Chapter LV

Baby Steps

It was all over, Sofia thought, but for the crying. The case was closed except for a few loose ends. Loose ends that the DOJ could tug on, follow and tie up. They would hopefully find and arrest Victoria Blake and the Marshall Service had Alex Dupree in their hot hands. On her end though, it was definitely over. It was over and she was glad.

The paperwork she could handle. It was Sara she was worried about. The other woman had been through the ringer. Hell, she had been hit by a steam roll a couple of times. Was she handling everything okay? Sofia scowled into her open locker. Suspended or not, Sara was still apart of the team. Had anyone thought to check in on her? Maybe she should go and check on Sara.

Sofia sat on the bench and stared blankly at the inside of her locker door, daydreaming or searching for answers, she didn't know.

Was she even in the position to check on Sara? For all she knew the other woman wanted to be left alone. Damn Dupree for making her realize just how much time she spent thinking about the brunette.

"Did you hear about that CSI chick?"

The man's voice echoed in the mostly empty co-ed locker room and Sofa could hear it perfectly no matter if she wanted to or not.

"Got herself on everyone's list now. She was suspended for all that bullshit she pulled with the Mutilator case. I heard McKeen has it out for her whole team."

Another voice echoed down to her ears and Sofia rolled her eyes. Gossip traveled fast and cops had big mouths.

"Watch your mouth, Kid. McKeen's a good cop and those science geeks do need reigning in. They act like they run the damn show these days."

The third man sounded vaguely familiar and older then the first two. It was spreading far and wide, up and down the ladder, great. Sofia slumped, propped her elbows on her knees and let her head hang. Knowing Sara would be the center of locker room gossip was one thing; listening to it was another. She could either go tell the Three Stooges to shut up and add fuel to the already out of control fire. She could only imagine what that would get turned into. The other option was to let the scuttlebutt go unchecked and leave Sara undefended. She didn't particularly like either option.

"Hey," It was the first voice again, "isn't this the same CSI chick that was kidnapped a while back?"

"Yeah, back during that Miniature Killer cluster-fuck. Freaky Geeks really screwed the pooch good on that one."

Voice Number Three was an asshole.

The voices died down and Sofia hoped they would move on to something else.

"Is she gay or what? I could have sworn she was banging that creepy bug guy when all that happened."

Sofia pushed her hands through her loose blonde hair and wished that Voice Number Two knew when to shut his trap.

Voice Number Three let out a grunt and there was the distinct sound of Velcro being unstrapped, "Yeah, she was bouncing on her C.O. until they threatened to fire her." There was a minute of heavy breathing and half grunts. Someone was bending down to tie their shoes, Sofia scowled.

"It takes a real fucking ice queen to dump a guy for a job- even if it is Gruesome Grissom. That's what happens when you let women do men's work, bullshit like this."

Sofia rolled her eyes, how many times had she heard that in her life?

"She can't be that cold. I mean she's been lezzing out with Alex frickin' Dupree, that's hot."

Voice Number One sounded young and stupid, had to be a rookie.

"Should have known it. I heard she was from San Fran-sissy-co."

Ah, now she knew who the third voice was. Sergeant Matt Olmstead had gone as far up the ladder as he would ever go. It was a reflection of both his attitude and his abilities. He was the sort of cop that gave cops a bad name.

"Hey I wouldn't kick her out of bed. Bi chicks are nuts. They sleep with anything that moves and are wild in bed. Rawr."

She was going to be sick or punch Voice One in the kidney, one or the other. She closed her locker quietly and stood to leave, she needed to get out of the locker room before the shit got too deep and the testosterone soaked air choked her.

"I wonder what other notches she's got on her strap-on?"

All three men laughed uproariously and she stopped in her tracks.

"What's that one's name? The girly-dyke?"

"Lipstick lesbian"

"Yeah, the one in White Collar. I bet she's been there and rode that."

The first voice had a wheezing laugh, like he was bent over double. Didn't anyone do sit-ups anymore?

"And we know she likes to play close to home, and Catherine Willows used to be a stripper."

"A damn good one. I used to go out to the French Palace just to see her. Her ass was damn grab-able, it aint so bad now, either."

Sofia felt her lip curl, Olmstead was not only a pig, he was a pig with questionable taste in women.

"She's definitely bumped fuzzies with Ross."

There was a moment of quick silence and now that she could half see them, it was easier to follow the sick conversation.

