Author's Note: I always have a favorite chapter in every story. This. Is. It. Keep reviewing, you guys are frickin awesome. Shokran habibis! (Thank you, dears!)

Greg opened his locker, frustrated, and threw his bag back into it. Now that they had found the wrong gun, he had to go back to the crime scene and scour it all over again. And he thought he'd be done before noon! How the hell was he supposed to plan a party if he was stuck at work all day?

When he closed his locker again, it was to a beautiful blonde wearing heavy eyeliner. "Hey, stranger," she said.

Greg cocked an eyebrow at the woman until he recognized her and then suddenly stumbled backwards. "Jesus, Catherine, you scared me!" he exclaimed, nearly tripping over the bench. He sat down on it instead. "What is that, anyway, a Halloween costume? Um, it's like… still September… Little early..."

"I am aware of the time of year, Greg," Catherine said, sliding slowly over to him. She put one of her stiletto heals up on the bench next to him. Greg's eyes flew from her knee, which was right by his shoulder, up to her face.

"Uh… is this some sort of prank?" he asked her. "Is Nick hiding somewhere with a camera to see how far I'll go with this?"

Catherine leaned in close so she was inches away from Greg's face as her hand ran up and down his arm. "No joke," she whispered. "I want you, Greg."

These words shocked Greg so much he fell over the bench backwards and hit his head on the row of lockers behind him. "Ah…" he said, rubbing the back of his head. Catherine vaulted the bench and kneeled down next to Greg, stroking his hair.

"Aw…" she said. "Poor baby."

"OK," Greg said, sitting up as Catherine continued to run her hand through his hair. "That ought to have been sufficient material enough to laugh at. You can come out now, Nick!"

But no one made a sound. It seemed as though Greg and Catherine were alone in the locker room. Greg's eyes grew wide with worry and they darted around the room for something to distract Catherine with. He found nothing. He straightened up, his back against the lockers as Catherine's second hand was now entangling itself in his hair too, moving slowly down his cheek, to his shoulder, over his chest…

"OK, Catherine," Greg said, not knowing what to do exactly as she began to unbutton his shirt. He glanced around. "Um. Listen. I, uh, I don't think you're acting quite like yourself—"

His last word was muffled by Catherine's soft lips, which pressed firmly against his own, and her tongue slipped into his mouth. For a moment, Greg was so surprised, yet somehow pleased, that he let it go on. As her hands wandered further south and reached into his pants, Greg began to freak out again as he forcefully broke the kiss and jumped out of her reach.

"Whoa, Catherine!" he said, buttoning up his shirt again, thoroughly disturbed. His jaw kept opening and closing, trying to figure out what to do. "This is sufficiently awkward, let's just… stop. OK?"

Catherine wiped at her lips and smiled. "Why are you so resistant?"

"Why am I resistant?!" Greg's voice was unusually high. "Um. I work with you? You're Catherine?"

"Both true," she said. "But both invalid reasons to refuse me."

Greg was about to retort but held his tongue when he realized she was right. Why was he being reluctant? After all, Catherine Willows was, in a word, hot. He closed his eyes and shook his head, and then all the reasons came to him.

All too late, however, and Greg realized he shouldn't have closed his eyes as once again his thoughts were interrupted by Catherine's passionate kiss. His eyes snapped open. He wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. He tried to say her name, but it was muffled by her kiss. He pulled his head back and pushed her away again. "Catherine!" he cried out. "Please, why are you doing this?"

Catherine twirled her hair around her finger, innocently. "You didn't give me a good enough reason not to."

"I was about to," Greg snapped. "If you would have listened!"

Catherine planted her hand against the locker right next to Greg's ear.

"I don't want to listen," she whispered and she began to kiss his neck.

"Oh no," Greg said as Catherine found his soft spot. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to think about terribly horrifying things. The problem was, the only gross things he could think of were dead bodies, which made him think of work, which made him think of Catherine. Frustrated, he chose a different path. Bunnies. Headless bunnies. Wow, that was scary. Those furry things would be hopping through his head for a while. Yup, that did the trick. Uh… not quite. Getting frantic, he kept going. Bugs. Cockroaches. Grissom. OK, that was definitely it, Greg was ready after that last thought. "Catherine, I want to talk to you."

"Go ahead and talk then," Catherine said, unbuttoning his top few buttons again as she continued to kiss his neck and shoulder.

"We can't do this because we're colleagues and we should keep things professional. Also, because I respect you as a person, and I don't think you really want this. And, listen, you know that Sara—where did your hands just go?" Greg jumped back surprised. Insects. Centipedes. Tiny little bugs crawling everywhere. Grissom. Works every time. "OK! OK! No hands!" Greg snatched her hands and held them in his own.

