Chapter XXIV

Two CSIs and a Model Walk into a Bar

The good thing, maybe the only good thing, about the Braun name and her now public connection to it was the motivational factor it held. When she put out the word that Sam's girl, as she was so called, was looking for Alexandra Dupree, she'd gotten the call from the Hotel Paris in record time. The Casino Grapevine worked faster than an APB or a BOLO any day of the week, especially Sunday, in Las Vegas. Catherine was on the brink of a fortune. A fortune that was tied up in a gigantic hole in the ground that had become an overnight crime hotspot, but a fortune nevertheless. All that potential money and power got attention. People were suddenly hyper aware of her. She was Sam Braun's daughter and, illegitimate or not, she was his heir apparent. She didn't think that had ever been Sam's plan. Had things gone as Sam Braun had wanted, his favourite son Tony would be the Crown Prince of Vegas. Walt, Sam's other son, and her own half brother, had destroyed any chances of that. Sam and Tony were dead, Walt was in a maximum security prison and she was left with something she'd never wanted, needed or thought of having. Not to say that Sam's legacy didn't come in handy.

They were -- Catherine almost snarled -- eating in a five star restaurant, and Alexandra Dupree, being an A-List Celeb, had been given the best seat in the house without hesitation. For a moment, Catherine stood and simply stared at the two women from the room's ornate entry. They were the only diners in the most beautiful dining room in Vegas and quite possibly the entire west coast and were too wrapped up in each other to notice.

One would think that Sara would look plain beside the lush and outrageous beauty of Alex Dupree. Somehow, though, she didn't. Instead of overshadowing Sara, Alex seemed to compliment her. Light and dark, Catherine noted, and frowned at the pang of familiarity of the scene. They were opposites, Sara Sidle and Alexandra Dupree. Where Alex was unapologetically sexy and bold, Sara was almost naively unaware of her won unique beauty. Even sitting beside a world-renowned beauty, Sara could never pass as a plain Jane. She was long, lean, dark and sober to the point of brooding. Sara was, in Catherine's mind, the model of one of the Victorian Age's tragic romance characters. She would be far more suited to the cliffs, mists, shadows and dark enchantments of a bittersweet black and white drama. Alexandra Dupree, on the other hand, flourished and fed off of the bright lights, vibrant colors and larger than life personalities of the runway.

She could not hear, from where she was standing, what they were saying. She could, however, read Sara's facial expressions and see her dark eyes over Dupree's shoulder. There were emotions stirring there. Emotions that weren't supposed to be there. Not for a years old ex, and definitely not for a suspect. Sara only thought she knew Alexandra Dupree, and seeing Sara now, Catherine realized that she had only thought she'd known the other CSI. This had to stop and she was the one holding the shiny red and white octagon sign. When the blonde bombshell took Sara's hand and leaned in, Catherine started walking. She might not like Sara, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let the other woman kiss a murderer again.

She had missed Sara, her Sahara, and it stung like hell. She was supposed to be over her. She was an adult for God's sake. Seven years, it had been seven years and she was still as nervous as she had been in the very beginning. Nervous and excited and turned on and she was acting completely irrational. She could, and often did, hold court, date and sleep with the most gorgeous women in the world. How did one geeky brunette hold her attention so firmly? Apparently, she wasn't as over Sara as she had thought, and that was pathetic. Her heart had literally jumped when she'd caught a glimpse of the woman at the college campus. At first she had done a double take, thinking it was only a slight resemblance and her own overactive imagination. The more she had looked though, the more sure she had become real. That jackass son of a bitching bastard Riley had lied to her. Lied right to her face.

No, he had let her jump to her own conclusions and run with them. It had been his way of protecting both of them. Damn fucking feel-good hippy. If she didn't like him so well, she would scratch his eyes out. Well fuck. Maybe she would have been better off thinking Sara was forever unreachable, teaching sixth grader's science in some one horse town living under an assumed name. Safe from the dangers of her job, and from Alex herself. It had been a comforting little delusion that she'd let herself believe. Sara would no sooner give up being a CSI than she would breathing. She had simply moved on. She had moved on to a new city and a new life. A life without Alexandra Jane Dupree. God, she sounded like a lovesick teenager.

"So what brought you to Vegas? I would have thought you'd go back to Boston or Miami, even." Alex sliced a piece of her own omelette off and bit into it, savouring the flavours, "Or you could have made Director Ronaldo's decade and jetted off to Interpol's team."

Across from her, Sara's face knit into a sad frown, "Delroi died three years ago in a bombing."

Momentarily taken aback, Alex fell silent. She had fallen out of touch with the Frenchmen after Sara had left. He had been a good, just man, and one hell of a cook.

"How did Collete take it?"

Sahara stared at her plate. "She was with him." The brittle look in Sara's eyes told Alex not to pursue the subject any further.

"Vegas." She shook her head, and began filling her glass once more, "You don't even gamble, except with your life. You just up and left home and came here. For what, a job? You could have gone anywhere, somewhere safe."

Sara let out a chuckle, "I'm in the middle of a desert, how much safer could I be?"

