Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…I wish I did…and boy the fun I'd have!!
A/N: This plays on a topic touched on in an episode of CSI. I had to find a new way to kill a character and this worked.
BTW...Your turn again, Immi!
She reached across the console of the Denali and took Cath's hand in hers.
"I know you want to tell them and I understand why. But Cath, I'm not ready. I'm just not ready," Sara said.
"When will you be ready, Sar? It's been a year. A year of sneaking around. A year of keeping up this act so no one suspects anything. A year of taking separate cars to work. I'm tired of it, babe. I want them to know. Lindsey knows. My sister knows. Why can't the people we depend on to have our backs while we're at work know?"
Sara jerked her hand back. "I want them to know. I do. I'm scared. It's one thing to be in this with you and for me to fuck it up. Then it's just you who hates me. It's another thing completely if everyone knows and I fuck it up. Then they'll all hate me."
Catherine pulled the Denali into the parking lot of an off-strip motel. "Sara, look at me," she said as she held out one hand and turned Sara to face her by her chin. "They're gonna hate you anyway 'cause you're fucking the hottest woman in the lab," she said with a wink.
Catherine's joke broke the palpable tension in the air. "Seriously, Sara, let's just tell them. They're our friends. If we don't tell them soon, and they find out, they'll be really pissed."
"I guess you're right. I just…I've never been with someone this long and I'm …"
"…scared. I know. It'll be fine. We'll do this…"
Before Catherine could finish her sentence, both doors to the Denali were jerked open simultaneously and Catherine and Sara found themselves each staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Both of you—out—now!" the male gunman said as he waved the gun in Sara's face.
"Why don't we all just take a OWWW…" Catherine started before being yanked backwards by her hair.
"Why don't we all just shut the fuck up," the woman with one handful of Catherine's hair and the other with a Glock pressed against her head said.
Sara slowly exited the truck holding her hands up in surrender. "Don't hurt her, okay? Anything you want, take it. Just don't hurt her," she said with tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
Both women were led up a flight of stairs to a cheap motel room. They never took their eyes off of each other. Each was trying hard to communicate that they'd get out of this alive. Neither believed what they were trying to speak with their eyes or what they were reading in the other's face.
Once inside the room, they were forced to sit in chairs facing each other. To the right of Sara's chair sat a knife. To the right of Catherine's chair sat a knife.
"You," the man motioned to Sara, "pick up the knife."
Sara looked from the knife to Catherine, to the man, and back to the knife. "No."
Catherine's head was jerked backwards by the woman once again.
"Pick. Up. The. Knife."
She was sure that their captors could smell the fear pouring off of her. She acquiesced and picked it up, feeling its heft, yet lightness, in her hand.
"Good. Now, here's how this is going to work. One of you will get to walk out of here alive. You, my dark haired friend," he said as he ran the muzzle of the gun up her arm, "get to decide which of you lives and which of you dies."
Sara's eyes went wide as she dropped the knife. "No, I won't."
"Sara," Catherine's voice was shaky and unsteady. "Baby, just do whatever they want. Someone has to take care of Lindsey."
Sara stood up quickly and faced the gunman. "Down, bitch," he said as he shoved the gun under her chin. "Sit back down, now."
As Sara slowly lowered herself into the chair, he picked the knife back up and shoved it into her hand. "So, once again, you decide. You kill her," he said motioning to Catherine, "or I kill both of you." He cocked the gun and held it against her head as his accomplice did the same to Catherine.
Sara closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She could hear Catherine crying and her ragged breathing. "Just one of us has to die to make you happy?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered simply.
"Can she do it? Can she kill me?" Sara asked locking eyes with Catherine.
"No! I won't do it!" Catherine screamed.
Both subjugators laughed and studied one another. "That'll work."
Sara let the knife in her hand drop to the floor.
"Here, take it," the woman thrust the knife from table beside Catherine into her hand as she shoved the gun against the back of her head, forcing Catherine forward in her chair.
Sara leaned forward so that they were only inches apart. "I love you, Catherine. I always have. I can't do it, but you can. Just think about Lindsey."
Sara felt the cold of the steel blade against her throat.
She heard Catherine say a faint, "I can't," before quickly grabbing her wrist and drawing it across her throat.
As Sara fell forward her hands instinctively clutching her throat, she heard Catherine's screams echoing around the room and felt her body fall over hers as the room was suddenly filled with light and screaming voices.
As the last of her blood oozed through her now unfeeling fingers, she could make out her lover's features and the word why slipping past her lips.