A/N: I know this story has been operating kinda in a temporal limbo up to now (not associated with any real-time episode plots), but I decided to fit it in now, because I think tonight's episode where Sara found out about Hank dovetails neatly into the fight Sara and Grissom have been having in here. So just work with me.
Chapter 37
Sara checked her watch. 8AM, thank god. She didn't think she could've stood that building one more minute, especially after facing down Hank. Little bastard. She couldn't believe he'd been double-crossing her – and she, the trained investigator, hadn't suspected a thing! She clenched her jaw as she walked out the side door, trying to work out her roiling thoughts. One the one hand, she wanted to kill that little rat, she wanted to tell his girlfriend – hah, girlfriend – what a skank he was . . . on the other hand, she was proud of the way she hadn't killed him. The old Sara would have.
As she slid into the Tahoe next to Catherine, she mentally groaned. The other woman was sure as hell going to question her about all this. Great, first Catherine gets her teeth in the Grissom goings-on, and now she gets the bonus of being around to see Sara's relationship with the EMT tank.
Catherine turned to her. "So . . . got plans?"
Sara fought the urge to snap out a smart retort. Catherine actually looked . . . concerned about her. Like she knew Sara was hurt, and wanted to help. Got plans, hah. A tiny smile made its way onto her face. "Nah."
"Wanna get a beer?"
Sara didn't care. She just wanted to be anywhere but this place with its bad vibes. She shook her head at Catherine. "Just drive."
Catherine knew how she felt. God, she'd felt like such a fool when she'd found out about Eddie's exploits. She had to give Sara a lot of respect for not knocking Hank out – Sara was good, Hank would have never known what hit him.
From experience, she knew that nothing she could say would really make Sara feel any better, but the younger woman needed to go somewhere for a change, stay away from her apartment where, Catherine knew, she'd just go to bed and replay tonight's events in her mind. And that was definitely not what Sara needed right now. She sighed and shifted into drive. She'd take Sara to her house. Lindsey was off to school by now, and she could make Sara a drink or three, and hopefully make her feel a little bit better.
They drove in silence. Catherine wondered if Sara was trying not to cry. She'd cried for weeks after she'd confronted Eddie, but Sara always kept herself under firm control. She wouldn't cry. Pity, Catherine thought – with Sara it was a matter of pride, but when something like this happened, crying, screaming, ranting, and raving could be quite therapeutic.
Then again, how upset could Sara be? Hank might have been an asshole, but it was definitely Grissom who had Sara's deeper affections. Probably Sara was disappointed in herself for not seeing it, more than she was hurt that Hank wasn't hers anymore.
Sara looked up when she felt the car turn sharply. "Uh, why are we at your house? I thought we were going to get a beer."
"I have beer. I thought you might be more comfortable somewhere that wasn't public."
Sara regarded her coolly. "I'm not going to go hysterical on you, Cath. I'm fine."
"I never thought you were the hysterical type," Catherine agreed. "But hey, I'm operating from experience here – when I found out about Eddie I went on a major drunk. Not that I think you're gonna do that, exactly, but at least this way you can crash here if you do decide to drink yourself senseless."
Sara smiled bitterly. "You know, I just might. At least if I get drunk off my ass I can't drive to his house and rip off his nuts." She hopped out of the passenger seat. "Lead on, den mother."
"Den mother . . . why you . . .!" Catherine grinned. Joking was a good sign. Sara was feeling a double whammy right now, she imagined, with whatever the hell she had going on with Grissom and now this. If she could still joke after all that – yeah, it boded well. She held open the front door and ushered Sara into her kitchen.
"Name your poison. I've got Sam Adams if you really want beer. But if you want something stronger," she opened the door to a high-up cabinet, "I got lots of that too." She noticed that Sara was looking a little uncertain. "Make yourself at home, Sara. Trust me, the house is kid-proofed, you couldn't hurt anything if you wanted."
Sara grinned. "Gotcha." She hopped onto the counter, leaning against a cabinet. "Hmm. Got any red wine? Cheap, preferably. My drinking tastes are, uh . . . earthy. Picked it up in college. Even at Harvard, we still conserved booze money."
Catherine grinned. "Ah, a woman after my own heart." She closed the liquor cabinet and crossed the room to the refrigerator. Pulling out two bottles of Sutter Home, she hoisted them toward Sara. "This should do ya." She set the bottles on the table and grabbed some wine glasses. "On second thought . . . I'm thinking you're going to need tumblers-full, not wimpy wine glassfuls." She shoved the glasses back into the cabinet and pulled out two plastic tumblers.
"Gimme," Sara smiled, jumping off the counter and grabbing a bottle and a cup.
Catherine was pleased. Sara was actually going to let herself unwind. And – though she hated to think such nefarious thoughts – maybe she'd spill the beans about Grissom. "Right behind you, kid," she promised as they wandered into her living room.
