AN: Sorry it's been a long, long while. The dissertation has been taking up a lot of my writing energy and this last season of CSI has really made me disenchanted with the character of Catherine, so it's been harder to write this ship lately. Plus I'm breaking in a new fandom, so I've been writing on another story. But I'm beginning to feel this story again and I should be able to complete it sometime soon.
xxx
The next couple of weeks passed without incident at work, as they tried to fit into a routine at work and at home, keeping the lines between the two spheres of their lives separate. They managed, most of the time, although a few incidents marred their perfect track record. When Catherine had reached out to clean an oil smear from Sara's cheek, she let her fingers linger on the soft skin, tracing down Sara's neck until Nick's voice in the hallway caused them to jump apart hurriedly. Sara had hidden her blush by disappearing under the car, and Catherine's overactive imagination filled in the visual of joining Sara on the creeper so that when Nick came into the room, he gave Catherine an odd look. Later that morning, Catherine shared the image, leading to a long session on Sara's couch and the subsequent prohibition of working with Sara in the garage. She violated said prohibition two nights later but made sure to lock the door so that no one would be able to see four jumpsuit-covered legs entwined on the floor of the garage.
The guys continued to bet in the Sara-dating pool and watch her like a hawk for any indication of who she might be seeing, especially after news of her turning down overtime hit the halls, but the speculation and interest had finally died down a little, as she gave no clue as to who she was dating. Greg continued to be the most interested, but luckily he was in the lab most of the time and so didn't see her as much as her other co-workers. Catherine didn't contribute much to the speculation, but did put down a twenty on Vartann.
Sara seemed unaware of her sleepy confession and Catherine didn't bring it up; for once in her life, she was unsure as to how to broach a topic, especially when she wasn't sure of her own feelings toward the younger CSI. Nothing had prepared her for falling for a co-worker, much less the younger, female co-worker who she had fought epic battles with on a regular basis, and even now, after a month of dating, just hearing Sara's voice in hallway made her breath hitch or seeing her unexpectedly when she stepped into the break room made her knees weak, it had been so long that Catherine had felt this kind of freefall of emotions in a relationship, she didn't know how to label it.
xxx
"No way, Sara."
"But…"
"But nothing. I'm not letting you in there to interview this guy." Catherine swung around so that she stopped them both dead in the hallway of the police station, grabbing Sara's arm to pull her into the soundproof observation room. "Do I have to point out that we have this guy for raping and killing four tall, thin, pretty brunettes who bear a striking resemblance to you? And that he tried to get close to you during the arrest? He's already fixed on you and I'm not going to give him any more opportunities to get close. Ok?"
Sara stared at her in silence for a few moments, a calm before the evitable storm of words Catherine surmised would begin at any minute, but Sara surprised her yet again. "You remember the Julie Waters' case?" she began, the seeming non-sequitor confusing Catherine, as did the quiet, controlled tone of her voice. "You told me that you decided to exploit the situation with Delhomme when he had the same fixation on you," Sara's hand cut Catherine off just when she was about to speak, "AND you told me when I'm in your shoes, I'd do the same thing." She shrugged, in her deliberately bland way that hid a grin. "You were right."
A door opening in the interview room drew Catherine's gaze to the subject of their conversation, a thin, bookish looking man with sandy hair falling over cheap, black-framed glasses. From the moment Catherine had looked into the dead, pale blue eyes of this rapist and murderer, a chill had lodged in the base of her spine and her stomach had turned. There had been no soul behind those eyes. She rarely had reactions to their suspects, and never to this degree, so when a look of sick happiness washed over his face as he looked from her to Sara, she had slid to her left to stand between them. Now, even though the orange prison jumpsuit seemed to diminish the man and turn his pallor a sickly yellow, when he turned his head to stare directly into the mirror, like he knew they were there, Catherine suppressed an urge to step back from the glass. She wanted nothing more than to keep this evil creature away from Sara. Working against her own inclinations and the trickle of fear that she couldn't quite squelch, Catherine nodded. "Ok." Sara's reflection in the glass answered her nod a second before the door clicked shut.
A few moments later, Sara and Brass walked into the interview room together, and their suspect, George Stubben, immediately perked up at the sight of Sara. Jim asked him a couple of questions, but he never looked away from Sara.
"Are you sure you don't want a lawyer present?" Brass suggested, making sure that their air-tight case wouldn't be tossed on a technicality.
"No, I'm caught. No lawyer is going to undo that."
"So, George, we have you on one count of rape and murder in the first degree, and we have you linked to three other open cases." Jim shook his head sadly. "What, a good-looking guy like you couldn't get a date?"
George took his eyes off of Sara for just a second to glare at Brass contemptuously. "No."
"No, you couldn't get…"
He swung back to stare directly into Sara's eyes, his watery gaze trying to penetrate the ebony depths of Sara's. "Not three… six." He smiled as Sara and Brass exchanged a surprised look
"Six?" Sara repeated, trying to prompt him to supply more information.
"Yes."
"Who?"
He shook his head. "I never knew their names…" Smirking at Sara's suspicious expression, his eyes slipped down to linger on Sara's hands, her chest, her neck, before fixing back on her smoldering eyes, "just their bodies."
"Where?"
He seemed to not hear her. "A name isn't intimate, now is it, Ms. Sidle? Or should I call you Sara?" A shrug, leaning back in his chair like he was explaining the secrets of the universe over coffee at a bistro. "It doesn't really matter. What matters is that look of fear in your eyes, so strong I can almost taste it. Pain would look exquisite on you."
Sara broke eye contact, looking down at her note pad, her fingers wrapped around her pen so tightly they ached. "Where are the bodies?"
"I won't tell you. I'll show you. We can take the good detective with us." Another smirk at another exchanged glance. "That's the deal: the three of us, alone, and I'll take you to all the bodies."