She looked up at him and grinned. "Kinky," she said.

Greg dropped her hands suddenly and shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean—"

They started wandering again and Greg wondered how he would get out of this mess. This was so beyond sexual harassment. And the annoying thing was, he was fighting to not enjoy it.

Headless bunnies. Bugs. Grissom. Shit.

"Catherine!" Greg cried out as she finished unbuttoning his shirt button by button, slowly kneeling down and kissing his chest. He knew where this was going. "Catherine!"

"Greg?"

Both Catherine and Greg started at the voice and turned to look at Sara who was staring at them looking utterly appalled. Catherine straightened up immediately and Greg looked at Sara like a deer in the headlights, quickly buttoning up his shirt and the top of his pants.

"Sara," he said, breathless. "This is not what it looks like."

Sara glanced down, then back up at Greg's face. "No?"

Greg looked down too. Aw, man…Bunnies. Bugs. Grissom. Bunnies. Bugs. Grissom.

"I'm sorry, Sara," Catherine said casually, sounding as though she had committed a minor offense. "It's just, well, when you didn't want him, I thought I'd help myself."

Greg could tell that Sara was fuming. "You," she said pointing at Catherine. "Here. Now." She looked at Greg. "You. Just…" She glanced down again, then looked as if she regretted it. "Calm yourself down and… Get to work."

"Right!" Greg said, too happy to oblige. "I'm on it!"

"Greg," Catherine called, her eyes resting on Sara coolly. "Stay where you are."

Greg rocked back and forth on his feet, wanting to listen to Sara, but Catherine was the assistant supervisor. He didn't know what to do.

"Catherine's in no position to be giving orders right now," Sara said, sounding equally icy as she stared at Catherine.

"I am the assistant supervisor," Catherine said, striding over toward Sara.

"And I am a girl on her last nerve." Sara looked at Greg. "Who are you more afraid of?"

Greg nodded and ran out of the locker room as fast as possible.

Neither woman moved for a long time. Eventually, a smile formed on Catherine's lips. "What's the matter, Sara? Threatened?"

"Not at all," Sara replied. "More worried than anything. Catherine, are you OK? Greg makes the third guy you've seduced in the past half hour, and we all know his resistance is definitely not as high as Nick's or Grissom's. And you can't use your position to warrant sexual favors, Catherine, you know that! This is completely unlike you. You practically raped him. You're just lucky he probably won't press charges because he's Greg, and you're, well, Catherine."

"Why does everyone keep saying that like it's so surprising?" Catherine asked. "I'm Catherine. I know who I am, Sara."

"Do you?" Sara asked. "Because I'm not so sure anymore."
Catherine sighed and folded her arms. "You're just jealous," Catherine hissed. "Because she should have been your baby."

Sara cocked an eyebrow. "Right… Catherine, come with me, I'm going to take you to the hospit—"

Sara was cut off as all the lockers simultaneously blew open and things came flying out of them. Sara knocked Catherine off her feet and pushed them both on the floor. And just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Sara rolled off of Catherine and looked at her, baffled.

"OK," she said. "Scientifically explain that."

Catherine shrugged, looking just as shocked as Sara. Sara was thoroughly disturbed as she got to her feet. She felt an undeserved fury towards Catherine and she didn't know why. "I'll have Sofia take you to the hospital," she said. "You… I can't deal with you right now."

"Suit yourself," said Catherine, rising to her feet as well. She looked down at her outfit. "Oh my God…"

"Oh your God what?" Sara asked.

"Am I wearing a leather mini skirt?" Catherine looked aghast.

"Are you OK?" Sara asked, although her anger was rising and she fought to contain it. How dare she pretend she didn't know what she was doing. She wasn't crazy, she was Catherine, and she was acting like a slut because she thought she could get away with it. Sara shocked herself at her own thoughts.

Catherine looked confused. "I don't know…" she said. "But you're right, I think I should go to the hospital." She wrinkled her face in disgust and gagged. "Oh my God…" she said, sounding physically ill. "Sara, did I just kiss Greg Sanders?"

That little bitch! Sara jumped at the unwanted thought. "Did more than kissing," Sara replied calmly, successfully keeping the rage from her voice.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Catherine slowly made her way past Sara to the exit, looking nauseous.

"Catherine?" Sara said, turning to her friend in the doorway. "What happened, back at that crime scene?"

Catherine shivered and rubbed her arms. "I don't know," she said. "But Sara, listen to me—Everything I did, it was like… I was there, but I wasn't. I knew what was happening, I almost—I almost wanted it to happen. But I didn't want it to… happen… I'm not making any sense. Let me try and say it another way, uh… Do you ever have thoughts that feel foreign?"