Alex had expected this argument. It was, Sahara Sun Sidle after all, and she was as hard headed as ever. "I don't know, why don't we ask the Miniature Killer?" It was, Alex knew, a low blow, but she dealt it with good intentions. The brunette went stiff and her face was unreadable. If she ever had been bitten by the gambling bug, Sara's game would be poker.

"Alex, things are different now. I'm different now."

Alex took one quick up and down look of the woman. "You've changed your hair, taken to wearing darker colors, lost weight and moved, but none of that changes who you are." She punctuated her sentence with a jab of her fork in Sara's direction. "You're not sleeping enough," Another jab, "You're picking at your food." This jab was aimed in the general direction of Sara's still mostly full plate, "And you're wincing when you drink. The last time that happened, you were courting a serious ulcer." Another jab, "So to sum up, you're still a workaholic who needs a damn keeper. You can't save the world, you know that. Yet every day, you go in and shoulder the entire city's sorrows and expect to make them all better."

Sara banged her fist on the table hard enough to rattle the settings, "Enough! This isn't your business anymore. You didn't care when I left so don't pretend you do now" The flush in Sara's cheeks was more from anger than drink now and her voice was low, raspy, accusing and just a little bit dangerous. It sounded like that only when Sara had completely lost her temper or when she let go of her inhibitions. Since they weren't having sex, it was easy to guess that Sara's top had just blown. Alex knew Sara, and this outburst had probably been building for a while; she was just the one to catch the initial shock wave of what would be a strong emotional explosion. "So whose business is it now? Who watches over you now, takes care of you, keeps you safe? Who put all that fucking misery in your eyes?"

Sara had always been amused by her language, the profanity that had worked it's way into her daily vocabulary. Most were shocked by it, such ugly words coming from a beautiful mouth, but Sara had been simplyamused. Now, it only served to make her angrier. Then, she slumped, like a balloon that was suddenly deflated.

"It's complicated, I mean I-" The deep lines that suddenly cut into Sara's forehead only went to show how much this certain subject bothered her. "It's-" She looked up, and stared for a moment into the space over Alex's left shoulder. She sat up straighter, and tugged her hand out from under Alex's own. "It's Catherine."

Alex quickly ran the list of new names she associated with Sahara through her mind, trying to match it up with the faces she'd seen. "Catherine. Catherine? Catherine, the blonde? The bitchy blonde? You're with her now?"

Sara's dark eyes narrowed, "No. No, she's here, now."

Alex turned, an unconcerned, borderline smug mask plastered over her features, in her chair in time to see the aforementioned blonde bitch, working her way around and between tables toward them. She walked very much like, Alex decided, a model or a stripper. With confidence, purpose and in this case, pure and unadulterated female fury. Alex recognized the scent of danger in the air. That much anger coming from a pissed bitch with a gun, and she was glaring right at them. These sorts of situations never ended well. There were several ways to handle herself and she quickly chose one.

She lazily raised an eyebrow and turned towards Sara, "You have to learn to leave work things at work, Sahara."

Sara Sidle's first thought upon seeing Catherine walk into the dining room was a curse. She had obviously been around Alex too long already. As if she wasn't having enough problems with one blue eyed blonde, in walked another. She really didn't want to deal with Catherine right now, wasn't even sure she had the patience left to. Then she was momentarily and completely baffled as to why Catherine was there at all. Confusion was swiftly replaced by a hot and bitter wave of anger.

How dare she?

How dare Catherine butt into her personal life, bold and brash and in living color like this? Hadn't she had her fill yet? Between her suddenly public relationship with Gil and the somewhat less publicized break-up and then the kiss Alex had laid on her, her life had been under a microscope, every part of it studied and categorized like a case. Couldn't Catherine just keep her nose out of it? Gossip, as much as Sara hated being the target of it, was one thing, but this was out of line. Catherine had followed her from the Lab to her breakfast meeting - date? – no, meeting, definitely meeting. It was way the hell out of line.

Sara's temper skyrocketed and her stomach, already disgruntled from the champagne, erupted into pain so intense she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from wincing. If she had wondered if her stomach issues were stress related, she definitely had her answer now. She gripped the edge of the cloth-covered table until her fingernails blanched white. Catherine was pushing all of her buttons lately. It was like the other woman wanted a fight. Sara was off the clock, out of the lab and just pissed enough to give Catherine what she so obviously wanted.

Alex, who had switched her attention back around the table, took one quick look at her before muttering a curse under her breath. "Sahara,don't." It was almost funny. When Alex Dupree became the voice of reasons, things were bad. Of course, as she was just about to tell Alex, she did not need a keeper. She was an adult and she could handle her own problems. Of course, punching Catherine in the face didn't sound very adult or appropriate. Sara stood up, letting the neatly folded cloth napkin she had fastidiously put on her lap fall on the floor.

"You have got some nerve, Catherine, freaking balls to pull this." She came around the table, her fists balled up. It was then she noticed the two uniformed Sheriff's Deputies behind the CSI. Sara looked from the grave and serious men to Catherine and back again. "I want an explanation, and I want it now." She stared right into Catherine's blue eyes and challenged her to answer.