Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Just so you know, no romance here. Please review!

Alex and Sofia had been taught the setup of the surveillance equipment by some of the technical whizzes from the department. It was a joint venture with the narcotics unit. Theman under surveillance was suspected of being a cog in a huge ring of prescription drug distribution and also for murder of a teen prostitute in cold case. Vartann had worked the original murder, but had never been able to pin it on the bastard. Now, the plan was to bust him on the narcotics and take DNA evidence for testing in the murder case. Vartann knew that the hope was that by pinning the murder on him, narcotics would have more leverage to make him sing on the distribution ring. He hated to see the lowlife get some leeway in serving the maximum for the teen's murder, but he knew this was how it worked.

He and Sofia would be watching the apartment next door in shifts. A crew of narc detectives would be at the front, back and side entrances of the complex to tail the man. Evidently they were waiting on him to go on a big buy. They had little suspicions that the man would have the buyers at his house, but Vartann and Sofia were the back up just in case.

The tech crew left in pairs at 30 minute increments, going different ways out the complex. Sofia and Vartann were left to themselves.

"So, how do you want to handle this Det. Curtis?" Vartann began asking. "I figured you could have first choice on shifts." He felt a little weird about calling her Det. Curtis, especially since the last time he had worked with her, she had been a CSI, and he had called her Sofia.

Sofia was nodding her head.

"Thanks. This is my first stakeout, at least in an apartment," she said. "I appreciate the offer, Det. Vartann."

"We're going to be together 24/7 for the next week or so. You can call me Alex," he said gently. Sofia raised an eyebrow and gave him an imperious look. "Or just Vartann will do," he amended. It was going to be a rough week.

"I guess Sofia will do too," she said. "Thanks for using my title though." She looked around the room, which was already feeling too small for Alex. "You feel like some coffee, Vartann?"

"Sure," he answered, trying for casual. What he really felt like was a six pack and a two hour run, but coffee would have to do.

By the end of their normal shift, both were tired but jacked up on coffee. Alex was eating the remains of a supreme pizza that had been delivered to them around 2 AM. Sofia hadn't eaten much, and he had briefly wondered if she were a vegetarian like Sara Sidle. He had eaten lunches with Sara a couple of times when they were on a case together. He liked Sara – she was intense about her job but she could have a dry wit and was smarter than most. But Sofia had eaten a couple of pieces, so Alex didn't worry about it. He did think that as skinny as she was, she could have used a couple more.

"Are you sure you don't want another piece?" he asked from the kitchen. She was sitting in the apartment's living/dining room, watching a lot of nothing on the surveillance monitors.

"No. I've exceeded my weekly limit on pizza already," she declined.

"Suit yourself," he said and placed two pieces on a paper plate.

"I always do," she murmured enigmatically. They sat in not quite companionable silence for a while. The pizza weighed heavily on Alex.

"I would love to go running," he said, sighing discontentedly.

"There's a treadmill in the bedroom I took," Sofia said. Vartann brightened considerably. "Go ahead. I'll keep watching. You can run," she offered.

So he did. He turned on the TV in the bedroom and watched the Today show, which was inane as always. But it reminded him of Mona. She would leave the TV in the bedroom on for him to come home to. It was kind of like her little signature. Even at the end, when she was never home to greet him, when she was seeing someone else, though he didn't know it at the time, she would leave the Today show on for him.

That goof ball Matt Lauer was interviewing some "expert" on eating disorders and Hollywood. They were showing picture after picture of starlets, each thinner than the next. They looked like stick figures. He was still shaking his head about it when he came back into the room with Sofia. She gave him a passing glance and quirked her head at him.

"What?" he said aloud.

"You were shaking your head, like there was some injustice that couldn't be undone," she replied, drolly. She looked tired. But then, he figured he did too.

"Stick girls," he said. She turned around to fully look at him then.

"What are you talking about?"

"Hollywood stick girls. It's crazy. Marilyn Monroe would be considered too big to get into Hollywood these days. Or Kim Novak. Why does anyone think that looks good?" He could see Sofia shaking her head incredulously. Maybe he had offended her. She was pretty slim, herself. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he said.

"It's just that everybody thinks that's your type," Sofia said. "We all know that you're not into women with any weight on them."

Vartann looked at her like she had grown a third head.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Well, I've seen your wife, and she looks about as big around as a toothpick."

"Not anymore," Vartann said. "She looks great now," he said. Sofia must have picked up on the wistfulness in his voice. She gave him a questioning glance.

