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Sara
"Long night?"
Sofia leaned casually against the doorframe of the locker room, arms crossed loosely over her chest. I met her gaze as I sat down on the bench tiredly, sore from hours of hunching over an evidence table with nothing at all to show for it.
"That would be an understatement"
"Tell me about it" she sighed, pushing off the door and wandering over to sit down next to me. The energy that she embodied earlier had clearly faded- half moons darkening the skin beneath her glacial eyes, a light slump to her shoulders.
"How have you been?"
"I'm alright. Happy to be back here- it turns out I have no idea what to do with free time"
I chuckled, "yeah, tell me about it"
She smiled gently, gaze focused on the ground in front of us. I took the moment to look at her- really look at her. Her blonde hair was tied into a loose ponytail that fell down her strong back. I took in her rounded eyes, her high cheekbones, the perfect line of her nose. I lingered on her full lips for a few moments, dropping down to her rounded jaw, the soft curve of her neck.
Her beauty was soft, yet disarming. Obvious, yet more striking the longer you were in her presence. Aside from avoiding her in the lab and tolerating her at crime scenes, we hadn't spent much time together. This amiability was unfamiliar territory for us.
"I wanted to uh, thank you, for coming by the other night"
She turned her face to look at me, blonde hair falling to the side. Her eyes were the brightest shade of blue and I searched them for a few drawn out moments
"And I'm sorry, if you feel like things got weird…"
I frowned lightly, my eyes not leaving hers. She had been the one to initiate things, but I had been nothing if not willing. I thought that much had been entirely clear.
It was after the Bell shooting, after I had caught her in Grissom's office. It had been a difficult week and it didn't take much to irritate me. No matter how much I tried to justify my actions though, I couldn't get the image of her pleading eyes, her tired words out of my mind. She was in a vulnerable state and I had berated her for reaching out.
It was early morning when I found myself hesitantly standing outside of her condo with the singular goal of making amends, a twelve-pack of beer in hand. She greeted me silently, coldly- arms crossed, glancing from the peace offering to me with untrusting eyes. It took a few minutes to convince her to let me inside, her state of exhaustion working in my favour. Any other day I'm sure I would have been immediately silenced by a door slamming in my face.
It wasn't until our second beer that she began to let her guard down. By our third she confessed her fears about the shooting. Allowed a few silent tears to fall. Told me that she was unsure of herself. She seemed so hesitant to share anything personal, yet desperate for some human connection. I found myself settling in on the couch beside her, giving up my previous post on the bar stool across the room.
By our fifth beer I told her she was beautiful. I realize that was veering slightly from my original plan, and perhaps a little out of left field, but I couldn't help myself. It was a mixture of the liquor and the bluest eyes I had ever seen curled into the couch beside me, long legs pulled up beneath her, blonde hair loose and wild.
It was sometime after that that she kissed me- tentatively, softly. I knew, even in my intoxicated state that this was a blind grasp at comfort and distraction. And I, in my intoxicated state, reasoned that who was I to deny her that.
It was soft and slow, and then suddenly it was her teeth against my neck and my fingers raking at the muscled skin of her back, pulling her ever closer. The memory of her moans against my hot skin, her soft hands everywhere- beneath my shirt, tangled painfully in my hair- was enough to send a flush of heat through my body.
I'm not sure which of us came to our senses first, swollen lips and desire hooded eyes, but I left before it went too far with a few tender words and the assurance that she would be okay.
"Nothing happened that I was in any way opposed to" I assured her gently.
She held my gaze for a long moment, hint of a smug smile tugging at her lips as she looked away, standing up and heading towards the door. She paused next to me for a moment, resting her hand on my shoulder and leaning in ever so slightly
"Good, because I'm really not that sorry"
And with that she was gone. I smiled to myself, watching her saunter back down the hall. I had fully expected some sort of awkward justification of her actions where she blamed the liquor and her emotional state. I really had to get out of the habit of giving her such little credit I thought as I stood, shutting my locker with a dull thud.
Maybe this week could still turn itself around after all.
/
The next couple weeks went by smoothly, all of our cases opened and closed in a reasonable time frame. Catherine and I were actually getting along- perhaps out of necessity more than anything else, but we had settled into a good working rhythm nonetheless.
Sofia had taken to bringing me coffee every now and then, slowly getting to know each other through occasional break room conversation and using one another as a venting board on the particularly aggravating days. It wasn't much, but I knew that she drank her coffee black and that she had a particular distaste for one of the new officers, Officer Keaton. It felt easy and comfortable- a nice distraction from this often grisly job.
It was in the break room, discussing the delicate techniques of coffee roasting with her and Greg where Catherine found me, folder in hand, coming to a halt in front of the large table.
"Hey Catherine, you want a cup of coffee? I just got a new bag in, it'll change your life" Greg spoke with a smile, wheeling his chair in the direction of his personal coffee maker. Every once in a while he brought in some incredible international bag and for the next week or so a chosen few of us got to enjoy the priceless gift of decent coffee.
