A/N: This part contains spoilers for "ABRTI" and possibly, "I Like to Watch".

Mega thanks go out to my friend and beta, Ethereal Journey. As I said before, I have this nasty habit of adding in more stuff after the fact. Well, this time I added a whole new paragraph. Any mistakes you might find are all mine.

Playing the Hero

Part II

"Rumor has it that Curtis here has the hots for Brass."

"Oh, yeah, Adams?" Sam Vega asked as he walked into the PD locker room to see the ranking police officer sitting on the bench and seemingly holding court with two other officers while Sofia Curtis put her bag into her locker and tried to look uninterested.

"Makes perfect sense." he shrugged.

"How's that, Sarge?" one of the standing officers took a seat at the end of the bench.

"I mean, it stands to reason. Sofia here thought she shot Danny and Brass stood by her. He killed Danny and she stands by him. And what happened to Brass? He's Teflon man. They clear him. Meanwhile, Danny's widow is raising three kids on her own. Three little babies. Brass can't even manage the one kid he's got." Adams looked up to see Vega move aside and Jim Brass step forward.

"You got a problem with me, Adams, you come see me. You tell me to my face."

As Vega ushered Sofia out of the way, Adams stood up, stretching out his full 6 foot, 2 inch frame, and looked down at Brass. "The fact that you outrank me is probably the only thing keeping me from turning you into a little grease spot right now."

Brass took off his badge and his gun and set both on the wooden bench in plain sight of Adams. "You want to even the odds, you got it." Jim got as close to being in the other man's face as he could. "Give me your best shot."

Sofia started to step forward only to feel Vega's hand on her shoulder. "This isn't your fight," Sam said. "Let them go. Jim knows what he's doing."

Brass waited for Adams to make the first move, but the bigger man never did.

"That's what I thought. Chicken shit." Jim turned around and reached down to pick up his badge and gun, catching Sofia's eye and registering the alarm on her face too late.

Adams lurched forward, grabbing Brass by the back of the collar and smashing him head first into the row of metal lockers then swinging him around and tossing him across the bench and into the row of lockers on the other side. As Vega and the two uniformed officers rushed Adams, shoving him to the floor, Sofia quickly scrambled towards Jim, pulling out her phone and calling for help as she slid onto the floor next to him. Ignoring the commotion going on behind her, her attention was fixed on the blood seeping out of the open cut on Jim's forehead.

Sofia was used to seeing blood but the sight of Jim's blood and of the red smear that trailed down the dented locker and then splattered across the room made her cringe. Head wounds always were messy.

"How is he?" Vega asked, holding out a handful of paper towels.

Pressing the makeshift bandage against Jim's head, she said, "He's out cold. I called the paramedics."

"Okay, let me get this piece of crap out of here and I'll let reception know what's going on."

"Are you going to tell the sheriff too?"

"Damn right I am! I want Adams' stripes."

"Sam, you said Jim knew what he was doing. He did this on purpose didn't he? He never intended to hit Adams, did he?"

Vega laughed. "No, he never did. Among other things, Jim found out Adams fed that camera crew with the details about Bell. He wanted Adams to hang himself. Looks like he did."

"You think those two uniforms will back Jim up? I mean, it's their word against ours."

"Well, Jim is Tyner's godfather and Metcalf is his go-to guy so I think they'll tell the truth."

Jim let out a low groan and started to move, struggling to lift himself up.

Sofia helped him into a sitting position then put a hand on his shoulder. "Hang on, Jim. The paramedics are on the way."

Brass closed his eyes then re-opened them, trying to focus on whoever was speaking. Right now he could see two Vega's but his mouth wasn't moving and the voice sounded a little too feminine to belong to Sam.

Putting a hand to his head, he asked, "We get him?"

"We sure did." Vega reached down and gave Brass a reassuring pat on the arm. "Hang tight. You're going to be fine." Sam turned his attention to Sofia. "I'm going to see about Adams. You okay here?"

"Fine."

Jim tried to push away whatever was on his head but was met with a restraining hand.

"You split your head open and it's bleeding pretty bad. Just stay put, okay?"

Given the way the room was spinning, Jim wasn't sure where exactly he'd be going. Staying put seemed like a very good idea. "Sure."

"That was a pretty stupid thing you did."

Brass leaned his head against the cool metal and shut his eyes. It didn't do his head much good but at least the room stopped spinning. "Yeah, not one of my better plans."