"Foreign?" Sara tried not to sound too amused.

"Yeah, I mean…" Catherine sighed in frustration. "You think them, but you know they're not your thoughts. Do you get that?"

Sara shook her head a little too vehemently. "Are you…" No, she couldn't ask her that. It was Catherine, which meant it wasn't possible. "Never mind."

"What is it Sara?" Catherine asked wearily, straightening out her skirt.

Sara bit her lip. "You're not… I don't think you're…" Sara sighed and shook her head. "I don't mean any offense, but you're not… taking… anything, are you?"

Catherine stopped pulling at her clothes and looked up at her. The two women stared at each other for a long time. "No," Catherine finally said, something indeterminable in her voice. Sara doubted it was guilt, but it was some other deeper, more primal emotion. Something Catherine masked well. Like fear. "Unless someone slipped me something."

Sara shrugged, her strange anger suddenly fleeing as quickly as it had come. She suddenly felt the urge to apologize for it. "I'm… sorry."

Catherine frowned. "For what? You didn't do anything. I'm the one who…" she closed her eyes and opened them again, making a disgusted face at Sara. "Oh God, Nick… and Grissom… Aw…"

Sara smiled and patted Catherine on the shoulder. When they touched, something happened between them and both women felt it very strongly. They turned to each other seeing different eyes. They broke away instantly. Catherine fell into the locker room while Sara jumped out into the hall. It was like a shock of electricity had passed through both of them, with emotions and thoughts of animosity that neither woman dared to voice for fear that it might unleash something inside of them, something dark and unwelcome.

Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but stood agape as nothing came out. She couldn't breathe. She could feel the hate radiating from Sara like a nuclear bomb. She felt the frustration and mistrust as though they were her own, but knew no reason to mistrust Sara Sidle.

Sara licked her lips and bit down hard, fighting the urge to reach out and snap Catherine's neck. But she was afraid of her too. And betrayed. But Catherine Willows had never done anything to Sara to make her call Catherine a traitor.

Slowly, Catherine stepped forward, reaching out to the person she had moments ago called friend. "Lizbeth…" she whispered.

"Get away from me…" The words were cold as they slipped through Sara's teeth.

Tears began to streak down Catherine's face and she smiled miserably. "Oh, Lizbeth… You never before—"

"I had my reasons," Sara interrupted sharply.

"What exactly have you come to do?" Catherine asked, breathless.

Sara ground her teeth. "Destroy you."

Sara reached out and seized Catherine's wrist, and as quickly as it had come, the electricity left them, making them both feel exhausted and alone. Sara looked down at Catherine's wrist, which she clutched with wild ferocity, then looked up deep into her colleague's wide eyes. Both women were breathing hard.

"What in the hell was that?" Sara asked, gasping for air.

Catherine just shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Sara's. Her face contorted as she gripped her stomach in a sudden wave of nausea and she doubled over, vomiting onto the floor.

Tentatively, Sara reached out a hand and lightly touched Catherine on the back. When nothing happened, she pressed her palm harder against her, comforting, as she softly pulled back Catherine's hair as she wretched up her fear. "You're not yourself. You shouldn't be working a double in that condition."

When she was done, Catherine stood there, breathing hard, the stench of her own stomach contents invading her nostrils. It was almost enough to make her do it again. But she simply sniffed, her back rising and falling steadily under Sara's warm hand.

"Sara…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I… I don't know what to say."

Sara pulled a stray strand of hair back from Catherine's face and into the pony tail she held with her other hand. "You don't need to say anything," Sara assured her. "Because nothing happened."

Catherine swallowed and straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes were a deep blue sea of emotions and thoughts she did not voice. Instead, she said simply, "OK."

It was all just too much for either of them to contemplate. They both knew that they would never be able to explain it rationally, and picking it to pieces would drive them mad, assuming they weren't mad already, which was another concept they refused to consider. Denial was the sweetest of defenses.

Sara reassured Catherine with a confident smile, her own eyes barely betraying her shaken nerves. "It'll be alright. Just… go home, get some sleep. You'll be OK. Tell Grissom—"

"Oh Sara…" said Catherine, shaking her head. "I can not look at them right now."

As though the Gods were punishing her at that moment Nick entered the room. "Hey Sara I— Um. Hi… Catherine…"

Catherine put her hand up to her forehead and shaded her eyes from view as she turned around. "Ugh…"

Nick tried to dispel the awkwardness by addressing Sara. "So Bobby said to tell you a definite yes on the suicide," Nick said.

"Fantastic," Sara said. "Brass didn't kill anyone and I can go to sleep."

But Nick looked doubtful. "Sara, what about that—"

"It was nothing," Sara said quickly, anticipating Nick's concerns. "Just me. Being foolish."

