A/N: Alright, another chapter up! Hope it gives you some resolution. I know it's going a bit slow, but be patient, it's going to start picking up pretty quickly. This one is super long, so I hope it makes up for being late and leaving you hanging.

A/N 2: Final review count last chapter was a bit disheartening. I can only assume that some of you did not read it to save yourself the cliffhanger. I fully expect you to review now if that's the case. To everyone who did review; I like you. You're nice. We should be friends. Keep it up.

A/N 3: This chapter is mostly dialogue. I hope it's not too boring. It's really important to the plot, I promise. I wouldn't write in twenty pages if it weren't necessary. You trust me, right?

Without further ado…

The ride back was both more and less awkward than I had anticipated. On the one hand, Sara didn't ask me why I had been crying. On the other hand, Sara didn't ask me anything at all. The ride was conspicuously quiet. I didn't want to talk, but something about this silence was off. Like maybe more was being said than I realized. I had run through so many emotions that day, I wasn't even sure which way was up anymore. Maybe I was losing my mind.

I didn't know what I was meant to be feeling. I had realized that I had feelings for Sara and that those feelings ran much deeper than I had originally thought. Hot on the tail of that realization had been the discovery that Sara might feel the same way. But I hadn't even begun to process how I felt about that because before I had had the chance, all possibility had been squashed out by Charlotte's very unwanted and very unhelpful informational onslaught. Or had it been unhelpful? Had it made me not want to be with Sara?

As Sara pulled into the car port, I jumped out and hurried inside without speaking to her. I hated being confused and unsure of myself. It made me antsy and nervous. I've also been known to become irritable and snappish. I didn't want to fight with Sara right now, so instead I chose to ignore her. I walked through to the kitchen where I found Tim and asked him if I could get a glass of water. He asked me where we'd been. I smiled distractedly and told him the general gist of our day, leaving out quite a few details, and then took my water out to the deck. Sara was right; it was going to rain. The sea was fierce and the clouds threatening. I saw several flashes of lightening along the horizon.

God, what was I doing? What had all of that…stuff that Charlotte told me meant? Would being with Sara be that difficult? Suddenly it occurred to me that I had been imagining a relationship with Sara in the idealistic way that occurs in the minds of children, or in movies. Happily Ever After. But there never was a happy ending like in the movies, was there? Because things don't just end at first kisses or weddings. Even in a good relationship, things weren't smooth at every single second; they still required a lot of work. I knew that well enough from my own experiences. I don't know why my brain would have thought things would be different with Sara. Of course they wouldn't be. That's just how things are.

But Charlotte had made it sound almost dangerous to become involved with Sara. As if she would break into a million tiny pieces at the first sign of trouble. She had all but said that Sara was suicidal. I argued with myself. That couldn't be right. Sure, Sara can be a bit under confident sometimes, but overall she's a very strong person. But, another part of my mind insisted, you've seen her lose control before. It was true. During hard cases, especially the ones that involved women and kids, I had seen Sara lose her head. Had that been what Charlotte was talking about? Or maybe she was only speaking from her experience with Sara. That was years ago, Sara had changed a lot since then.

So maybe she was okay, now? Charlotte's words resurfaced in my mind. Sara will never truly believe you love her…it will never end. If that was true, I wasn't sure if I could handle it, if only because it made me mad when Sara didn't believe in herself and I couldn't sit by and watch that everyday. Maybe Charlotte was wrong…maybe I could find a way to prove to Sara that she was worth all the time and…and love in the world.

"You forgot this in the car."

I whirled around to see Sara standing a few paces away.

She was holding the calla lily. My throat constricted as I watched it. It had put such a smile on my face two hours ago. Now I wasn't sure that I could stand to look at it. It symbolized too much now, it settled a heavy weight low in my chest. I took it from Sara. It still hefted hopeful and beautiful in my palm. My heart skipped a beat when I thought that Sara seemed to think I deserved such a magnificent flower. That someone so wonderful seemed to think I was as wonderful as this.

"Thanks." I smiled weakly at her. "I'll go put this in some water, alright?" I moved to step around her.

