Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…
A/N: I know it's been a while, but I went back and started re-reading some of my stories and thought I might try to finish some that I hadn't touched in, oh, about three or four years. I'm starting with this one. I'm sure it will take me a while to get in full-swing, but at least this is a start.
A burning red handprint was emblazoned across Sara's cheek while Catherine stood silent, admiring her handiwork and waiting expectantly for whatever retribution was to be repaid.
Instead, an icy silence fell across the room as the two women stood there, staring one another down. Only the soft hum of the air conditioning could be heard over their breathing. When Sara finally moved, Catherine winced, drawing back as though she had expected some delivery of similar pain to be dealt to her. She knew how to deal with people who didn't turn the other cheek. The behavior of Sidle was befuddling. She could spar verbally with her and slice her to shreds with only a few well-placed words, but in the short time they'd been forced to share the same space, there had been a distinct lack of anything physical being returned to Catherine. This kept her off-balance.
"Why the fuck did you let them believe I'd sunk so low as to share a bed with you?" Catherine accused Sara.
Sara brushed past her, picking up the laptop, and shutting it down. She secured it in the room's safe, all the while continuing to ignore Catherine's taunts and glares, neither of which she found impressive enough to warrant a response of any kind.
"Just because you want to fuck me doesn't mean it will happen, Sidle. You need to get a hold on these wet dream fantasies you have about me and you." Catherine took two quick steps toward Sara, invading her personal space. "Just because some WASP teenager fell for whatever lines you fed her to get her into your bed doesn't mean I will. I'd have thought that you would have realized that thinking with your clit could get someone killed since it almost cost the president his daughter." A smug smirk slowly spread across Catherine's face as she saw that her comments struck home with supreme accuracy. "You're all the same. Men. Women. You all want something from me and expect to get it. I'm not going to be your next little whore."
The words had barely left her lips before something inside Sara snapped and she had taken one of Catherine's arms, twisted it behind her back and pushed her up against a wall. One wrist was twisted and pressed into the small of her back by one of Sara's hands and Sara's other arm was planted firmly on the back of Catherine's neck.
"You mistake my silence for weakness, Ms. Flynn. Allow me to impress upon you the fact that you need me more than I need you. Were it not for me, you would most likely already be dead. Any regard I have for you is purely professional. As you have so astutely pointed out, I have firsthand experience with the fact that business and pleasure don't mix. And I would never mistakenly believe that anything from you would be something other than business since we both know you require money upfront where pleasure is concerned." Sara gave Catherine's wrist a sharp twist and leaned more heavily against her neck with her arm. "And if you ever again fucking imply that she was a whore, your wrist will be the first bone I snap and those fragile little bones in your neck will be the last ones you hear crack."
Catherine, although incensed that someone had the gall to speak to her like Sara was doing now, was in no position to fight back, much less respond. Rage was boiling over inside her, but she quickly tampened it down, hoping that Sara would ease up on her and allow some blood and oxygen to flow again.
When Sara felt the fight leave Catherine's body, she pushed off of her and took a step back. Without looking at her, she said coolly, "I'm paid to protect you, but if you cross that line again you need to understand that there's no one here to protect you from me, Ms. Flynn."