Author's Notes: What is about to follow contains some serious spoilers for "Pirates of the Third Reich." If you haven't yet seen this episode, this story probably won't make a lot of sense. But I had to write it. Because once again, the meeting that we all are dying to witness didn't take palce. So, in my world, I made it happen. Ah, the power of the writer with too much free time. Enjoy.
The Winner Takes All
by Kristen Elizabeth
"Why me?"
One sure fire way to tell that something was upsetting Brass was when he started loosening his tie. Right then, the knot was hanging halfway down the buttons on his shirt.
"Sara," he started. "You're the only one who's had no contact with her."
"The only one? The only one out of what? The entire lab? Are you saying that every single CSI from all three shifts has met this woman?" Sara folded her arms over her chest. "I've heard she gets around, but that's just ridiculous." A moment passed. "No."
Brass blinked. "What?"
"I said no. I can't…I won't do it. Find someone else."
"She's waiting in interrogation with her lawyer. We have a very small window of time, and you're the only one who can walk into that room without any prior acquaintance to the suspect."
"Is someone really just a suspect if one of us catches them whipping a man to death?" Sara shook her head. "Forgetting that for a moment…I might not have had the dubious pleasure of meeting her yet, but I won't be walking in there without any preconceptions."
The look Brass gave her spoke of his weariness. The case leading up to this had been particularly brutal. You were supposed to read about Nazi Germany in your history book, not witness its horrors first hand in your hometown.
"Please, Sara. Just do your best." He paused to pull at his tie some more. "If you can't do it for me, do it for him."
A chill ran down her spine. "What makes you think that works on me anymore?"
"Doesn't it?"
Sara stared at him for another long minute. Finally, she snatched the case file out of his hand. "At least it won't take too long. Open and shut, right? Easy."
"With this woman…" Brass shook his head. "…don't count on it."
Her first impression of the infamous Lady Heather was that, at least from the back, she didn't seem all that threatening.
But then Sara walked around the metal table and caught a glimpse of her eyes. That was where her power lay, within the ice cold depths of her stare. Within several seconds, Sara realized a few things.
The woman was beautiful. The woman was powerful. The woman could turn any man's attention away from his microscope. And the woman was entirely capable of murder.
"Hello," she said in an entirely unnecessary greeting. "I'm CSI Sara Sidle." She rarely used her full title when introducing herself to a suspect. There was some unexplainable need within her to instantly identify herself as an intellectual peer of the man they had in common. "I'll be asking you a few questions."
"My client wants to fully cooperate," the lawyer, who had up until then gone unnoticed, said. "But whether or not she answers any of your questions has yet to be established."
Sara's smile was tight. She hated lawyers. "Can I get you anything before we get started? Coffee? Water?"
"Where is he?" Lady Heather's voice was as dark as her bloody clothing. "Why were you sent instead of him?"
"Captain Brass is…"
"Not him. You know exactly to whom I am referring, and I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't act as though you don't. Where is he?"
Sara uncapped her pen. "He's unavailable. So if you don't want something to drink, let's get…"
"He is unavailable." The woman rubbed her wrist just below the handcuffs that served to keep her restrained. "Perhaps that is his allure."
"We know most of the facts, but there are some details that still need to be made clear. How did you manage to subdue and remove the victim from his residence?"
"You're quite intent on changing the subject." Lady Heather's vacant stare focused on Sara. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
Looking up, Sara met her stare full on. "No. I've sat here with serial murderers and child molesters. All you did was try to whip a man to shreds. It takes a lot more to get under my skin."
"It's not what I did tonight that's bothering you."
Sara looked away. "If we could get back to the case at hand…"
The lawyer jumped in. "Tonight's tragic events were the direct result of severe emotional trauma brought about by the so-called victim himself. My client…"
Lady Heather threw up her hand, silencing her attorney. There was a spark of life in her eyes that seemed even more dangerous than the emptiness that had been there before. "How old are you, Ms. Sidle?"
"Old enough to know that severe emotional trauma doesn't excuse attempted murder."
"Thirty? Thirty-five?" She looked Sara up and down. "Young."
Impatience crept up on her. "My age has nothing to do with anything. This is a serious investigation, even if there's not much left to investigate. I suggest you focus on yourself and not me."
"I find women in law enforcement fascinating." Lady Heather sat back in her chair. "You like to pretend you're as tough as your colleague, Ms. Willows, but in reality, you wear your heart on your sleeve. For the whole world to see." She thought for a second. "Or maybe…just for one person."
Sara let out a harsh chuckle. "No one likes an amateur psychologist, you know."
"He called me an anthropologist once upon a time. What does he call you?"
"Ladies, if we could get back on track…"
The lawyer went ignored again. "Honey," Sara answered, picking up the gauntlet Heather had thrown down.
"Well…" The dominatrix gave her a haunted smile and held up her handcuffed wrists, the physical proof that no matter what her lawyer did or said, it would be a long time before she was free again. "You win."
"I think she's the saddest woman I've ever met."
"What makes you say that?"
Sara lifted herself onto her elbow and looked down at the man in her bed. "She spent her lifetime convincing herself that pain is pleasure. Until she got a real taste of it and figured out what we've known for years. Pain isn't pleasure. Pain is suffering."
"And that makes her sad?"
"Pitiable."
"She'd hate that."
"Too bad." Sara lay back down against Grissom's chest. "She didn't deserve to lose her daughter like that, but I don't have a lot of sympathy for her."
His hand idly stroked her bare back. "I wish you could have met her before last night. She was a different person."
"One you cared for."
It was halfway between a question and a statement. Grissom eventually answered, "When I was a different person, yes."
Sara waited a moment to ask, "And now?"
"When she handed me that used condom so matter-of-factly, I just thought…this woman finds nothing sacred in sex anymore. If she ever did. Passionate rage might have fueled her to do it, but at this point in her life, passion is something of which she's no longer capable." He looked down at Sara. "Now…I want to be with a woman who can make love."
"I'm telling you…the saddest woman I've ever met." She traced an invisible pattern on his warm skin, just over his heart. "She could have been right here…had all of this."
Grissom caught her chin and lifted it up. "No. She couldn't have."
Later, when he slept with his head against her breast, spent but replete, Sara kissed his damp brow and whispered, "I win."
Fin