Author's note: Embarrassing typo (convulsing is not convalescing, as I intended) and some of the dialogue seemed choppy, so I had to fix this section. For those hoping for some CS slash, the next few chapters shouldn't disappoint. Will be updated soon.
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Places and Times
Catherine reflected on the irony as she dropped her bag just inside the door of Sara's townhouse. In the four and a half years Sara had been in Vegas, she had never visited her apartment, and now she stood in the entranceway of Sara's home. It was one of those new urban development projects, with a garage and two stories. It didn't seem like Sara's style at first, but then Catherine couldn't imagine that Sara spent a lot of time worrying about her environment, but still, she would have thought Sara would prefer something old, with character. It is close to work, she mused, and there's a lot to do within walking distance. Maybe it's convenience?
The first floor was open,, the chrome and black kitchen separated from the rest by an island with a bar on one side. Two placemats were placed on the bar, and it looked like that's where Sara ate most of the time. A newspaper was folded on the island, like she had been reading it while she ate. Catherine found herself looking around the rest of the area curiously, trying to find out more about the enigma that was Sara.
The colors surprised her the most, she realized when she walked around the living area. Catherine wasn't sure what she expected, but the warm browns and yellows, reminiscent of old sepia-toned photographs, wasn't really the color scheme she would have associated with Sara. The color scheme seemed dictated by the antique furniture that dominated the space. A beautiful old library table held her computer and printer in front of a wall of in-built bookcases, full of books and knickknacks. Old mission-style chairs and coffee table formed a conversation space with a yellow-gold couch, the color off-setting the darker hues of the chairs. A comfortable-looking leather recliner finished off the space, obviously a favorite of Sara's if the small stack of books beside the chair was any indication. Antique camera equipment and a few family photographs graced the display spaces around the room. Like her office, black and white photographs and prints covered the walls. Gil was right; photography does seem to be a passion.
Catherine wandered back to the kitchen, placing the teapot on to make tea. She searched through Sara's cupboards, finding an assortment of tea bags in an antique coffee tin. She fixed herself a cup and made a bagel, unsure when the last time she ate was. Plopping down on the couch, she turned on the TV to check the news, nibbling at the bagel to avoid eating too fast.
When Catherine awoke, the television was still on, only it had switched to some daytime soap. It took her a few moments to register where she was, her eyes sweeping the unfamiliar furnishings in confusion. She groggily checked her watch and realized she must have been tired, because she had slept, slumped on the couch, for nearly six hours. Grabbing her bag, she went in search of the bathroom, mentally listing her next steps: shower, hospital; but then her stomach growled, and she amended her list: shower, food, hospital. Her clothes dropped in the hallway as she walked, knowing she was alone in the house and too groggy to care about being a slob. The shower revived her somewhat, and she found herself rehearsing what she was going to say to Sara.
Twenty minutes later, showered, changed, and full, Catherine headed through the door she thought was the garage and stopped dead, surprised by what the room revealed. A bright red vintage Mustang convertible occupied most of the space, the top already down. Sara's car in Nevada had been white and practical, she remembered, a Toyota or Honda or something, not, she was sure, a 60s muscle car. But the muscle car wasn't her only surprise: along the wall, beside the car, a wide array of sports equipment was hung or stored: two bikes, a backpack, roller blades, and ropes for rock climbing. Catherine took n the array, wondering if Sara had had all this back when she was in Nevada, and what else they hadn't known about her.
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Sara saw her in the doorway, over the shoulder of doctor rattled off restrictions and instructions. She waved Catherine in as Catherine turned to go. Catherine stepped just inside the door, not wanting to intrude, as the doctor finished her recitation. Catherine smiled at her as she exited, leaving her alone with Sara. Sara's bruise was reaching its peak and the whole side of her face was red and purple, but the eyes above it sparkled.
"You look rested," and she did. Her hair was pushed back behind her ears, and the book Grissom had left was lying on the blankets beside her. She had obviously been awake for a while. Her skin was still pale, but the sick pallor was gone, and she looked so much like her old self that Catherine had an urge to hug her.
"Yeah. The doc was just telling me I can go home tomorrow. The latest CAT scan came up clear and except for a couple of hairline fractures, the concussion, and some massive bruising, I'm fine." Catherine quirked an eyebrow at her definition of fine, knowing how serious her injuries really were. Sara sighed, looking dismayed. "I'm on sick leave for three weeks from work."