She nodded, turning as I went by. "But could you come back to our room after that? I have something I need to talk with you about…in private. And I don't want to get interrupted by the rain." She pointed to the darkened storm clouds that were moving steadily nearer. "Meet you in five?"

A jolt of panic shot through me, but I managed a nod before I dodged into the house.

She wanted to talk? No, that wasn't right. There had been an intentional emphasis there; she wanted to talk. Shit. Was it about today? About the crying? About…us?

Finishing with the flower, I dragged my feet down the hall. Standing outside the bedroom door, I leaned my forehead against the cool wall. Whatever she wanted to talk about, I wasn't going to find out what it was standing here. I sighed. Sending up a silent prayer that I would be able to handle this, I pushed the door open and stepped in. Who knows, maybe she just wants to talk about favorite movies or something.

Sara was leaning in the balcony doorway, her fingers gripping a handle and idly swinging one of the French doors back and forth. She was watching the storm. I sat on the edge of my bed and waited for her. She would have heard me come in, so I was going to let her start. Especially since I was praying I didn't know what she wanted to talk about.

At length, she turned from the open doors and blowing curtains, and faced me, her expression bleak. She went around to the far side of my bed and sat against the headboard, arms hugging her legs to her chest, chin resting on her knees. I copied her actions, sitting cross-legged with my hands in my lap. I looked down as I waited for her to begin.

She was wearing bright purple toe socks.

I'm not sure why exactly, but that observation calmed my nerves a bit.

She exhaled loudly. "I think…I think I'm going to have to keep the girls."

I exhaled loudly. Oh, thank GOD! I dropped my head against the headboard in relief. This I could handle. I paused, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, I ventured, "Have to?"

She appeared not to notice the inflection in my voice and nodded. "I've been piecing the whole story together over the last day or so. It's a bit complicated. So, can I tell it through before you ask any questions?"

What? Okay… "Yeah, sure." I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, but by all means; continue.

She nodded again and, looking straight ahead, began, "Last night at the Winger's, Molly approached me about the girls' custody. At first, she just wanted to know if my agreement with Matt and Warren was verbal, contractual, or if it was in fact legally documented, witnessed, and notarized. After I told her that we had had it notarized last year, she got sort of…I don't know how to put it…nervous, I guess. Then she started asking me different questions. Did I really want to take the girls…wouldn't it disrupt my life…was I aware of the responsibility it took to be a parent…did I think I was ready for such a responsibility…did I really think it was a good idea to move the girls away from their family and friends so soon after their fathers' deaths…that sort of thing.

"She kept going on and on. And then, after dinner, when you put Maggie to bed and went to call Lindsey, she asked what I thought of her taking the girls. Went on about how she could provide a really nice home for them. How they would grow up with their cousins. She understood being a mom already and she'd be willing to take on the responsibility. I don't know, it started to make sense. In a way, it still kind of does."

This is where I was ready to jump in guns blazing. I am not the type of person to keep quiet about things. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to just…not say anything? Hard. Very hard. But I managed. Somehow. I knew it was important to let Sara finish. So I bit my tongue, literally, and stayed quiet. Instead, I just shut my eyes and screamed silently in my head; That doesn't make any sense whatsoever! I don't know what that crazy bitch wants, but she's got an angle. Nobody just says insensitive bullshit like that to people. She obviously wants something. I'm sure of it. I felt a bit better.

"About fifteen years ago," Sara continued, "Molly had a really bad shopping addiction. I know how that sounds, but it was actually extremely serious. She was a total junkie. Without anyone even finding out, she wound up over fifty thousand dollars in debt. Bought all kinds of useless crap. In the end, her parents covered part of her debts on the condition that she repay them over time, and her then boyfriend now husband Danny paid the rest. She had to go through all sorts of special therapy and rehabilitation. She ended up being okay and she hasn't had a problem with it since."

Huh. That's a lovely story. What the hell?

