Sara
The steady noise of PD in a state of utter chaos had become nothing more than a background hum, my pale hands resting on the edge of the double-sided mirror looking into the interrogation room. I had a headache from clenching my jaw for hours on end and assuming the worst, eyes focused steadily on the blonde stationed, statue like, at the table.
Her ponytail was loose, creases settled between knit brows as she stared absently at the metal surface in front of her. They had taken her blood-spattered blouse into evidence, a black sweater with LAS VEGAS PD printed across the front in aggressively large lettering covering her form, a size too big.
I felt nauseous.
They had called off the 'all hands on deck' order almost as soon as we were on route, instead turning the scene over to Greg and Nick to collect as much evidence as they could to back up what was sure to be a slam dunk case in court. They had caught the shooters on their way out of the city- three kids, barely 18 with AK47's and a personal vendetta against the institution.
As far as anyone could tell, it was spontaneous and rage-fueled, and they had killed two out of the three cops they had been targeting, leaving a small café- a quick stop on their way back from a grizzly scene out in Henderson. Sofia was the lucky one and my hands were still shaking.
I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, Warrick's form appearing beside me, gaze focusing on the blonde. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, grateful for the comfort.
"Those kids just… shot at them. Senseless violence, I can never wrap my head around it." My voice was tense, fingers pressing against the wooden ledge.
"Yeah well, they're going to pay for it" he squeezed my shoulder gently, green eyes settling on me. "Have you been in there?"
I shook my head, "Ortega needs to talk to her first- get her account on record"
I ran a tense hand though my hair, forcing my gaze away from her. She had just watched two people die at her side- two of her subordinate officers, left with blood spattered clothes and what would become, in the best case scenario, an everlasting emotional scar. Why no one was in there with her was beyond me. Beneath the sadness and the mental exhaustion, anger was bubbling viciously in my chest- an all-consuming feeling, aimed at the situation in its entirety.
"I passed Ortega on my way here, he's been cornered by the Sheriff, and you know that's a conversation that won't get put on hold. I'd say you have some time- girls been through enough today"
His hand slid from my arm, pausing a moment to rub the back of his neck tiredly before shooting me a final comforting glance, heading back out the door.
I peered down the hallway for a lingering moment- just long enough to ensure that Ortega wasn't in fact on his way before heading straight for the small room.
She glanced up as I entered, bright eyes holding mine as I walked over, trying to keep the magnitude of emotions I was feeling out of my features. I leaned against her side of the table, immediately seeking out her hand.
"Hey"
It was soft and held more emotion than I had anticipated. She dropped her gaze down to our intertwined hands.
"Hey"
It was quiet, almost a whisper.
My eyes travelled over her form- silky hair nearly falling out of its loose hold behind her head, a single spatter of blood that had been missed, violently contrasting against the side of her pale neck. I felt my jaw clench painfully, running a thumb over her knuckles.
"I am so sorry"
She gave her head a single shake, lines between her furrowed brows returning as she leaned back slightly in her chair, bright eyes meeting mine once again.
"That's just the job, isn't it? You wake up fully aware that you might not make it home. That something really fucked up might happen" she sighed, running her free hand over her mouth with a humorless chuckle "But you know, as prepared as you think that you are, you never actually think it will"
I squeezed her hand, at a complete loss words. I wanted to tell her that my heart felt like it had stopped beating in the gaping space where I wasn't sure if she was still breathing. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but that was clearly an absurd question. I wanted so much to be better in these situations.
"I am here, okay?" I glanced warily over at the mirror for a brief moment. Anyone could be out there watching us- Ortega, Ecklie, Mckeen. I could be potentially making this situation infinitely worse.
Fuck it.
I pushed off the table, dropping down onto my knees next to her, using both hands to clasp hers tightly. Her bright eyes burned into mine, the horror of the day obvious behind them despite her naturally calm demeanor.
"I am so glad that you're okay" my words were soft and direct, unshed tears collecting in glacial eyes that bore into mine, lips pressing together tightly for a moment, keeping a valiant hold on her composure. She looked so much younger with this heartbroken desperation in her eyes. It felt completely gutting.
"I wish I could…" I hesitated, running a hand through my hair with a sigh, fighting back the tears that were suddenly threatening to escape. Stay with you, protect you, grab Ortega by the throat and force him to make getting you out of here his first priority. I left the jumble of thoughts unspoken, squeezing her soft hands.
"I have to go, I'm not really supposed to be in here" I told her, as though she wasn't entirely aware of that.
"I'll be around. Please call me if you need anything" I forced a half smile, giving her hands a final squeeze. "Even if you don't… just call." She nodded, a ghost of a smile playing across chapped lips as she hesitantly released her grip on me, running a cold hand over my disheveled hair before pulling it back into her lap.
"Take a shower" she advised as I stood, turning to go. I glanced back over my shoulder with a quiet chuckle.
"Noted."
/
I aimed an exhalation of smoke up towards the starless sky, mentally compiling a thorough list of reasons why I needed to stay at the lab on my night off. Grissom had been adamant lately about us taking our night's off- no doubt having picked up on Catherine's short fuse and my slow spiral into homicide induced depression when our doubles became triples and our workweeks began bleeding into each other.
The thought of my apartment just added to the nausea this evening had elicited. I was debating whether to delve back into the serial case that was still sitting like a stone in our case log or slip in to help Nick and Greg catalogue the evidence from today's open and closed massacre when I felt a soft hand on my arm, dragging me out of my thoughts.
"Hey"
Azure eyes met mine softly, her hand hesitantly falling back down to her side. I took a final, deep drag of my cigarette before dropping it onto the cold ground.
"I thought I might find you up here" Catherine glanced around, examining the empty scape of the roof- the apparently not-so-secret spot that I had began using years ago as a place to escape.
