Crime Scene Investigations: TMI

By Très Méchante

Summary: A vignette set at a crime scene, wherein Sara and Catherine ponder dominance, and Grissom is hopelessly confused.

Rating: Teen-ish

Warnings/Squicks: Discussion of female biology

Spoilers: Zero. Zip. Zilch.

A/N: This was written in response to an offhand challenge by VR Trakowski over at LiveJournal. The challenge was to incorporate a specific piece of dialogue. I offered her a ficlet in commenting on her post, and she asked me to post this somewhere. So here it is.

My muse is definitely on crack.

"You look like hell."

Sara turned around with a glare. "Nice to see you, too, Catherine."

Catherine held up her hands as though to ward off an attack. "That's not a criticism. I mean, you really do look like hell. Should you be here?"

Sara's snort was unladylike, but most eloquent. "I should be in a feather bed, curled up with big fluffy pillows and a hot water bottle, and with a tray of chocolates, hot tea and pain killers beside me."

The two women set their kits down just inside the room and pulled on gloves.

"Oh, that time of the month, huh?" Catherine's face held a world of sympathy.

"Yeah, I just love being a woman. Not."

Nearby, a young male officer blushed and stared determinedly at the floor. Neither woman noticed.

"I really empathize," said Catherine. "Right now I've got two pumpkins crammed into a couple of egg cups."

Sara was not quite sure how to respond, so she went with her standby comment. "Huh."

"Oh, yeah. One minute everything's fine and the next thing I know I've got Anna Nicole's breasts."

A choking cough drew their attention. The young officer was an odd shade of red, fast approaching purple.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Sara.

"Fine," was the gasped response. The officer pointed to the door – "Air" – and bolted from the room.

"Do you think we should go after him?" asked Catherine.

Sara peered out the door. "Nah. I think he's okay. You know rookies and messy crime scenes."

Catherine nodded. She looked around. "Hey, Grissom?"

A muffled voice came from deeper inside the house. The two women picked up their kits and started moving in that general direction.

Suddenly, Catherine put her hand on Sara's arm and stopped her. "I'm serious, Sara. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Because I've my monthly drugs on me and I don't mind sharing."

Sara chuckled.

At Catherine's offended look, Sara said "I appreciate the offer, Catherine. But I'm good for now. I was just thinking that this is the weirdest bonding moment I've ever had."

They climbed the stairs slowly, checking out the scene as they went.

"I know what you mean," replied Catherine. "But you've got to admit, it's something the guys really can't share."

They heard Grissom's voice coming from the top of another set of stairs and proceeded to climb upward.

"Well, there is that," agreed Sara. "Hey, did you ever read about that study on the synchronization of menstrual cycles among women?"

"Isn't that the one that said the rhythm was set by the dominant female in the workplace?"

Sara and Catherine paused a moment, looked at each other and then continued on in silence.

Catherine was the one who broke first. "So, uh, Sara, when did you start?"

"A little over seven hours ago," responded a male voice.

Sara and Catherine looked at Grissom, confusion evident on both their faces.

"Sara came in early to help out the previous shift," said Grissom.

Catherine cleared her throat. "Right. So, what do we have?"

Grissom led the way into the attic bedroom. "Rose Jones, 36, found by the housekeeper. Judging by the amount of blood, she probably bled to death."

Catherine walked toward the body, nodding to Dave who was beginning his examination. She automatically began to look for blood spatter. "Uh, Grissom, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of blood here."

"No, it's in the bedroom. The body was moved for some reason, but the position doesn't make sense," he said.

Dave looked up. "This is the source of the blood around the head," he said, pointing out a nasty looking wound at the side of her head. "We'll do a proper exam back at the morgue, but I'm not finding any other injuries. This looks like someone hit her with something when she wasn't looking. It's possible she died instantly."

Dave signaled his assistant to bring the gurney closer. "I'll let you know what we find."

Grissom looked vaguely like he'd just swallowed a lemon with a vinegar chaser. It really wasn't a good look for him.

"Then where did all the blood come from," he muttered as he stared at the bed. "A second victim, maybe?"

Catherine looked at the bed and said, "Oh."

Sara looked at Catherine, then at the bed and said, "Ah."

Grissom looked at Catherine, then at Sara and then at the bed and said, "Huh?"

"What's the matter, Grissom?" asked Catherine.

"Look at that," he said, pointing to the massive blood stain on the sheets. "The evidence says she bled out there, but it's not consistent with the position of the body."

Sara cleared her throat. "Uh, Grissom…"

"Hm?" He never took his eyes off the bed.

Sara started to speak, paused, tried again and then simply said, "Never mind. I'll have Doc Robbins explain it to you."

That got his attention. He looked over at her, frowning. "Explain what?"

Catherine and Sara shared the universal look of women the world over who had to deal with clueless men.

Catherine smiled an evil little smile as she answered him. "Female biology. Broaden your horizons, Gil."

-END-