You guys are just going to have to put up with some Sara/Sofia love for a bit longer. Thanks for reading, and thanks for the reviews!
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Sara
It's difficult to explain the way anger throbs through my body like a secondary pulse in moments like this. The way the edges of everything else blur; soften into a temporary state of non-existence. Grissom's attempts at rationalizing the situation to me are lost in this haze- the truth behind Ecklie's words, the softness behind Catherine's silent presence.
He had waltzed in here with his striking eyes and charming smile, Judy leading him straight to Ecklie with all the grace of a swooning teenager. I don't throw around the word hate easily, but the sight of him in Ecklie's office, bright eyes glancing over to regard me with a look of practiced concern elicited a feeling that could only be described as such.
The bruises on his neck were faint, but startling- blurry fingers a deep shade of plum. I unconsciously balled my hands into fists, soft fingertips pressing into my palms. How could I cause such damage? Hate was powerful thing.
"Sidle, please, come in" Ecklie spoke tiredly from behind his desk. My frown deepened, glancing over at Grissom who was settled in the depths of his office, ever the neutral presence. Catherine was beside him, her gaze focused absently on the ground. One look at her seemed to erase any semblance of regret I may have been feeling, and I focused back on O'Riley with a deep glare as I walked in with as much confidence as I could muster, settling into the empty seat.
What followed was a blur. A forced apology thick with barely contained sarcasm before O'Riley left with the assurance that I would not only be disciplined, but would have no dealings with him in the future. Fine by me I thought irritably, holding eye contact with him all the way out the door.
I clenched my jaw and waited for the reprimand from Ecklie- I could admit that allowing him to get into my head was a mistake, and I could stomach the lecture if it meant getting back to work.
"You're on suspension Sidle- one week, unpaid" he said coldly, sliding some papers into a folder before standing up. I felt the anger that had been sitting like a weight in the pit of my stomach spread like wildfire, glancing over at Grissom for some semblance of support, finding nothing but a look of calm resolve.
"You have got to be kidding me. He is just doing this because he knows that I'm on to him. He is dangerous, and manipulative, and you have me making apologies for standing up to him while you cater to all his requests- do you realize how fucked up that is?"
"Sara, the guy came in here with bruises around his damn neck from you- from an attack, not an act of self defence. You threatened his life, you drove your vehicle drunk, for the second time that I'm aware of. If anyone in this department pulled any of that, they would be in the same boat as you. Just go home, when you come back I'm sure there will still be a slew of cases to pick from"
Fuck that.
I stood up abruptly to face him as he brushed past me, my eyes burning holes into the back of his head.
"You can't take me off this case, I've been working it for months, I know the ins and outs better than anyone involved" I said, my voice too loud for the small space; not loud enough for the rage that was pulsing through me. He threw an expectant look over at Grissom who was eying me warily, before continuing towards the door.
"Do you want me to make it two weeks suspension? Go home Sara" he repeated, shooting me a final look before disappearing down the hallway. I spun around to face Grissom who was silently following suit, offering me a sympathetic look as he paused briefly in front of me.
"He's right Sara, you crossed a line. This case is getting too personal, it's affecting your work. Catherine and I are going to do everything we can to catch this guy- just try to get some rest" he said gently before heading out the door, the situation undoubtably getting too involved for him. His words did nothing but fuel my rage, my sights finally shifting to Catherine.
She had remained silent for the entire ordeal, and I was torn between throwing all of my anger in her face and ignoring her entirely. The moment my eyes fell on her I knew it would be the former.
"What the fuck was that?" I spat as she stood up, blue eyes coming to meet mine for the first time since I had entered the room. She sighed, running a hand through her wavy hair tiredly.
"It's just the politics of it Sara- O'Riley came in here making a scene, what was Ecklie supposed to do? Besides, maybe a few days off wouldn't be so bad. We basically have him under…"
"No, stop" I hissed, eyes burning into hers. Who did she think she was? We had been working this case side by side for months- it was her daughter that I was trying to defend out there. I felt a sudden wave of nausea hit me, entirely overwhelmed by the case, the sight of O'Riley with my fingers etched violently onto his skin, the gentle way that Catherine had treated me earlier vs. this painful form of indifference.