"But it worked. Next time maybe you could let me know? Jesus, Jim, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

He opened one eye and looked at her. "I'm hoping there won't be a next time. Sorry for bringing you into this but I had a feeling Adams would bite on gossip."

"Ah, that's okay but technically, that part about having the hots for you? It's not gossip; it's a fact."

Brass held her gaze for an impossibly long time and if the paramedics hadn't shown up at that moment, he might have kissed her right there.

Or at least one of her.

xoxoxoxo

Sofia pulled into Jim's driveway several hours later and shut off the engine. Jim had his eyes closed and his head against the headrest the entire way home but she suspected it wasn't because he was asleep.

Adams hadn't succeeded in cracking Jim's skull or breaking any bones but he had given him four stitches, a nice lump and a nasty bruise. She suspected that right about now, Brass probably had the mother of all headaches.

"You're home."

Brass opened one eye then the other and grunted as he got out of the SUV. Digging his house keys from his pocket and unlocking the door, he was aware that Sofia had followed him onto the porch as he stepped inside.

"You want to come in?"

"The doctor said you needed someone to keep an eye on you for a day or two."

"Oh, yeah? You volunteering?"

"Unless you have a better offer."

He stepped back onto the porch and looked around. "No one's beating down my door so I guess the job's yours." He stepped aside to let her pass then followed her inside and shut the door.

"Seriously, Jim, if this makes you uncomfortable, I'm sure I could call Sam." She reached for her cell phone only to have him put his hands up in a halting gesture.

"No, I'm good with this." He rubbed his forehead, carefully avoiding the tender area around the stitched cut. "You want something to drink? I got water and uh, water."

"Water's good but you sit. I'll get it."

"Cold bottles are in the fridge. I think I even have some of that flavored stuff." Jim sunk down into the sofa and flipped on the television then kicked off his shoes. His head hurt, his back ached and now that he was home, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Here." She held out one of bottles for him and he accepted, twisting off the cap and taking a long gulp as she sat down beside him.

"I never mentioned it before but you have a nice place." She was looking around the room. "It suits you."

"Suits me? How?"

"It's neat, a little old-fashioned, but very masculine. Very stylish."

Brass couldn't help but chuckle. "I have a style?"

"You do."

"Don't let that get out." He paused long enough to yawn. "I don't want to ruin my chances for the next Project Runway."

"Well, I don't think Tim Gunn's going to show up on your doorstep any time soon."

"Can't say I'm disappointed." He closed his eyes then opened them, his eyelids heavy.

"How do you know about Project Runway?"

Brass slowly rubbed his temple, trying to massage away his headache since the drugs didn't seem to be working. "I always had a thing for Heidi Klum."

Rolling her eyes, Sofia moved down to the end of the couch. "Look, why don't you stretch out and I'll rub your head."

"You sure?"

She grabbed one of the cushions off the chair and put it in her lap. "Here, lie down."

Jim did as she asked, resting his head on the pillow and propping his feet up on the arm of the couch while Sofia ran her fingers through his hair, gently applying pressure as she massaged his head.

A few minutes later and Jim was snoring softly on her lap. Unfortunately, twenty minutes later Jim's phone rang, sending him rocketing upright and in search of the offending noise.

"Brass," he answered tersely as Sofia disappeared down the hall. "Yeah, Sam, I'm doing okay." His conversation with Vega lasted all of two minutes, and though he appreciated the other detective's concern, he couldn't help but feel a little irritated at being awakened by the call. Although it had only been a nap, it had been the best twenty minutes of sleep Brass had had in many months.

Coming back into the room and retaking her place on the couch, Sofia put the pillow back on her lap. "You were down for the count. Still have the headache?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Brass nodded. "Yeah, but it's not as bad as it was. You know, you don't have to stick around just to make sure I don't get dizzy and fall down or something. I feel okay and I'm sure you got better things to do."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Sofia asked in jest but inwardly wondered if perhaps he might be more at ease on his own. She'd sensed that he wasn't completely comfortable with her company but she hadn't given him much choice. Still, he had managed to fall asleep with his head on her lap.

Jim pursed his lips and frowned. "See, here's the thing. I'm starting to get real comfortable with you."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Guilt kept him from making eye contact, instead finding his hands much more interesting. "Yeah, it is."

