It's up! Not entirely perfect, but I wanted it up before the weekend. I have a friend coming to stay for a few days, but will try to get one more up over the weekend anyway. As always, thank you for reading and reviewing x


"Ahem." Catherine coughed softly to get his attention. "You ready?"

Grissom's head shot up from his desk, a confused haze dancing across his expression.

"For what?"

With an impatient eye-roll, Cath pushed herself off the doorframe and ambled towards the desk with her hands outstretched.

"Cases, assignments?" She gestured pointedly to the untouched pile of folders perched precariously on the edge of his cluttered desk.

Grissom took off his glasses sheepishly and rubbed his eyes.

"Sorry." He mumbled, checking his watch. "I guess I just got carried away."

"Right." Cath pursed her lips. "So, are you coming?"

Grissom paused, weighing up the question. Finally, plastering a blank expression on his face, he met her gaze over the desk.

"No."

The blunt delivery caught Catherine off guard and for a moment she just stared at him.

Recovering, she emitted a guttural growl and snatched up the top two folders. However, before she reached the door, she whirled back around to face him. His glasses were already perched back on the edge of his nose and he had resumed whatever he was working on before she entered.

"You know, I'm sorry if I was difficult the other day. But you can't avoid working with me forever." She snapped.

Gil peered at her over the rim of his specs, his expression completely unreadable in the gloomy shadows behind his desk; but he didn't say a word.


"Alright." She huffed, dropping the folders on the bench. "Grissom's hibernating tonight, so I guess I'll do assignments. Nick, you and Sara have a 419 in the Palermo."

"Great." Nick almost groaned, accepting the folder. He turned to wave it at Sara, who was lurking quietly by the coffee pot. "I'll meet you at the car in five."

If Catherine noticed the brooding tension between the younger team members, she ignored it, turning her attention instead to Warrick.

"You're with me: suspicious circs in Summerlin."

As the men filed out, leaving the woman alone, Cath decided to take the opportunity to clear the air. Collaring Sara by the sleeve, she spun the brunette around to face her. Sara jumped, startled by the unprecedented physical contact.

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for yesterday." Cath began tentatively. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"It's fine." Sara shrugged, keeping her eyes averted. "You're right, why would I know anything about raising kids?"

Shuffling her feet nervously, Cath tried to organise her thoughts on the spot. She had planned what she wanted to say earlier, but her brief altercation with Gil had thrown her all to pot.

"It's just ... I guess I was just surprised. I'm usually pretty good at reading people; but somehow I missed it with you. You're not the stereotypical..."

"Dyke?" Sara filled in for her when she trailed off. "Why, because I don't have short hair and a lip piercing?"

It was not said with malice, or with even a hint of emotion, but it made Catherine flinch none the less.

"I'm sorry..."

Sara rolled her eyes and, tugging her arm free from her colleague's grasp, she made to leave.

"I'll see you later, Cat."

Catherine dropped her shoulders, realising with a sad heart that – far from apologising – she had managed to make things worse.

Two colleagues, two attempts to apologise ... and she was 0 for 2.

It was going to be a long shift.


Cath slipped off her orange goggles and released a sigh, causing the dust to swirl around her in a dizzy cloud.

"Man, did I call the wrong case tonight." She bemoaned miserably.

"Well, if it helps, I doubt Sara and Nick are having a ball either." Warrick volunteered, standing up and dusting the mess off his jeans.

"Yeah?" Cath exhaled. "Why's that?"

"You mean you don't know?" Rick frowned. "They're not really on speaking terms, ever since Grissom recommended Nick for that promotion."

"Seriously?" Cath scrunched up her face. "I mean, know Sara's dedicated to her work, but I didn't think she'd be that sullen about it."

"Oh, it's not Sara that's sulking." Warrick explained. "Greg had a go at Nick – on Sara's behalf – and Nick thinks she put him up to it."

Catherine laughed, wiping her hair out of her eyes and leaving a streak of dirt across her forehead in the process.

"Yeah, because Sara can't fight her own battles."

"That's what I told him." Warrick smiled knowingly. "But you know what Nick's like when he gets a bee in his bonnet about something."

"Yeah. And I sent them off to work together."

"Yeah," Warrick echoed. "Just a heads up: something tells me you won't be too popular tonight."

Shaking her head, Catherine tilted her eyes towards the ceiling.

"To be honest, Warrick, I'm not popular anywhere at the moment."

He arched an eyebrow over his emerald green orbs, silently encouraging her to elaborate.

"Oh, forget it." She sighed; gesturing to the blood-stained carpet they had been gradually unearthing beneath their dead hoarder's lifetime collection of junk. "Come on, help me roll this thing up and let's get back to the lab. I need a shower."


"Hey Sara," Nick called down from the step ladder. "Hand me that Maglight, will you?"

Sara darted up obediently to pass him the tool.

"Thanks." He nodded, watching her walk back to her evidence with a meagre shrug of acknowledgement. Since leaving the lab parking lot, he had yet to get more than ten words out of her, and all of those had been about the scene.

"You find anything up there?" She enquired at last, too busy scribbling something on a clip-board to spare him a glance.

"Maybe." He agreed, extracting a swap from his pocket. "Could be blood. Could be rust. Greg will be able to tell us for certain."

"Mm Hmm." She agreed absently, furtively sliding her cell phone out of her pocket to check it.

As he descended from the ladder, Nick took a deep breath and swallowed down a few ounces of his pride.

"Hey Sara," he started. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday. Greg said something, but I know that probably had nothing to do with you."

"No, it didn't." She agreed distractedly, hurriedly scanning the text message she had just received.

"You know, he really has it bad for you." The Texan continued with a cheeky smile, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

When Sara continued to frown at her phone, barely even aware that he was still talking, his patience started to wane. Yanking off his latex gloves with a harsh snap, he tossed them onto the bed.

"You know what," he threw his hands up dismissively. "Forget it. I'm going to look for Jim downstairs."

Alone, Sara sank onto the bed and cast her eyes skyward, ignoring the few tears of relief escaping and creeping down her cheeks.

"Thank God." She hiccupped breathlessly.


Catherine shuffled into the kitchen, her slippers whispering across the linoleum, and clicked the coffee pot on. The memory of the dream was fading fast, but that song was still playing away in the back of her mind, like a cassette stuck on repeat.

"One, two ... Freddy's coming for you ..."

The tips of her hair were damp, though whether it was from her earlier shower or fear-induced sweat, she decided she'd rather not know.

"Mom?" A hopeful little voice enquired, dragging her gratefully from her thoughts. Plastering the most calm smile she could muster on her face, Catherine turned to face her daughter.

"What's wrong, Linds?"

"Nothing." The child shrugged, leaning sweetly against her mother's hip and gazing up at her with baby-blue eyes. "It's just that, Sophie's parents are going away next weekend and her sister's looking after her and her parents have said she can have some friends over for a sleepover and ..."

"No." Catherine extracted herself from the tiny arms around her waist and whirled back around to pour herself a much-needed cup of coffee.

"But mom ..."

"No, Lindsey." Catherine repeated firmly. "You cannot go to a sleepover where there are no adults present."

"But Casey's going to be in charge."

"Oh yeah," Cath rolled her eyes. "And what a responsible babysitter she is."

Lindsey's little face – a moment ago the picture of innocence – screwed itself into a snarl and she stomped her way back to the kitchen door, where she offered the three most hurtful words a parent can hear.

"I hate you!"

Hurling herself into the nearest chair with her drink, Catherine stared down into the murky black liquid and sighed dejectedly.

"Join the club, kid."