A/N: Hey! I know this is a bit short, but I figured you guys would rather have a short, boring bit now than a freakishly-freakishly long one in two weeks. You're already getting a freakishly long one in a few days as it is.

Several people wanted to see some more interaction with the girls, there's more coming, hope this tides you over.

Sorry, nothing happens (again) but here, just to keep you reading; something very VERY exciting is going to happen very soon.

You hate me, now, don't you?

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I saw Sara in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. She was leaning in the doorway, arms over her chest, just watching me. Her hair was pulled back tight, her face done in light make-up; blush, gloss, mascara. The form-fitting black button-down shirt she wore was crisp linen. Beneath it, a lace-lined burgundy camisole was just visible with her top three buttons undone. Intricate silver vines hung from her ears and around her neck. I turned from putting on my make-up. Looking down, I saw that instead of the pants I had anticipated, sheer black pantyhose rose up to disappear under an encasing, knee-length, black pencil skirt.

Sara must have seen my questioning glance, because when I looked up, she shrugged and said quietly, "They were always trying to make me wear more skirts." She looked away. "I just figured…" and didn't finish.

I nodded and smiled softly. It was explanation enough.

In an even quieter voice, she intoned, "You look beautiful."

I looked down at the dress I had on. Admittedly, it was a bit…well, small. But, I had little else to wear that was appropriate. It was a one shoulder, blue-grey silk dress with a black lace overlay. It ended just above the knee with a small slit up one side and, while it didn't reveal that much cleavage, it was so tight that it didn't really have to. Don't get me wrong, I loved the dress, I looked sexy as hell in the dress; it just wasn't something that one wore to a funeral.

"I know it's a bit much, but my options were limited. I have a cover-up I'm going to wear over it..."

She shook her head, "You look beautiful, I mean it."

"Thanks. I'm just about finished. Can you bring me the silk purse that's on my bed? It has my jewelry in it."

She nodded and disappeared.

I turned back to the mirror, thinking over the past two days.

There was something in the air. We were both feeling it. Ever since our talk in the rainstorm, things had been different. Not tense exactly, just… It's that feeling you used to get at your birthday party, when you could see that whole stack of presents just calling out to you, but your mother wouldn't let you open them until all the guests had left. So, as much as you loved your friends, your grandparents, your piano teacher, you were still trying to make the party go faster and you were practically pushing them out the door. That's how this felt. It was the calm before the storm.

Sara returned with my bag. "You might want to change for the party at Duck's. Something a bit more comfortable?"

"Why? What are you wearing?"

She watched over my shoulder as I put in my earrings. "Jeans, a green top and a hoodie."

"A hoodie?" I asked, disbelieving.

She nodded. "People really only have funerals and receptions to make themselves feel better. A party at Duck's is always in honor of whoever died; what they would have liked, wanted- who they were. It should be a party they would be jealous of missing, not some somber occasion. When our friend Zay-zay died, it was a leatherfest theme. We even had male strippers in leather thongs." She smiled. "He would have loved to have been there." She saw my unconvinced expression in the mirror and shrugged. "Warren and Matt would have wanted everyone to come in whatever they're most comfortable in, so you'll see a lot of variety tonight. But, yeah, I'm just going in jeans."

"Okay." I hesitated, "Hey, Sar?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure it's okay if I go with you to the party? I mean, I didn't know either Matt or Warren, and it sounds like it's going to be just really close friends. I don't want to intrude."

"Yeah, it's going to be their two hundred closest friends…" she rolled her eyes, "Cath, I want you to come. I think you'll have a great time. But if you'd rather not, I'll understand."

"No, I'll go. I'm looking forward to meeting your friends." That was true, I had been hearing all about them over the last couple days. It was a really eclectic group.

Sara blushed and half-stepped back into the other room. Catching her guilty expression, I spun around to face her. "Sara?" I ventured.

She coughed and looked at the floor, her cheeks still bright pink. "About that. I've been meaning to mention…uh…"

"What?"

"Well, it's just that word kind of got around about your umm…altercation? With Vicki. I guess she told Mo and Joey and they told Denny and Lola. And once Lola knows…" she deliberately stalled, "well, truthfully, it would be less effective to broadcast it on nationally syndicated television."

I was confused. "Okay…so everybody knows that I bitched out your ex-girlfriend, so what?"

Sara cringed, "They don't exactly know that you bitched out Vicki. What they know; what they've heard, is that my new gorgeous girlfriend who's daughter I play second parent to…bitched out my ex-girlfriend." She looked apologetic. "And now everyone who has R.S.V.P-ed to either myself, Denny, or Charlotte, are all really looking forward to meeting you. Sorry. I wasn't really sure how to handle it."

I just looked at her. You have got to be kidding me! "Seriously?"

"Yeah." She pulled nervously on the sleeves of her shirt. "Look, I've figured it out. Either you can feign illness and not go, or when we get there we'll just casually explain that we're not technically seeing each other."

Or, I could spend the whole night pretending to be your girlfriend. "Or, we could just pretend to be a couple." What? No! Shit! Shit, shit, shit! I cannot believe I just said that. I am so masochistic!

"What?" Sara's eyes were wide with shock.

No, never mind. It was a stupid idea. "Yeah, why not?" What the hell is my problem? "Then you wouldn't have to fess up to lying to your friends." I thought about it. "Although, technically it was all there assumption, and you never actually lied. If anything, I'm the one that came the closest to lying."

"Yeah, but for you to pretend to be my girlfriend and for me to go along with it would be substantiating their suppositions, and that could very much equate to lying."

I waved her off, "Look at it this way, we go to the party, have some fun pretending to be whatever and then when we go back to Vegas, you ring up whoever and tell them that you broke up with me because I'm…horrible in the sack or something." Which is so not true, by the way.

Sara snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what you hear all the time."

It's not! I am so phenomenal in bed! Or the couch. Or the floor. Or my nephew's swing set, though that needs to never be mentioned again. To anyone. Especially not my sister.

Sara appeared to be evaluating my offer. "And you're…okay? With this? It's not going to make you uncomfortable?"

Is she agreeing? God hates me. "Sure, why not? Could be fun. Okay, I'm done. We can talk details on the way there."

"Details?" Sara asked, confused.

"About our relationship."

She looked blankly at me.

"Well, people are going to be asking us questions. How long have we been together, how'd we meet, what we love most about each other, what are our plans for the future… We have to make sure that our stories match if we don't want to get caught."

"It's like we're establishing alibis or conspiring to kill someone. Maybe it's too complicated."

"You want to clear it up? Because it's just a few hours, I think it would be a lot less hassle." Why am I talking her into this?

"Fine. Now, come on, we're going to be late."

"Yes, dear." I flashed a smile at her.

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Of course, neither of us had said anything about the manifesting tension between us. Of course not, that would be logical and sensible. For two trained investigators, we were both showing a remarkable lack of curiosity. I had the feeling that even if I were to bring it up; Hey, Sara, have you noticed that anytime we touch or make eye contact, the rest of the world seems to vanish around us? She would probably just blink in that cute confused way and deny the whole thing. Cat, are you feeling okay? You didn't eat much breakfast.

In the car on the way to the church, I sighed. This was getting a bit ridiculous. Staring out the window, I could feel her eyes on me at every red light we came to. And even though I had long ago memorized the lines of her face, I found myself sneaking glances whenever I thought I could risk it. Risk what, exactly? My sanity? Because I think that's long gone by now. I exhaled deeply. Something was going to have to be done about this. And somehow, I doubted Sara was going to be the first one to say anything. It would have to be me. Obviously not tonight, she had enough on her plate.

But soon.

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The service was long. I tried to stay focused on the reason for being there. I thought about the tragedy of those men dying so young, about their little girls losing their parents. But that just made me depressed. I tried to listen to what the minister was saying. I even tried to feel the holy spirit run through me, but…I couldn't. It reminded me of church when Mom used to force us into itchy dresses every year at Christmas and Easter. I really did try to pay attention. To no avail. Twenty minutes in, I was bored.

It's always weird, being at things like this. Being the only shikseh at a bar mitzvah. Being at a dinner party with wine connoisseurs when all you want is a beer. Being at a PTA meeting with women who think life is dramatic when the cat pees on the rug or Martha Stewart comes out with a new cookbook. Try a triple homicide at two in the morning. Then ask me why I can't always make it to the meetings! It's the same as going to see a foreign film and forgetting your glasses so that subtitles are useless.

That's what the service was like. I could muddle along and get the general idea of what was going on, but in the end, I didn't speak the language so I felt like I was missing key parts of what was being said. I was a stranger here. There is no use in letting other people know when you're uncomfortable though, so I sat up straight and paid attention. Or, at least I pretended to. I had long ago mastered the art of giving every appearance of being wildly captivated by someone or something. It's come in handy over the years. School. Dancing. Eddie. My mother. Gil. Sex. I just get into this state of mind where I can separate from what's going on. My body is still acting like it's interested, but I have let my thoughts wander. Sitting in that hard, cold pew, that's exactly what began to happen.

Sara was on my left, Larry on my right with Tim on his other side. On Sara's other side was Molly and beyond her were her parents with Maggie and Ayla in between. They were dressed in matching black velvet dresses, and they looked even more bored than I was. Those poor girls. No one was paying them any attention. Yes, this was their parents' funeral, but they were also just children. I remembered Lindsey at Eddie's service. Had that really only been just six months ago? She had been sad, but also confused and tired and cranky. The team had all come to support Linds and me. I blushed as I remembered that I had been angry that Sara had had the nerve to show up. And now, here I was half a year later, doing the same thing for her.

I heard a loud knocking sound that brought me out of my thoughts. Ayla had begun to loudly kick the back of the pew in front of her. With the acoustics of the church, the sound was echoing off the walls. Molly was trying to hold her knees and was whispering at her to stop. This only stood to make her more cross. She had folded her arms over her chest and was pouting in a pre-tantrum sort of way. And the look on her sister's face told me that she wasn't far behind. Oh, dear. I decided to interfere.

Over the last two days, I had gained Ayla's trust to a certain extent. She had seen that Sara trusted me, and that had pacified her somewhat. I was hoping it was enough so that I wasn't about to make things worse. My hand was intertwined with Sara's. I disentangled it and patted Sara's thigh, smiling encouragingly at her questioning glance. I bent low, squishing past her and Molly as gracefully as possible. I knelt in front of the girls and caught Ayla's foot easily, before she managed to kick me. Time to bring out the mom skills and avert disaster.

Ayla had been frowning, but she was a bit shocked when I stopped her kicking and she forgot to be mad. She just watched me. So did Maggie.

"Hey," I whispered. "What are you guys up to?"

Ayla returned to frowning. "Nothing. We aren't allowed to do anything."

Maggie nodded in agreement, mimicking her sister's pout.

I tickled the back of her leg. "Well, what do you guys think about going outside for a little while? I think somebody left their new book in the car and I have some pens and paper for somebody else."

Their faces lit up. "Can we go? Aunt Molly says we have to sit still."

I smiled, "Well, you guys go sneak past Sara and Uncle Larry and wait for me by the door, okay? I'll talk to Aunt Molly. Don't go outside without me though. Or else we have to come straight back."

The girls hopped off the bench and hurried down the row, their patent leather shoes clicking audibly on the stone floor.

I turned to Molly who was looking at me like I was some sort of barbarian. "Catherine, I'm sure that you mean well," she began patronizingly, "But you have to understand, this is their fathers' funeral."

I smiled sweetly, "I'm aware of that Molly. But they're seven and three. Even if they weren't confused and unhappy, how long do you think they would be able to sit still? For a child, this is like prison, it's like school times a million. If you keep them here, you are going to have a crying screaming mess on your hands in two seconds flat. As a mother, I think you would have known that." I stood. Molly opened her mouth to protest, but I waved it off, "No need to thank me."

I'm a bitch. So sue me. I wasn't exactly Molly's number one fan at that moment. The way she treated Sara, preying on her low self-esteem and fears of parenthood just so she could…Well, suffice to say, I don't like her and I was being as nice as I possibly could. What I really wanted to do would have gotten me arrested. I sat back down beside Sara for a minute to explain to her what was going on and to get the car keys from her.

"Will you be back in?" Her voice was so hopeful and cute.

I shook my head as I put a hand on her arm. "I don't know. I think it would take a lot to get them back in here. But…" I smiled as I squeezed her bicep, "I'll be waiting when you get out."

She smiled at me.

I could see the girls impatiently waiting at the door, so I stood and bent to kiss her on the forehead. "See you soon."

She nodded and focused once again on the sermon as I moved past Larry and Tim and out to the girls.

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We were several miles outside the city, a bit north, I think, and pretty far inland. The landscape was very different and I found myself missing the sea air. I sat on a concrete memorial bench under an old and majestic walnut tree. Maggie was lying spread out next to me, perched on one elbow, scribbling on my notepad. It was the sort of thing that if Lindsey had brought it home, I would have tacked it on the fridge for six months until Eddie would knock it off saying that we should save the space for important things. Okay, sure, there was no way to tell what it was, but that's not the point, is it?

Ayla was sitting on a largish rock a few meters away. At first, she had been reading from her book, but for the last few minutes, she had been staring out over the small cemetery that was to one side of the church. I was getting a bit worried that she was upset and was just about to say something when she turned to look at me.

She pushed her glasses up on her nose with one finger. "Are Daddy and Papa going to be put underground like the skeletons in the graveyard?"

Should have seen that one coming. I thought about what to say. How do you explain cremation to a seven year-old without terrorizing them? Hmm. I shook my head. "Not exactly, sweetheart."

"Are they going to be in glass boxes like Snow White?"

I smiled. I love how that seems a completely legitimate question when you're a child. "No, hon. Your Daddy and Papa decided that they want to be cremated. Do you know what that means?"

As was to be expected, she shook her head.

I looked at Maggie, but she was singing some made up song to herself and didn't seem to be paying attention. "Well…what happens when you get cremated is…your body goes through a process called cremation and that turns your body into dust." I decided to be vague on the details. "And then, your friends and family can spread the dust all around your favorite places so that you get to fly around somewhere you love. Or else, they can keep the dust and always have you close by, even when you're gone." There, voila. She didn't look horrified. And, I managed not to mention the whole sending her dads' bodies into an incinerator thing.

I waited for her to freak out, but it never came. She just spun to see the cemetery, spun back, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. "That makes sense," she said. "Daddy really hates to get dirt on him, so I don't think he would like to be underground. And Papa always says things are better when the sun is shining. And there wouldn't be any sun down there. I bet they would want their dust put at the park near Sara's old house and at the Yellowstone park where we go in the summer. And maybe they would like to be a little bit at the beach like in all the pictures with Sara. And maybe some also off the bridge, because whenever we go across, they always kiss each other and then they kiss me and Maggie and we all pretend that we are flying over the ocean." She nodded. "Yeah, I think that would be the best."

I just looked at her. Except for the part about wanting to be at the park in San Francisco, she had gotten everything right. I knew from talking to Sara where Matt and Warren wanted their ashes scattered. Eagle Peak at Yellowstone in Wyoming, the Golden Gate Bridge, and a beach about an hour' south of the city. Ayla had gotten it exactly right. I nodded.

Seemingly satisfied, she went back to her book. I looked down at Maggie who had succeeded in drawing something that vaguely resembled medium velocity blood spatter when made by a victim expectorating onto a vertical surface. Though…I doubt that's what she was going for.

About twenty minutes later, the service let out. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was just after four. The service had run more than two hours. I caught sight of Sara walking out of the church with Larry. In the bright light that was a May California afternoon, there was a stark contrast between her dark clothes and the natural tone of the setting. Her long legs strode towards me and she sat down on the opposite side of the bench from Maggie. She covered my hand with hers and looked over my shoulder at Maggie's drawing.

"What you got there, Mags?"

"A picture."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Water." Pause. "And a magic boat."

"Really? Why's it magic?"

"Cause it's got magic powers." Pause. "And 'cause it floats."

"Uh…wow. That's really neat."

I wasn't really paying attention to the conversation. I was too busy staring at Sara's hand on mine, her thumb brushing up and down my wrist. This sort of physical interaction was growing more and more common between us. We hugged a lot. Exchanged friendly kisses. Snuggled quite close during movies. Yesterday when we took Maggie and Ayla to the wharf, we held hands nearly the whole time. On one level, it wasn't weird to be so physically in tune with Sara like this. She didn't appear to notice anything unusual about it so I feigned nonchalance as well. We were both initiating the contact in equal measure. In some ways, it felt stranger to be in close proximity to Sara and not be touching her. And when I wasn't thinking about it, holding her, and goosing her, and her chasing me around the kitchen island with a cup of ice; those things felt completely natural.

But on another level, it was exactly this sort of thing that was sending off warning bells and whistles in my head. My common sense was screaming over my insecurities, telling me that while, yes, some people were the kind of people to gave their friends massages during movies, and some people hugged their friends from behind while they watched the stars; while some people were the sort of people to do that kind of thing, Sara definitely wasn't one of them. And the truth was that when I was thinking about it, it not only felt completely natural, it also felt completely perfect. When I thought about her hand on mine as it was right now, my whole body was set aflame and forced to melt by it's own fire until there was little left of me except a boiling puddle on the floor.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by Sara's hand on my shoulder. I looked down at my own hand; hers was gone. But I still felt the liquid burning sensation. I met her gaze and realized that she was waiting for me to respond to something she had said. The reality of the moment brought me back from wherever it was that I had been.

"Sorry, I spaced out for a second. What did you say?"

She looked at me worriedly. "I asked if you wanted to ride back with Larry and Tim or if you wanted to come with me and the girls in the Subaru."

"Oh. Uh…" We had driven up in Warren's station wagon with the girls because Molly had to drive her family and her parents' had gone ahead early to organize everything. Larry and Tim on the other hand, had driven in their Rolls-Royce Phantom; latest model. "Would you mind terribly if I went with them? Who knows when I'll get to sit in a ride as sweet as that again, you know?"

I saw the shadow of rejection pass across her face, but she smiled quickly after that. "Of course, but…would you help me get Maggie in her car seat first? I haven't quite got the hang of it."

I laughed and scooped Maggie up along with my pens and paper.

"Ayla," Sara called, "let's go to Uncle Larry's and Uncle Tim's and get some dinner."

The ride back was fairly quiet, and I was grateful for that. I hadn't been lying when I'd said I wanted a ride in the Phantom, but the truth was that I needed a little time away from Sara. This thing between us was slowly killing me, and if we were going to be 'playing house' later tonight, I needed to cool my engines, so to speak. So, the hour-long drive back to the house was pleasant. Periodically, Tim or Larry would inform me of something that had happened to someone at some point in time somewhere along some road, but otherwise it was peaceful and I spent the time relaxing rather that toiling over what to do about the magnetism that was linking Sara and I. I had been doing that for the better part of the last five days and I was making no progress.

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What will happen? Does she really love Sara? Perhaps she will realize next chapter that she is in fact head over heels for that sexy Warrick Brown and his HUGE, MANLY….(several things could be go here, use your imagination). Oh yeah, and REVIEW. Warrick would review. And his review would be HUGE and MANLY!