"Why? Why is it a bad thing?" Leaning against the back of the couch, she stared up at the ceiling. "I don't understand, Jim. One minute you're kissing me and it's like we've got this incredible chemistry going on and then the next minute you're telling me it's a bad thing." She turned to look at him, anger lighting her eyes. "I just don't get it."

Exhaling heavily, Brass met her gaze. This was getting way too complicated and it was all his fault. Reaching over to take her hand, he said, "I'm sorry. I know I'm giving you all kinds of mixed signals."

"Yes, you are."

"I like you. I mean, I guess that's obvious." He paused, wondering how he could possibly tell her what the real reason was and instead opting for the easy answer. "I just don't think I'm the right guy for you."

"What?" She let go of his hand and stood up. "You start to get close and then pull away because you figure out I might get attached or something? Well, it's too late for that because I'm already attached."

"Ah, you're just feeling sorry for me cause I'm hurt." Nerves made Jim try to laugh it off but he knew it was the wrong thing to say. And judging by the red flush creeping up her neck, he figured he was in for one hellacious ass-chewing.

"Sorry? No. I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sad for you. I feel sad that you've closed yourself off to even the idea of being in love with someone. Sad that your ex-wife left you so beaten and scarred, that you feel incapable of being in a relationship again." She looked away for a moment before continuing. "I feel sad that you think no one can ever love you."

Brass rubbed his forehead, still not sure what to say. To be honest was there really anything left to say? She was right to be angry and frustrated with him, and it was pointless for him to try to argue.

Taking his silence as her cue, Sofia moved towards the front door. "Maybe I should go. Let you have some space to figure out what you want."

He felt himself nodding in agreement even though he really didn't want her to leave. His head hurt and at the moment, it seemed like the best decision to make.

Behind him he heard the door close as she left.

xoxoxoxo

"Why are all you men like this?"

"Cath, I called you for sympathy, not a beating."

Not knowing what to do but needing a sympathetic shoulder, Brass had called Catherine and asked her to meet him for a drink. It didn't matter that he was told specifically to avoid alcohol but it did occur to him that Catherine probably wasn't the best choice for a sympathetic ear. Gil would have probably been a better choice but Jim wasn't sure what kind of history Grissom had with Sofia and truthfully, he didn't want to know. Thinking of himself as sloppy seconds didn't do his ego much good.

"You deserve a beating."

Brass pointed at his head. "I've had one, thanks."

"Yeah, I heard what happened with Adams. Should you be drinking with a concussion?"

"I'm not drinking—I'm sipping. And I'm not even doing much of that."

"Stomach in knots?"

He looked up, not answering the question.

"Jim Brass, you're in love and like every other jackass on the planet, you're in denial."

"Seriously, Catherine, give it to me straight. Don't pull any punches."

"What do you want me to tell you that I haven't already said? It's obvious Sofia cares a great deal about you. No one in all of PD has had your back the way she has." Catherine leaned forward, closing the space between them. "Tell me, Jim, when was the last time you were in a serious relationship? And don't count me. We both know what that was."

Frowning, Jim leaned back in his chair and shifted uncomfortably at both her question and the reference to their very brief past. "I guess there really hasn't been any one since you."

"That's right. And why? Because you have some serious commitment issues."

"Look, Cath, I know I screwed things up between the two of us and yeah, I know I have a few issues to work through…"

"A few?"

He shook his head. "Look, cut me some slack, okay? This isn't about us."

Catherine put her hand on his. "You're right and I'm sorry."

Brass leaned forward again, the momentary tension quickly dissipating.

"Jim, I know you're afraid of all this but why? What's got you so hesitant? I mean, unless you're Gil Grissom, any fifty year old guy would be elated to know that a thirty-something woman was hot for him."

Brass chuckled. Yeah, he really was acting a lot like Grissom right about now. He'd certainly seen more than a few similarities between Gil and himself, giving him a whole new perspective on why the CSI had been dragging his heels with Sara Sidle for so long.

Brass could relate.

He liked Sofia. He'd admitted that much to her and to himself. Hell, he hadn't even denied it when Catherine said he was in love. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was really love or some sort of deep affection based on what they had been through. He tended to think it was the latter. But he knew he'd made a mess of things and this time, he didn't expect Sofia would be waiting around for him. Deep down, he knew it was all for the best but that didn't mean it still didn't sting a little.

