Like Sara
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, but I do own all the original characters in this fic, a Lonely Planet guide to Mexico, and half a corn tamale.
Rating: K
Chapter Six: Raves
Speaking of Friday nights, if I'm not working then there's only one thing I want to do. Ditto for Saturday. Yep, I want to party! I know this is what I have a reputation for in the lab – that's why they'd never picture me doing yoga or meditation – but there's just something about the flashing lights and the darkness and the way the beat goes right through you so you can feel it in your bones, and you don't have to think, you can just let go.
It's primitive, instinctual, which I think is why someone like Grissom doesn't get it. He spends his life fighting instinct. But you can dance until you're exhausted, scream yourself hoarse, yell your head off, whatever. It's a total release from all your pent-up frustration and anger.
Of course, you hardly ever see the same people twice, unless you make a habit of going with friends – and even then you probably won't see them after the first ten minutes – but there's this one chick I always keep an eye out for.
She's usually by one of the main amplifiers, right near the front, where the music's loudest. Her hair's dark – I don't know precisely what color – and she wears it short and spiky. She's kind of short, too, and it seems like every time I see her she has a new face piercing.
There's just this hunger about her, this eagerness. For the music, for something it can give her. I don't know why, but she reminds me a little of Sara. I'd have to shout, but maybe one day I'll ask her out. Yeah.