Thanks for all the encouraging reviews, everyone. Sorry it took so long for this chapter – I was struggling with it a little. Writing physicality and movement is one of my weaknesses so it took me longer to work through this scene.
But this just the beginning
We're already wet and we're going to go swimming
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?
It's inevitable, the fact that we're going to get down to it
So tell me, why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?
-Liz Phair (I prefer classic Liz Phair from the early 90s, but this recent pop hit seems appropriate).
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Why can't I?
"So, this case is pretty much done?" Sara asked, staring at the files in front of her, her head resting on her hand. She didn't look up as she spoke. She was oblivious to the bored look Catherine shot her from her perch on the sofa. They had been reviewing case files for the last three hours and Sara didn't seem to be ready to let up any time soon. Catherine had an urge to make a joke about Grissom, but she was pretty sure Sara would not be amused. Even though she had been acting rather odd and quiet since last night, comparisons to Grissom would only bring the wrong kind of attention. "Yeah, we're just waiting for the last bit of trace to get back from the lab."
"Ok, then, the Miller case...." Sara began, but Catherine cut her off by standing up abruptly and saying brightly, "I need some coffee. Want some?"
"Umm, yeah, sure." Sara made a notation in a file and flipped through a few pages as Catherine stood over her shoulder, trying to see what was so interesting and involving that she couldn't look up at all. She leaned down so that her head was level with Sara's, smelling her shampoo and light cologne. "You want anything else?" Sara jumped in chair, exhaling explosively, before turning her head, almost knocking her head against Catherine's. "Jesus, Cath." Catherine was still looking down at the paperwork, missing Sara's eyes widening at how close Catherine face, Catherine's mouth, was to her own. Catherine turned her own head, sweeping her hair back as she did so, to find Sara's eyes fixed on her lips. An awkward silence ensued. "Um, no, coffee's fine," Sara stammered, breaking the silence and pulling her head back just a little.
"Ok," Catherine replied, straightening slowly, reluctantly, her mind in turmoil as she headed to the break room. Any more of this tension, she thought as she poured coffee, but her thoughts stopped there. What could she do? What did she want to do? Her brow furrowed as she tried to follow through with a concrete plan or strategy, but nothing suggested itself. This was Sara, her co-worker and now friend, not the latest flavor of the month. And this was the woman who was in love with Grissom, so long and so badly she had to leave her job. Even if she wanted something to happen, she reasoned, it wasn't going to. Catherine sighed and leaned against the counter, rolling her head on her shoulders before picking up the mugs and heading back to Sara's office.
Sara finally seemed distracted from her paperwork, staring off into space as Catherine set her mug down in front of her. Whatever had her distracted must have been a good memory, Catherine noted, because her dark eyes glowed and she had a rueful half-smile on her face. "Thanks." She eyed the stack of files beside her elbow. "We have all week to review these, right?" she asked, a hopeful note in her voice. At Catherine's nod, she muttered a heartfelt 'Good.' "Then I am going to take a walk and check in on this evening's cases. I think Annemarie and Jerome are back from that suspicious circs by now. Wanna join me?"
Catherine watched Sara leave the office after declining her offer, and sighed, leaning back into the sofa. Of course, Sara was thinking about work with such a happy expression. She reviewed the last few days in her mind, especially the kiss Sara had pressed into her palm at the boardwalk, the tingle that had run down her arm and through her body, which repeated every time she thought about it. Damn, she thought to herself, damn, damn, damn.
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Sara leaned over Annemarie's shoulder and stared at the file on the table before them. "Bar fight at a lesbian bar. It may be self-defense. You only have the witness's testimony and bruising on both the witness and the vic? And most of the trace is meaningless because the witness admits to contact with the vic." She was silent for a moment, rifling through the photos. "We may have to experiment to see if we can explain all the marks."
"A re-creation?" Annemarie asked. She glanced over her shoulder at Sara, happy to have her real supervisor back again. She had missed the enthusiasm Sara brought to her work, and while Catherine had been an adequate substitute, it was good to have the real thing. She wondered if she could or should tell Sara that, but instead she just smiled warmly, hoping her pleasure would be conveyed.
"Yup!" Sara confirmed, the smile on her face huge. "The vic is about my height. We just need someone about the height and weight of the witness." Annemarie chuckled. She was almost as tall and thin as Sara; with their matching brunette hair, people already assumed they were related. "Yeah, you might be a bit too tall," Sara continued. "We need someone shorter."