Both Voice Two and Olmstead appeared confused so Number One, a sandy haired uniform she had only seen a handful of times, continued. "That bull-dyke who's trying to bully her way onto SWAT. Short black hair, bitchy attitude, Capitan of the girly boxer team."

The other two men both grumbled about Ross and Olmstead threw in an extra couple of remarks. She was just waiting to hear something along the lines of barefoot in the kitchen.

"My money's on Curtis."

Her eyes narrowed and she took a step or two forward, quietly on the balls of her feet, to get a look at Number Two. Carl Mason was convinced he was God's gift to women and Law Enforcement. He was sadly mistaken on both accounts, or so she'd heard.

Olmstead piped up again, "The Capitan? You're shittin' me."

Now Mason laughed, "No, Curtis the younger and hotter. Have you seen the way she struts around? She's a total she-bitch who's just asking for it." Sofia bet he was grabbing at his crotch and that made her gag. "And she's Brass's golden girl on top of everything else. Then again, have you seen her ass? That woman has the most fuckable ass I've ever seen."

Sofia shuddered, that had to be the most disturbing compliment she'd ever heard.

"You should have seen her mother when she first got here. I would have given my left nut for twenty minutes in the back of a black and white with Liz Curtis."

Oh now that was just too damn far, cop talk was one thing but that was her mother. She didn't step quietly and she didn't think ahead. She jerked around the end of the aisle with her hands balled up in to hard fists.

"Boys." Her voice was flat, and without the emotion that was raging through her.

Olmstead was down to his uniform pants and a wife beater tank top that was stretched to the last thread across his large pot belly. Mason's uniform shirt was hanging open over his bare chest, his pants around his ankles and he was wearing boxers with dancing shamrocks on them. The rookie was fully dressed, but his face was quickly turning crimson. It would have been comical if they all weren't such slimy male chauvinist pigs. God, now she sounded like Kera Hiene.

She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it without uttering a syllable. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't make things worse.

She just glared at them, Olmstead in particular, for a moment.

"I have better places to be."

She had places to be and people to see. She walked out through the halls and out the side door without speaking to another person. Dupree's words, more then the boy's raunchy conversation, echoed in her head.

"Have you ever done anything unforgivable, Detective?"

Sofia shook her head, she refused to do this to herself. She wasn't going to feel guilty.

"The bad mistakes, the sort of mistakes that put people in the hospital."

Sofia opened her car door and then paused, her thought process completely thrown off track. She should have never gone to talk to Dupree. The woman had put ideas, stupid ideas, in her head. She reared back and gave her front drivers side tire a solid kick. That had to be it, because she had told herself over and over again that what had happened to Sara was most assuredly not her fault.

For the most part she knew it wasn't her fault. Except there was one small, tiny, miniscule detail that would not allow itself to be forgotten: she could have prevented Sara's kidnapping.

Six Months Earlier

LVPD Headquarters

It was written, as plain as day, on her blotter. It read very simply, in her own concise handwriting: ADA Ritchen and Sara S – Ellison Trial Prep. She had even noted the name of the restaurant down. She had every intention of going, or she did until Jim had swamped her with work. They were close, oh so very close, to cracking the Miniature Killer case wide open. She was running a search, reading a report and trying to drink coffee when her cell phone rang. She put her coffee down on a pile of DD5's just waiting to be signed off on, and flipped the phone open, slightly annoyed at the call.

"Hey, it's Sara. I'm running late, is Ritchen there yet?"

Sofia glanced at her watch, she should have left at least five minutes ago. "No, sorry, Brass has me running down this lead on the Miniature Killer."

"Really? That's great."

Sofia smiled, put the file down and leaned back in her chair. "The good news is that we're getting close, the bad news is that I won't be able to make it tonight."

Sara sighed, "So I have to spend thirty minuites to an hour or two with Ritchen by myself?"

Sofia winced, "I owe you one."

Sara laughed over the phone, "It's Ritchen, you owe me two or three."

If the other detectives in the Homicide bullpen noticed her laughing out loud, they didn't say anything.

"All right."

They had ended the conversation with Sofia promising to keep her posted and that had been that.

Yeah, that had been that until she'd gotten the call. Jim had been the one to go to the garage that she'd been taken from. She wasn't sure she would have been able to go and keep herself together. She, instead, had gone to Natalie Davis's little shop of horrors. The models, the sketches, the room had reeked of something she could only label as evil. She still had nightmares.

Did she know what Dupree had been talking about? Yes.

