Spoilers: Cool Change

Pairing: Maybe S/C?

Rating: T for Too Cool. Hehe

Notes: I'm giving this whole Non-One-Shot thing a try. Also, my beta is currently not speaking to me due to drama. All mistakes are my own fault.

000

Sitting in the break room I try to keep focused on the case in front of me. The tears keep sneaking up on me when they think I'm not paying attention. Holly was so young. So much like I had been when I first started out. Put aside her doubt that she could succeed, and you could practically taste her desire to do the job well. This was something she'd wanted to do her whole life. I wish I could say something like that.

I found my thoughts wondering back to when I was in high school and I'd thought I'd wanted to open a restaurant. Could I cook? Hell no. But I thought, "Hey, if I can make something that people enjoy, than that's worth it." That was before my Wellness Occupations class went to the morgue for the first time.

From the second I saw a little girl lying there under a sheet on a cold metal table, bullet hole standing out like a neon sign in the side of her neck, that I knew I couldn't let this happen to any more children.

That was before my dad kicked me out. That was before I became a "dancer". That was before I let people like Eddie Willow's tell me, "Just a little sniff of this and you'll be golden" As he shoved lines of cocaine under my nose.

My life had gone to hell, and I'd let it.

Some how I managed to fake the pretty smile, put on the stilettos, force out the dance. Eddie had been right, this was so much easier when I couldn't make out the faces, and the only things I could see were pretty colors and money.

I can't deny that I loved life while I was high. It was like nothing mattered. Not the bills, not college, not Ed, nothing but me. Then it all finally ended. I got pregnant with Lindsey, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I gave myself one last push. I decided that I was going to go back to school and become an investigator. I thought back to the day in high school, over five years ago when I'd seen that little girl lying dead on that table. If things like that were still happening to people, then I had to stop it. Never was my baby girl going to be on that slab at least not until she's old and fat and surrounded by happy grandchildren. I'll be long gone by then.

Nothing but a memory.

Shaking myself from my inner soliloquy, I attempt to focus on the names, the dates, and the blah blah blah that goes with every case. I feel cruel for telling myself that, but I feel like it's the only way I can hold on. It's my fault she's here. My fault that the person laying on that table in the morgue isn't just another name to another case. It's Holly. Holly Gribbs, a woman who I convinced not to give up.

I force myself to stand, only now noticing that my legs are shaking. "Get ahold of yourself, Catherine!" I whisper to my self, feeling slightly ridiculous for talking to myself. Forcing my legs to walk over to the sink, I brace myself over it, afraid that I'm going to puke. My head goes foggy for a moment and it's like the room is too small. Where did all of the air go?

I turn and lean against the counter, rubbing my temples in an attempt to sooth away the feelings going through my head. I don't even notice when the door opens and someone walks in.

"Mind if I get a soda?" A voice says, and I open my eyes to see Sara Sidle standing in front of me. Her eyebrows are raised in a half smirk, half frown and I figure she must have been here for a while. I want to smack her. Realizing what she said, I raise one of my own eyebrows. I'm too tired for this.

I realize I'm standing in front of the fridge and feel incredibly stupid, maybe even a little sorry for having been angry toward her. The feeling is too much though, so I push it away. A girl can only handle so many emotions.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I say, realizing how tired I sound when my voice cracks. I move out of the way back to my place at the table and she pulls open the door, grabbing a cola. She's so much different than Holly was. In many ways she reminds me of Gil. They're both all about the job, slightly detatched, and definitely genius. I find myself wondering what she came from. What had Grissom had to do to get this woman to drop everything and rush out here? Were they...okay ew. Bad mental place. Naked Grissom.

"You want one?" Again, Sara is looking at me like I'm an idiot and I feel a pink blush creep up my neck. I've never blushed a day in my life, it takes away from my whole "Bad ass law enforecement woman" image. She holds out a can to me with a smile and I give a dry laugh asking if there's anything with alcohol. I don't drink often, because I'm always on call, but today I could definitely use a shot. Or two.

"Root beer?" She asks with a smirk on her face. For a second we are completely comfortable, just two co-workers hanging out in the break room. But then I turn and look through the clear glass wall, seeing Greg a few feet away working hard on evidence and it all comes rushing back.

"No." I say, and that is the end of our conversation.

I steal a glance at her and rest my hands on my hips. Maybe I could like this kid after all.

000

I think I'm trying to convince myself that I hate her. Everytime I get even a little close though, she'll look up at me and smile and I don't remember any of the reasons why. I have no reason to dislike her, and definitely no reason to have such an interest in her. We've been sitting here for well over an hour since the Three Aces, and I've been desperately trying not to look at her.

I wonder if she always hums when she's reading. It's like she doesn't even realize she's doing it, and I'm almost positive she doesn't when the humming turns into singing softly under her breath.

"Fist pounding on a vending machine
Toy diamond ring stuck on her finger
With a noose she can hang from the sun
And put it out with her dark sunglasses
Walking crooked down the beach
She spits on the sand where their bones are bleaching
And I know I'm gonna steal her eye
She doesn't even know what's wrong"

I recognize the lyrics of a Beck song and almost laugh out loud. She gives me a curious look, and it's like only then does she realize what she was doing. She ducks her head and her brownhair falls in a curtain in front of her face. Is she blushing? God, Sara Sidle blushing is the cutest thing.

...Wait.

No it's not! Shut up Catherine. An awkward silence comes crashing down on us and she starts digging through her purse. Lucky her, I'm just sitting here like an idiot with nothing to distract me from the silence.

"Nicorette?" she asks with a grin, and I feel my own smile light up.

"No, thanks." I say jokingly sticking my tongue out and stretching out my gum. "Got my own."

We sit for a minute, jutst sorta smiling at eachother like idiots, before Greg opens the door to his lab and pokes his spikey haired head into the hallway.

"Boss, your DNA results are back!" He calls out, and I'm not even out of my chair yet before she's run over to the lab.

I really could like this kid.

TBC?

A/N: This is something that I love. Writing, CSI, Scat, the whole shebang. It's something I do to avoid bio homework and take my mind off of things. So please let me know what you think by pushing the tiny blueish button at the bottom lefthand corner of your web page.

Thanks!