Alex decided to be open on a whim. It wasn't common knowledge that he and Mona had split, but it wasn't exactly a secret. And if he was going to be sharing an apartment with Sofia for days, she was going to wonder why he wasn't talking to his wife on a regular basis. "She's not exactly my wife anymore. We're in the middle of a divorce," he said. Sofia looked like a lot of pieces were falling into place for her. "It's not my choice," he said, defensively. "She does look great now," he repeated, more to himself than to Sofia.

"What, is she a size 0 now?" Sofia asked caustically.

"What is your problem?" Vartann asked. Why was this woman, to whom he had always been respectful and cordial, deriding him. "And why would you think I dislike women who aren't stick thin? That's ridiculous."

"Really? So you're saying that you didn't make that horrible comment when you went to the 'Hogs and Heifers' convention on a murder investigation a while back? Greg told us, and Grissom confirmed it," she said. "It really made you disliked at the lab."

Alex couldn't fathom what he was talking about at first, but when she mentioned the convention, things clicked. What he would do to Sanders, that little fink.

"Those men and women weighed over 300 lbs, most of them."

"Well, that has been translated into anyone over 130 lb for the women of the lab," Sofia huffed.

"What the …? Look, so I am not attracted to women who consider themselves 'heifers' – their words, not mine. I love curves on a woman. I love soft, rounded bodies." Sofia didn't look as if she believed him. "So you're saying that it doesn't matter to you what a man looks like? That you would immediately be able to look past someone who weighed 350 lb and into his heart," he said. His tone was challenging and sarcastic, and it stung Sofia, who in her time around Vartann had never heard him speak so harshly to anyone but a suspect. He threw up his hands. "Whatever you want to believe, Det. Curtis," he said.

"I'm going to go to bed now, Det. Vartann. You let me know when you would like for me to take the next shift," Sofia said tersely and walked into the back part of the apartment.

Alex was sitting in his jeans and a t-shirt that would normally have had a place under his dress shirt. It was Curtis's turn to sleep, and he had been sitting, watching and listening. The apartment next door was quiet. It had been quiet for two days. They were all wondering what had happened. Did the guy know they were on to him? Where were the buyers that the neighbors had promised made the doors of the apartment look like the swinging doors of an Old West saloon.

He stood up and stretched, wondering when he would ever get to run outside again. He was thankful that this apartment had a treadmill. He and Sofia had taken turns running on it, but it wasn't the same as his outdoor run. He started thinking again about what Curtis had said about all the women of the CSI lab thinking he was a dick. That explained why even Judy, the cute little receptionist, had been a little chilly to him last time. Alex didn't like being a pariah. He never had. He had been voted Most Likable in high school for chrissakes! And yet, here he was, alone personally, and aloof professionally. And to top it off, his partner of the moment was an ice princess who looked on him with disdain, whether deserved or not.

The last time he had a beer with friendly faces had been when he had joined the group congratulating Warrick on his quick wedding. And that had been impromptu. Nick had actually been the one taking Warrick out; Vartann had joined in at the last minute. Brass had invited him as they had walked out of the office into the parking lot. And the look on Warrick's face, that almost imperceptible change from a single man to one married had stabbed Alex.

Where had he gone wrong? His wife had left him. He wasn't the first guy to have it happen to him. He should move on, but he couldn't seem to do it. All he could think of was that his lovely, dark haired Mona, named so aptly, was in that fat fuck's house.

The crazy thing was, all these women were mad at him over some comment – thinking he was some kind of fat chick misogynist, when the fact was, he loved curves. He had always tried to feed Mona, to put some flesh on her too spare frame. But she had been adamant about keeping in a size 4 or below when they were married. He even thought that was one of the reasons she freaked out when he mentioned kids.

The last time he had seen her, she was at least 3 sizes bigger, with full hips and thighs that invited caress - and the rack on her – Jesus. Why would she eat now? Why didn't she eat for him? What did that whale have that he didn't?

Then it dawned on him. It was trust. She trusted Mitch not to leave her. She trusted him to love her, skinny to voluptuous.

Why hadn't she trusted him?

Alex had worked himself into a fine funk by the time Sofia Curtis came out of the bedroom.

"I'm going to run on the treadmill before I get a shower," she said in that unidentifiable accent of hers.

"Whatever," Vartann grumbled, then regretted it when he heard a little huff escape her as she walked back into the bedroom.

A/N: Please review. And even if you don't like Sofia, let me know what you like about the story in spite of her. Is my Vartann believable?