"Yeah," Catherine started, picking her words carefully. "I spoke to Captain Harris this morning." Sara's face twisted into a puzzled expression, but let the silence prompt Catherine to continue. "She... um, asked me to stay and run the shift during your recovery." She hurried on, seeing the expression on Sara's face flitting between anger, concern, and complete bewilderment. "Partially, it's because she wants to say I was on the payroll when I ran your case, and partially because she, quote, wants a suitable replacement for her star CSI, unquote."
Sara was unsure how she felt about this; she hadn't always compared favorably to Catherine in the past, as she remembered all the times she played second fiddle or even got bumped from cases because of Catherine. The circumstances were different here, but the feelings of insecurity she always felt around the older CSI hadn't completely vanished. Although, she thought, if she was out, she would want the best to work with her team, right? Shouldn't that be more important than her ego? Her thoughts spiraled around these two poles for several minutes and some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face.
Catherine caught her hand and squeezed, bringing her attention back to the strawberry blonde standing there. "I won't do it if you don't want me to," she said quietly, and Sara realized that her silence could be interpreted in a number of different ways, most of them unfavorably. Catherine's face was unreadable, but Sara's continued silence had to be painful.
"Sorry," she said, trying to soften the silence with a smile. "It's not that you aren't a great CSI."
"But...?" Catherine's voice was low and controlled, but Sara could hear an edge of pain break through. Having your competence questioned was not fun, Sara knew, and she hated doing this to the older CSI. Sara knew there was no way to explain except the truth, even though the truth made her look stupid and childish. "But... they won't want me back after working with you," she admitted softly, her eyes riveted on a spot of blanket to avoid Catherine's eyes.
Catherine let out a shaky laugh. "And here I was worried about filling your shoes." She laughed again at Sara's puzzled look. "Sara, they are your team and they adore you." Catherine could guess why Sara might feel insecure; when she had started at Vegas, she had come in late on the team, tasked with investigating one of their own, and she had always had struggled to find a place. And, Catherine admitted to herself, none of them, especially her, had made it any easier on the younger woman. It made sense that she would feel a little uneasy. "This isn't Vegas. This time, I'm the new face, the interloper, coming in on YOUR team."
Sara mulled this over for a while, obviously struggling with her internal conflict. "Well, the lab couldn't get any better," she said, finally.
"Well, actually they could," Catherine corrected, "but she's on sick leave for the next three weeks." She smothered her grin at Sara's doubtful expression for a moment, and then let it shine through, happy to see Sara give a small smile in return. Catherine had to admit she was relieved that Sara had been truthful about her concern, given how secretive she had been at times. She knew the secrecy had been a protective measure on Sara's part, and was glad that perhaps such measures weren't necessarily between them anymore.
Sara's voice interrupted her thoughts, abruptly bringing her back to the hospital room. "Wait, what about Grissom? And Lindsey?"
"Well, I was already going to be here for a week anyway to finish up, so it's just a little longer. Grissom will have to deal with it," she said in the tone Sara knew she would use with Grissom. "Lindsey's on summer vacation, so I thought I might have her join me here and we could have a little vacation together. It will be a nice change of pace."
Sara nodded and seemed to be thinking about something before she apparently made up her mind. The results were conveyed to Catherine in a tone that brooked no argument. "You are staying with me."
Catherine was completely floored and secretly pleased by the invitation, but she tried to argue anyway. "Sara, you don't want Lindsey around while you are convalescing. And your townhouse has only two bedrooms. And..."
"Who will babysit Linds while you are at work?" Sara interjected logically?
"Um..."
Sara continued to pile on arguments, not heeding Catherine. "And there's plenty of room. And it's close to work, while most hotels are far from work. And rush hour traffic here is brutal. And where did you plan on staying anyway?"
Catherine looked a little chagrined. "I hadn't thought that far in advance," she admitted.
"Linds can have the guest room. I have a king bed in my bedroom. We can share."
"Um, share?"
Sara grinned. "Yeah, share. I can keep to myself if you can."