"Kesha?" Annemarie suggested. Sara shook her head. "Not back from the field yet. I guess I can get Catherine," she said, reluctantly. "She about the right size."
"Yeah," Annemarie said, uncertainly, unsure how to read Sara's reluctance. Her support of Catherine had been unwavering, but they had seemed oddly tense at the beginning of shift today. Annemarie had chalked it up to having two strong personalities trying to share the job, but Sara's strange reluctance made her question her earlier interpretation.
Sara reappeared with Catherine in tow. "Ok, Annemarie, walk us through the witness's statement." The two of them moved to the center of the room, facing each other with several feet between them, tension evident in Catherine's frown and the stiff way Sara stood. Jerome joined Annemarie at the table, his eyes dancing above his amused grin. "This should be interesting," he whispered to her, unrepentant even when Annemarie glared at him. She rolled her eyes at his mock-innocent look, but found herself agreeing with him as she watched Sara shift her weight nervously.
"Ok, according to the witness, she was leaving the hallway where the bathrooms are located and our vic grabbed her arm and turned her around. She then pushed the vic, who stumbled back and hit her head on a crate. By the way, the head injury is the cause of death and we've confirmed that the vic did hit her head on the crate. We just need to make sure the witness's statement is confirmed." Annemarie and Jerome watched as Catherine turned and Sara grabbed her arm, pulling her back around. They seemed to be moving through the motions half-heartedly, and they were still uncomfortably far apart.
Annemarie shook her head. "That doesn't account for all the injuries sustained by the two. First, there were bruises on both of the witness's arms. Sara, when you turn Catherine around, grab both of her upper arms instead of just one." Their actors paused, self-consciously sorting themselves out before Catherine turned again.
Catherine found herself spun around and hauled up in Sara's strong hands, both arms gripped tightly. The movement caught her off guard, and she found her hands braced against Sara's collarbone for stability. The sudden closeness threatened her self-control, but then Annemarie's voice cut through the fog. "Yes, Catherine, that hand placement explains some of the vic's bruising," she called encouragingly. Catherine found herself gazing up at Sara's face, searching for some recognition of their intimate, almost erotic, position. Sara's expression was bland and business-like, and her attention seemed focused only on the task-at-hand.
"Can you push me away in this position?" Sara asked Catherine. Catherine's first thought was, 'why would I want to do that?' and she felt a flush rising in her cheeks that she hoped Sara was too focused to notice. She pushed against Sara's shoulders, gently at first and then with more strength, struggling in the grasp that held her. "No, I don't have the leverage," she admitted.
"The witness was up against the wall. And there was another injury on her back, some scraping," Annemarie added, flipping through the pages of the file to a different photograph. Sara had released her grip, and Catherine walked over toward the wall across from the younger CSIs. "Maybe a wall would help the witness get more leverage to throw off the vic?"
"I guess we'll have to try to see." Sara's discomfort was beginning to show on her face and she schooled her expression into the deliberately bland expression she had learned from Grissom all these years. At last, she thought, these last few years of humiliation have some use. She reached up and caught Catherine's arms again, her eyes fixed on her own hands, avoiding Catherine's face.
With her back to the wall, Sara's body suddenly seemed much closer, even though Catherine could tell Sara was deliberately keeping as much space between their bodies as possible. "Well, the scrapes on the witnesses back could have come from struggling to push off the vic," she reasoned. Sara nodded thoughtfully as Catherine mimicked struggling to loosen her hold.
"No, no," Annemarie corrected, "the scrapes are almost completely vertical, and you are moving side-to-side." She pored over the photos for a second before getting an idea. "Sara, pull Catherine up the wall, like you are trying to kiss her." Catherine was glad that Sara's body blocked the line of sight for the two CSIs watching, because she was sure a look of pure panic flashed across her face. She only just hoped Sara didn't see it.
"Like this?" Sara slid Catherine up on her toes, lifting her almost bodily, and Catherine's hands tightened on her shoulders as the space between their bodies shrank. She managed one quick glance at Sara's face, but it was back- it and almost hidden in shadow, the expression unreadable.
