Disclaimer: I don't own them, etc.
A/N: Sorry I've been neglecting this story lately. I've been a little distracted... which is fine for my other stories, but Destiny is my baby, and I get crazy upset at myself when I write something too hastily and end up not liking it after I've already posted, even if its small. So I wanted to be in the right frame of mind before I updated this one.
Hopefully we'll be back to regular updates, but I can't make any promises. :) I'm trying.
Hope you enjoy and please review! It makes me so happy to know what you think!
Chapter 13: Teri Miller
I wanted to pair Sara with myself that night, feeling guilty for my overreaction at the diner, but Nick and I were still working the case from the previous night—a body cemented into the foundation of a house, and Eddie Willows was being accused of rape… and so I needed to discuss the issue with Catherine. I gave her an Officer Involved Shooting, anticipating Warrick's interest—they were both vehemently concerned with the truth more than avoiding a war between PD and CSI—and in this way, they paired themselves together, rather than me sticking her with someone she might still dislike.
She took it in stride, however, seeming unconcerned and even excited for the scene, making the teasing stipulation that she was driving, to which Warrick responded, "Picture that." …I wasn't sure what it meant, but I was pretty sure he was arguing with her. Still, it was nice to see them getting along… maybe things would settle down for a while.
Catherine insisted on taking Eddie's case, the prelim, at least… which I had anticipated as well. But after the blow up she'd had at me over Eddie's indiscretions, there was a part of me that thought she needed to be a part of this case, in the most hands-off way possible. Who was I to keep her from it, provided she did nothing to compromise evidence? I told her to pass it off, after the prelim, and the look she gave me made me skeptical that this would happen… I would need to check up on her.
And then—I met Teri Miller.
I had called her in to help us reconstruct our Jane Doe's face from the impression it had left in the concrete in which she'd been buried, to see if someone could identify her… give us a starting place. I had pulled Stevie out of his terrarium to feed him and distract myself for a moment—sometimes insight came when you didn't focus directly on the problem at hand. A soft knocking came, and I found myself interested in a woman without effort, for the first time since I'd met Sara.
I think, to some extent, I liked that she was unlike Sara. Blonde hair could not remind me of sensuously brown locks… and her voice lacked the husky quality… the slight, musical lilt of Sara's, instead it was both breathy and steady. I liked the contrast. And she offered to hold Stevie… No, not offered. Wanted to. She was completely unafraid, and instead seemed to look at him the way most people looked at a dog—as an animal almost human… and certainly an individual. Most people didn't see spiders as individuals.
Our fingers brushed when Stevie moved from my hand to hers, and I felt that long-lost 'butterflies-in-your-stomach' feeling, and I relished it. It was good to feel strongly, especially when it was feeling positively.
I took her to the concrete slab, and watched her beginning to make the mold of the facial impression. She seemed to sense my interest, and her voice came softly when she guided my hand to the task, telling me that I should enjoy it, because it was as much science as it was art.
"My mother's an artist."
She glances up at me, and though I know she doesn't understand how strange it is for me to make such a revelation when I first meet a woman… I feel like she senses the significance. Or maybe my own surprise gave it away; I don't know why I told her.
"Sculptor?"
I shrug, as if I'm unconcerned, but her slim fingers guiding my hands in the plaster are making my breathing come just a little faster. "A little. Mostly, she's a painter. She runs a gallery, outside of L.A."
I wondered vaguely why I was telling her this when I had never told Sara—she only knew what I had told Kelly—but then, for the most part, we avoided talking about our families, because her past was a secret I could never ask about. Which was, really, a horrible way to start a relationship. Why on earth had I ever agreed to such a thing?
My mind shot back to the day at the sandwich shop, her teasing words about sex on the beach playing distantly before I redirected my thoughts—she had warned me that she likely would tell me little to nothing, and leave me high and dry if I pushed it. And I…? I had been unwilling to let her leave so easily… and somewhat relieved that I would not be expected to relive the horrors of my own life, if I didn't want to.
Her fingers glide between mine with a thick, wet sound from the plaster, bringing me back to the present as heat shoots down my spine. It felt… amazing… to feel like a man again. I hadn't felt this way about a woman without the accompanying anguish of grief in so very, very long.