"I shouldn't have touched him, but he was threatening Lindsay and I snapped. Now I'm thrown off the case I've been pouring myself into for months and you couldn't even say one single thing back there to support me?" I asked, cursing the pathetic sound of my voice getting caught in my throat. It always came down to this with us, except this time I had made the monumental mistake of allowing her to begin tearing down my walls, and instead of the typical rage I felt in these moments, it was like a direct punch to the stomach.
Don't you dare cry in front of her- don't you ever.
Her eyes were pleading with me silently, shaking her head lightly as she took a step towards me, propelling me back an equal distance with a look of utter indignation.
"Fuck you Catherine" I spat, holding her azure gaze for a few heavy moments before brushing past her out the door.
/
The occasional car passing was the only relief from the silent hum of my apartment, the feel as though I might eventually suffocate between those four walls creeping on slowly. I was flipping through a forensic anthropology book absently, eyes barely skimming the pages as I tried fruitlessly to focus on anything besides the thoughts that were slowly tearing me apart. I had some left over pain killers in the drawer beside my bed, the temptation to pop a few just to knock me unconscious was strong. It's not like I had anywhere to be.
A knock on the door jolted me out of my self pitying daze, saying a silent prayer as I stood that it wasn't Grissom coming by to patronize me with his concern over my wide array of alleged issues, or Greg with his sweet eyes full of apologies for leaving me at the bar the other night- something that wasn't at all his fault but I knew he felt guilty about regardless.
I glanced through the peephole, relieved to see Sofia's form- a bottle of whiskey held loosely in hand. She ran her fingers through her long hair, glancing down the balcony walkway, shifting lightly in place. She may have been the only person I wasn't cursing the existence of at that moment in time, feeling a hint of a smile appear as she bit down on her bottom lip, mumbling something beneath her breath before stepping forward impatiently to knock once again.
She was made up of such a collection of smooth flowing dualities- patient yet wildly impatient, quiet yet talkative, hard yet impossibly soft. The only thing that didn't seem to waver in her was her confidence- an attribute that seemed to cross over into every aspect of her life. The sudden tenderness that I felt for her in that moment, observing her through my peephole at 5 pm on a Tuesday was so strong that it took me slightly aback.
I pulled the door open before she had a chance to knock again, biting back a smile as she blinked in surprise, fist raised overhead
"Hey" I greeted- the first gentle word I had uttered in hours.
"I heard what happened- I thought you might need some company" she explained as she dropped her arm down, raising the bottle slightly in reference.
It was apt the way she used 'need' in place of 'want'- something that someone who had been in a similar situation enough times could understand. The desire to shut everyone out while you quietly tear yourself down to the bones. Sometimes, company was vital.
"Well, since you brought Whiskey" I said, stepping back to allow her into the apartment. She smiled softly in amusement as she walked passed me into the room.
Shrugging off her heavy jacket she wandered slowly around, eyeing the details of my apartment. I grabbed her coat and the bottle, slightly unnerved by her wide eyed attention to every inch of the small space. I wasn't used to having visitors, at least none that bothered examining the books stacked in my large bookcase, the picture frames resting on my desk in the corner.
"This is not what I expected your apartment to be like. It's beautiful" she mused, fingertips trailing over the frame of one of the large paintings hanging on the wall. She must have realized how that sounded, glancing over her shoulder to take in my raised eyebrow with a smile.
"I mean, you're never here so I just assumed you hadn't made much of a home out of it, but this is so warm" she complimented, turning back around to drop onto the couch, fingers gliding lightly over the soft material. I poured us each a drink- hers on the rocks, a minor fact that I was sure she had never told me but somehow inherently knew. She smiled in thanks as I passed it to her, dropping down next to her.
"I think I figured if I made it homey enough, it wouldn't feel so suffocating" I told her, surprised at my honesty. Her blue eyes held mine as she nodded softly.
"I think I figured if I left mine bare, the emptiness would feel like a result of that, not of a result of my own life- or lack thereof" she replied after a moment, in reference to her beautiful condo that didn't hold much besides unpacked boxes and a fridge full of beer.
