Title: That Night
By: Freya
Disclaimer: Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS own everything, I own nothing but the plot.
Spoiler: None
Summary: Sometimes getting drunk leads to more complications that you can imagine...
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Pairing: implied Catherine/Sara, mentioning of Nick/Greg and a little jealousy from Grissom's side
Warning: This is really sappy and a topic that's been used over and over again for every possible fandom, but it's never been used for CSI (as far as I know at least) or specifically for C/S so there has to be someone who starts with it!
Archive: At Naked Truth and my page. Everybody else please ask!
Note 1: I seem to be stuck in the middle of a huge writer's block. None of my stories is progressing very well and so I'm trying to solve that little problem by writing this. It's not much and I'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense but I'm trying desperately to keep my imagination alive.
Note 2: Even though the third season is already airing I put this somewhere in the timeline of Season 2 because where I live we're lucky that we 'already' (*snort*) have the second season running.

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The rain poured steadily against the windows and Sara sighed, hoping that this annoying sound would finally end after being a constant during the last few days. It was just the sound that was getting on her nerves, keeping her from thinking too deep thoughts because every time she dug too deep the sound got louder and pulled her back to reality.

It had been almost a week since the rain had begun, starting off with a few droplets here and there, no immense outburst or something like that which no one would have thought to become the storm of the year. But it had become exactly that and now people were starting to wonder just how much longer it would stay. Sara wasn't one of them. She didn't care about the weather or anything trivial at the moment.

She was sitting on her bed, on top of the sheets she'd bought last year when she'd moved to Las Vegas, fully clothed but making no attempt of rising or even leaving the position she was in. Her cell phone was resting in her open palm, declaring that it was active with small beeping sounds but she didn't use it nor made any move to shut it off. She had turned it on almost an hour ago, for reasons that she couldn't remember now, and some part of Sara's brain registered that it wouldn't be long until the energy wouldn't last any longer but she didn't really care if that was sooner of later.

She was sure she wouldn't use it anytime in the near future anyway. She hadn't used it in days already, ever since she'd called Grissom at work and told him that she needed a few days off, that the latest case had taken its toll on her. He hadn't wondered why she'd so voluntarily admitted a weakness, something she'd rarely done in the past, had just agreed with her, telling her that if she needed anything or someone to talk he'd be there. That had been her last contact to him or any other of the CSIs or society in general and she knew that it was impossible to keep shutting herself off from the outside world and her friends for another week. They would become suspicious, suspect that it wasn't some kind of passing flu that got her down because that was what they thought was the reason she wasn't at work. She'd asked Grissom not to tell them and once again he had agreed. She could tell that his mind had been somewhere else during their conversation. Where, she didn't really want to know.

His mind had been occupied with something or someone more and more during the last few weeks and Sara believed that it had something to do with the deepening relationship between Nick and Greg.

Greg was the only one who knew about the real reason for her absence, but he had promised that his lips were sealed, emphasising that vow with a dramatic gesture, turning his fingers in front of his mouth as if locking it with a key. his guy was so childish sometimes that Sara couldn't help but smile at the mere memory of that moment. But he wasn't the only one who knew. The other one was at least able to guess that the flu was just a lame excuse because that person was just as involved in the incident as she herself was. That person was Catherine.

Of course Catherine knew! If it wasn't for Catherine Sara wouldn't be drowning in self-pity right now but would be working with her colleagues on one of their latest cases, chatting and laughing with her friends as if nothing had ever happened. But it had happened, and that couldn't be made undone, no matter how hard they tried to forget it ... if they were able to forget it. Sara hadn't done anything else but thinking about it and the consequences she was now experiencing more intense than she had ever expected.

They had all been at Greg's last weekend, not really celebrating anything but their friendship and enjoying each other's company. They'd ordered pizza and in addition to that they'd had an enormous amount of popcorn, potato chips and beer, everything that was the guarantee for a fun night. And it had  been great, even fantastic, at least as far as Sara could remember. Because when she had woken up the next morning she'd found that she couldn't remember all of it, to be exact the memories became blurry around midnight and past two am there was nothing left, not the slightest hint of what she had done.

She hadn't had time to gather herself, still sleepy and confused as hell, because Greg had come bursting through the door, stopping dead in his tracks when he'd seen her laying in bed. She remembered thinking why Greg was in her room until she had noticed that she wasn't at home and the previous evening had come floating back to her. His eyes had become almost  unbelievably large for reasons that Sara hadn't been able to understand - partly because she'd still been tired and partly because she found nothing unusual about a woman in bed - until she'd turned around and found herself face to face with a certain blonde co-worker of hers, sleeping peacefully only a few inches away from her. She'd never leaped out of bed so fast before and she hoped that she'd never have to do so again, at least not for a reason like this.

Her heart had been beating so fast she'd thought it would burst right out of her chest when she'd realized what all those indications had to mean. It can't be, she'd thought. They were both adults and the last time she'd slept with someone, drunken, was in college. But she knew that it had happened again and all she had been able to think of was getting dressed and away. To make things worse Catherine had chosen that exact moment to wake up, stretching just as if she'd been at home, reminding Sara of what she'd touched and experienced last night. Then Catherine had realized where she was and had grabbed the sheets to cover herself, staring shocked at a half-clothed Sara and a drooling Greg.

It had been more than obvious to everyone in the room what had happened that night, it wouldn't have taken Greg to speak it out aloud in a way that had both women confused despite their embarrassment. I always knew this would happen, he had said, grinning hugely from one ear to the other, you two were bound to end up in bed together. Neither Sara nor Catherine had been able to look at each other let alone talk and deal with the situation, so Sara had grabbed her remaining clothes, had mumbled an apology and had fled from the room without looking back. She'd never felt so miserable in her life.

Since that day Sara had locked herself in her apartment, pondering whether or whether not to approach Catherine and talk with her even though she still wasn't sure if a talk would change a lot, let alone restore their friendship to where it had been before. In her eyes that was impossible. It wasn't as if she feared the talk itself or the way Catherine would react.

What really scared her were her own emotions, the thoughts that kept running through her head since that morning. Thoughts so sappy they were almost ridiculous, but it was the first time in a long time that she, despite her better judgment, allowed herself to acknowledge the existence of feelings that could expand into something rooted much deeper if given the opportunity. Until now she'd put every feeling stronger than friendship for the older woman off as simple admiration or,
when she'd dared to go that far, as a fleeting crush that would pass, as it had done other times before. But now she felt that it wouldn't be easy to get over whatever she was feeling.

A talk would solve their problem, hopefully, but Sara didn't know if she wanted to go back to just being friends with Catherine, if it would be enough for her. If the blonde didn't feel anything for her that went beyond friendship and they took a step back instead of one ahead she wondered if she would always cling to the one night they shared or if she would be able to move on, get over it and find somebody else.

Silently a thought that had been hiding just below the surface of awareness crossed a line in her head, a thought that reminded her that the answer to her questions was laying in her hand. All she had to do was dial a number and see what happened.

With another sigh she raised the cell phone and grabbed it with both hands, silently praying that it would mark the beginning of something. Whatever that was. Carefully, as if afraid she could break the buttons, she dialed the number she knew so well and listened to the beeping sound that  followed until another sound announced that somebody had picked up at the other end.

"Willows?"

~Fin~