"OK," Nick said and opened his mouth to say something else when he saw the mess Catherine had made. "Uh…" he glanced at Catherine, whose back was facing him as she bowed her head in shame. "Is she…?"

"She's going home," Sara explained quickly, glancing at Catherine. "She's not feeling well at all." She quickly changed the subject. "Hey Nick, do you know why Greg is throwing this party?"

Nick's gaze lingered on Catherine's back as he was unwilling to change the subject, but eventually he shrugged. "Uh… Beats me."

"Thank you!" Sara exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "Bobby knows. He made me feel like it was something I should remember."

All of a sudden, realization dawned on Nick's face and he smiled, nodding. "Oh yeah, that's right, it's—" but then he interrupted himself. "Wow. So did Bobby tell you why?"

"No?" Sara said, expectantly.

Catherine spun around quickly and tried to walk past Sara and Nick. "Sara, I'm just gonna…"

"You're not going anywhere, Catherine," Sara said, catching the blonde by the arm. She was still looking at Nick. "Well?"

Nick was laughing. "Really, Sara! You don't know? Wow, now I really should go."

"You weren't going before?" Sara said.

"Well honestly…"

"I'm only going out because Greg won't tell me what it's about otherwise," Sara said. "Although I refuse to wear a bikini."

"It's a shame," Nick said, laughing, then stopped when he caught sight of Catherine, who was trying to shrink away into the background. Nick's laugh turned to an awkward cough. "Um… I'm going to go… make sure everything was done right with the whole Walter suicide case. See you at the party, Sara."

Sara sighed, then turned to Catherine. "You don't happen to know what the party's for, do you?"

"Well how the hell should I know, Sara?" Catherine snapped. All of a sudden, her demeanor changed. "I'm sorry, Sara… I don't know where that came from. I think I'm just tired."

The anger was back again. "Go find Sofia," she hissed through her teeth. "You disgust me."

Catherine glared at her before stalking off in the opposite direction. The anger shivered inside of Sara and reverberated throughout her entire body.

She heard Greg call out her name as he approached her from behind. "Hey, Sara, about your dead baby case—"

Sara spun around on her heal and shot daggers at Greg. "You!" she shouted. "What the hell did you think you were doing in there?"

Greg looked surprised, and a little embarrassed. "I, uh… Listen, Sara, I know what you saw, but I was fighting it all the way."

Sara narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, I'm sure," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. "I bet there was nothing you could do."

"Hey!" Greg said, holding his hands up defensively. "There was nothing I could do short of hurting her!"

"I think she could handle the rejection," Sara said.

"No, I mean physically hurting her," Greg clarified. "She was all over me, and she's a whole lot stronger than she looks. Wouldn't take no for an answer, but I swear I tried real hard to get her to leave me alone."

"You? Physically hurt someone?" Sara scoffed.

But her words seemed to hurt him as he turned cold. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, Catherine's sick," Sara said. "But even in her condition, you couldn't hurt her."

"You don't know a damn thing about what I could do," Greg said, annoyed. "It's what I won't do that you're thinking about. And you're right. I would never hurt Catherine. Or you. Or anyone else in this lab for that matter. So screw you."

"Oh, that's a fine way to talk," Sara snapped. "Listen, next time, keep it in your pants."

Greg looked flabbergasted. "You know what? If you're going to be bitchy about it, don't bother coming to the party."

"I wasn't planning on coming anyway," she said, like a child sticking her tongue out at her brother.

"Good," said Greg, throwing his hands in the air. "Might as well cancel the whole thing." He pushed past her angrily and made his way down the hall. Sara turned on her heal and watched him storm off.

"Hey!" she shouted. "What was the damn thing for, anyway?"

Greg stopped and his back went rigid. It fell as he sighed. He turned around and walked right back over to her until he was inches away from her face. He raised an accusatory finger, fully intending on shoving something in her face, but he held back, and he dropped his hand. He sighed and shook his head slowly. "You really don't know, do you? You have no idea."

Sara was grinding her teeth. "If you're not having it anymore, what does it matter? Tell me, for God's sake or I'll break something."

Greg smiled and shook his head. "Jesus, Sara… It was for you. For your birthday."

"My—" Understanding dawned in her eyes as she slapped her hand to my forehead. "Oh my…"

"Yeah," said Greg. "You forgot your own birthday. But I didn't. And you can forget about a present too." He turned away again and began down the hall, hesitating one last time, his back to her. "And don't worry about breaking something," he said. "You already have."

Sara's shoulders slumped, heavy with the burden of guilt. She sighed. She wanted to run over and apologize. But she was too stubborn for that. And she knew he would still be hurt. She bit her lip and had another idea. She spun around to find Nick.