Catherine blinked, and then her eyes widened when she realized what Sara meant. She couldn't believe she hadn't been thinking of that interpretation of the offer whereas Sara had been. Since when did she miss the sexual innuendo and Sara picked up on it? And since when did Sara make comments like that to her anyway? Catherine gave up trying to think through the implications of her thoughts. "Um, actually, I was thinking that I'll be coming in late at night and that you are recovering from your injuries." She smirked down at Sara. "I really wasn't worried bed etiquette."
Sara's grin got a little wider, acknowledging the fact that she had been busted, and hastily tried to cover. "I know for a fact four people can fit comfortably on a kind-sized bed. You getting into bed won't even cause a ripple. "
Catherine's smile assumed a predatory cast, an expression well-known by all her friends and colleagues. After all, her reputation for being sexually- provocative and willing to share her private life was well known, but it wasn't exactly something Sara had engaged in. "Cite your source."
"Cite my source?" Sara repeated, stalling. She couldn't believe she had just said that, and wondered if she could blame the drugs or her injuries. She yawned, and stretched. "Actually, I'm getting a little tired. Maybe..." she said, hopefully, but the expression on Catherine's face told her she wasn't getting out of this one.
"Oh no, Sidle, you are not getting out of this that easy. Cite your source," Catherine commanded, actually enjoying the younger CSI's discomfort. Sara's face was casebook embarrassment as she looked around the room for a distraction, but she finally fessed up. "Teresa Warner. Weekend getaway to Maine. A couple of our friends decided to join us for the road trip at the last minute, and everyone ended up in our room when the hotel didn't have any vacancies. We fit very comfortably," she finished blandly.
Catherine nodded, her smile threatening to split her face, until she caught something Sara said and her eyes got wide, "But you and your friend," she said, putting extra emphasis on the word, "had a king bed and not two double beds initially?" She followed her thoughts to their logical conclusions. "So didn't having extra people in the bed, um, make it difficult for you and your friend?" she asked.
"Not necessarily," Sara replied, deadpan, giving Catherine an innocent look. Seeing Sara's face, she knew the topic of conversation had been dropped, and Sara's next words confirmed it. "So you are staying with me," As they discussed the logistics of the living arrangements, Catherine was left trying to figure out exactly what Sara had confessed to.
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TBC, of course. Thanks to Heksie, Laredo Grissom, Ghibli,, sentient and everyone for their encouraging reviews.
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Places and Times
Catherine reflected on the irony as she dropped her bag just inside the door of Sara's townhouse. In the four and a half years Sara had been in Vegas, she had never visited her apartment, and now she stood in the entranceway of Sara's home. It was one of those new urban development projects, with a garage and two stories. It didn't seem like Sara's style at first, but then Catherine couldn't imagine that Sara spent a lot of time worrying about her environment, but still, she would have thought Sara would prefer something old, with character. It is close to work, she mused, and there's a lot to do within walking distance. Maybe it's convenience?
The first floor was open,, the chrome and black kitchen separated from the rest by an island with a bar on one side. Two placemats were placed on the bar, and it looked like that's where Sara ate most of the time. A newspaper was folded on the island, like she had been reading it while she ate. Catherine found herself looking around the rest of the area curiously, trying to find out more about the enigma that was Sara.
The colors surprised her the most, she realized when she walked around the living area. Catherine wasn't sure what she expected, but the warm browns and yellows, reminiscent of old sepia-toned photographs, wasn't really the color scheme she would have associated with Sara. The color scheme seemed dictated by the antique furniture that dominated the space. A beautiful old library table held her computer and printer in front of a wall of in-built bookcases, full of books and knickknacks. Old mission-style chairs and coffee table formed a conversation space with a yellow-gold couch, the color off-setting the darker hues of the chairs. A comfortable-looking leather recliner finished off the space, obviously a favorite of Sara's if the small stack of books beside the chair was any indication. Antique camera equipment and a few family photographs graced the display spaces around the room. Like her office, black and white photographs and prints covered the walls. Gil was right; photography does seem to be a passion.
Catherine wandered back to the kitchen, placing the teapot on to make tea. She searched through Sara's cupboards, finding an assortment of tea bags in an antique coffee tin. She fixed herself a cup and made a bagel, unsure when the last time she ate was. Plopping down on the couch, she turned on the TV to check the news, nibbling at the bagel to avoid eating too fast.