Brass looked at Catherine, realizing that she was still waiting for an answer to all her questions. Taking a lingering sip of his beer, stalling for time as he thought about how to respond, he decided to take the direct route with Catherine. After all she'd been very direct with him.

"Because I'm not Gil Grissom."

"Well, thank goodness for that!"

"Seriously, Catherine, I'm not some good-looking, brainy entomologist with some sort of mystique going on that drives women wild. I'm just a middle-aged cop with a shitload of baggage."

"Come on, you and I both know that's not true."

"Oh, yeah, you're right." Brass fixed his gaze on hers. "I used to be a good cop but now I'm just the cop who killed a cop." There, he'd said it. And as his reward, he lifted up his glass in a silent toast and this time took a long draw.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Yeah, well, it's the truth. Once she gets over this sympathy thing she's got going on and sees me for who I really am, she'll get bored with me."

"Goddammit, Jim, will you just stop! I certainly don't profess to be good friends with Sofia but I've worked with her enough now to know what she's like. I know that she's seen you for who you are and I sure as hell don't see her beating a path in the opposite direction. Have you ever stopped and noticed the way she looks at you? There's no pity; there's no sympathy. She genuinely likes you and it's written all over her face every time she's around you. Maybe if you'd stop feeling sorry for yourself and just open your eyes, you'd see it. And by the way, you really need to stop making assumptions about what women want. Don't ever discount the nice guy, Jim. Yeah, you might be carrying a lot of baggage but you're genuinely a nice guy who cares about others."

Brass started to protest but she cut him off.

"No, hear me out. I realize you have this tough cop reputation to uphold and I understand that because I know that's what it takes to deal with the scum you see every day. But I know you, Jim. I've seen how cases with young girls get to you because they remind you of Ellie. I've seen your intolerance for wives who sleep around and your sympathy for the long-suffering husbands. But more than anything else, I can see what Bell's death has done to you. You try to hide it. You act like nothing bothers you; like you go home every night and get a full eight hour's sleep but we both know that's not how it is. You do care and it does bother you—probably more than any of us will ever know.

"You've tried to deal with this in your own way but you know, sometimes you can't go it alone; sometimes you need someone who's more than a friend. And now you have this young woman and she's making it very clear that she wants to be more than a friend and I'm pretty sure you'd like her to be more than a friend but for some reason only you know, you don't think you're worthy. You worry that she won't like what she sees or that she'll get bored with you. So what? At least you'll have given her that chance. I know what it's like to have my heart broken by a man I had feelings for. If you even remotely feel the same way about her, don't put her through that kind of pain. It's not fair to her."

Brass was quiet for a long time, making Catherine wonder if she really had beaten him up. She knew she had been blunt but she had stood in Sofia's place and knew how the younger woman felt. The only difference was, Jim hadn't rushed out and gotten married. He was fully capable of returning Sofia's affections if only he could get past his own mental hurdles. And if a hard push was all he needed, then damn it, Catherine was going to push.

Brass put both hands on the table as if he were laying out his cards. "You're right, Catherine. You're right."

Sliding out of the booth, Jim got to his feet and tiredly walked out the door, leaving Catherine with nothing but a departing view of his broad back and a feeling that she'd just killed their friendship.

xoxoxoxo

Stepping into the spray of the steamy hot shower, Brass let the water cascade over his back, washing away the stench and grime of the night. He was dead tired, so tired he leaned his hand against the tile for support and closed his eyes.

Maybe it was the hot water loosening up his brain cells or maybe it was just that there were far too many issues still knocking around inside his head. Whatever the reason, he wasn't sure why the memory suddenly crowded into his head but there it was.

It had been during an interrogation of a suspect and even though Brass couldn't recall the exact words Gil had spoken at the time, he remembered what the scientist had said about someone young and beautiful showing up and offering a new life. Brass knew who Gil was referring to, but at the time Jim couldn't help relating it to his own situation with Catherine. Only now it wasn't about Catherine; now it was about Sofia. She was the one he couldn't get out of his head; she was the young and beautiful woman offering him a second chance and yet, Brass persisted in turning her away.

Unlike Gil Grissom though, it wasn't about risk. No, Brass had a much less complicated reason, one that he hadn't shared with Catherine, Sofia or even his PEAP counselor; one that he hadn't really figured out until now.

How could he possibly accept the affections of someone else when he didn't even like himself?

To be continued…