"Not now Greg… thanks"
She threw in the formality as an after thought, turning her focus to me.
"Sara, we've got a body off highway 19"
She seemed tense, her voice on edge. I turned to her, motioning to my cup
"Can I finish this first?"
"You should really grab some to go, it's much better than the swill I'm sure you've been drinking all day" Sofia advised gently, gesturing towards the lab coffee station. Catherine focused her eyes on the blonde- not quite a glare, but not far from it.
"I'll meet you in the car" she threw out, turning on her heel to go, the sound of her exit echoing down the hall.
Sofia and I looked at each other- a question in her eyes, a plea for help in mine.
"Do you want a Valium for her?" Greg asked incredulously, motioning towards her retreating form. I rolled my eyes before downing the contents of my cup in one long swallow. He offered a sympathetic smile as I stood to go
"Pray for me" I mumbled on my way out.
/
Our drive was long and mostly silent, Catherine's hands gripping the wheel tightly. It was nearing the scene that I finally mustered the courage to find out what had her so worked up.
"Are you okay?" I asked. Straight to the point was usually the best route with her.
She let out a quiet laugh, giving her head a subtle shake
"Yeah, fantastic"
I hesitated for a few moments before turning to face her
"Catherine, what's going on?"
She was silent, eyes focused on the road as I observed her quietly.
The stress of this job rarely seemed to have an impact on her, not physically anyway. It wasn't uncommon to see the rest of us wandering around with unruly hair and exhaustion written all over our features- yesterdays clothes and deep lines framing our sleep deprived eyes. And then there was Catherine, effortlessly drifting in on hour 15 wearing 5-inch heels with her bright eyes and jasmine hair, side swept bangs perfectly falling across her flawless face. "Some sort of sorcery" Greg had commented once over our sixth cup of coffee of the night, watching her click away down the hall, hair bouncing lightly against her shoulders.
So it didn't surprise me that she looked incredible now despite her anxieties, the fading light from the setting desert sun illuminating her hair, manicured nails tapping anxiously against the wheel.
"Lindsay has taken to wandering across the city instead of going to school, and refuses to talk to me" she suddenly spoke up, gaze remaining on the road ahead
"My mother is in no discrete terms blaming this on my constant absence, and she's probably right. And Ecklie is dragging me through the mud and I can't do anything about it because I need the promotion to day shift supervisor and he knows it"
She sighed, leaning back in her seat tiredly
"The worst part is that I don't think he's ever going to give it to me. He's just using it as a ploy to keep me jumping through hoops for him, the son of a bitch"
I wished that I could tell her she was wrong, or shed some positive light on the matter, but unfortunately that sounded exactly like Conrad Ecklie- typical power hungry moron. My hands became fists just thinking about his smug face.
I decided to focus on the Lindsay matter instead.
"Where has she been going?"
"Walking around the strip, meeting friends at shady coffee shops- you know what those places are like"
She ran a hand through her hair, closing her eyes tightly for a brief moment. I could almost feel the stress radiating off of her.
"Sam caught her once near one of his casinos, and Brass found her this morning at some run down coffee place- apparently also a fan" she rolled her azure eyes over at me with a look of annoyance, eliciting a small smile
"Catherine, she's 14 years old… it's not okay, you have every reason to be upset, but try not to beat yourself up, kid's act out at this age" I told her gently
"I just can't help but feel like things would be different if I were around more… it feels like every bad decision she makes is an intentional plea for attention that I can't seem to give her"
I reached over to touch her arm softly, running my thumb over the soft material of her shirt in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. Her bright eyes met mine and I gave her arm a light squeeze
"Lindsay is a great kid, and you are doing an incredible job raising her. You show her every day what a strong, confident, hard-working woman looks like, and she will come to appreciate that. You can already see it- that girl is a force"
Her eyes held mine for a few drawn out moments before darting back to the road, a smile pulling at her lips for the first time I had seen all shift. I let my hand fall from her arm, pulling it back into my lap
"Besides, think back to what you were doing at 14- it can't have been any better"
She flashed me a look, narrowing her eyes slightly
"Why would you assume I was doing anything unsavory?"
I snorted, leaning back against the door
"Right, like you were the picture of innocence"
"I was busy riding horses in the middle-of-nowhere Montana, how much trouble could I really have gotten into?"
I pursed my lips into a smile and she shook her head in amusement, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.
"Sounds like you were already deep into the thug life though"
I felt myself tense- my life at 14 was about survival more than typical teenage antics. I was jumping between foster homes and learning to take care of myself- learning to defend myself. That was the year I broke three bones and switched schools twice. Things that Catherine never needed to know. I just smiled, winking at her playfully.
"You have no idea"
We pulled onto the scene, police cars gathered around an inconspicuous area along the desert sand.
"You know, that was the year I discovered the farm boys though" Catherine mused, catching my eye with a wink of her own. I smiled, climbing out of the Tahoe with a renewed faith that this day might go a lot smoother than expected.