When Catherine awoke, the television was still on, only it had switched to some daytime soap. It took her a few moments to register where she was, her eyes sweeping the unfamiliar furnishings in confusion. She groggily checked her watch and realized she must have been tired, because she had slept, slumped on the couch, for nearly six hours. Grabbing her bag, she went in search of the bathroom, mentally listing her next steps: shower, hospital; but then her stomach growled, and she amended her list: shower, food, hospital. Her clothes dropped in the hallway as she walked, knowing she was alone in the house and too groggy to care about being a slob. The shower revived her somewhat, and she found herself rehearsing what she was going to say to Sara.
Twenty minutes later, showered, changed, and full, Catherine headed through the door she thought was the garage and stopped dead, surprised by what the room revealed. A bright red vintage Mustang convertible occupied most of the space, the top already down. Sara's car in Nevada had been white and practical, she remembered, a Toyota or Honda or something, not, she was sure, a 60s muscle car. But the muscle car wasn't her only surprise: along the wall, beside the car, a wide array of sports equipment was hung or stored: two bikes, a backpack, roller blades, and ropes for rock climbing. Catherine took n the array, wondering if Sara had had all this back when she was in Nevada, and what else they hadn't known about her.
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Sara saw her in the doorway, over the shoulder of doctor rattled off restrictions and instructions. She waved Catherine in as Catherine turned to go. Catherine stepped just inside the door, not wanting to intrude, as the doctor finished her recitation. Catherine smiled at her as she exited, leaving her alone with Sara. Sara's bruise was reaching its peak and the whole side of her face was red and purple, but the eyes above it sparkled.
"You look rested," and she did. Her hair was pushed back behind her ears, and the book Grissom had left was lying on the blankets beside her. She had obviously been awake for a while. Her skin was still pale, but the sick pallor was gone, and she looked so much like her old self that Catherine had an urge to hug her.
"Yeah. The doc was just telling me I can go home tomorrow. The latest CAT scan came up clear and except for a couple of hairline fractures, the concussion, and some massive bruising, I'm fine." Catherine quirked an eyebrow at her definition of fine, knowing how serious her injuries really were. Sara sighed, looking dismayed. "I'm on sick leave for three weeks from work."
"Yeah," Catherine started, picking her words carefully. "I spoke to Captain Harris this morning." Sara's face twisted into a puzzled expression, but let the silence prompt Catherine to continue. "She... um, asked me to stay and run the shift during your recovery." She hurried on, seeing the expression on Sara's face flitting between anger, concern, and complete bewilderment. "Partially, it's because she wants to say I was on the payroll when I ran your case, and partially because she, quote, wants a suitable replacement for her star CSI, unquote."
Sara was unsure how she felt about this; she hadn't always compared favorably to Catherine in the past, as she remembered all the times she played second fiddle or even got bumped from cases because of Catherine. The circumstances were different here, but the feelings of insecurity she always felt around the older CSI hadn't completely vanished. Although, she thought, if she was out, she would want the best to work with her team, right? Shouldn't that be more important than her ego? Her thoughts spiraled around these two poles for several minutes and some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face.
Catherine caught her hand and squeezed, bringing her attention back to the strawberry blonde standing there. "I won't do it if you don't want me to," she said quietly, and Sara realized that her silence could be interpreted in a number of different ways, most of them unfavorably. Catherine's face was unreadable, but Sara's continued silence had to be painful.
"Sorry," she said, trying to soften the silence with a smile. "It's not that you aren't a great CSI."
"But...?" Catherine's voice was low and controlled, but Sara could hear an edge of pain break through. Having your competence questioned was not fun, Sara knew, and she hated doing this to the older CSI. Sara knew there was no way to explain except the truth, even though the truth made her look stupid and childish. "But... they won't want me back after working with you," she admitted softly, her eyes riveted on a spot of blanket to avoid Catherine's eyes.
Catherine let out a shaky laugh. "And here I was worried about filling your shoes." She laughed again at Sara's puzzled look. "Sara, they are your team and they adore you." Catherine could guess why Sara might feel insecure; when she had started at Vegas, she had come in late on the team, tasked with investigating one of their own, and she had always had struggled to find a place. And, Catherine admitted to herself, none of them, especially her, had made it any easier on the younger woman. It made sense that she would feel a little uneasy. "This isn't Vegas. This time, I'm the new face, the interloper, coming in on YOUR team."
