Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer, though Vlad Stavcovic, Jake Blantic and Ellie Wilson belong to me.

Author's Note: This is an A/U story. Sara never became a CSI, Catherine doesn't know Sam Braun is her father…yet. Written in response to Wend's Catch Me If You Can–challenge. Hope you like it…

Jackpot

By

MBInc

Chapter 1: Russian Roulette.

"Copy that," a tall, dark-haired woman in a well-fitting, black suit said as she received a message through her earpiece.

After straightening her newly-tailored jacket, Sara Sidle headed for the main entrance of the casino where she would escort her boss to an appointment at the Bellagio. This was her second week in Vegas and her very first day as staff-member of Sam Braun's surveillance team.

When she'd signed her contract yesterday she thought she'd have to stand guard in one of the gambling rooms –a boring job to her, but she needed the money and so, had took this opportunity with both hands.

This morning, however, she was gladly informed she would be assigned to Mr. Braun's group of bodyguards and that she would get a permanent appointment if she did well today.

Her previous job had been in San Francisco, where she had been head of a team of personal security to self-made millionaire Vlad Stavcovic. The middle-aged man had always been a good boss, easy to work for, and hardly any problems had arisen during the year Sara had been chief of security.

But one night, about a month ago, things had changed.

Mr. Stavcovic and Sara were having their weekly dinner meeting. After half an hour of going through the schedule of the coming week, noting down some special events the millionaire had to attend, Stavcovic suddenly asked the tall brunette about her personal life, a thing he every once in a while –when in a good mood- did.

"So, how are you and your better half?" Stavcovic asked, he had overheard one of his servants talking about his chief of security and her foul mood of the last few weeks.

Sara had to smirk a little at his choice words. "My better half," she said, her smirk turning into a rueful grin, "betrayed me three months ago. When I came home I found this guy in our bedroom."

"Another man? He betrayed you with another man? Mr. Stavcovic asked. "He's gay?" Not giving the brunette time to answer he continued. "That's not the way a woman must be treated. That filthy ani…"

"No," Sara interrupted. "She, my girlfriend, betrayed me. Moved in with me, used me, then decided she couldn't go without certain parts of the male body. That night I kicked her, as well as all her little knick-knacks that had invaded my house, out. Since then I've been on my own again."

Stavcovic had sat there staring at the brunette, taking in everything the tall woman had just said with a rather disgusted look on his face, not saying a word. Sara started to regret her actions, she shouldn't have thrown it all out in the open like that. But she was so fed up with Ellie Wilson.

The bitch.

She wasn't 100 percent sure, but she thought she'd seen Ellie's car speed off just seconds after that Molotov was thrown –badly aimed- against her front door, bouncing back and landing on her porch. No real damage was done, but the next day she'd started packing and now she was living in this small apartment at the other side of town.

Looking back at Stavcovic she was about to say something when he finally spoke up. "You're a lesbian?"

Sara merely nodded, fearing what was to come.

The next morning she, when she entered the security office at Stavcovic's villa, she was handed her resignation. She then and there decided to leave San Francisco.

She decided to try her luck in Las Vegas.

One week ago, after she had temporarily dropped all her stuff in a crappy motel room, she went in search for a job, and ended at the Strip –at a casino of Sam Braun.

As she reached the main entrance she took a quick scan of the surroundings –noticing the limousine waiting already.

Jake, chief of the surveillance staff, was headed her way, two other bodyguards walking behind him, flanking Sam Braun.

Just as Sara opened the door of the limousine, a black car sped by with the passenger's window down and the brunette noticed a glint from inside the car. The smell of burning rubber that had filled her nose was quickly replaced by that of gunpowder as shots were fired, coming from the car.

"Get down!" she screamed as she pulled her gun. Suddenly she was pushed and fell forwards.

The shooting didn't stop, and Sara felt the whizzing of a bullet past her shoulder. Quickly she scrambled onto her feet and sought shelter of the bullet-rain behind the limousine. Aiming her gun at the black car, she noticed shots were still fired, though seemed to miss every target.

-----

An hour later Sara stood at the one-way window of one of the interrogation rooms at the LVPD, using its mirror-simulating quality to look at her battered reflection.

The door opened and the bodyguard saw the reflection of a strawberry blonde woman and a droopy-eyed, grumpy looking man entering the interrogation room. She recognized the man to be detective Brass whom she had already spoken to at the casino. The woman, though, she hadn't seen before.

She guessed her to be a few years her senior, but damn did she have a nice body. She definitely knows how to accessorize, Sara thought, thoroughly enjoying the view she had of the low cut shirt –a golden necklace pulling her eyes towards the small hint of cleavage.

Sara felt a shiver run through her spine as she noticed a pair of striking blue eyes checking her out. She also noticed she small smirk settling on the lips of the strawberry blonde woman.

"Miss Sidle?" the detective spoke up.

The brunette turned to face them, her face guarded –not showing any emotion.

"This is…" he started, but was interrupted by the woman.

"Catherine Willows, CSI," the strawberry blonde said as she walked over to the tall dark-haired woman and shook her hand. Though the bodyguard's suit was practically ruined, Catherine thought she still looked pretty. No, handsome, she thought. Handsome seems to fit her better.