"Yeah, like that. That would account for the scrapes on the witness," Annemarie answered excitedly, her voice a lifeline for Catherine as she resisted the temptation to close the distance between their bodies and mouths. She noticed Sara biting her lower lip and realized that Sara wasn't as unaffected as she thought. "Can you push me off now?" Sara said quietly, as Catherine's hands eased on her shoulders. She struggled against Sara's grip again, squirming around and trying to get leverage against the wall. The movement did nothing for her peace of mind, and she stopped quickly.
"No, I can't throw you off from this position. You're too tall," she explained. Sara slid her back down the wall and let go of her arms. "Then how do I end up dead?"
"Not by my actions, not unless you let go and I'm able to push you back then. That might have happened, but that's not what the witness is saying."
"The witness lied." They both walked back over to the table, where Annemarie spread the photos out so everyone could see them. "So we've accounted for the witness's bruises and scrapes, which does not support her statement, and it also explains the bruising on the vic's shoulders." Sara snagged a photo which showed a detail of the victim's neck. "What about this?" she asked, indicating the narrow red mark. "A necklace, maybe?"
"We couldn't find anything at the scene that might have caused that," Jerome piped up. "We considered some kind of ligature, but nothing was there." Catherine, meanwhile, had been flipping through the file. "Our vic is ex-military." She leaned over Sara's shoulder, unconsciously repeating her gesture from earlier in the evening, to look through the magnifying glass Sara was using to examine the marks. "Dog-tags, maybe?"
"Yeah, yeah, maybe," Sara muttered, reaching for another photo of the vic's back. She tapped the photo, and met Catherine's eyes, grinning. "No marks on the back of the neck." Catherine pulled herself upright quickly, and grabbed the file, looking over the witness's statement again. "Our witness had her girlfriend at the bar with her."
"Really?" Catherine nodded. "A third person." Catherine nodded again, her smile meeting Sara's as they figured it out at the same time. "Annemarie, get both the witness and her girlfriend here for an interview. If at all possible, we could use a warrant to see the girlfriend's hands. Jerome, go back to the scene and try to find a necklace or dog tags hidden somewhere in the club." The two younger CSIs left in a hurry, and Sara leaned back against the table.
Catherine stared at the vic's photo. "Sara, we may have missed one thing," she said, pointing down at the photo.
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And this scene is getting too long, so I'll cut it into two. Stay tuned.
But this just the beginning
We're already wet and we're going to go swimming
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?
It's inevitable, the fact that we're going to get down to it
So tell me, why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?
-Liz Phair (I prefer classic Liz Phair from the early 90s, but this recent pop hit seems appropriate).
------------------
Why can't I?
"So, this case is pretty much done?" Sara asked, staring at the files in front of her, her head resting on her hand. She didn't look up as she spoke. She was oblivious to the bored look Catherine shot her from her perch on the sofa. They had been reviewing case files for the last three hours and Sara didn't seem to be ready to let up any time soon. Catherine had an urge to make a joke about Grissom, but she was pretty sure Sara would not be amused. Even though she had been acting rather odd and quiet since last night, comparisons to Grissom would only bring the wrong kind of attention. "Yeah, we're just waiting for the last bit of trace to get back from the lab."
"Ok, then, the Miller case...." Sara began, but Catherine cut her off by standing up abruptly and saying brightly, "I need some coffee. Want some?"
"Umm, yeah, sure." Sara made a notation in a file and flipped through a few pages as Catherine stood over her shoulder, trying to see what was so interesting and involving that she couldn't look up at all. She leaned down so that her head was level with Sara's, smelling her shampoo and light cologne. "You want anything else?" Sara jumped in chair, exhaling explosively, before turning her head, almost knocking her head against Catherine's. "Jesus, Cath." Catherine was still looking down at the paperwork, missing Sara's eyes widening at how close Catherine face, Catherine's mouth, was to her own. Catherine turned her own head, sweeping her hair back as she did so, to find Sara's eyes fixed on her lips. An awkward silence ensued. "Um, no, coffee's fine," Sara stammered, breaking the silence and pulling her head back just a little.
"Ok," Catherine replied, straightening slowly, reluctantly, her mind in turmoil as she headed to the break room. Any more of this tension, she thought as she poured coffee, but her thoughts stopped there. What could she do? What did she want to do? Her brow furrowed as she tried to follow through with a concrete plan or strategy, but nothing suggested itself. This was Sara, her co-worker and now friend, not the latest flavor of the month. And this was the woman who was in love with Grissom, so long and so badly she had to leave her job. Even if she wanted something to happen, she reasoned, it wasn't going to. Catherine sighed and leaned against the counter, rolling her head on her shoulders before picking up the mugs and heading back to Sara's office.