Sara mulled this over for a while, obviously struggling with her internal conflict. "Well, the lab couldn't get any better," she said, finally.
"Well, actually they could," Catherine corrected, "but she's on sick leave for the next three weeks." She smothered her grin at Sara's doubtful expression for a moment, and then let it shine through, happy to see Sara give a small smile in return. Catherine had to admit she was relieved that Sara had been truthful about her concern, given how secretive she had been at times. She knew the secrecy had been a protective measure on Sara's part, and was glad that perhaps such measures weren't necessarily between them anymore.
Sara's voice interrupted her thoughts, abruptly bringing her back to the hospital room. "Wait, what about Grissom? And Lindsey?"
"Well, I was already going to be here for a week anyway to finish up, so it's just a little longer. Grissom will have to deal with it," she said in the tone Sara knew she would use with Grissom. "Lindsey's on summer vacation, so I thought I might have her join me here and we could have a little vacation together. It will be a nice change of pace."
Sara nodded and seemed to be thinking about something before she apparently made up her mind. The results were conveyed to Catherine in a tone that brooked no argument. "You are staying with me."
Catherine was completely floored and secretly pleased by the invitation, but she tried to argue anyway. "Sara, you don't want Lindsey around while you are convalescing. And your townhouse has only two bedrooms. And..."
"Who will babysit Linds while you are at work?" Sara interjected logically?
"Um..."
Sara continued to pile on arguments, not heeding Catherine. "And there's plenty of room. And it's close to work, while most hotels are far from work. And rush hour traffic here is brutal. And where did you plan on staying anyway?"
Catherine looked a little chagrined. "I hadn't thought that far in advance," she admitted.
"Linds can have the guest room. I have a king bed in my bedroom. We can share."
"Um, share?"
Sara grinned. "Yeah, share. I can keep to myself if you can."
Catherine blinked, and then her eyes widened when she realized what Sara meant. She couldn't believe she hadn't been thinking of that interpretation of the offer whereas Sara had been. Since when did she miss the sexual innuendo and Sara picked up on it? And since when did Sara make comments like that to her anyway? Catherine gave up trying to think through the implications of her thoughts. "Um, actually, I was thinking that I'll be coming in late at night and that you are recovering from your injuries." She smirked down at Sara. "I really wasn't worried bed etiquette."
Sara's grin got a little wider, acknowledging the fact that she had been busted, and hastily tried to cover. "I know for a fact four people can fit comfortably on a kind-sized bed. You getting into bed won't even cause a ripple. "
Catherine's smile assumed a predatory cast, an expression well-known by all her friends and colleagues. After all, her reputation for being sexually- provocative and willing to share her private life was well known, but it wasn't exactly something Sara had engaged in. "Cite your source."
"Cite my source?" Sara repeated, stalling. She couldn't believe she had just said that, and wondered if she could blame the drugs or her injuries. She yawned, and stretched. "Actually, I'm getting a little tired. Maybe..." she said, hopefully, but the expression on Catherine's face told her she wasn't getting out of this one.
"Oh no, Sidle, you are not getting out of this that easy. Cite your source," Catherine commanded, actually enjoying the younger CSI's discomfort. Sara's face was casebook embarrassment as she looked around the room for a distraction, but she finally fessed up. "Teresa Warner. Weekend getaway to Maine. A couple of our friends decided to join us for the road trip at the last minute, and everyone ended up in our room when the hotel didn't have any vacancies. We fit very comfortably," she finished blandly.
Catherine nodded, her smile threatening to split her face, until she caught something Sara said and her eyes got wide, "But you and your friend," she said, putting extra emphasis on the word, "had a king bed and not two double beds initially?" She followed her thoughts to their logical conclusions. "So didn't having extra people in the bed, um, make it difficult for you and your friend?" she asked.
"Not necessarily," Sara replied, deadpan, giving Catherine an innocent look. Seeing Sara's face, she knew the topic of conversation had been dropped, and Sara's next words confirmed it. "So you are staying with me," As they discussed the logistics of the living arrangements, Catherine was left trying to figure out exactly what Sara had confessed to.
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TBC, of course. Thanks to Heksie, Laredo Grissom, Ghibli,, sentient and everyone for their encouraging reviews.