Summary: Catherine and Sara go for a drive after CaB. GSR.
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Yup. Takes place after "Crash and Burn."
Drive
by Pheo
2.15.04
Sara Sidle looked at the well-dressed blond beside her and wondered for the sixth time what in the hell she was doing. She was feeling more vulnerable than she could remember having ever felt, and she was on her way to God knows where to drink the day away with a woman who barely tolerated her. For all she knew, Catherine Willows could have an ulterior motive behind taking her drinking; but for whatever reason her coworker had, she was grateful. All she knew right now was that she couldn't be alone. She didn't trust herself alone right now.
"We're here," Catherine told her, parking her Tahoe outside a crumbling tavern, the music inside making the wooden walls splinter.
"Great," Sara murmured. Suddenly she was sure that this wasn't a good idea.
"Catherine, I-" her protests were cut short by the slam of Catherine's door. Sighing, Sara stepped out the passenger side and met up with her at the door.
Catherine gave her a grin. "Let's get plastered!" she chirped. Sara swallowed and stepped into the entryway.
Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water" immediately assaulted her ears, and she had to wait a few moments for her eyes to adjust in the smoky room. Quick scrutiny revealed that it was full of swaggering idiots, looking mostly of the lumberjack variety, and Sara groaned. She followed Catherine through the carbon monoxide-laden cloud to the bar, where the woman was already ordering drinks.
"Thanks, Lou," Sara heard her say. She turned and handed Sara a tall glass of dark liquid.
"I thought we were going for beers," Sara said, reluctantly accepting the ominous glass.
"What?" Catherine yelled over the music.
"I SAID I thought we were going for beers," Sara yelled.
"Just an expression," Catherine answered, shrugging. She took a large gulp and sighed. "Let's find a seat."
They wove their way through the maze of haphazardly lined tables and found a booth in a dark corner beneath a TV screen. A Cubs game was playing, but none of the words could be heard above the jukebox.
"So," Catherine began. "What's the story?"
Sara gaped at her. The woman always went straight for the throat.
Catherine waved her hand toward Sara's drink. "Take a swallow!"
She did as she was told and immediately started coughing. "What is this?"
Catherine grinned. "Lou calls it the Catherine Cyclone." She downed the rest of hers quickly and motioned toward the waitress for another. She pointedly looked at Sara, prodding her again. Sara gulped down the rest of the cough syrupy brew and motioned for another as well, wanting to drown the helplessness rising inside her.
"He's a bastard," she finally said.
Catherine laughed. "That's a given, sweetie."
Sara shook her head. "I'm so stupid."
The older CSI looked at her with sympathy as Sara stared down at her hands. "It happens to all of us. It's... It's something most guys do. They never completely grew out of that Caveman stage, you know."
Sara gulped a laugh out as she took a swig, spilling some liquid down her chin, and Catherine chuckled. This was going to be a piece of cake. She waved another round of drinks over, signaling that she only wanted a Coke. Cherry winked at her and returned quickly with their beverages.
Sara eyed her drink with interest and promptly downed half of it. God, make it go away. Magically another glass appeared and she drank it down, too. I just want to disappear.
"So what really happened, Sara? I thought he was just a friend?" Catheine leaned in closer, as if sharing some sort of confidentiality.
Sara's thinking was beginning to get fuzzy. Who were they talking about again? Oh yes. That paramedic-the one with the nice eyes and no brain.
Sara's eyes were beginning to glaze as she chugged back her "Cyclone." "We were, at first! Then Grissom-" she finished the last of her glass with a loud slurp- "had to go and bang that whore suspect wha'ssername and I 'as lonely an' Hank was willin'."
"So, you did it just to get back at Grissom?" Catherine was having a good old time!
Sara swayed a bit and managed to get out, "Yesss. I mean no," she quickly amended, then, tilting her head, she murmured, "I dunno."
Catherine sighed. So much for easy. "Then why, Sara?"
"Epidermis." Sara held up her hand and studied it, facinated.
Catherine cocked an eyebrow. "You lost me, hon."
"Skin, Catherine, duh!" Sara made a face at her as she attempted to swallow another gulp, most of it missing her mouth.
Catherine laughed behind her hand. Oh, this was too much! "I know it's skin, Sara. But what does it have to do with you and Hank?"
Sara scowled. "Hank is a whore. Hank is a skank. Hank the Skank! My baby does the hanky-skanky..." Her voice, pretty enough on good days, wobbled out the broken lyrics.
"Touching. People need to touch," Sara said suddenly, nodding her head sagaciously. "Skin to skin. Epidermis. Epithelials on clothes, sheetss..."
Catherine held up her hand. "Okay, Sara, I get the picture! So you just needed a warm body, is that it?"
Sara was swaying back and forth now. Somebody had picked Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" on the Jukebox and Sara was lip-synching.
Catherine slumped back in her seat. She felt awful for doing this to her coworker. While she'd never liked Sara much, she didn't want to get her shitfaced. Plus, her plan had not worked; she didn't see her backup anywhere.
"And I need you more tonight! An'-An' I neeeeed you more than everr," Sara suddenly belted out. "I really need you tonight! Oh, Griss!" She hiccuped and tears started to roll down her cheeks.
Catherine felt like an ass. Catherine was an ass. She sat up, reaching for Sara's hand. "Sara-"
Sara continued to cry softly. "Am I that unlovable, Catherine? Why can't he love me back?" Red, wet, and puffy, her face scrunched up as she attempted to take another drink. "Is it 'cause I don't care what I loooook like?" She hiccuped.
Catherine winced inwardly at the reference to a remark she herself had made. "No, Sara. He cares. He just-he's got his head up under a microscope." She stood up. "Come on, Sara. I'm taking you home."
"You sure as hell are not."
Catherine spun. While she recognized the voice, she had never heard such commanding determination in it. For a moment, she was scared. When she saw his face, she was terrified.
Grissom gave her a long, hard look of what appeared to be pure hatred as he quickly turned his attention to Sara. "Sara, honey, are you okay?"
She looked up through her stream of tears and hiccuped again. "Grissom? Did you come to hear me sing?"
He bit his lip, needing to steady himself. "You have a lovely voice, but no, I came to take you home. Someone paged me-" he looked pointedly at Catherine- "and said there was an emergency." While he talked he hoisted her up, supporting most of her weight with his shoulder. "It would seem that I arrived just in time."
Catherine had the decency to appear embarrassed. "Ah, Gil, how long-how much did you-"
He shut her up again, throwing daggers at her with his eyes. "Long enough to know you got your coworker drunk for your own gossiping pleasure." He looked as if he might strangle her if not for the loping Sara at his side.
"Mmm, soapy an' rainy," She breathed into his neck. He shifted her distractedly, her warm breath an unwanted distraction in his task.
"Gil, I was doing it for you. I wanted to-"
He walked past her, and for the first time in her adult life, Catherine was ignored. She crossed her arms and stood there, rolling her eyes at anyone who dared to look at her. Finally, she took one last swig of Sara's drink and fished out her keys. It was time to go home. Operation Hookup had either failed-or commenced. She smiled slightly at that thought and headed out.