Title: The Waiting Game
By: accoustic-girl
Pairing: Sara/Sofia
Disclaimer: I don't own them, never will. 'Nuff said.
E-mail: sexy_girls_with_guns@yahoo.com
Summary: Sofia has to deal with waiting for what she wants.....
Note: Includes up to "A Bullet Runs Through It". Season 6 Spoilers.

***


"What the hell is wrong with me?" I say aloud as I race down I-15 at speeds that would make most drivers nervous, my honed instincts allowing a partial outlet for my anger and aggression.

"Why can't I let this go?" Letting the chilly wind through my hair buffet my rage, I continued to examine the situation I'm in.

From the moment we met, I knew. There was this incredible pull that I felt in the core of my being. The recognition of something that is ancient, primal, and magnetic. When I was a CSI and we worked cases together, I used this to my advantage. It allowed us to work well together and develop an easy flirtation. This easy flirtation soon turned into a tentative friendship. People thought that Sara Sidle was such a tough nut to crack, but I knew better. She was just a scared little girl playing at being strong, and I noticed it because I'm not too different.

Then I left for Boulder.

Things were different after that, but I needed it. I needed to become what I felt my natural calling to be, a police officer. I never was truly impartial to the evidence, and even though I could control my opinions when needed, I still felt that certain things were wrong and right.

I don't think she ever understood.

My return to Vegas, with all of its lures, filled me with trepidation because I would have to face what I knew to be my one true weakness: Sara Sidle.

==============================================

Working for a different arm of justice had both its benefits and drawbacks. The benefits were easy to spot. I felt more completion after cases because I knew I had a more active role in putting the slimeballs away. The drawbacks were in steady supply as well. When I killed my first perp, I was shocked to my roots. I had always been taught that killing was wrong, but I had to come to terms with the fact that if it hadn't been him, it would've been me. And let's not get me started on how I felt Jim's pain when we finally found out what happened to Officer Bell. I would've offered him more support but I was in a terrible place myself. I truly thought I had killed him.

My mistake was trying to find someone to talk to about it.

I thought I'd talk to Grissom. He's always been a sensible, practical man. I tried telling him my fears, because I was so confused and everything happened so fast that I genuinely was superimposing my guilt over Bell's death onto my own memories of the gunfight. I was unraveling and really needed a friend. He tried to tell me to leave, but it wasn't his voice that finally broke through my haze. It was hers.

"Sofia? You're on administrative leave."

"I know."

"You shouldn't even be in this building."

I was trying to tell Grissom my fear that I had shot Bell.  Trying to find some help to deal with the chaos of images in my head. I was so angry at my inability to have anyone to talk to. I knew I wasn't supposed to talk to him, just like Brass, just like my mother. I didn't need her pointing it out to me, and I was angry her. I was angry at me. I was angry at the damn drug dealers. I was angry at Bell for getting shot.

So I ran……

I ran for all I was worth. I ran until my legs were lead and my lungs burned, but I still couldn't stop the thoughts from entering my head.

==========================================

I'm still running in some sort of fashion. That's the reason I'm driving like a manic. The roar of the road, and the feel of the accelerator beneath my boot, brings solace to my battered emotions. I'm running, but where to?

Oh, I know what I'm running from. I'm running from the hurt that unrequited feelings bring. I'm running from my own inability to control my emotions and just forget about her. I'm running because there's no other way to deal with it.

I'm scared by the violence of my feelings for her. We haven't even been on a real "date", just dinners and drinks as friends,  yet I can picture us doing all the things that I've ever wanted to do and then some. I still feel elated and calmed all at once when I'm in her presence. I want to kiss the stubborn smirk off her face. I want…..

I know she feels this too. There are times when I think I see the same beast behind her eyes. So why must she relegate me to this hell? I know she's scared, but I believe that what we have is stronger than the fear. One drunken evening, I made the mistake of trying to put my feelings into words. She told me I was amazing, and special, that she felt our connection too, then she told me that she could not be what I needed right now, that she wanted to be my friend.

How does she know what I need? Sure, we've talked about everything under the sun, moon, and stars, but how does she know?

All my idle thoughts are filled with her. Nothing overly dramatic or erotic, but I do have those thoughts on occasion. I am human after all. I'm like a lovesick teenager when I'm around her. My palms itch, my heart races, and I become less than eloquent. At work, I'm able to keep it under control, but when we hang out, I lose all my ability to control it especially after a drink or two.

I've always been an aggressive person when I know what I want, and more times than not, I've been successful in getting it. So if frustrates the hell out of me that she's so damn skittish! If I make the play to win her over it will just send her running without ever looking back. I will have lost her forever.

So I'm trying to deal with just being her friend for now. I'm pretty sure she knows that I'm just biding my time, but it's for her to decide. I'll wait for her, no matter how long it takes. I'll drown my urges in driving too fast. I'll run until all I think of is the lead in my legs. I'll continue to be a friend even while I languish in the half life of my affection.

I'm disappointed again and again, yet I will remain steadfast in my feelings. We belong together. I know it. And somewhere deep down, she does too.

***