Sara raised an eyebrow at the electric shock she felt as her hand connected with that of the CSI's. Did she feel that as well?

"Right," Brass started again, both of the women focusing again on why they were here. "We need you to tell us everything you can remember."

Sara nodded, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the entire scene enfolding itself in her mind again.

"The guy that shot us drove a black Toyota, yellow star on the hood, tinted windows, license plate started with LFJ," the brunette said as she used her already completely ruined jacket to swipe at the blood seeping from her cheek and eyebrow.

"That's an observing eye you have there," Catherine said, after setting her kit down and snapping on some gloves walked over.

Sara shrugged. "Part of the job. Have to be on your toes every second, take in your surroundings. It's what I get paid for, and what I do best." She hissed as she pressed the sleeve of her jacket a little too hard against the cut in her eyebrow.

"Let me have a look at that," Catherine said as she reached for the dark fabric pressed against the still bleeding wound.

"Nah, it's ok, I'll live," the brunette said stubbornly as moved back and out of the strawberry blonde's reach.

"Come on, it's what I do best," Catherine smiled reassuringly as she took another step towards the tall woman.

"I thought said you were a crime scene investigator, not a doctor."

"I'm a mother. That job requires medical knowledge as well as that of cooking, washing, school politics, latest fashion trends, hottest new boy bands," she said, adding the last part with a dramatic sigh of despair.

"A mother, huh?" Sara said as she let the strawberry blonde take her jacket out of her grip.

"Yes, so having a look at bumps and scratches is part of my job," Catherine said as she cupped the younger woman's chin, turning her head just a bit to get a better look at the wounds. Sara was marveled by the soft touch of Catherine's fingers on her skin –the stinging pain from the cut instantly forgotten and replaced by a tingling feeling settling in her stomach.

"Boy or girl?" Sara inquired after she had composed herself, moving her head back and out of the strawberry blonde's grasp.

Catherine shot her an evil glare, motioned to the chair –wordlessly ordering the tall woman to sit, then turned and reached across the table, pulling her kit closer and searching for some absorbent cotton and gauze.

Sara kept her stance, not willing to let this woman walk over her completely, even though her body had a completely different idea on that matter.

Catherine turned back, hands filled with the necessities she needed in order to clean the brunette's wounds. "Sit down," she said sternly as she pushed the brunette on a chair.

Brass –who had found his familiar 'hanging spot' against the back wall, sniggered softly as he watched the two stubborn women. This could get interesting, he thought, a smirk lingering on his lips.

As the older woman turned back to the bodyguard she reached for Sara's chin again –a little rougher than before. The brunette flinched a little as Catherine started to disinfect the scratches on the younger woman's cheek.

"Sorry," the strawberry blonde started while she was working on the brunette's wounds. "I have to clean this up first. Please keep your head still." She felt the younger woman's nod and slowly her hand slipped off Sara's chin.

She locked eyes with the brunette as she placed the used cotton on the table and reached for new. Sara, spotting from the corner of her eye that Catherine reached past the absorbent cotton, stretched her arm, grabbed some and handed them over to the CSI.

"Here," she smirked.

"Thanks," Catherine quickly replied, feeling her cheeks burning up as one single thought went through her mind, Busted!

Those dark, hazel eyes had such an enchanting effect on her. The minute she had stepped into the interrogation room and had first laid eyes on the tall body guard, a shiver ran through her body, settling in the pit of her stomach. But knowing she had a job that needed to be done, she quickly ignored the stir the brunette had caused, wiped the smirk off her face and let her investigative skills kick in. However, now all those skills seemed to have vanished to the background again. Damn those eyes...

A soft clearing of a throat shook Catherine out of her thought and she remembered Sara had asked her a question. "A girl, Lindsey," she replied. The scrapings on the body guard's cheek all fixed up, Catherine now examined the cut in Sara's eyebrow.

"Well, if she's as persistent as her mother she must be a handful," Sara smirked.

"That she is," Catherine smiled back.

"Alright," Brass chipped in. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"Well," Sara thought for a moment, replaying the entire event once again –her eyes closed as the older woman was assessing the cut in her eyebrow. The way those bullets had flown across the air, how they had whirred past her head it was a miracle she hadn't been hit.

The cut in her eyebrow had actually been Jake's fault. The chief of surveillance made his way over to Sam Braun, pushing him to safety into the limousine the second the first shot rang, causing the brunette to fall head-first against the curb, her face connecting with her drawn Glock.

As she recalled the shots, there had been something odd about the trajectory. The shots hadn't been aimed at Sam Braun. They had been aimed at her.

Her eyes shot open as that fact dawned upon her.

"What's wrong?" Catherine inquired. "Do you remember something? Something about the gunman?"

"No," Sara whispered. "Sam Braun is not the intended target."

"Then who is?" Brass asked not believing that anyone other than Sam Braun, a shady casino owner, could have been the gunman's target.

"I am," she whispered, locking eyes with the strawberry blonde.

