TITLE: Social Butterfly and the Caterpillar
AUTHOR: Mystic Amethyst
PAIRING: Catherine/Sara
DISCLAIMERS: Hey, if I owned CSI, then by now, Catherine and Sara would have had their one year anniversary.
RATINGWARNINGS: G-PG
SUMMARY: Sara's POV, in the break room, three months after Eddie's death.

Social Butterfly and the Caterpillar

I'm in the break room once again. It seems like an age since I was
last here. Recently we've been so snowed under that I have been
actually living in the lab, rarely finding time to just sit down. In
fact, the last time I relaxed in here is close on three months ago
now I think.

Looking around, I contemplate the changes. Nick and Warrick are
playing an XBOX; they must have traded the PS2 in. Greg isn't in the
room, and, to my surprise, I miss his voice rambling on. Grissom is
in his office, I think, playing with his beloved bugs.

Everything is still almost the same. I still sit alone, reading
another journal. No one even acknowledges my existence.

I thought things were changing two months ago. Hank turned out to be
a lousy, two timing jerk. She asked me out for a drink. So we went,
and bonded over all the assholes that came and went in our lives. She
talked about Paul and Eddie, and I about Hank and Larry back in San
Francisco.

At that time, the comments aimed at me grew less, the tension in the
labs easing somewhat. Finally, I began to see what the others saw,
the sweet side, the one which cared. Even when we argued, coping with
it grew easier, because I sensed underlying good humour.

Often, for no reason at all, I would glance up at her in the break
room, when we were there together, not knowing why. While I had done
that before, now it grew more frequent.

Then, a month ago, it all got shot to high heaven. Eddie died. Trust
an asshole like that to muck things up, even in death. No one else in
the lab was impartial, so Grissom entrusted me with the case.

Two liars and no murder weapon…how could I solve it? Yet, even
when the case was officially closed, every hour that I had to spare
went into doing just that. Any clues that were potentially overlooked
were chased up…for Lindsey…for Catherine.

I failed. In her eyes, it was as simple as that. No matter that I
doubt even Grissom could have solved the case. Apparently, every comment
she ever threw at me, became justified that night. If anything,
afterwards, they became even more cutting, almost vitriolic.

Before, they were about me as a person. P.E… (Post Eddie), they were
about my work. Snippets still fly around in my head.

"Are you sure you can handle this case Sara?"
"Do your best…no one can ask for more, right?"

Still, the revelation that I received on the night of Eddie's death
made it hard for me to hate her. You see, she said, before she went
home

"What a great bedtime story for my little girl"

Her voice cracked just the tiniest bit. And while it was a barb,
aimed to hit, and hit hard, as indeed it did, it barely hurt. Why you
ask? Because all that I could see right then, was a shock of golden
red hair, for once, slightly askew, and a face which bore the sign of
recent tears, both from puffy red eyes, and tear tracks. All I could
hear was a woman who was trying desperately to give her child
closure, being strong for her, while barely standing herself. I
didn't give that to them…I failed.

So now, when she sweeps into the break room, and Nick and Warrick
look up from the XBOX again, where when I came in they ignored me,
just like three months ago, and Grissom wanders in to check up on the
case all three of us are working on, my eyes remain fixed on my
journal, and there is no longer any anger in me. It's my fault for
not being better at what I do.

Her sharp, sarcastic quips come at me, and with every one, a few
tears come to my eyes. Sometimes, perforce, I snap back. Today, she
made a comment unexpectedly, and, for just a brief second, my eyes
met hers.

I looked away to the coffee mug on the table. When her back was
turned, I took a fleeting look at her again, as she laughed with the
others. Now I know why I have done so for as long as I have worked
here.

She is the proverbial social butterfly and I less than the
caterpillar it initially was. Why would someone so open and able to
be at ease in any situation look at me, when I failed in even the
area I am best at…my work? Yet, still, I live in hope, that someday,
she'll look… and instead of Sara Sidle, screw up, she'll see me.