrapping her arms around
Catherine’s waist and bringing their faces inches apart.   Planting both feet
firmly on the floor and sliding her arms around Sara’s strong, broad shoulders,
Catherine edged forward and brought their lips together slowly.  The kiss was
tentative at first, as if they were learning each other all over again, but they
quickly regained their familiar rhythm.   Breaking the kiss, Sara buried her
head in the side of Catherine’s neck and held her tightly.  She finally let go
of the breath she had been holding for over two weeks.

Moments later, Sara sat back and smiled.   She ran a hand through Catherine’s
hair and kissed her again, feeling delicate skin under her fingertips.  She
lightly pulled on Catherine’s lower lip with her teeth before pulling back. 
Catherine smiled at her wickedly.

“Now that that’s settled,” Sara said, raising an eyebrow and pulling something
out of her pocket.  She took Catherine’s hand and held it palm up.   As the
older woman looked at her with confused eyes, Sara pressed something cold and
metallic firmly into Catherine’s hand and looked at her almost uncertainly.

“What’s this?” Catherine asked, holding the object between them.

“Keys to my apartment.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Catherine asked, taking Sara’s hand.

“No,” Sara replied honestly, but still smiling.   She laughed nervously before
continuing.   “But I don’t think we should be standing still anymore.   And I
want to start moving forward instead of shuffling backwards all the time.  I
trust you, Catherine…with all of me.”

“So I don’t even have to knock anymore, huh?” Catherine teased with a smile. 
“That could be kind of dangerous for you.”

“Since when have you ever knocked?” Sara teased back.   “I guess I can’t have
any of my other girlfriends over anymore,” she added with a mock frown.  “Damn! 
There goes my fun.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” Catherine said before moving forward and almost
knocking Sara into the coffee table.  

Slipping her own shirt over her head quickly, Catherine pinned Sara to the floor
in front of the couch and captured willing lips securely with her own.

“How long before Lindsey wakes up?” Sara asked in between the tangling of lips,
feeling Catherine’s fingernails dragging along the skin of her abdomen.

“Long enough,” Catherine breathed in her ear, popping the button of Sara’s pants
open with one hand.

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

“You’re back early,” Catherine commented, sticking her head into Grissom’s
office the next evening.

“I left right after my speech,” he replied, dropping his briefcase next to his
desk.  “Thought it best if I came back as soon as possible to make sure there
were no casualties while I was away.”

“I know there was no conference, Gil,” Catherine said, calling him out.  “I
drove past your house yesterday on the way in.  Saw you getting the paper in
your bathrobe.  I took pictures,” she teased.

“Yes well, they told me if I didn’t start taking my vacation days they’d stop
giving them to me altogether,” he lied.   “And I thought maybe you and Sara
needed some forced interactive time of your own.”

“Thanks,” Catherine said, gratefully.  

“I take it everything has been smoothed over.”

“Yeah, other than the ligature marks on Sara’s wrists and ankles, everything’s
great,” she teased, pleased to get a smirk out of Grissom.

“Please keep the details of your bedroom activities out of my office,” he
requested with smiling eyes.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Catherine said and turned to leave.

“And Catherine?” Grissom said, causing her to stop and look at him for a moment.
  “I expect you to dispose of that roll of film immediately.”

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

“Come on, Sara.  If you’re going to shoot me down, the least you can do is tell
me who the lucky bastard is,” Greg said, starting of the DNA machines and
turning to the tall woman standing in the lab.

“No go, Greg-O,” she teased with a smile.   “There are some things that are just
too personal to reveal at the moment.”

“What’s too personal to reveal at the moment?” Catherine asked, gliding into the
room and standing next to Sara.

“Catherine,” Greg cooed.   “Just the woman I wanted to see.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” she said quietly, causing Sara to smile
wider.

“So you know the Enigma over here has a budding romance thing going on,” he
said, motioning to the tall brunette.   “And I wanna know if he’s a better catch
than me.   She told me to ask you.  I mean how good looking can he be?”

“Personally, I think I’m a massive hottie,” Catherine replied, curling an arm
around Sara’s waist and looking up at her.   “What do you think?” she asked her
pleasantly surprised girlfriend.

“Definitely a hottie,” Sara answered, leaning down to give Catherine a long,
lazy kiss…one that probably should have been saved for outside the workplace. 
They pulled apart and looked at Greg, who was grinning from ear to ear and
holding a clipboard in front of his midsection.

“You’re drooling, Greg,” Catherine commented.

“That’s not all I’m doing,” he replied with a laugh and turned back to run more
samples as the machine began beeping at him.

Sara laughed as Catherine edged out into the hallway.   Sliding into step next
to the blonde woman, Sara slid her fingers in between Catherine’s…claiming her
hand and her territory.

“So, it’s official,” Sara said as they walked down the hallway hand in hand.

“What’s that?” Catherine asked, squeezing Sara’s fingers briefly.

“I’m completely whipped,” she said with a laugh.

“Nah,” Catherine ventured.   “That comes later on tonight,” she said with a wink
and a waggling of her eyebrows.

“Promise?” Sara teased, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Trust me.”

Grissom stepped out of his office just in time to see the two women walking
towards the break room holding hands and laughing.   He smiled to himself,
thinking he should take time off more often.

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