Title: O Captain, My Captain
Chapter: 14
Author: Kitty
Summary: "O the bleeding drops of red, where on the deck my Captain lies, fallen cold and dead." Brass' brush with death has unexpected consequences for everyone on the team. B/G, GSR, S/C, G/W, W/N, G/OC. Reader discretion is advised.
Warnings: Femmeslash (Cath/Sara), mild language, inappropriate office conduct as well as reference to beast and slash.
Disclaimer: CSI and all recognizable characters do not belong to me. No copyright infringement intended, for entertainment purposes only, no profit is being made.
A/N: Thanks everyone for the favs, reviews, reading and adding this story to your alerts! It says a lot about your psychological state, actually, that you're still reading this. You must see some crazy shit in Rorschach's ink blots. Perhaps I've not done a sufficient job of disturbing you? I'll increase my efforts for the upcoming chapters, until then I love to hear what you think of the story! Concrit, flames, love: all of it is appreciated! //heartheart//
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She was still buzzing from today's discovery when Sara turned up at her office door.
Blissful grin lingering on her lips, Catherine nodded for her to come in, pleased at the opportunity to further enjoy the other woman's company on such a special occasion. Sara sauntered in wordlessly and shut the door behind her, draping herself gingerly on the edge of Catherine's desk with a coy smile, kicking her legs back and forth gleefully.
Sara glanced over her shoulder at the door, licked her lips, then, apparently overtaken by a sudden whim, jumped off the desk and straddled Catherine's chair.
Shocked by her sudden boldness, Catherine was still, but Sara didn't waste a moment before lavishing kittenish licks along Catherine's jaw line. Surprised, she couldn't help but giggle before trying half-heartedly to dislodge the woman on her lap. "Sara, mmm, we—we can't do this here…"
"Why?" Sara challenged, running her hands eagerly over Catherine's pliant body and pausing briefly to linger over a love bite from a previous occasion. "It's not like Ecklie's going to walk in on us again," she added, practically mewling in covetousness. She had a point…but better not to risk another write up for indecent behaviour on the clock.
Regretfully, she nudged Sara off her lap with an apologetic peck on the cheek.
"You know," Sara started gravely, "what with the seriousness of the situation and all, we might be able to clock out early and have a little party before the party," Sara suggested teasingly, giving Catherine a slow, hungry perusal and batting her lashes seductively.
"Based on everyone's good mood today, they probably wouldn't even notice we were gone…" Catherine enthusiastically conceded, returning the woman's enticing smile.
"Come get me when you're ready to leave?"
"Give me an hour?"
"Sounds good. Oh, hey, have you seen Warric? Nick was looking for him. Apparently they had a bet going on who'd find Greg first to spread the sunshine, but now he can't reach either of them. He also said to give you this," she added, delicately placing an FBI business card on her desk.
"I'll give Greg a call at his house," Catherine offered. "They're probably together right now anyway."
Sara nodded and winked playfully on her way out the door.
Still smiling to herself, Catherine grabbed the phone, dialled and propped her feet up on her desk.
By the second ring someone picked up. "Greg?" Catherine received no answer. "Hello?" Nothing. She was about to hang up and redial when she heard a noise on the other end. Movement. Something crashing to the ground. It sounded like a struggle. Hit by a sudden rush of adrenaline, Catherine called into the phone again, receiving no reply. What if someone had broken in and attacked him? Suddenly, Catherine considered the possibility that Ecklie's murder had been related to his position at the lab and not just the fact that he was an annoying piece of shit.
She jumped up and was about to pull her cell out and rush the police over to investigate when she heard a moan. She dropped back into her seat, listening carefully and trying to determine the nature of the noise.
Was—was that a goat in the background? Oh dear god, not again.
"Fuck, Warric," Greg's voice trembled, clear and distinct across the phone line. More moans.
Catherine blanched, feeling nausea and shock take immediate hold of her body. Greg must have somehow tricked Warric into joining his sick goat cult! She slammed the receiver down and retracted her hand as if it was toxic.
She leaned back in her chair, staring wide-eyed at the offending phone and waiting for comprehension to follow. It did not.
Something very strange was going on.
***