"There were shots fired from my left, directed at me. The car was right in front of me, the gunman firing towards the guards at the door. I think he didn't even fire live rounds, considering not one of the guards got hurt despite the dozens of bullets he fired. The gunman never fired in my direction, though I had to duck behind the limousine, dodging a couple of bullets."

"Can you remember who was at your left?" Catherine asked softly.

Sara nodded immediately. "My chief, Jake Banting."

"Banting? Blantic you mean," Brass said. "Are you sure?" he asked, a not so happy look settling on his face.

The brunette nodded again, running a shaky hand through her hair. Blantic, Blantic. She searched her brain, thinking why that name sounded so familiar.

Sara gasped as pieces of the puzzle started to fall into their places. "Fuck."

"What?" Brass asked as he took a tentative step towards the tall woman.

"Blantic you said, right?"

The detective nodded.

"Before I came to Vegas, I worked in San Francisco, as head of a personal security team of Mr. Stavcovic, a fifty year old millionaire. He had a business partner, Pavel Blantic."

"Big chance he's related to our Jake," Brass interrupted, but then urged the woman to continue.

"After working for Stavcovic for about a year, he suddenly fired me without a good reason."

"What reason did he give you?" the detective inquired.

"I walked in on my lover and some guy."

"That's definitely a strange reason to be fired," Catherine quipped.

"That's not it," Sara started again. "It was because I caught my girlfriend with another guy."

Catherine had to swallow once, wondering –secretly hoping- whether she had heard the brunette correctly.

Sara, noticing she strange look on the strawberry blonde's face, spoke up again, hoping everything would be clear then. "He fired me because I'm gay."

The older woman nodded –another shiver running through her spine as Sara glanced at her.

There was a knock at the door and their heads turned towards it. A cop was standing there, asking Brass to come along, because there was a man who needed to speak to him immediately about the shooting accident at Sam Braun's casino. The detective excused himself and headed for the reception area –leaving two silent women behind.

Catherine, looking at the brunette who still sat on the chair, shoulders hunched, head hung, decided to break the silence between them. "When exactly did you arrive here in Vegas?"

"Two weeks ago," Sara said, not looking up.

"I'm sorry to hear she did that to you, you seem to be such a nice person."

The brunette lifted her head, a small smile curling her lips. "I'm not."

Catherine raised her eyes questioningly at that statement.

Sara, noticing the look on the older woman's face, knew she had to clarify herself. "Sorry, that is. Because otherwise I'd probably never have met you," she said softly, looking straight into Catherine's sparkling blue eyes.

The strawberry blonde felt her cheeks reddening again and just as she was about to speak up, Brass entered the interrogation room again.

"Damn," the detective cursed as he entered the room again. "Blantic. He's here."

"What? Here? I though he accompanied Mr. Braun to his hideout?" Sara asked surprised.

"No," Brass replied. "After being questioned by the police Sam Braun headed off for his appointment after all."

That coldhearted asshole, the dark-haired bodyguard thought, her hands clenching into fists –knuckles turning white because of the tight grip. He cares for his staff, yeah right.

"We have to get you out of here," Brass started. "Without him noticing. Where are you staying at the moment?"

"They just set me up with…"

"A room at one of Sam Braun's hotels," Catherine finished.

Sara nodded.

"You can't go back there," Catherine stated flatly.

"Why not? If I don't go back, Blantic will know something's up. He'll realize I know something," the tall dark-haired woman said as she stood up.

"She has a point, Catherine," Brass said, immediately regretting his words as he received a death-glare from the CSI.

"She can't go back," Catherine said to the detective.

"Hey," Sara started, walking over to the strawberry blonde. "I can take care of myself. I've had years of training," she said, anger tangible in her voice.

"You need to leave Vegas," Catherine quipped, locking eyes with the brunette.

"No."

The two women were involved in a staring contest –both strong-willed and not wanting to give in.

"At least don't go back to that hotel," the older woman spoke up, her voice as well as her look softening a little as she noticed the fatigue in those hazel eyes looking at her.

Sara pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking over her options in the process. "No," she replied. "I'm sorry, Miss Willows, but I need to get back."

After grabbing her jacket off of the table she walked out of the interrogation room, leaving a flustered Catherine behind.

Brass quickly headed after the brunette, and stopped her before she would walk into the reception area and cross paths with Blantic.

"Not a smart move, kiddo," the detective said as he pulled her into his office. "Listen, I'll come along to your hotel, drop you off at your room and arrange a stake out."

"That's not necessary, I'll be fine," Sara said, still not wanting to give in an inch.

"Listen to me. You do not want that woman to be angry at you," he said as he pointed to outside of his office. "Especially if you want a chance with her," he added mumbling.

"What did you say?" Of course she had heard him –loud and clear, but she realized the man was right, and that if she would be killed tonight, she would never get a chance with the strawberry blonde.

"Nothing, nothing," the detective answered. "Just let me make a phone call, then we're out of here."

Sara sighed her defeat, she had definitely felt something between her and that CSI Willows, and, although she could take care of herself well enough, decided to take the detective up on his offer.

Thank you for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated!