Sara
The smell of coffee drifting in from the kitchen roused me from sleep, blinking tired eyes open against the soft light of early morning. I could hear faint music playing through the cracked open door, the sound of dishes clinking quietly. The softness of it nearly lulled me back to sleep, but the desire to watch Catherine milling about my small kitchen drew me sleepily out of bed.
Stretching as I moved out of the bedroom, I was greeted with the sight of pancakes cooking on a cast iron pan that had been gathering dust at the back of my cupboard, golden hash browns piled onto a plate. Catherine was stirring sugar into a steaming cup of coffee, throwing a warm glance over her shoulder.
I could tell by the lingering dampness of her waves that she had already showered, her own pants replacing my oversized sweats while my tattered shirt still hung off of her frame as she moved around the island, pressing the warm cup into my hands.
"Good morning" she greeted softly, a smile gracing her lips. Somehow she managed to make my ratty shirt look sexy, flashes of her pale skin visible beneath the little tears. Bare faced, elbow deep in pancake batter, her beauty was almost impossible.
Attempting to focus my sleepy, caveman mind somewhere beyond her looks, I offered her a crooked smile as she leaned in, catching my lips in a gentle kiss.
"I could get used to this" I mused, dropping down onto the stool, voice like tumbling gravel.
"I figured you could use some food that doesn't come from a takeout container"
Gathering my wild hair up absently, I tied it with the elastic I kept on my wrist, Catherine's phone drawing my attention at the edge of the counter. It was opened to some news article, a piece of paper torn from my fridge notepad laid out beside it, a few indecipherable notes jotted down.
Noticing my attention she nodded towards it, moving to the stove. "The press is all over this- I already spoke to Ecklie this morning, the sheriff wants a press conference as soon as possible- try to save the few shreds of dignity the department has left" she scoffed, flipping a pancake with a practiced flick of her wrist. I glanced up at the clock, squinting my eyes tiredly. 6:03
"How long have you been up?" I asked, brows furrowing as I noted the subtle darkness beneath her eyes.
"A while" she answered dismissively, flipping the finished product onto an already heaping plate. "He wants me to make a statement on behalf of the lab- can you believe the audacity?" she snorted quietly, shaking her head. "I told him we've got nothing to say- no evidence so far, no leads, and no good explanation"
She leaned over to smack my hand away from the plate of hash browns that I was reaching for with a practiced motherly ease, shooting me a mock glare. I held my hands up in surrender as I leaned back in the stool, taking a sip of coffee instead.
"I wonder if they'll manage to rope Grissom into this- they'd probably be better off with no statement at all" I glanced back at the article with a soft nod. "What are they saying?"
"Arnica killer slays 13th victim while LVPD is busy congratulating themselves on a job well done" she quoted with a roll of her eyes. "They deserve this, no doubt about that. But it makes all of us look incompetent"
"Well at least we're all back on the same page now, that counts for something" I pointed out as she slid a loaded plate of food in front of me.
"This is amazing, you're amazing. Thank you"
She shot me a smile as she turned to prepare herself a small plate.
I'm not sure what exactly I expected this morning to hold. I suppose I thought I had broken through to some softer, more vulnerable side of Catherine, one that would allow herself to be upset outside the lines of a breakdown; to let me hold her for a while longer. Maybe that she would transparently dread walking out that door- curse the fact that we woke up to another day of dead girls and horrific men. Anything but to see her put seamlessly back together, moving full steam ahead.
It's not her resilience that surprised me, it was no secret that she possessed some superhuman ability to keep on under impossible circumstances. It was the depth of her strength that I found myself suddenly in awe of. I had always assumed it was a façade- a case of burying her feelings, allowing them to fuel her- to give her the fiery tenacity that she approached every day with. I had always imagined she must be brimming with just enough anger; hatred; sorrow to tear her completely apart if she let it. I could see clearly now that it wasn't that at all.
It was an acceptance of herself, entirely. It was the result of 40 odd years spent building up a tolerance to life itself; spent learning how to let all the pain touch you and then alchemize it into something useful. Let the rest fall away. Discard what doesn't serve you- how entirely profound.
It was a small revelation that turned my solidified notions of her to dust, this new light painting her so clearly; so wildly beautiful. She quirked a shaped eyebrow at me as she moved around the island to the vacant stool and I realized I had been staring. I cleared my throat softly against the magnitude of the emotions washing through me, tearing my gaze away.
Focusing on my plate I felt her hand slide gently over my back, glancing up to meet her bright, inquisitive gaze.
"You okay?"
The almost imperceptible amber flecks looked like universes to me. The band of darker blue around her bright irises. The subtle lines beside her eyes that creased as a bemused smile pulled at her lips, searching my gaze.
The feel of nails scraping ever so slightly against the skin above the collar of my t-shirt snapped me out of my daze. Giving my head a light shake, an embarrassed half smile ghosted over my features.
"I'm okay" I assured her, voice raspier than usual. Her eyebrow quirked even further, as though to tell me she didn't believe that. I could feel the words burning my mouth, searing the the tip of my tongue with their intensity- I love you. I'm so, entirely in love with you.
Unable to voice them, I leaned in, fingers tangling in the silky hair at the back of her head as I pulled her gently towards me. Leaning forward, she let out a quiet exhale against my lips before capturing them softly.
I knew this was a dangerous move instantly, desire flooding through me as her hand slid down to grasp my bicep, urging me towards her. I slid off the stool, her body moving forward to press flush against mine as she kissed me languidly, taking complete control.
I was hyper aware of everything- the feel of her breasts, free beneath my baggy shirt; the subtle taste of coffee and maple syrup and something uniquely Catherine. The confident movement of her fingertips over the skin of my back, her hand having found its way beneath my thin shirt. Her legs had parted to allow space for me, wrapping around my waist, heels hooking loosely around the back of my thighs. The breathy moan that escaped against my lips as I scraped dull nails across the back of her neck sent electric currents through me, deepening our kiss.
Unmoving, I focused entirely on the intimate feel of her tongue brushing against mine- kissing her was like a sort of hypnosis that I continually found myself lost in. She pulled away a breath, eyes unfocused as they travelled over my chest, my lips, up to meet my gaze- heavy and lust darkened. My god.
"Breakfast" I managed to get out, hands betraying my better judgment as they slid down to the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer. She let out a shaky breath, hips rolling into mine. Tightening my grip on her hair, I brushed my nose against hers as our ragged breath mingling in the charged space.
"The uh…" she caught my bottom lip between her teeth, sucking on it gently before releasing it, driving me completely to distraction. "The… case. The press conference" I breathed out. She sighed, nodding gently as her legs slid away from my hips, taking a calming breath.
Unsteadily, I slid back onto the stool, unable to tear my gaze away from her. She took a long sip of coffee, pushing a hand through her waves before turning back to me with an air of regained composure.
"One day… one day soon, we're going to do this. On the bed, on the couch… on this god damn island. I don't care" she paused, running her tongue over her suddenly dry lip, just incase she hadn't undone me entirely. "I want you so much it's painful"
Her throaty voice was clear and unfaltering, her usual confidence shining through as she held my gaze, as though to make sure she had achieved the intended affect. My lips parting slightly with the intention to speak, but remaining ultimately silent seemed to please her as she grabbed her fork, turning her focus back to breakfast.
"But you're right- there's a lot to broach today"
Forcing my mouth shut I tangled my fingers around the handle of my coffee mug, turning back to my forgotten pancakes. As the fog of arousal began to dissipate, my lips pursed into a soft smile. Maybe it was wrong, with so much horror happening around us, demanding our full attention, but beneath the stress and frustration plaguing me almost constantly these days, I was happy.
/
If Catherine was anxious as we made our way up to the hotel room, she didn't show it. Aside from holding my hand stiffly for the entire elevator ride, tapping fingertips against her leg nervously, no one would be the wiser to the chaos that was about to occur.
I had been running through ways to say 'good luck' without actually uttering those useless words; to say 'I love you' without making that poorly timed statement when she asked me if I would come up. She asked it casually as we neared the hotel, eyes trained out the window, and though it came out with a naturally graceful nonchalance, I knew that asking for help didn't come easily to her.
Nancy met us at the elevator doors, dressed in such an uncharacteristically conservative outfit I almost didn't recognize her- ID lanyard tied around her neck, long hair pulled into a loose but pristine bun. As we stepped into the hall she let her bottom lip out from the prison of her teeth, exhaling deeply as she pulled Catherine into her arms for a brief but intimate hug.
"I'm so fucking sorry" she breathed as she let go, moving immediately to slide thin arms around me in a warm embrace, taking me momentarily off guard.
I met her azure eyes with the ghost of a smile, squeezing her shoulder gently.
"She doesn't understand why I'm not taking her to school, and she's pissed about missing first period- apparently it's drama rehearsal and it's 'very important'" she puffed out a breath as she moved to jab the down button with unnecessary force, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her tension was almost as uncharacteristic as her outfit, all of it just another unnerving aspect to this day.
"I have no idea what to say to her. I've got fucking pancakes in my purse" Catherine rolled her eyes at herself, pushing an anxious hand through her hair.
"Just talk to her, Cat. Be straight up… there's no right way with this"
The elevator doors opened with a quiet ding, a momentary look of panic flashing across Catherine's features as Nancy backed inside.
"Thank you" she breathed as the younger woman gave us both the warmest look she could conjure.
"I'll come by after work to check in"
As the doors shut I reached for her hand, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze.
We were met immediately by irritation, followed by confusion at my presence; at the tense energy that we simply couldn't shake. I kept a hand gently on Catherine's back as she spoke, barely faltering in her words- soft and apologetic and direct.
I watched the smaller blonde go through every stage of grief in the period of twenty minutes. It felt like a small hurricane tearing through the room. Catherine absorbed every verbal blow, held her for the few minutes that Lindsay allowed for it. To say she reached acceptance might be a stretch, but her violence turned to quiet, leaving us unsure what exactly to do.
She disappeared into her own room long enough for Catherine to allow a few silent tears to fall, to kiss me with a sweetness I hadn't felt from her before. I was about to head back to the lab when a silent Lindsay reentered the room, moving towards the cushioned bench that I was perched on. To my relief the headphones peeking out of her ears left no space for conversation. I could barely find the words to comfort myself these days, let alone a heartbroken teenager. Tear stains against her pale cheeks caused a violent ache; the vacant look in her eyes that were almost turquoise with despair.
She sat next to me, hesitating a moment before she pulled her legs up onto the bench, leaning back against me. The smell of strawberries was subtle and sweet, her blonde hair brushing against my cheek as she stared out the window at the neighboring buildings, drenched in the golden glow of the rising desert sun.
Shifting slightly, I observed her tentatively for a moment before wrapping an arm around her in a move that I hoped was more comforting than suffocating. She had spent a few lengthy minutes cursing the both of us for not solving the case sooner; for allowing her to become involved; for being CSI's in the first place. Her affection was unexpected to say the least. I felt tears burning the back of my eyes, tightening my grip on her ever so slightly as I turned my gaze out the window.
We were going to catch this motherfucker. I felt the determination like wildfire in the pit of my stomach. I suddenly understood to a miniscule degree the indignation that Catherine felt working these cases- the way situations involving children shook her. Glancing over, I was met with the burning intensity of azure eyes. She was leaning against the edge of the wall, between the kitchen nook and bedroom, arms crossed loosely over her chest.
I couldn't quite read the pointed look she had set on me, searching my gaze. "I…" she began, though that thought trailed off into silence and she took a quiet breath. "…thank you"
The ghost of a smile played over my lips, giving her a soft nod. I knew the few pieces of evidence we had sent to trace must have come back with some results by now; that the dayshift coroner would be waiting to discuss her findings with me. That Ecklie was just waiting for me to walk through the door, armed with an arsenal of questions and demands.
It could wait. For at least that moment, it could wait.