I swallow hard to regain a little composure, and glance over at her face—all angles and shadows, from the darkness of the room, illuminated by a single bright light above our heads. The effect was striking, and lovely, and I knew—without thinking about such a thing—that I wanted to kiss her. She met my gaze, and the twitch at the corner of her lips told me that she knew what I was thinking… but she did not shy away, or avert her eyes, and my heart thudded more persistently in my chest.
The rest of the case followed in the blur, without only a few striking moments standing out in my mind. Warrick attempting, poorly, to cover for the fact that Catherine hadn't handed her case off… and then Catherine revealing that Eddie liked rough sex, by use of the words 'involved' and 'vigorous.' I'm sure the pair of them thought I was incomprehensibly unaware, if I hadn't been able to understand her meaning… but the truth was, I was in a bit of a daze.
Unintentionally, throughout the day, I would find myself reliving the slick slide of fingers and the look of her face, half-cast in shadow.
I broke through this haze when Warrick and the officer he and Sara were investigating, Officer Tyner, had a shouting match in the hall that was broken up by Brass' and only moments before it became physical, with Sara trying and failing to hold Warrick back. Although I disagreed with Jim on a lot of counts, more and more as of late, the pair of us had never been directly at odds. We had a lot of respect for each other. But we had words, in that hallway, because I would not tolerate intimidation tactics by the LVPD on some of the best damn CSIs in the country. My team deserved better than that.
…I had a feeling Jim and I would bounce back, but it might take a while.
I also had a moment of awareness when Nick stepped on a floorboard in the home of our Jane Doe's fiancé. We now knew her name to be Fay Green, and she had had sand and salt in her inner ear. There was an aquarium in his home, with salt water fish. We were asked to leave when we found sand and salt beneath their floorboards, but it was only a matter of time before we obtained a warrant.
I was walking through the halls of CSI with Nick, headed back to the scene, when, in yet another 'awake' moment, I saw Teri headed for the door, a suitcase rolling behind her. "Hey! You weren't going to say goodbye to me?" I don't remember being this playful… or outgoing, but then, Teri had awakened a part of me that had been barely alive and certainly not aware for some time now. I almost felt giddy with the change.
She smiles at me, a genuine—but coy—smile. "Thought I'd let you off easy. But I did tack my number on your big fish cork board… under "cold cases." The smile turns teasing, but still gentle and honest. I grin a little self-indulgently.
"The ones that got away."
"Let's hope not." Her voice was soft, even in its directness, and I felt the same hot, swooping sensation flit through me and settle deep in my abdomen.
Perhaps it was my distraction that allowed me to miss the obvious… to misjudge Jason Hendler's honest remorse, and miss the nervous flickering in his wife's eyes. I didn't realize my mistake until it was painfully obvious—Jason, ranting and emotional about his imminent arrest, threw out the question, "Why do you care so much about the floors? I mean, Amy paints them every spring. It's no big deal."
It has been said that 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' and in this job, I have certainly never seen this disproven. I raced back inside, to find Amy holding Nick at gunpoint, while he tried to gently talk her down with tears swimming in his eyes. Although earlier in the day I had yelled at Officer Tyner that I hoped I never had to draw my weapon in the line of duty, my service weapon was gripped easily in my hands as I approached the pair, slow and deliberate.
I disliked the gun… disliked carrying it… but I would never do so if I were not fully competent with such a dangerous item. And so there was no nervousness… no hesitation… just a need to remain steady and in control of the situation, because most people didn't want to kill anyone else. Most people acted in passion, and were remorseful later. Most people would find it harder to kill a stranger than to kill someone they resented or envied or hated.
"Mrs. Hendler." She spun to face me, our guns facing off in a stalemate. I was unconcerned—her hands were shaking and tears were brimming in her eyes. She posed only a minor threat, in this situation. I cautioned Nick to be still—having two guns on her would make her feel vulnerable. Right now, she felt as if no one had the upper hand… and that was necessary. People were far rasher than normal when under pressure.
"Please. I don't want to fire my gun anymore than you do. For five years, you've been washing the blood off your hands. …Let's put down the guns." I lowered mine, slowly, and she followed suit, Nick finally allowing himself a moment to exhale in relief and get his bearings. He still had the tears in his eyes, and I didn't blame him.
I blamed myself. How I had allowed myself to be so distracted by a woman I hardly knew, how I had put Nick in danger, because of that distraction, I didn't know. But it couldn't happen again.