She still looked ready for a Backpacker magazine shoot, wavy hair falling flawlessly despite all that it had endured today. My brows creased as I absently forced my fingers through tangled hair, suddenly acutely aware of my own disheveled state. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to see how you're doing- I lost track of you earlier"
I had bolted out of my Subaru the moment it had been jerked into park in front of the lab, leaving Catherine trailing behind me, eventually lost. I offered her an apologetic half smile.
"Sorry about that, I had to…" I trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the door behind her. She nodded, smiling softly in understanding.
"I know." She sighed, glancing around in typical observant fashion before regarding me once again. "Do you want to grab a bite? A drink? It is still our night off"
The thought of a drink was so tempting I almost considered it. I knew she could use one too, after what I imagine must have been a particularly heavy one-on-one with Brass, who had just lost two officers and witnessed the imprinted horror in Sofia's bright eyes.
Sofia. I shook my head, "I need to be here"
She settled a hand on her hip, fixing me with a steady, unreadable look that had become all too familiar over the past few weeks. It was almost scrutinizing, but soft and slightly bemused. I shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze, fingers reaching around to tug the pack of cigarettes out of my back pocket.
"I know you want to be there for her Sara, but there's nothing that you can do here"
I lit my smoke, inhaling deeply, holding it in for a drawn out moment before exhaling sharply, leaning back against the cement wall. The burn in my lungs felt necessary, like a silent reminder that things were not okay.
I wasn't sure how to explain how I knew that Sofia wasn't going to ask for help. That I recognized a piece of myself in her that was dark and destructive and deeply vulnerable. I just shook my head once again, flicking glowing embers onto the dark ground.
She sighed, weight shifting to one slim hip, that unreadable expression becoming a much more typical look of bemusement and general annoyance.
"You know what, you're right, sitting up here giving yourself black lung and thinking of ways to avoid Grissom- who by the way has instructed anyone who see's you to send you home- is really productive"
"I missed the part where what I'm doing is any of your business" I pressed my foot back against the wall, crossing an arm over my chest. "And you don't get black lung from smoking" I added with a scowl, knowing that she was entirely right, frustrated by her rationality.
She threw her hands up in defeat with a roll of blue eyes, taking a few steps backwards towards the door with a humorless chuckle, "Alright, fine. My mistake, all around" she shot, more sadness in her tired glare than anger as she turned on the ball of her foot to go.
She was trying. She had become one of the closest people to me over this past year, and fighting with her no longer felt like a commonplace activity. She had wrapped her arms around me in the canyons earlier, thanking me for being some incredible version of myself that I felt as though I was constantly falling short of- probably because of moments exactly like this.
"Cat, wait" I took a heavy drag off my half finished smoke before tossing it down to crush beneath my worn out boot. She stopped, turning back to me with tired eyes. I started towards her, about to speak when the basement door was jarred open, drawing both of our attention to the back of the roof. Greg poked his head out to scan the area, stepping out once he spotted us. I narrowed my eyes in annoyance.
"Does everyone know that I come up here?"
He gave me an amused glace as he approached, "Of course. Did you think that yours and Jackie's 'top secret' cigarette breaks went unnoticed?"
I just frowned as he shoved his hands into his jeans, shoulders tense against the evening chill.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing- you seemed pretty stressed out earlier" his brown eyes held nothing but softness, offering a hint of a timid smile.
"Also I needed some fresh air- it is getting pretty intense downstairs, with the entire PD asking questions and the sheriff trying to put together a cohesive press conference for the morning, covering all of this" he gestured vaguely into the air- the magnitude of the days events too vast to confine to a single sentence. Add that to the un-addressed issue of a child targeting serial killer still at large and there weren't really adequate words. "Poor Ecklie looks like he's going to stroke out any minute"
Catherine groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead, snapping shut bright eyes. "The god damn press conference, right"
I found myself moving towards her without much of a thought, coming to stand behind her tense form. My hand slid onto her shoulder supportively, feeling her relax beneath my touch, leaning back ever so slightly until I could feel her body lightly pressed against mine. It didn't look like anything unusual to an outsider- especially Greg who had grown used to the increasing intensity of the love/hate part of our relationship over the past few months, but I felt it like a surge. The physical aspect between us had been virtually non-existent up until recently, and there was something equal parts comforting and terrifying about it.
It felt like an electric current every time she touched me, and I was chalking it up to the fact that while she was my good friend- or enemy, depending on the day, she was still Catherine- razor sharp, eyes like oceans, a face that could sway even the hardest of men. I couldn't imagine anyone not being affected by her soft jasmine hair brushing their jawline, body pressing just close enough but remaining just far enough away to make their head spin. I clamped down on those thoughts, meeting Greg's gaze with a soft half smile.
"I am okay Greg, really. Thanks for checking in"
He smiled and I gave Catherine's arm a squeeze, her blue eyes glancing up over her shoulder at me in question, hair brushing lightly against my collarbone.
"I guess we could both use a beer, huh?"
I felt a combination of relief and nerves as the softness returned to her features, those impossibly blue eyes holding mine for a split second longer than necessary before nodding. "Like you wouldn't believe" she muttered as she moved out of my space, heading in the direction of the door.
Her hand came to rest on Greg's shoulder as she paused beside him, squeezing it softly with a reassuring smile.
"Hang in there. It's going to be a long few days but when we all come out on the other side, breakfast is on me"
His smile widened slightly as she moved past him, brown eyes shifting to me. I gently grasped his forearm on my way past, some deep comfort in the feel of him. "You sure you're okay?" he asked and I nodded, leaning in slightly. I let my temple rest against his for a few brief moments before moving away, shooting him the most reassuring smile I could muster before continuing towards Catherine, waiting at the door.