OUR LITTLE SECRET
The secret is born in the lab, in the wee hours of the morning. By the time Sara joins the team in one of the work rooms the sun has long set, and the neon city outside is a twinkling rainbow in the darkness. They had arrived back from the scene only minutes before, the collection of gathered evidence now spread on the table, and Grissom stands commandingly at the head, casting his eye over the work ahead.
Sara stands waiting. Sometimes the allocation of work feels like a game of Russian roulette, and this is one such time. Most of the evidence is minor, objects they can process in their sleep, and yet at the centre of the table is a large tub of unidentified slush that emits a knockout stench. She knows one of them will have to process it.
Nick is cringing. "What the hell is that stench, man?"
"Last time I smelt something like that it turned out to be a blocked toilet," Warrick replies, standing a healthy few feet away from the table.
"Well," Catherine says bravely, "then at least we'll have some DNA."
Sara says nothing, not wanting to tempt fate by commenting. They all look carefully to Grissom, waiting.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Nick, you take the bags, Warrick, the clothes, and Sara –"
She braces herself.
"You get that."
He jabs a finger at the tub.
"Cath, you give her a hand."
Out of the corner of her eye she spots the guys quickly stifling smiles. With a look from Grissom, Nick clears his throat, and they snatch up their evidence bags and depart, passing a wisp of an amused smile in Catherine's direction.
Catherine doesn't move. She doesn't look impressed, but is too professional to protest.
"You gonna give us a hand?" she asks Grissom.
He hesitates, appearing for a split second as if he is thinking quickly, but then points a finger over his shoulder toward his office.
"I have reports to finish," he states, matter-of-factly.
"Reports?" Sara prompts, sensing something amiss. "I thought we finished all those last week."
"These are for HR," he says. "Your annual performance reviews."
He points to the tub and gives them a pseudo-supportive look.
"Good luck," he says.
He departs before they can argue. Sara turns to Catherine, but she shrugs, sighing deeply.
"I suppose it's the one of the joys of leadership," she says, pragmatic, "you get to delegate."
Sara tries to smile. "Yeah."
"Though admittedly, "she adds, snapping on a pair of latex gloves, "usually the only time I see Grissom move that fast, is when Ecklie's hunting him down."
Sara grins. "I swear sometimes he enjoys this."
Catherine scoops her red hair up into a rough ponytail. "Yeah, well, just remember – karma's a bitch."
With a shared smile they set down to work, and break the seal on the tub, lifting the lid. Immediately the stench seizes the room, mercilessly assailing Sara's nose, and making her gag. She steps back, coughing, as the wretched stench floods down to her stomach, spinning her around in the throes of nausea.
"Oh my God -" she starts, but breaks off, a hand over her mouth.
Catherine appears to be holding her breath, and peers down into the tub with a revolted look.
"Looks like every foul thing ever known to Vegas," she summarises. "Urine, semen, mould … there's even a few dead bugs in here."
Sara braces herself, but the smell is so suffocating she is unable to step closer. She coughs again, involuntarily, just as Sofia steps in, nose crinkled as if she has followed the scent from across the building.
"What the hell is that smell?" she asks.
"That's our scene," Sara supplies, coughing again.
She takes a single step in, looking from Sara to Catherine, to the tub, with an expression of overpowering sympathy and disbelief.
"Everything you never wanted to process, all thrown into a blender," Catherine says. "The ass of Vegas."
"I could smell it from the parking lot," Sofia says, feeling their pain.
"Yeah," Sara says, "you may want to leave before it sticks to your clothes. I doubt this is the type of smell you can wash out."
But she doesn't leave, and instead steps closer, peering in.
"You have bugs in here," she muses, "I'm surprised Grissom didn't lend a hand."
"He fled," Catherine supplies. "Said he has to write our performance appraisals."
Sofia raises an eyebrow, smiling slightly.
"You know he's in the kitchen with the guys," she points out. "I passed them on my way in. Nick's grinning like the cat that got the cream."
Sara lifts her eyes to Catherine's, halfway between laughing and cursing. Catherine halts with her fingers sifting the sludge.
"You know, if I were you I wouldn't let them get away with that," Sofia adds.
Sara can't help smiling. "Maybe once we get this processed we can drown them in it," she suggests jokingly.
"Sorry," Catherine says, returning the smile, "I don't have time for a murder charge today. I've gotta pick up Lindsey after shift."
"But you know, now that I think about it, we have been drawing the short straw a lot lately," Sara says, pausing to remember. "It's been months since those guys got handed the dirty work."
"What are you saying?" Catherine asks, giving a playful smile. "That we should break up the boys' club?"
Sara grins. "Or change our luck."
As it happens their luck doesn't change, and fate – and the stench of the room – takes over. They barely spend two minutes processing before the smell reaches Sara's stomach, sending it into cascading somersaults. She steps back, woozy, but a moment later is in the ladies' restroom, vomiting into the closest cubicle.
The cream tiles are cold and hard under her knees, but the room is at least empty. Her gagging echoes off the walls with unpleasant clarity, and by the time she stands, reaching weakly for the flusher, she hears Catherine and Sofia's heels on the floor behind her. They have caught up.