The television droned on, playing out whatever show the TiVo had lined up. She was pretty sure she had both seasons of Heroes recorded and now she actually had time to watch the show. Too bad she didn't feel up to it. She had spent most of her evening aimlessly wandering around her apartment. She hated not working. Her work defined her, gave her purpose. She missed it, well parts of it at least.

Sara got up on one of her elbows and looked at Riley. He was happily oblivious to what had happened. For him it was just going to be one very long weekend with her. She wished she could be as happy with her end of the situation.

She wished she could blame this funk on just the suspension or just Alex, or even a mix of the two. That would at least make sense. A plus B equals C: A being her suspension, B being the Alex fiasco and C being her funk. Her life was more like trying to quantify the unification theory, utilizing both the theory of relativity and string theory. It was vastly complicated, endlessly complex and would probably take another three decades to figure out. Her life had too many variables and exceptions in it lately.

Her hand strayed to the coffee table and the old acoustic guitar that was lying there. Some would say that the complexities and complications were the spices of life, that they should be savored. On that thought, she sat, then stood up. She walked strait to the bookshelf without wasting a step. She stretched almost on her bare tiptoes to reach a box on the top of the shelf. It was one of the few things that she had kept from childhood. The guitar and the contents of the box in her hands. In the beginning, she had kept her most precious possessions in a cardboard shoebox, then a scarred metal lockbox she had bought at the Salvation Army. She lifted the lid off of the latest box, a beautiful carved walnut box that was lined with velvet. She sat back down on the couch and stared at the box in her hands. It was small, no larger then a cheap DVD player, but-

The knock at the door was so unexpected she fumbled and almost dropped the box.

Riley jerked to attention about thirty seconds too late to be an effective guard dog. Sara put the box on the table beside the guitar and patted Riley's shaggy head as she got up. Undeterred by her command to sit and stay, Riley darted around her legs, tail wagging fast enough to keep time with a heavy metal drummer. "If it's Grissom, we're not opening the door." She put her right hand on the door beside the peep-hole and leaned most of her weight on it. She used the left hand to fend Riley off, "And if it's Catherine, I want you to sic her." She was only half joking. Sara leaned forward and looked to see who it was, and couldn't have been more surprised.

She pushed Riley out of the way, undid the two sliding chains, flipped the three deadbolts, twisted the doorknob lock, kicked the floor latch and opened the door. Sara had to move quickly to make sure her dog didn't knock Sofia on her ass. Riley, after all weighed close to eighty pounds, and Sofia's hands were full. The other woman looked tired, not the zombie like exhaustion of before, but still tired. Sofia's smile slid across her face easily and Sara found herself grinning a little in spite of herself.

"Can I come in or do you want to eat this" She jiggled the box of pizza in her hand, "in the hall?"

Sara blinked, "Oh yes, sorry, please come in."

Sofia maneuvered around Riley and into her apartment with the same apparent ease that she did everything. It couldn't have been that easy, though. She had a six pack of beer in one hand, a large box of take-out pizza and a plain paper bag in the other.

Sara usually cleaned and vacuumed her apartment before she had people over. She took out the trash and made her bed everyday before she left home, religiously. Today, though she hadn't even fluffed a pillow. "Um, ignore the mess. I, um, haven't gotten around to cleaning-this week."

She could have been talking to the wall because Sofia wasn't paying her any mind.

Riley had zeroed in on Sofia, and then the bag she carried, as soon as she walked in. Sara watched the blonde kneel down and open it up for him. Curious, Sara leaned closer to see what Sofia had brought. It was a very large bone that still had chunks of pink ham on it.

Riley was all but on top of Sofia and Sara held back a chuckle, "Do you travel with animal parts all the time or is this a special occasion?"

Sofia didn't immediately answer, because she was paying tug of war with Riley.

Some girls were suckers for candy, and others lived for designer shoes and while Sara appreciated both, the way to her heart definitely was through her dog.

Sofia had her hand around the ball of the dead and eaten pig's shoulder joint, "A special occasion, I swear. My neighbors invited me over for dinner a few nights ago. I couldn't make it, but he sent me a plate of leftovers. So when I decided to come over here, I asked if he still had the bone, for this big guy." Sofia looked up at her and finally let Riley have his prize. "That's all right, isn't it? I know you're a vegetarian, but I figured-"

Sara couldn't help it, she smiled, "It's fine, it will keep him occupied while we're eating."

Sofia stood and looked over at Riley, who had settled on the recliner with his prize, "Spoiled."

