Chapter 4
Bars and Bullets
Nick had left Sara alone in the interview room after promising that he would fix this for her. Well it would be hard for him to make it worse...She reasoned, He could at least have brought me some decent tea...Or better, coffee...
Shocked at her sleep-deprived mind's priorities she attempted to reshuffle them by giving herself something tangible to focus on. Since she had been presented with the pictures of Wynard, her mind had gone into overdrive. She was desperately trying to remember what had happened so that next time they came a calling she did not have to rely on Crawford to tell her what had happened.
She cast her mind back, trying to focus on details. She had been lonely in her room, her phone call with Gil had cut out on them, the signal telling them to do what they should have done long before that. A heated argument that would normally send couples into different rooms was complicated by distance. A cold shoulder over thousands of miles was unbearable and their marriage was at breaking point without that added tension. It was altogether too easy to punish the other person, simply by ignoring their calls and messages, which happened accidentally more often than not, but it would inevitably be taken as bitterness and contempt over distance and so they had learned not to hang up after an argument but to stay awkwardly, simmering, on the line until one of them brought up a meaningless and mundane subject of conversation such as the weather. Fortunately, the signal had cut, preventing hours of pointless small talk that upset both of them more than their initial argument.
She had decided against trying to call him back and had automatically switched her phone off, not wanting to be disturbed by Grissom or Russell. The only company she wanted was that of a stiff drink, or six. She had a week off, Grissom had been supposed to join her and allow them to reconnect but the God's she did not believe in had decided to punish her for her lack of faith and prove that they did exist by preventing him from coming, and so now all she would have to show for her holiday was a week's worth of hangovers and bad choices that the others would pick up on.
Screw them. She thought as she started proceedings strongly with a double vodka. She thought sadly of how different this could have been. She had booked them a hotel, partly so he would not see the vast amount of work she now took home with her to keep her company in his absence and partly because deep down, there was still a vein of romance desperately trying to break through to the surface.
A tall stranger settled himself in the stool next to her, ordering a large whiskey and accepting it in the same way she had accepted hers, as though it were a last request. He glanced at her and said, "Rough night?"
"Rough year." She shot back, downing the vodka and asking for another, single this time however.
His eyes darted to her wedding ring, "Married?" he asked, dejectedly.
"Yes." She said shortly and then, unable to stop herself she had added, "Unhappily."
It was not an invitation to bed, far from it, it was a cry for help. She couldn't talk to her co-workers, they were too close to Grissom, and the ones who weren't knew her too well for it to be comfortable but not well enough to know her. She sure as Hell couldn't talk to her husband and if she was honest, had no-one outside of work that she was comfortable enough speaking to it about. This however, this was a perfect stranger that she could forget about in a few vodkas and a morning. This was perfect.
"Why's that then?" he asked, knowing what she wanted.
"My husband's living thousands of miles away and can't wrench his head up out of the microscope for long enough to see the train wreck that's hurtling towards him."
"And what train wreck would that be?"
"That of his marriage." She sighed, the vodka plus insomnia combining to give a loose tongue.
"Is there any way to fix it?" he asked, for him, concerned to get her in to bed, for her, concerned because he cared.
"God yes." She breathed, "But that would involve admitting that it's broken in the first place." She said, her finger circling the top of the glass.
"Not one to admit he's wrong?"
"No, no, he's wrong all the time, something he freely admits, but usually he admits he's wrong and moves on to the next theory, this time he has to actually accept that something's wrong and then try and fix it."
"Have you tried talking to him?"
"Believe me, we've wracked up enough minutes to make a call centre blush, unfortunately constructive communication is not a strong point of either of us."
"Well maybe you should just go out and see him?" he suggested.
"I can't..." she whispered.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm afraid that the thing we can't bring ourselves to stay over the phone will become too easy in person." She choked. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to listen to this."
"It's OK, I don't mind...I kind of know how you feel. I tried the whole long distance thing once..."