"You okay?" Catherine asks.
"Yeah," she says, and tries her best to look normal. "I'm good. Great."
She flips on the tap and water gushes into the sink. She wets her hands before cupping them, rinsing her mouth. She spits it neatly back into the sink.
"Just another day at the office, I guess," she says.
She tries to joke, but it falls flat. Catherine is eyeing her with restrained sympathy; Sofia looks as if she knows first-hand what she is going through. A moment passes in silence. Through the strip of frosted glass high on the wall they can hear the busy night streets outside. A distant car horn sounds. Headlight beams glow against the yellow glass, setting the room into a momentary golden glow.
All of a sudden there is a rap of knuckles on the door, accompanied by Grissom's voice.
"Cath, Sara!" he calls.
Catherine looks warily at the door, but it doesn't move.
"Yeah?"
"I saw the three of you dash in there, you've left your evidence unattended. Is everything all right?"
"Fine," Catherine replies smoothly. "Just taking a break."
Her eyes are on Sara as she speaks, but Sara holds up a hand, needing another second. She feels weak, and when she emerges, wants to ensure there is no clue of her being sick.
"You sure?" comes Nick's voice. "You looked like you were in a hurry."
"Call of nature," Sofia replies calmly.
Nick sounds uncertain. "What, all three of you? Is that a team sport now?"
Sara hears Warrick's voice, only just audible through the thick wooden door. "Man, women and bathrooms, it's a social hotspot."
Catherine rolls her eyes and asks lightly, "What is this, boys? An inquiry?"
"No need to get defensive, Cath," Grissom responds, "we're just concerned."
"Thanks for your concern," Sofia says, with firm finality to end the subject.
There is the sound of a footstep or two, and it appears for the briefest second that they are going to leave, until Grissom hesitates, apparently realising something.
"Sara's awfully quiet in there," he says slowly, "Is she all right?"
Sofia almost smiles, fed up. "He's persistent."
"Pain in the ass," Catherine agrees quietly. But she rises to the challenge. "It's cramps!" she calls.
Sara feels her mouth fall open, "What –"
But Catherine only grins. "You know a better way to get rid of three guys?"
There is a playful glint in her eye, one that Sara quickly connects back to their talk in the workroom. She grins, catching on. Suddenly, all three men are very quiet on the other side of the door. She can practically hear Grissom's mind ticking over.
"Menstrual cramps?" he realises.
Nick clears his throat. "You know what? I've got some work to do here, I might just –"
Sara can only imagine him waving vaguely toward their discarded work, hastily inventing something. Leaning back against the sinks, Sofia barely stifles a laugh.
"Your compassion's overwhelming," she says sternly.
There is a slight sting in her voice which is met with more silence. Sara can picture Grissom standing on the other side of the door, about to leave, but then hesitating - unsure what to say, or if he should leave or not.
"Do you … need anything?" he asks uncertainly.
Catherine grins; it is too much. "Should we send him to the pharmacy?" she quips.
Sofia almost laughs. "Grissom? He wouldn't have a clue what to buy."
Sara tries in vain to picture the sight; Grissom standing immobile in amidst shelves of feminine hygiene products. The idea had potential.
An evil smile spreads across Catherine's face.
"Tampons!" she replies.
A beat passes in dead silence.
"You're kidding, right?" Warrick asks.
But Grissom doesn't hesitate. There is a rustle of material as he digs in his pocket, the sound of him unclipping his wallet.
"What brand?" he asks.
Sara raises an eyebrow; Catherine is stunned into silence.
"Take your pick!" Sara answers, jumping in.
"But hurry!" Sofia adds.
It is a struggle not to laugh. She hears a crinkle of paper as Grissom pulls out a note.
"Nick –"
"No way, man," Nick says firmly. "I'm not going there."
"Same goes for me," Warrick adds.
"I thought you were a gentleman," Sara teases.
"A friend in need, Nicky," Catherine adds sweetly. "It's called chivalry."
"For that?" he says. "Now, c'mon Cath, you know I care, I care a lot, but this?"
"Are you embarrassed?" Grissom asks.
"Embarrassed?" he repeats. "No, c'mon. I'm not embarrassed –"
"Oh come on," Warrick adds, amused, "didn't you ever get that talk about the birds and the bees?"
"I got the one for boys, man, I wasn't too fussed about the rest…"
"All right!" Grissom says, silencing them. "We're not arguing all night. Both of you go. Then maybe we can get some work done."
"Well okay," Nick says, giving in. "But I want it on the record that I'm being helpful here. Don't ever say I'm not there for you, okay?"
"We'll note it down," Sofia assures.
They retreat, their footsteps slowly fading.
Catherine turns on the spot, in disbelief. "Anyone got a camera?"
But knowing the guys are now out on the street purchasing, Sara feels a faint twinge of guilt.
"Don't you feel bad?" she asks quietly.
Catherine stares. "After wading through that slime and watching you hurl? No. Not yet."
"Don't tell me you feel guilty already," Sofia questions.
"No," Sara replies, remembering all too well the smile on Nick's face as they were assigned duties, Grissom's hasty exit. "It's just –"
"You're inexperienced with revenge," Catherine concludes.
Not for the first time, she sees in Catherine's eyes something of her past, a glimpse of the thousand lively stories she has never got around to telling. Sofia, too, looks completely unfazed – as if she is more than used to jokes among the ranks of the police force.
"Are you still there?" comes Grissom's voice.
The twinge of guilt quickly fades.
"Front and centre," Sara replies.
"Well hang in there," he says. "They'll be back in a minute."
She is unsure what to say. "Great …"
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Sara," he says kindly, sensing her hesitation. "It's a perfectly normal function of female anatomy."
She stares, and unable to believe they are discussing it, struggles for words.
"No kidding," she replies.
She shares a look with Catherine.
"You don't have to feel ashamed."
She clears her throat. "I'm … not. But, you know, if we could talk about something other than my vagina –"
"Technically, it's not the vagina, it's the uterus. The vagina is merely the cavity for penile penetration."
"What is this, a sex ed class?" Catherine jokes.
"Thanks for clearing that up," Sara adds, laughing.
"I'm just trying to be supportive."
"First class job, Gil," Catherine says sweetly. "But just for the record, when it comes to vaginas, I doubt there's much you can teach us."
"Don't … tempt him," Sara says quickly.
"You might be surprised," he quips.
"Oh, I doubt it," Catherine says, not missing a beat. "I grew up in this town."
"I bow to your superior knowledge," he says gentlemanly.
There is a brief silence. Through the high frosted window they continue to hear the blur of passing cars, a siren in the distance.
"Cath?" Grissom asks quietly.
"Yeah?"
He hesitates, and when he speaks his voice is soft. "Is she okay?"
A warm feeling unfurls in Sara's chest. Despite the fact that they are playing a lie, she feels touched – so touched she almost feels guilty. She avoids Catherine's eye, focusing on the tiles across the room.
"She's fine," she answers softly.
"Good."
He sounds relieved, but says no more. Moments pass in which they wait, and Grissom remains stationed loyally outside the door. At last they hear footsteps, and the two men return.
Nick raps on the door to announce their return.
"Okay, got your stuff," he calls.
Sara meets her friends' eyes. The glint of playfulness in Catherine's blue eyes has faded slightly, and she nods; their time is up.
"You can come in, Nicky," Catherine invites.
The door creaks open, and all three men enter. They take only a single step inside, looking around as if uncomfortable in the deeply foreign territory.
"Here you go," he says, holding out a paper bag.
Sara eyes the bag; it is bulging, seemingly carrying far more than a pack of tampons. For a second she is entirely distracted.
"What did you buy?" she asks.
Nick shrugs, unrolling the top. He pulls out three packs of tampons. "Didn't know what you liked, so I got one of everything. Didn't want to grab the wrong one."
Sara takes the bag. Sure enough, it is stuffed full of packages.
"You could plug half of Vegas with those," Sofia observes.
Nick shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just trying to be helpful. Your instructions were a bit imprecise."
"We said buy tampons," Catherine recites. "There wasn't a catch."
But Sara spots something else in the bag. She frowns as she fishes out a black box, holding it up.
"Condoms?" she asks.
Catherine turns to the guys, laughing a little. She passes Warrick a flirtatious look.
"What is that, a hint?"
"Actually, that was Nick's idea," Warrick answers.
Nick shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "We were two guys going to the register with a bag full of tampons. We had to even it out a little, you know what I'm saying?"
Sofia laughs; Catherine touches his arm affectionately.
"Oh, Nicky," she says. "You're cute when you blush."
"You know, I'm glad we did this," he jokes lightly, "it feels like a team builder. I feel like we're all a bit closer now."
"Yeah," Sara says, grinning, "not in that region."
He shrugs, conceding.
"Anyhow, those are yours, right?" he asks, indicating the bag. "I guess we'll wait outside."
Sara exchanges a grin with Catherine. In one slow moment Catherine takes the bag, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"Well, actually … the crisis is over."
She presses the bag back into Nick's chest. For a moment none of the guys register.
"And for the record," she adds smoothly, "next time you dodge the forensics bullet – don't laugh."
With a smile that twists them around her sex appeal, and fingers on his forearm, she drifts around them, heading for the door. Sara walks with her.
Grissom, looking confused, takes off his glasses, but Nick's face splits into a grin.
"Oh, man … you're not serious."
Catherine only grins, calmly opening the door.
"You made all that up?" Warrick asks, hand on hip and laughing.
Sara walks through the door with Catherine and Sofia.
"Sorry," Sara says, "you know we'd love to chat, but we've got work to do."
Catherine throws them a wink.
As they proceed up the corridor Sara hears them hurry out in chase. Despite being tricked, Nick is on the verge of laughing.
"You realise this means war, right?" he calls after them.
They don't answer.
They are halfway up the corridor before Sofia speaks.
"We're gonna pay for that one."
Sara doesn't reply; it is hard to care, but something else does occur to her.
"You won't tell them the truth, right?" she asks, glancing to Catherine.
"It'll be our little secret."
And with a smile they return to the work room, taking a fresh pair of gloves from the dispenser.
The End.