Sara closed the door, but didn't throw the locks. She didn't want to look paranoid in front of the other, far more confident, woman. "So what did you bring for us?" Sofia pushed her loose hair over her shoulder, "Large cheese from Chippy's and a six of Sam Adams Light, and wonderful company if I don't say so myself."

Sara chuckled a little nervously, "Naturally. Sit down, please, I'll get some plates."

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Sofia checking on her, but it was flustering to say the least. The boys were easy to deflect or satisfy with simple explanations. Sofia was different. She was the kind of different that sent a shiver down her spine, a very good sort of shiver. The kind of shiver that had helped get her in the situation she was in.

Sara paused in the kitchenette, she had momentarily gotten lost in her thoughts about Sofia, and had forgotten what she was looking for. Plates, she was getting plates, who cared if they matched. She couldn't remember the last person she'd had for dinner. Over for dinner, she meant.

She was going to find Alex and kill her for putting these thoughts in her head. Though why the woman had said what she said was a mystery to her. She dished two warm, bubbling, positively mouthwatering slices of pizza onto the plates and looked over at Sofia. The blonde looked far more relaxed then she felt. She was wearing loose stone washed jeans and a baby-blue tee shirt and looked oddly pretty in the odd light of the TV. Sara walked over, careful to step around the basket of laundry that she still had to fold and grinned, "Did I mention that I haven't cleaned today or two days or fourteen-ish?"

Sofia took one of the plates for herself, "Don't worry about it, my condo looks like this most of the time. Being on the job isn't conducive to regular cleaning and I don't make quite enough to hire a cleaning service."

Sara nodded, "Nick does, but I'm pretty sure that' coming from his trust fund, not his paycheck."

Sofia smirked as she chewed, which made the facial expression all the more amusing. After she swallowed the Detective cleared her throat, "I didn't know you played." The woman, detective even off duty, smiled at her and Sara felt her throat start to tighten in panic.

The panic died as quickly as it had flared up. Sofia had proved that she could listen without judging. Besides, what did she have to lose anyway?

"I can't, not well anyway, this is my brother's guitar."

She washed down the bittersweet statement with beer.

Sofia looked around, "I thought Riley was your only roomie."

Sara took a bite of pizza and for a moment, reveled in the mix of flavors on her tongue.

"He is. Jack, my brother, died when I was a kid."

Sofia coughed, and almost choked into her beer. "Oh, I'm sorry." The words that she'd said so many times always sounded hollow and forced but this time it was even more so.

Sara pulled her legs up onto the couch and twisted around to face Sofia. "It's okay, it was a long time ago."

Her hand strayed to the guitar. The case on the floor was battered and peeling apart in some places, she wouldn't trade it for the world. The guitar itself was old and cheaply made, hardly a collector's item. It hadn't been restrung since it had come to her. Beside it was her open memories box. "Those are his journals, there. He was always the right-brained one of the Sidle children. He wrote in his journal all the time, since he was a kid. He was almost twelve years older then me. He was a great guy."

Sofia put her plate down and crossed her legs underneath her, "Sara, I didn't even know you had a brother." She held up a finger, "But Jack, you got stuck with Sahara and he got Jack?"

Sara smiled, "No, he got Jack the same way I got Sara, the principal at Tamales Bay Primary and High School thought something a little normal would help the hippie kids fit in better. His given name was Freedom Jalil Sidle."

Sofia blinked, "I can see why he went with Jack."

Sara smiled a little, "He was great. Jack used to take me into the city, Frisco I mean. We would spend all day down at the pier and he'd open up his case to catch tips and he would play. He loved this guitar and was good with it. I think it's the music I remember most. Most of my memories of Jack are fuzzy, out of focus, but never the music, I can remember that perfectly."

Sofia wiped her greasy hands on her jeans, and nodded at the journals, "May I?"

Sara had read the journals over and over again. Most of her memories probably sprang more from the reading then actual events she had witnessed. They were more precious then gold to her. "Sure."

Sofia took the book off of the top of the small stack and handled it with care. She opened it carefully and saw what Sara had already known, the journal went blank a little over half way through. Sara watched the other woman leaf through it reverently. Sara had read through the words so many times that her late brothers cramped handwriting was as familiar as her own.

She knew it was coming, so she didn't wait for Sofia to see enough to make the correct connections and leaps in reasoning.

"Jack was a true flower child. He was born in a van somewhere between Berkeley and Los Angeles and spent part of his childhood on an honest-to-God commune. By the time I came around, most brothers would have been too cool to mess with me. Not Jack, he was the best part of growing up. He was sure he was going to help change the world."