Sara finally seemed distracted from her paperwork, staring off into space as Catherine set her mug down in front of her. Whatever had her distracted must have been a good memory, Catherine noted, because her dark eyes glowed and she had a rueful half-smile on her face. "Thanks." She eyed the stack of files beside her elbow. "We have all week to review these, right?" she asked, a hopeful note in her voice. At Catherine's nod, she muttered a heartfelt 'Good.' "Then I am going to take a walk and check in on this evening's cases. I think Annemarie and Jerome are back from that suspicious circs by now. Wanna join me?"
Catherine watched Sara leave the office after declining her offer, and sighed, leaning back into the sofa. Of course, Sara was thinking about work with such a happy expression. She reviewed the last few days in her mind, especially the kiss Sara had pressed into her palm at the boardwalk, the tingle that had run down her arm and through her body, which repeated every time she thought about it. Damn, she thought to herself, damn, damn, damn.
----------
Sara leaned over Annemarie's shoulder and stared at the file on the table before them. "Bar fight at a lesbian bar. It may be self-defense. You only have the witness's testimony and bruising on both the witness and the vic? And most of the trace is meaningless because the witness admits to contact with the vic." She was silent for a moment, rifling through the photos. "We may have to experiment to see if we can explain all the marks."
"A re-creation?" Annemarie asked. She glanced over her shoulder at Sara, happy to have her real supervisor back again. She had missed the enthusiasm Sara brought to her work, and while Catherine had been an adequate substitute, it was good to have the real thing. She wondered if she could or should tell Sara that, but instead she just smiled warmly, hoping her pleasure would be conveyed.
"Yup!" Sara confirmed, the smile on her face huge. "The vic is about my height. We just need someone about the height and weight of the witness." Annemarie chuckled. She was almost as tall and thin as Sara; with their matching brunette hair, people already assumed they were related. "Yeah, you might be a bit too tall," Sara continued. "We need someone shorter."
"Kesha?" Annemarie suggested. Sara shook her head. "Not back from the field yet. I guess I can get Catherine," she said, reluctantly. "She about the right size."
"Yeah," Annemarie said, uncertainly, unsure how to read Sara's reluctance. Her support of Catherine had been unwavering, but they had seemed oddly tense at the beginning of shift today. Annemarie had chalked it up to having two strong personalities trying to share the job, but Sara's strange reluctance made her question her earlier interpretation.
Sara reappeared with Catherine in tow. "Ok, Annemarie, walk us through the witness's statement." The two of them moved to the center of the room, facing each other with several feet between them, tension evident in Catherine's frown and the stiff way Sara stood. Jerome joined Annemarie at the table, his eyes dancing above his amused grin. "This should be interesting," he whispered to her, unrepentant even when Annemarie glared at him. She rolled her eyes at his mock-innocent look, but found herself agreeing with him as she watched Sara shift her weight nervously.
"Ok, according to the witness, she was leaving the hallway where the bathrooms are located and our vic grabbed her arm and turned her around. She then pushed the vic, who stumbled back and hit her head on a crate. By the way, the head injury is the cause of death and we've confirmed that the vic did hit her head on the crate. We just need to make sure the witness's statement is confirmed." Annemarie and Jerome watched as Catherine turned and Sara grabbed her arm, pulling her back around. They seemed to be moving through the motions half-heartedly, and they were still uncomfortably far apart.
Annemarie shook her head. "That doesn't account for all the injuries sustained by the two. First, there were bruises on both of the witness's arms. Sara, when you turn Catherine around, grab both of her upper arms instead of just one." Their actors paused, self-consciously sorting themselves out before Catherine turned again.
Catherine found herself spun around and hauled up in Sara's strong hands, both arms gripped tightly. The movement caught her off guard, and she found her hands braced against Sara's collarbone for stability. The sudden closeness threatened her self-control, but then Annemarie's voice cut through the fog. "Yes, Catherine, that hand placement explains some of the vic's bruising," she called encouragingly. Catherine found herself gazing up at Sara's face, searching for some recognition of their intimate, almost erotic, position. Sara's expression was bland and business-like, and her attention seemed focused only on the task-at-hand.