I imagine I would have kissed her in that moment had my confidences been higher, but the second wave of tenderness that hit me within a few minutes in her presence felt terrifying and I still wasn't quite sure what a woman like her was doing here with a violent, unstable human being like me, so I took a sip of whiskey instead, offering her a soft smile.
We fell into easy conversation, doing everything I could to steer the direction away from the events of the past 24 hours. She told me about her family- about growing up in Utah, in Colorado. She told me about her hard mother and her sweet father- what it was like living in a van for three months of the year at fourteen, traveling around the states. I told her that my parents were self proclaimed hippies and left it at that, making up for my lack of detail by telling her all about life in San Francisco- about my first boyfriend, the moony eyed love affair at fifteen that had lasted all of three weeks; about my first girlfriend, the way she had fractured vital pieces of my heart.
There was something so comforting about her presence- about the way she really listened, blue eyes focused on me intently as I spoke freely about intimate details of my life as though I hadn't built up the equivalent of an emotional bomb shelter years ago.
She has dimples I noted after my fourth scotch, mesmerized by the sight of her laughing at an irrelevant story about my university days. She was closer to me than when I had first sat down, our legs nearly touching. I'm not sure which of us had migrated across the small distance, but I had my suspicions. She rested her arm against the top of the couch, running a hand through her tussled hair- cheeks a little rosy from the whiskey, smile still gracing her lips.
I felt my body reacting before my mind had a chance to catch up, sliding a hand up to touch her face gently. She watched me with a heavy intensity as I trailed a thumb over her soft jaw line, eyes taking in her features from this proximity- the light creases in her bottom lip, the high curve of her cheekbones, her dark eyelashes.
Glacial eyes dropped down to my lips as my hand slid up into her hair, suddenly no more than a breath away. I felt a wave of desire surge through me, threatening to drown me entirely. It didn't matter. I closed the distance between us without a second thought, capturing her lips in a kiss.
She responded immediately, her soft hand sliding up to my jean clad thigh. We had been dancing around this for months, and it made the simple act of kissing feel like lighting a fire doused in gasoline. She slid her tongue into my mouth, taking control of the kiss as I tightened my grip in her hair, my other hand moving to her waist. She tasted like whiskey and honey; smelled of vanilla and something indiscernible- smoky and soft and entirely Sofia. It was intoxicating.
It was mostly men I had been with over the past couple years. It was simpler that way- little chance of emotional attachment, easier to walk away from in the middle of the night. I would have traded every single one of those experiences for the feel of kissing her- the softness of her hair tangled between my fingers, the sound of her quiet moan against my lips as I slid a hand beneath the barrier of her shirt to feel the soft flesh of her hip. My god, could she kiss.
I was beginning to lose myself entirely in the feel of her when she pulled back with a shaky breath, eyes dark with desire as she gently slid my hand from beneath her shirt, holding my gaze. I looked at her with a silent question as her thumb trailed over my knuckles in a reassuring gesture.
"Talk to me about what happened today" her voice was deep and quiet, and I frowned in confusion.
What?
"What?"
"At work, with Ecklie and O'Riley… If you keep that up I won't be able to stop, and I came here to make sure you're okay. So talk to me"
I leaned back, frown deepening slightly. Did she not realize that this is exactly what I was trying to escape? That the absolute last thing I wanted was for her to stop?
"Seriously?"
She leaned back against the couch, bright eyes holding mine.
"You blew up at the lab today, I saw you high tailing it out of Ecklie's office, and since you're here drinking with me, I assume he suspended you. I'm really trying to be a friend here Sara. Are you okay?"
I shook my head lightly with a quiet laugh, looking at her incredulously.
"Yeah, I'm fantastic" I told her sarcastically, voice laced with annoyance. She squeezed my hand gently, forcing my gaze back up to meet hers. My irritation immediately dissolved into a deep seeded fatigue, squeezing her hand back softly in a wordless apology.
"You are the one thing…" I started, pausing to curse the whiskey, my exhaustion, her goddamn hypnotic presence. So much for attempting to recapture the upper-hand in this undefined game that we seemed to be playing.
"You are the one thing that doesn't feel completely overwhelming right now- I just want to keep you separate from all of that bullshit" I sighed, leaning heavily back into the cushions.