Sara looked down at her hands, "And he did, I guess. It started back in '75. I don't exactly remember it myself, exactly. I've read over it so many times, though, that I remember it through Jack's eyes. He has this genius line, it always makes me laugh out loud. '1975 was the year that the heathen Sidle children got religion.' It's hard for me to remember that far back, really remember I mean. There are some parts, though, that I recall perfectly, like it all happened yesterday. Memory is funny like that.

Sara stared at her own hands and spoke in a quiet voice that came from a place that was usually hidden away in the back of her mind.

"The secrets, the beatings, the sudden ideas and changes in plans and at the same time there was this feeling of family, of belonging. It was all so normal to the Strange Sidle Siblings. By 1977 my mother had put her foot down on the whole thing. It was one of the few things she did that could be considered parenting." Her voice went flat at the last part, and she paused to bring herself back under control, if only in her own mind. "It also saved my life, because only a few days after she and my brother had this giant fall out."

She paused again, and took a breathe. It was such a hard story to tell. The tale was pieced together, a patchwork memory. It was hard to tell when her own childhood memories stopped and Jack's narrative, her mother's ranting and the media's rundown began.

"Four days later he came and talked to me at school, swore he was coming back for me, that he would come back and take me to Guyana with him to be with Father Jim and our family."

Sofia's only visible reaction was a sharp intake of breathe.

"Then he was gone and I never saw him again. Letters were sporadic at first, then there was nothing at all until it all fell apart. The news reports and pictures and stories, Jack Sidle became notorious in Tamales Bay. He became the local boy who had joined the Death Cult."

Sara stood and Sofia jerked her head up, probably ready to say something. Lucky for them both, Sara didn't go far. The picture frame was on her computer desk. Like most of her memories, the photo was faded and a little yellowed with age. The simple silver frame it was in couldn't hide the wear and tear, she handed it to Sofia. "This is Jack."

She wondered what Sofia saw when she looked at the picture. The photo had been taken on the pier during the summer. Jack's brown hair, several shades lighter then her own, was long, shaggy and hanging in his eyes. His bellbottoms were faded and a little ragged and his shirt was hanging open. He was, like he did in all of her memories, smiling.

"You guys have the same smile."

It was true, she and Jack had gotten the gap between their two front teeth from their mother.

Sofia smiled down at the picture, then looked up, "How old were you in this picture?"

Sara shrugged and finished off her beer, "Five or so."

She watched Sofia do the mental math. Her smile faded when all the numbers fell into columns and the sum equaled up.

"You were so young. I didn't lose my father until I was twenty-three. I can't imagine-"

Sara popped the cap on a fresh bottle of beer. "He was a defector, he and his fiancée Hannah. They were shot down with Congressman Leo Ryan and their things were mixed up with the delegation's. My father, Jack's stepfather, told them to burn everything. I got on a bus by myself for the first time and went to claim his things. Most personal belongings were never really recovered or flat out destroyed. Congressman Ryan's sister Patricia took pity on me and gave me Jack's things. I've kept them with me ever since."

Sofia put the picture frame on the coffee table and picked up her beer again.

"That's why you were so adamant about TAN."

Sara nodded, "Alex knew. She was one of the few people that did. Grissom doesn't, it's something I don't talk about allot. I think you're the first person I've told in nearly a decade. God, I don't even know why I'm telling you."

Sofia reached across the empty space on the couch, "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Sara smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's the very least I could do after you stuck your neck out for Alex."

Sofia's hands stiffened around the glass bottle, "You knew?"

Sara settled back against the couch, and shrugged. "Not at first, Carmichael told me while I was watching the interviews."

They lapsed into silence for a minute.

"I heard-" Sara paused, "I heard she got away."

Sofia sighed, "Yeah, yeah she did. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this."

It sounded automatic and spiritless, but it was all she had.

"I don't really want to talk about it, but there is one thing."

Sofia reached for another slice of pizza, "And what's that?"

This time Sara's smile, as small and slightly sad as it may have been, reached her eyes. "I've always trusted you."

Sofia grinned and then chuckled, and before she realized it both she and Sara were outright laughing. They laughed until their sides hurt and they were wheezing for breathe. It was either laugh or cry and both women were tired of tears.

It may have been guilt, or shared manic laughter, just the simple comfort of friendship or something more, but at that moment, neither Sara nor Sofia could think of anyplace in the world they would rather be.