"About three years ago, Warren tried to help Danny set up his own lumber yard. Roaster's Corner, Warren's coffee shop, was opening it's third location and doing really well, so Danny asked him for some help on the business side. And Warren did help, and for about eighteen months or so, everything seemed like it was going fine. But then Danny messed up by contracting a lot of the wrong people and ordering too much of the wrong stock, and around ten months ago, the entire thing went under. And because Danny had put so much of his own money in, he had to file for personal bankruptcy on top of owing the bank a ton of money."

Huh. Not so lovely story. But again…what the hell?

"I knew all of this from talking to Matt about it. I was under the impression that life was getting better for them. Danny had gone back to civil engineering, he was doing some pretty big jobs; things weren't great, but at least they were starting to clear the red zone." Sara shook her head and sighed. "Last night, Tony and Marie told me that Molly had started her compulsive spending again. Apparently the stress of the business folding triggered a relapse. Danny just found out from the credit card companies that she managed to spend more than thirty thousand dollars."

I was beginning to see where this was going. The money had to come from somewhere.

Sara looked over at me for the first time since she began, her eyes seemed vacant, "I knew that Warren and Matt were doing well for themselves. Matt is a computer consultant, he works with a lot of the small businesses in the Bay Area and gets them all technologically savvy. It a skill that's in high demand these days. He was working a lot; he'd complain to me about how he never got to see the girls. And Warren's business was doing great. He'd won all sorts of awards. Best coffee in the city, best service, best atmosphere, best new business.

"They had five locations and were thinking of taking it up to Seattle and Portland.But I hadn't talked to them about it in about three or four months. Joey told me today that, about two weeks ago, Warren finalized a deal with a national marketer to allow them to build a franchise around Roaster's Corner and nationalize it over the next ten years." She looked down as she said, "The business sold for just under thirty million dollars."

My jaw dropped. That was…that was…that was a seriously fucking huge chunk of change.

Sara clenched her jaw in the same way she did when Gil was telling her that the evidence she had on a case was circumstantial at best and it wasn't enough to present in court. It was the kind of expression that, when made, people knew to take three giant steps back. "Even before that, their estate was worth five or six. I called Matt and Warren's lawyer- on a hunch. It was his call I was returning while we were at Charlotte's. Most of the money, more than half, is to be put into trust funds for the girls until after they turn twenty-five, and only to be used before then with regards to their education. Molly receives less than a million. The same for Warren's father and brother." She hesitated, that hard look still there, but softened a bit. "I, as myself, am to receive a little over three million plus their house and nearly everything in it." She shook her head as if in disbelief. "Most of the rest of the money, apart from some left for various charities and foundations, goes to whoever has custody over the girls in order to provide for them until they are due to inherit."

The hard look returned full force. "I think Molly only wants to take the girls because of the money."

I suppressed a snort. Uh…ya think?

"I just…her brother, who I know she loved, has been dead for barely three days and she…" She looked up at me, angry, but a bit bewildered, I think. "I never even thought about money! I don't know why. As soon as I thought of taking the girls, I just assumed I'd pick up the expense myself. If no one had ever said anything, I don't know when I would have thought to ask. I had no idea that they had left me anything, but they left me ten percent of their estate plus their house. To have already come up with a plan like that before I arrived- the money had to have been one of the first things through Molly's head! How is that possible?" She looked at me as if she was actually expecting me to answer.

"Well-" But I was interrupted.

"I don't get it. That's just so backwards. And it makes me so mad that she would try to manipulate me and use the girls like she did. So you see? I have to take the girls. How can I leave them with their aunt who values money over her family? Over the death of her own brother? I can't do that, can I? And you know what gets me even more? She could have just asked. I sure as hell don't need the money." Her tone was increasingly upset. "I would have given her anything I didn't think I'd need to raise the girls- hell, I'd give her all of it if I could have Matt and Warren back. But I can't, so…I just don't get why she lied…" She was crying now. Or, at least, tears were trailing over her cheeks. She wasn't making any noise, though her breathing was erratic.

I sighed and scooted to the middle of the bed. Tentatively, I put an arm around her shoulders. When she didn't shrug me off, I pulled her until she sat right beside me. I ignored the fluttering in my stomach that said I might have selfish motivations for the contact. She was so close to me. Her left leg pressed tight against my right; Her head bending to rest on my shoulder; The curve of her breast brushing against mine. Someone kill me, please. I literally had to shut my eyes to keep them from rolling back in my skull. My hands clenched into fists with the effort to maintain control.

God. Here she is crying her eyes out and all you can think about is jumping her! Catherine, you have very serious problems! Get it together. Think friend. Think very supportive, helpful, and caring friend. Breathe. When I felt I had my irrational and very age-inappropriate hormones under control, I opened my eyes and managed a comforting smile. Think friend.

"Addicts lie, Sara. It doesn't matter if it's heroine, alcohol, chocolate, or shopping. They are always sure they have it under control until they don't, and even then, they'll do whatever they can to keep anyone from finding out. Even if she thought that you or Matt or her parents would give her the money, she wouldn't ask. That would mean she would have to admit she had a problem. Addicts can't see how much their addiction and the behavior it elicits are affecting their lives or the lives of those around them, usually until it's too late. I think you're right; you can't leave the girls with her. Money was the last thing on your mind and the first on hers. I'm sure she's a good person and maybe a good mother, but the chance that she will use that money for things other than the girls' well being is obviously way too great. The money she'll inherit will more than cover her own debts, and go a long way towards repairing her husband's. At this rate, if you really are taking the girls', she'll have to contest the will for any form of custody."

A sudden flash and subsequent dark rumble of thunder signaled that the storm was finally upon us. Sara and I both looked out at the charcoal sky, jumping when the wind violently thrust the balcony doors open. Sara got up to close them. She shook her head as she straightened the curtains.

"I don't think she'll do that," she said, walking back to me.

I was surprised when she returned to sit just as close, if not closer, than she had been sitting a minute ago. I was even more surprised when she casually rested her hand on my thigh. A part of me leapt for joy at the touch. But another part was cautioned by Charlotte's words. I can't lead her on until I'm absolutely sure. You're not absolutely sure? If there wasn't Linds and Ayla and Maggie to think about, you know you wouldn't hesitate to throw yourself at her right now. But there is them to think about, I can't do anything that's going to disrupt any of their lives.

"Why not?" I fought to rein in my thoughts.

Sara watched her fingertips move against my leg and I shivered. Please, God, say she didn't notice that. If she did notice, she gave no acknowledgement of it.

She looked up at me and shrugged. "Nine years ago, when Matt and Warren had their formal commitment ceremony and merged all of their finances and assets, they re-wrote their wills. If one of them died, nearly everything was supposed to go to the other one and any kids they had." She cleared her throat. "In the event of both of their deaths with no children above the age of consent…I was appointed trustee of their collected assets. And we never changed it after I moved. That's how I was able to get that information about the money before it was released. They've set guidelines for me to follow, but technically, the estate is mine to divide as I see fit. I'll follow it to the letter, of course, but…" She shrugged again, "I doubt Molly will question testamentary capacity. To contest the word of dead men isn't that hard. But before she could seek any sort of legal motion, she would have to go through the trustee. Me. Without my approval and having been informed of her financial status and chronic compulsion, I doubt any judge in the California would overturn the will." She sighed. "I hope she doesn't try, it could take months or even years to see it through and in the meantime, the money would be tied up and the girls would become wards to the state."

This was heavy talk. As much as I knew I wanted to talk to Sara about taking care of the girls, I got the distinct impression that she wasn't ready for that conversation just yet. "I wouldn't worry about it. We'll just take it as it comes." I twisted around and lay my head in her lap. Smiling up at her, I said cheekily, "So tell me why you're the 'craziest dyke in the West.'"

She turned bright pink and made a face like 'if I stay very, very still, she won't see me'. "No comment."

I laughed. "Come on, Sidle. I'll find out sooner or later."

"Why don't we go make some tea?"

I shook my head. "Nice try. Would you rather I hear it straight from the horse's mouth or should I just ask Joey to tell me and then tease you mercilessly?"

"Catherine…" her whine was oh so pathetic and cute.

"If you tell me, I might consider not relaying it to the guys when we go home."

Her eyes got wide as saucer's and I saw I had struck a nerve. "You wouldn't…" she whispered, panicky.

I sighed, "No, I wouldn't. But I really, really want to know." I gave her my best pathetic, pouty, pleading face. "Please?"

She smirked. Bit her lip. Shook her head. Stared accusingly at the ceiling for a moment. And then smiled down at me. "Fine."

Yes! I am irresistible!

"But you never tell another living soul, understood?"

I grinned wickedly. She could not resist me! I managed a solemn face and nodded. "Until my very last breath."

She glared at me and I burst out laughing.

"Come on, Sara, just tell me!"

Deciding that she would rather tell her purple socks, Sara spoke to them. "Okay, well…you have to understand, I was a lot younger when this happened. And a lot more stupid and reckless. And Joey is the only one who can call me that without obtaining serious injury." She began to absentmindedly play with my hair. It distracted me sufficiently enough that I forgot the teasing remark that had been on the tip of my tongue. Wow, that's amazing. I would pay her to do this. Christ, that's sad.

"When I was nineteen, the summer after my sophomore year at Harvard, I was awarded a grant that allowed me to come home to work as an assistant to a very esteemed physicist. He's a very eccentric man and he could only work from eleven in the morning to three in the afternoon, Thursdays, Sundays, and Mondays, and twelve to four on Fridays. To this day I don't know why. Anyway, this obviously left me with copious amounts of free time."

"What did you do?"

Sara blushed. "Well, the few friends I'd had in high school had all…moved away, so aside from some old teachers I was close with, there weren't a lot of people to hang around with. Joey was still there though, and he let me hang out with him and all of his friends. Now, he's six years older than I am, and nineteen and twenty-five is a much bigger age difference than thirty-three and thirty-nine. And he was the youngest of all of his friends, so I was, on average, about ten years younger than most of the people I hung out with that summer. I dated-well, dated is a strong word, I guess I…got to know one woman, Eileen, pretty well. She was eight or nine years older. In retrospect, that had been a bad idea. I was just so excited that a grown woman as beautiful as she was would be interested in me…But the age difference created a lot of problems."

Okay, freeze. I hadn't even thought of that. I'm nearly eight years older than Sara. I mean, I did know that, but I just…oh, no. Would she have a problem with that? I didn't. Of course, she's younger- who complains about that? But am I too old for her? Forty… When she's forty-five, I'll be fifty-three. When she's seventy-five, I'll be…well, I'll be dead most likely, won't I? I guess it's a bit of a gap. Like there aren't enough problems with this situation. Please, God, don't let her have a problem with this.

I turned my head under her hand in my hair, and it caressed my cheek. She looked down at me, making eye contact for the first time since she began. Her hand returned to my hair, her thumb running along my jaw on the way. I closed my eyes. I momentarily lost total control of my body. I must have contracted a disorder. It's the only explanation. Because if I had a rein in on my own faculties, I would never have leaned into her touch. Or let out that annoyingly contented little sigh. Or allowed what I'm sure was a completely satisfied little smile to float on my lips. Of course, when my brain caught up, my eyes snapped open.

Sara was watching me. Sort of. Her eyes were on me. Her hands were on me. Both of them. One was still in my hair and brushing along the side of my face. The other was now resting on my stomach, inches above where my own hands rested, folded over my lower abdomen. I didn't know when that had happened, the weight didn't seem new, so it must have been awhile ago. You'd think I'd notice something like that. At any rate, Sara's eyes were focused on my face, but her mind appeared to be off elsewhere. I watched her watch me, in no hurry to lose this sense of intimacy. A full minute later, she seemed to come around. Her eyes lit up a bit and she smiled softly, looking me in the eye, her head cocked to one side. Her hand in my hair continued its musings.

"I was too young then. A teenager. Stuff like that hasn't bothered me for years. It was just too much back then."

I managed to regain control of my body long enough to hold in my sigh of relief. Thank God. "So…shacking up with an older woman doesn't constitute crazy dyke behavior in my book, Sara…"

She narrowed her eyes at me and scrunched her nose. "You don't give up, do you?"

I grinned and raised my eyebrows, "Never."

Sara mock groaned, and leaned heavily against the headboard. "Okay. So, no, hooking up with Eileen was not what I was going to say. That was just to illustrate the age of Joe's friends. They were mostly beach bums. Smoked a lot of grass, drank quite a bit, and occasionally surfed or protested something. I thought they were so cool. Anyway, a couple of the guys in the group ran a shack that rented water sports equipment. Jet skis, innertubes, long boards, that kind of thing. They also had a boat."

Sara went back to talking to her toes. "So, we had been drinking all day and were well and truly buzzed when Javi, one of the guys, proposed we all go use the boat and equipment to go parasailing." She coughed. "Now, keep in mind that I was one of three girls in a group of twelve, I was drunk, and I was desperately seeking approval from these people. Somebody suggested we go naked parasailing. As in only the ropes that tie you in and nothing else. It was probably supposed to be a joke. We all had atrocious bikini and board short tan lines. But Joey picked it up and kept after me. And that got a lot of the others going. Calling it my 'initiation.' I still wasn't going to do it, it was broad daylight, and we were within visible range of a tourist beach. But then Joey had to go and dare me, tell me I was afraid. So…I did it. It was actually kind of fun. When I got down, they told me that they had been joking and that hadn't really thought I'd go through with it." She shrugged. "Needless to say, I was accepted and cool in the group after that. And Joey came up with his little nickname. Which he has sworn not to mention in mixed company, and I forbid you to as well."

I was staring at her. That didn't hold with any account I had ever heard of Sara. But it was really funny. I laughed. "Well, thank you for trusting me with such classified Sara information."

She cocked her head to one side. "You're something special, you know that?" She twisted a piece of my hair in and around her fingers, fidgeting.

Blood thudded in my ears. Joke and deflect. Joke and deflect! "Oh, I think I've heard it around."

She smirked. "And?"

"And…the jury's still out. No hard evidence. Testimony given by unreliable or heavily disillusioned and/or biased sources."

Sara smiled and shook her head.

"Okay, so I have two more questions."

She moaned exasperatedly. So cute!

"Don't worry, they're not about you. Not directly at least."

"Okay. Let's have it."

"What's with Joey and Maureen's store? It's the weirdest thing."

Sara laughed lightly. "That's one of your questions?"

"I'm serious! What is with all of that weird stuff? Who goes there and why? I don't get it."

"They just sell funky stuff. They actually manufacture or represent the maker of most of the products they sell. The store is kind of like an outlet store. They mostly sell their products to retailers across the country. The store is to clear out excess stock, bring in retailers, that kind of thing."

"Alright. What's with all the LGBT gear?"

"Well, aside from the fact that Joey and Maureen have a ton of gay friends, they are very active allies. Joey's brother was killed in the early eighties. Hate crime. And Maureen's college boyfriend was brutally beaten and lived in a vegetative state for six years before his systems failed. For being bisexual. So, they are pretty strong activists in the search for equality. It's sad, but it's pretty cool actually. They've done a lot already."

Wow. That's really intense. "Okay. I get that. But why take it out on the poor dog? Making him wear that shirt."

"What, Langston?" She shook her head. "He doesn't mind. He has about twenty of his own shirts, and they're all re-stitched to fit him right. He won't go for a walk without clothes on- he feels naked. You should see him at Pride. Full regalia. Visor, sunglasses, sneakers. We painted his white bits rainbow one year, but this nasty animal rights bitch said it was abuse. It wasn't. We got the paint that wouldn't burn his skin. And he liked how the brushes felt. He sat there patiently until were done, nose to tail. Last year he got selected to ride on a float. It was awesome."

I was confused. "Pride?"

"San Francisco Pride." She looked at me like I was supposed to know what that meant.

I shook my head.

"It's the best gay pride rally in the entire country, and one of, if not the, oldest and biggest. Two awesome days. Parades, fairs, concerts. I never miss it."

"Not even since you came to Vegas?"

Sara shook her head. "Haven't you ever noticed that the only time I take more than one or two vacation days is in late June every year?"

Uhh… "No."

"Well I do. Four or five days. A bunch of my friends are really active in planning so I come a few days early and help out. It's so much fun. You have to come. It's not just gays, a lot of straight people come too. Joey and Maureen are big supporters."

I snorted involuntarily. Did Sara think I was straight? Still? After everything that happened today? Okay…

She frowned down at my smirk. "What?"

"Sara…" I gave her an incredulous look, "I'm not straight. Not by a long shot."

Her eyes grew to dinner plate size. I felt her body tense beneath me. She said nothing for about fifteen seconds. Then she blinked several times, "I…uh…I'm sorry, what? What did you say?"

"I said I'm not straight."

"Uh…how…how…how?" The words tumbled over her tongue as she pushed them out. She looked like she was going into a catatonic state. I was a bit concerned. At the same time, from this angle, it was pretty funny to watch.

"How…am I not straight?"

"Yes."

"Well," I smirked. "No one's really sure how it works exactly, but sexuality is generally believed to be partially predetermined by one's genetics and then shaped and defined by conditioning and life experience. Me, personally? I think my great aunt was probably gay…though back then, who could tell? And then, I did spend half of my childhood in my mother's dressing room surrounded by gorgeous naked women. That could have something to do with it. Who knows? Who cares? Doesn't matter, can't do anything about it, what's done is done. I like women. And I like that I like women."

Sara seemed entirely oblivious to my sarcasm. She was now staring intensely at her socks. She must be much more angry at them than when she was talking before. "Likes wom- she likes women?" She was whispering to herself. Should I laugh or snap her out of it? "But she's not gay. There have been men. Lots and lots of men."

Hey! There haven't been that many. And proportionate to the number of women there've been… Actually, that my not be my best argument. Might come off sounding a bit of a slut. I rolled my eyes. "That's right, Sara. There have been men." She looked down at me, her expression glazed. I raised my eyebrows at her, "What's behind door number three, Sara…"

Her eyes narrowed. "Huh."

"Huh?" I think that came out with an unintentional edge.

Sara heard it. "Yeah. Huh. I need to think about it. Give me a sec." Her voice had a definite edge.

I sat up. "You need to think about it? Think about it? Why? Don't you think it would be a tad hypocritical for your reaction to be anything except 'Really? I didn't know that. Thanks for trusting me, Catherine." I stood up, holding my hands out in the universal sign for 'what the bloody hell?' "'Obviously, I don't give a flying fuck who you love, seeing as I am a card-carrying lesbian!'" When had I begun shouting? The day was catching up with me.

She looked up, slightly alarmed. "Cath, chill out. It just took me by surprise. That's all. I have no problem with it, yeah, obviously. I just needed a minute. And I don't have a card. I have some shirts, a bumper sticker and a tattoo; but no cards."

She was trying to diffuse situation with humor. But I couldn't let it lie. "How can you possibly be surprised? The number of women that hit on me at The Love Muffin and I never blinked except for that massive biker domme and anyone would have been afraid of her in that situation. Even tolerant straight women get a bit uptight when another woman walks up to them and says, 'Want to know why I have my tongue pierced?' and proceeds to show them said piercing. I didn't bat an eye. That didn't tip you off?"

She flushed. "You were an exotic dancer! You know what you look like! I just figured you were used to it."

I rolled my eyes, "Okay, fine. But what about earlier at Joey's shop? How did you rationalize me being so fantastic at being your pretend girlfriend? There aren't seminars for that type of thing, you know." What about the…the thing at the florist's? The really hot thing with the hissing and the moaning and the lip biting? Do that with all your friends, do you?

She sighed. "Catherine, will you just sit back down? You're being ridicu-" she saw my expression and changed her sentence. "You misunderstood me. I'm sorry, sometimes my words don't come out right. Just sit down, will you?"

I sighed heavily, intentionally trying to be annoying and knowing full-well I was being childish. I sat on the edge of the bed. Sara moved across until she was quite close. She lay on her side, propped up on one elbow. She studied me and half smiled.

"I didn't mean to make it sound the way it did. But you really did throw me off, I really didn't have any idea. I have no sixth sense when it comes to this sort of thing. I have no gaydar what.so.ever. I was surprised when I realized I was gay. Sexuality is just not something it occurs to me to think about. And the only intuition I've got pertains to crime scenes and suspects. Forget women's intuition and definitely forget lesbian's intuition. I'm completely hopeless. So…sorry. Of course I don't care if you're queer, I just have to re-organize the filing cabinet in my brain that is entirely devoted to evidence collected on Catherine Willows." She stuck out her lip. Aww. "Forgive me?"

I get a whole filing cabinet! I smiled begrudgingly and dropped down to lay beside her. Her hand immediately went to my abdomen. If she didn't stop touching me, I was going to have some serious issues. I snuggled closer. I turned on my side so that her hand on my stomach became an arm wrapped protectively around me. I leaned back into her. She rested her chin on my head as she had done this afternoon.

"Okay, but only if you answer one more question."

I smiled as she groaned behind me. "Another one?"

"Yes! I said I had two more questions, and you only answered the first one."

She hugged me tighter to her and spoke into my hair. "Okay, go ahead. But I reserve the right to withhold comment."

"We'll see." My smile faded as I felt her hand begin to trace idle circles along my ribcage. She is deliberately trying to kill me. A million questions ran through my mind. Was she flirting? She had been pulling crap like this since we arrived and I had thought that perhaps she was flirting. Only just now, she was genuinely surprised to find out I was into women, so that meant she thought I was off limits before. But now, she knew I liked women. So…was this flirting? Not a clue. "What was Charlotte talking about when she said that stuff about 'Ducky's'?"

Sara smiled. "It's a bar. Our friend Denny Duxbury aka Duck, Ducky, The Duckman, The Duckster, has a sports bar-cum-nightclub. It's a pub style kind of thing with a couple of TVs, a pool table, live music, and a small dance floor. Anyway, it's called Duxbury's for obvious reasons, but we all just call it Duck's or Ducky's for short."

"And why is it receiving flower arrangements?"

Sara yawned. "Because we're having a party for Matt and Warren."

"A party?" Her yawn was contagious.

"Mhm. When people get married, we always have the party up at Maureen's uncle's B&B outside the city. When people die…we always have the party at Duck's. There's booze and music and food, and then anybody who wants to can get up and do something in honor of the person who died."

I could feel my eyelids drooping. Her steady voice and light touches were lulling me to sleep. "Don't you mean…" yawn, "don't you mean say something?"

Sara dropped her hand and let her head lay on the bed. I could feel her nose against my skull- we were that close. I could also feel her newly liberated hand running through my hair. If I only I had the energy to leap up and ravish her. "No." She shook her head. Her voice was full of sleep. A long minute later, she went on, "Some people aren't good speakers like somebody I know." Sara hiccupped like this was funny and I realized that we were both loopy with exhaustion. "Some people are better at other ways of communication. So they read poems or reflections either they or someone else has written. Or else they play…" Either she was beginning to drift off, or I was, "…play music…or else they…they might sing."

"Hmm." That's nice.

"Caf?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I'm just gonna take a nap for a minute. But we can a watch a movie later, if you…if you want."

"Hmm, 'kay."

"Caf?"

"Hmm?"

"You awake, Caf?"

"Mm…"

But I'd lost all energy for talk. Already half asleep, at least, that's my defense; I rolled over and burrowed my face in her neck and threw an arm around her waist. There was a moment's hesitation and then she tightened her grip and kissed the top of my head.

"Guess not, then."

I smiled and snuggled closer. I'd figure everything out later. For the moment, I was going to focus on the feeling of sleeping in Sara's arms for the second time in three days. I felt so safe, so serene. I couldn't get enough.

"'Night, Cat."

"Mhm."

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