She reached over to grab the whiskey, uncorking the top to pour us each another glass.
"You tried to attack a man to defend me- I am not separate from any of it. Also, I didn't come over here just to be a distraction for you" she told me, passing me the glass and leaning back with a quirked eyebrow.
I smiled despite my annoyance, taking a sip of my drink silently.
"How long?" she asked, referring to my suspension.
"One week, unpaid. And I'm off the case" I told her tiredly. She shook her head, cradling the glass in her hands.
"Well that's bullshit. Catherine didn't have anything to say about it? Seems like something that would have her jumping at their throats"
I snorted, giving my head a single shake.
"No, Catherine only stands up for the things that affect Catherine" I told her bitterly, taking another long drink, wincing at the burn that quickly became a soft warmth spreading through my entire body.
"He threatened Lindsay, Sof" I spoke quietly after a moment, the nickname flowing easily from my lips as I sunk back deeper into the couch, the sharp edges of emotion beginning to emerge from the depths that I had pushed them to.
"He threatened her, and I attacked him for it, and she didn't even try to defend me- to say anything at all"
I felt Sofia's heavy gaze on me as I downed the rest of my drink, leaning forward to rest my glass on the table, running a hand through my dark hair tiredly. I really didn't want to think about her.
"Would you have done the same, in my position?" I asked quietly, redirecting the conversation, eyes focused on the details of the hardwood floor beneath us. The question that had been gnawing at me since morning.
"At the bar the other night?"
I nodded, turning my head to look at her. She held my gaze for a few long moments from her position, legs curled up beneath her on the couch, downing the rest of her drink with ease before turning to face me entirely.
"If a probable serial killer whose cases I had been working got in my face after a rough week and a few drinks, threatening you and Catherine's 14 year old daughter? It's likely"
Her voice was like rough silk and I felt the burn of tears behind my eyes, biting down on my lip in defiance against the rush of emotions.
"My parents… they were good people, with a wicked violent streak" I said, my voice light but internally horrified at the way the words spilled out of my mouth on their own accord, Sofia's hand moving to cover mine tenderly.
"It scares me sometimes, that I might have that in me"
After a moment of silence I chanced a glance over at her. It surprised me to see no pity in her eyes, no sympathy- what I had grown used to in the handful of times I had opened up about any of this. Instead there was a softness; a kindness. She leaned forward and cupped my cheek, pressing her lips to mine gently in one fluid motion, pulling back to look at me once again.
"You are stubborn and difficult and passionate and intense" she said, causing my brow to furrow softly, "but not violent, Sara. I know violence in someone when I see it, trust me" she said, running her thumb over my cheek gently.
The weight of my exhaustion seemed to descend on me all at once, closing my eyes against the slight spin of the room, the whiskey I had rushed through finally catching up with me.
She was touching my hair, and then she was tugging me to my feet, leading me towards the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her rifle through my dresser with her typical air of confidence, easily grabbing a few things as though this wasn't the first time she had done so. She held up my old Star Trek t-shirt, quirking her eyebrow in amusement.
"Didn't take me for the type?" I teased. She smiled, balling it up in her fist.
"Actually, it fits"
She threw it over at me, chuckling as it collided silently with my unimpressed face. I shot her a playful glare, watching intently as she turned around, pulling her own shirt over her head, blonde hair cascading down the golden skin of her back. My exhaustion was overpowering my desire, but just barely.
I slipped out of my jeans and crawled beneath the covers, watching as she did the same- the sight of her in my Harvard t-shirt, long legs bare, disappearing beneath the covers with ease both strangely comforting and surreal. I had never liked people staying over. It always felt like more of an inconvenience than anything- taking up my space, never able to entirely relax, definitely not able to sleep.
But here she was, inviting herself into my bed, throwing an arm over my waist gently, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps it was the whiskey.
It was definitely the whiskey.
I knew that seeing her in such a soft, unguarded state was a direct result of it. I had a feeling that I wouldn't have her warm, half naked body moulded against mine if we had remained sober, though she was a woman full of surprises. Either way, I was grateful for it.
For the moment I let all of the debilitating thoughts and emotions that had been circling through my mind like a closed circuit drift away, the feel of her steady breath against my neck lulling me slowly to sleep.