A/N: Sorry this update has taken a bit longer, finals are coming up and I have about 8.3 minutes every day to myself. And I usually use those to shower :o) But, I have forced myself to take a moment for myself, and here is the next chapter. After this one, things are going to get a bit…stressful?...for our favorite characters.
The next update should be coming soon.
Enjoy.
Typical of my luck as of late, our scene is quite possibly the worst scene I could have picked for Sara to process. We arrive at what I thought would be an isolated desert scene, but instead turns out to be a cave system.
A fucking cave system.
If it wasn't so far out in God forsaken nowhere, I would have called one of the guys in to switch with Sara. As it is, we are going to have to work each one of these caves to check for evidence.
To top it all off, Sara has this shit-eating grin on her face. I swear she knows exactly what I was trying to do by assigning her with myself, and she is greatly enjoying watching my attempt to coddle her explode in my face.
"So, boss, which cave would you like me to climb through with my severed thigh first?" Her smile is now ear to ear.
I glare, all I can do is glare.
"Catherine," she says in a mock scolding voice at my lack of response, the sun glinting off her hazel eyes, "I suggest we get started. I mean, there have got to be, what, seven caves out here? It could take us hours to work our way through all of these, days even. This is going to be a very physically taxing scene to process, we shouldn't waste time."
She pats me on the shoulder with a fake sympathetic look and snorts as she makes her way over to the first cave.
I could kill her, if only I didn't love her so damn much.
Instead, I shake my head and start to process the scene as well. At least she had the good grace to leave me the body to process at the mouth of the second cave. There's something about the thought of caves and bats fluttering through my hair that makes me want to turn into a screeching little girl. I decide I'll put off actually having to enter a cave until the last possible moment.
Sara, on the other hand, can't seem to get into the caves fast enough. I don't know what intrigues her more, the idea of spelunking or getting out from under my overprotective watch.
Either way, she is going to pay for this later.
In the hours it takes me to process the body and the surrounding area under the vibrant desert sun, Sara has made it into the fifth cave. Not bad for someone hobbling around as badly as she is. I decide to face the music and start at the last cave, working my way back towards Sara.
The caves really aren't that bad. They thankfully seem to contain only one large room each, without any off shooting crawlspaces to have to traverse. I'll have to sacrifice some sort of doo-dad to the gods of fate later for this small turn of good fortune.
They sure are cold as the dickens, though.
Finishing quickly with my cave when it becomes evident that no one has been in here since the Lincoln administration, I meet Sara as she is entering the sixth.
"There really hasn't been much evidence in any of these, Cath. There was some residue on the floor of the third, so I took a sample, but it's probably just salt or something from the cave wall. I don't think the killer even went in any of these." Her voice echoes through the cavern.
She works her way to the back of the cave and begins shining her flashlight around.
"I stand corrected," she mumbles a few minutes later. Having finished with my half of the cave, I head over to help her. She is pulling what appears to be a large chunk of rock out of the back wall. Once removed, the space reveals a set of very bloody clothing.
With a smile, Sara photographs the clothing and then carefully places it in an evidence bag. I love watching Sara's face light up on cases when she catches a lead on the killer.
We are just about to leave the dark, dank cave when I hear a shuffling noise coming from above us. Apparently Sara heard it too as she has positioned herself in front of me, gun drawn. Pulling my own gun, I shine my light upwards.
Instantly, there is a rush of motion as a large, black blob seems to descend straight at us. I am about to reflexively pull the trigger of my weapon when I feel myself tackled to the ground, Sara laying over me.
As I hear the screeching and flapping chaos that follows, I realize that I almost just shot my gun at a bunch of bats. Ecklie would have had a field day when he got that 'firearm engaged' report on his desk.
Sara lets out an "ooof" above me as it sounds like a couple of the bats have decided to acquaint themselves with her body. Poor girl. At least she isn't screeching, though.
When the bat storm seems to be over, she carefully lifts herself off of me and extends her hand to help me up.
Taking it, I stifle a laugh as I see her hair is all disheveled and has bits and pieces of debris all in it. I reach out to help her after she halfheartedly attempts to push the wayward strands back into place.
As I pull out what seems to be the last of the dirt, I carefully tuck her hair behind her ears, smoothing it down as I go.
I look into her eyes right before I pull my hands away, and I instantly stop my motion.
Sara's expression is remarkably serious, her body perfectly still as she watches me with an unspeakable intensity.