"Can you push me away in this position?" Sara asked Catherine. Catherine's first thought was, 'why would I want to do that?' and she felt a flush rising in her cheeks that she hoped Sara was too focused to notice. She pushed against Sara's shoulders, gently at first and then with more strength, struggling in the grasp that held her. "No, I don't have the leverage," she admitted.
"The witness was up against the wall. And there was another injury on her back, some scraping," Annemarie added, flipping through the pages of the file to a different photograph. Sara had released her grip, and Catherine walked over toward the wall across from the younger CSIs. "Maybe a wall would help the witness get more leverage to throw off the vic?"
"I guess we'll have to try to see." Sara's discomfort was beginning to show on her face and she schooled her expression into the deliberately bland expression she had learned from Grissom all these years. At last, she thought, these last few years of humiliation have some use. She reached up and caught Catherine's arms again, her eyes fixed on her own hands, avoiding Catherine's face.
With her back to the wall, Sara's body suddenly seemed much closer, even though Catherine could tell Sara was deliberately keeping as much space between their bodies as possible. "Well, the scrapes on the witnesses back could have come from struggling to push off the vic," she reasoned. Sara nodded thoughtfully as Catherine mimicked struggling to loosen her hold.
"No, no," Annemarie corrected, "the scrapes are almost completely vertical, and you are moving side-to-side." She pored over the photos for a second before getting an idea. "Sara, pull Catherine up the wall, like you are trying to kiss her." Catherine was glad that Sara's body blocked the line of sight for the two CSIs watching, because she was sure a look of pure panic flashed across her face. She only just hoped Sara didn't see it.
"Like this?" Sara slid Catherine up on her toes, lifting her almost bodily, and Catherine's hands tightened on her shoulders as the space between their bodies shrank. She managed one quick glance at Sara's face, but it was back- it and almost hidden in shadow, the expression unreadable.
"Yeah, like that. That would account for the scrapes on the witness," Annemarie answered excitedly, her voice a lifeline for Catherine as she resisted the temptation to close the distance between their bodies and mouths. She noticed Sara biting her lower lip and realized that Sara wasn't as unaffected as she thought. "Can you push me off now?" Sara said quietly, as Catherine's hands eased on her shoulders. She struggled against Sara's grip again, squirming around and trying to get leverage against the wall. The movement did nothing for her peace of mind, and she stopped quickly.
"No, I can't throw you off from this position. You're too tall," she explained. Sara slid her back down the wall and let go of her arms. "Then how do I end up dead?"
"Not by my actions, not unless you let go and I'm able to push you back then. That might have happened, but that's not what the witness is saying."
"The witness lied." They both walked back over to the table, where Annemarie spread the photos out so everyone could see them. "So we've accounted for the witness's bruises and scrapes, which does not support her statement, and it also explains the bruising on the vic's shoulders." Sara snagged a photo which showed a detail of the victim's neck. "What about this?" she asked, indicating the narrow red mark. "A necklace, maybe?"
"We couldn't find anything at the scene that might have caused that," Jerome piped up. "We considered some kind of ligature, but nothing was there." Catherine, meanwhile, had been flipping through the file. "Our vic is ex-military." She leaned over Sara's shoulder, unconsciously repeating her gesture from earlier in the evening, to look through the magnifying glass Sara was using to examine the marks. "Dog-tags, maybe?"
"Yeah, yeah, maybe," Sara muttered, reaching for another photo of the vic's back. She tapped the photo, and met Catherine's eyes, grinning. "No marks on the back of the neck." Catherine pulled herself upright quickly, and grabbed the file, looking over the witness's statement again. "Our witness had her girlfriend at the bar with her."
"Really?" Catherine nodded. "A third person." Catherine nodded again, her smile meeting Sara's as they figured it out at the same time. "Annemarie, get both the witness and her girlfriend here for an interview. If at all possible, we could use a warrant to see the girlfriend's hands. Jerome, go back to the scene and try to find a necklace or dog tags hidden somewhere in the club." The two younger CSIs left in a hurry, and Sara leaned back against the table.
Catherine stared at the vic's photo. "Sara, we may have missed one thing," she said, pointing down at the photo.
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And this scene is getting too long, so I'll cut it into two. Stay tuned.