"Please tell me you ended up married with three kids and a house by the sea."
"Sorry..."
She groaned into her now empty glass, she had not slept and barely eaten for days and the alcohol had gone straight to her head, deciding against another she picked herself up and said, "Thank you for listening, really, but I should go."
"Let me walk you back up to your hotel room."
"That's really not necessary."
"Please, if you don't I'll stay here all night and drink myself to death."
"Alright..." she said, slowly, deciding she at least owed him that.
"What room number are you?"
"3266." She said,
"Weird."
"Why?"
"I'm 3268, we're right next door."
"Weird indeed..."
"Well, thank you for walking me back." She said, as they stopped outside her room.
She began digging in her pockets and swore softly under her breath.
"What's wrong?" He asked, coming back towards her.
"I've lost my key card." She snarled, annoyed at her own stupidity.
"Here, you can call down for a new one on my phone." He offered.
"It's really alright...I'll walk down."
"If you think I'm going to let you walk back down fifteen flights of stairs to stand at a desk for three hours when I could be enjoying your company you're sorely mistaken." He said, smiling slightly.
"Alright then...Thanks...I just hope you know, train wreck or not, I'm a married woman."
"Yes, yes Mrs Morals, just come in and sit down already." He smirked. She smiled back and entered.
After being on the phone for a good twenty minutes becoming more and more irritated as the hotel made her jump through more hoops as she tried to remember the fifth and seventh letters of her first teachers cat, and he sat sipping white wine and smirking at some of her more sardonic remarks, he offered her a glass as well.
"No, I really shouldn't." She said,
"Well judging by that phone call we may be here a while." He grinned, "We may as well be comfortable."
She smiled and accepted the glass.
"So, you're name's Sara?" he asked smiling.
"Yes, well done Sherlock, what's yours?" she replied.
"Taylor, but I like Sherlock."
She smirked, "You married? Girlfriend?"
"Nope, that's why I'm in Vegas, trying to get lucky...Well that and my sister had a business conference and said I should get out more...She paid for my plane ticket, what could I say?"
She laughed easily and said, "So if you've not got a wife or a girlfriend, what are you trying to drink away?"
"That. The absence of said wife or girlfriend."
She laughed again, "Seriously?"
"I lost my job back home in Florida, someone filed a duff sexual harassment suit and they asked me to step down gracefully, I knew it was a set up and I didn't have the money for legal fees, I agreed."
"That sucks."
"Why yes, yes it does...Look who has the great detective skills now." She smiled at the irony of this and took another sip of wine.
"What did you do?" she asked,
"What do you think I did?"
"Something in an office." She smiled, "I'd guess accountant."
"Very good, yes I was in banking, I did the taxes of a large firm in Florida...What do you do in the real world?"
"What do you think?"
"Stripper?" he smirked.
"Excuse me?"
"Well you've got the looks for it." He said, silkily.
"Hey, back off, I've said-"
"So married people can't do a little flirting?" he said easily,
"Alright...No not a stripper."
"Something science-y..."
"What gives you that impression?"
"You talked about your husband having his head in a microscope, but you talked like you understood it...Doctor?"
"Close but no, I'm forensics." She said,
"So you are the detective?" he smiled, picking up on his earlier comment.
"Yes."
"Well Detective Sara, you're husbands an idiot." He said, softly.
"What gives you that impression?"
"Well if I had the choice between spending all my time with a microscope or with you...I know which one I would choose."
"Thank you." She breathed.
"I shouldn't be thanked for pointing out the obvious."
She couldn't remember having moved towards him but they were now very close, he smelt sweet, with a hint of citrus...He tasted sweet too as he leant in and gently pressed his lips to hers...
A/N: What do you think to that? I hope that everything has been in character and makes sense so far. Once again, thank you all for your reviews, you can never have too many of them, don't be shy, let me know what you thought :)