When she finally realizes I have long finished pulling debris out of her hair, she snaps out of her haze.
"Thanks."
Patting her on the shoulder, I say, "No, Sara, thank you. You have no idea how ugly this would have gotten if those bats had come anywhere close to me. I think PITA would have torched my house when news got out that I shot the heads off of 20-something bats, in their own cave no less."
She laughs, but it cuts short as she bends down to pick up her kit. After hours of processing this scene, I can only imagine the pain she must be in. Especially since she threw up the Tylenol earlier, and is now running on essentially no pain killers at all.
She looks at me after she has gotten her kit and thrown it over her shoulder.
Once again, we seem almost entranced somehow, staring at one another as if the answer to the meaning of life lies in the other person's eyes.
I can't help but shiver, both from the force of Sara's gaze as well as the significantly cooler temperature of the cave now that the sun has begun to set.
"You alright, Catherine?" I can see the white puffs of Sara's breath as she speaks in the light of my flashlight.
Something about this moment seems so intimate, I don't want it to be over.
Then Sara lays her hand softly on my shoulder, effectively breaking my thoughts.
"Catherine?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, sorry. Just a bit cold is all."
Sara looks at me for a moment and nods her head, seeming to accept my answer. I am confused when she hands me her kit in response.
Taking it from her, I watch as she pulls off her sweatshirt from under her CSI vest and hands it to me, taking her kit back in her other hand - this time slinging it over a t-shirt clad shoulder.
I am touched by her gesture, and I pull it over my head even as I protest, "Sara, it's freezing out here, and we still have the perimeter to process." The sweatshirt is warm, and most importantly, it smells like Sara.
"I'm fine, the air feels good."
She starts to limp her way out of the cave when I grab her arm and turn her to face me.
"Thank you, Sara."
She smiles and shrugs. "You're welcome."
************
The perimeter mercifully does not take more than an hour. The coroner has long since come and gone, leaving us free to go after we pack up. Sara has already headed back to the car, and I just finished placing the last pieces of evidence in my kit.
The sun is now fully set, leaving the moon to cast its ethereal glow across this isolated desert. It's a clear night, and I see Sara leaning on the trunk of my Tahoe, staring up at the night sky. I can see her shivering with the cold, but rather than waiting in the car for me, she seems completely enthralled with the stars. I would bet good money that she doesn't even feel the low temperatures right now.
Somehow I sense that I am getting a glimpse of a younger Sara, before the weight of the job and the oppression of the Vegas lights made things like stargazing a rarity in her world.
I heave my kit into the trunk, and I don't know whether to get in the car or stay outside and wait – I'm afraid to interrupt this moment for her. I rarely see Sara so at peace.
Before I can come to a decision, Sara, still looking up at the sky, asks, "Do you know why my middle name is Caelum?"
I take this as an invitation to join her, and I lean against the trunk alongside her.
I use the coldness as an excuse to invade her personal space, and I am pleased when she lets me lean into her a bit. "No, I assumed it was a family name."
Shaking her head, she tells me, "My parents named me after the Caelum constellation." She takes my hand and points my finger towards the sky in the west. "It's that one right there."
I take a moment to absorb the splendor I am seeing displayed above me. "It's beautiful, Sara."
And then I am no longer looking at the stars, I'm looking straight at her. "It suits you."
My words, the meaning of my words, registers with her and she looks down at me in confusion. I don't know if it's the compliment in general that throws her, or that type of compliment coming from me. Either way, she seems at a loss, and simply looks back up at the sky.
After a moment or two, she sighs. "You ready to head back?"
I nod, and as I turn to head into to the car, I realize for the first time that Sara is still holding my hand in hers. We break contact, and I can tell by her embarrassment she hadn't noticed she was still holding my hand either.
It felt so right, so natural, in that moment that neither of us saw it as out of place. There was no awkwardness, no pretenses, just an effortless occurrence of shared human experience.
It was such a short time spent together, and at the scene of a gruesome murder no less. But as the tires of the Tahoe begin across the rough gravel, I realize those last minutes spent with Sara looking at the stars were some of the best minutes I have had in a very long time.
It's amazing how a woman as complex as Sara Sidle can fill my world with such serenity.
I smile and watch the stars through the window as we race through the desert, knowing that if nothing else, I will always have this memory to enfold myself in every time I look up at the night sky.
