AN: Hope everyone is doing well. Thanks as always to the reviewers - it's your kind words and support that help keep the inspiration coming.
Take care and enjoy.
CHAPTER 11
CATHERINE POV
"Shit," I murmur, careful to keep my curse under my breath as I know my daughter is mere feet away, gazing blissfully out our car window as we travel closer to home.
Correction, our soon to be former home.
Pushing down the emotions rising in me at the thought, I try not to think of the faces of my colleagues I just left.
Correction, my soon to be former colleagues.
To say my Montana team was shocked by the news I just delivered would be barely touching the surface. Hearing I was headed back to Montana, they understandably assumed it was to return for good now that the case in Vegas had, very publicly, been resolved. But, instead, I gathered them all together to break the news that I had decided to accept an offer extended to me to work full time at the Vegas lab.
I felt like a traitor. Like I was turning my back on my colleagues and friends whom I had been through so much with together. Working in law enforcement, you learn to trust the people you work with almost more than your own families. You have to. Your lives may depend on it. And, due to that extended level of trust, you grow close. Very close.
Most of them were gracious and polite enough to offer their congratulations and well wishes to me. The other few got quiet, eerily quiet, and seemed to almost disappear off somewhere deeper into the lab after exchanging a quick goodbye. I know their feelings were hurt, and part of me understands that. A large part of me.
"You ready to pack the rest of our stuff?" I ask my daughter, trying to force myself to focus on other things. I've made my decision, and now I need to move forward instead of living in the past.
What's done is done, and those in my life who are truly my friends will support me going forward.
Lindsey and I are about to start on a whole new journey together. And, while part of me is still feeling the remnants of guilt, the rest of me is undeniably growing excited.
"You betcha," Lindsey answers behind me, legs waving up and down eagerly from her car seat. "Do you think there's going to be a pink room in our new house like my bedroom here?"
I laugh lightly, sending her a smile in the rearview mirror.
"I think there just might be."
Squaring my shoulders, I straighten my blouse for what has to be the fifth time.
"Get a grip, Willows," I chastise myself, wondering why I'm letting myself feel like a new kid at the first day of school. "You're an accomplished, grown woman with a damn impressive resume - they're lucky to have you."
Steeling myself, I push open the glass door to the Vegas crime lab. No shred of hesitation or doubt is allowed to color any of my features. Not even a hint. That shit is to be definitively left in the parking lot.
"Catherine," Gil catches sight of me near reception. "Welcome."
"Thanks," I smile back at him.
"Just some paperwork for you in my office," he says as we walk together further into the lab. "Brass has already sorted the rest out using your transferred files from your old lab."
"Great, thanks."
Following him to his desk, he pushes over some paperwork that I recognize as the standard human resources forms asking about how you want your paychecks deposited, who your emergency contacts are, etc.
Filling them out easily, I sign the required places as I glance at my watch.
"Your team know I'm starting tonight?" I question, noting shift starts in just under an hour.
Grissom sits in his chair.
"Yes."
"And?"
"They're lucky to have you," Gil answers, unknowingly repeating my own private words of affirmation.
Smiling, I appreciate his kindness, his own subtle boosts to my confidence that he knows me well enough to know I could benefit from on occasions such as this.
"Thanks," I offer sincerely, grateful to have him as such a close friend. Even after everything that's happened recently, our relationship is as tight as ever.
"Gun and badge," he says when I push over the paperwork, sliding the stated items across his desk.
I take a deep breath, recognizing my familiar service weapon, thankfully having cleared Vegas' inspection and approval.
Glancing at my ID badge, I take in my picture. The smiling woman looking back at me, the shiny lettering announcing my new affiliation with the 'Las Vegas Criminalistics Lab, Clark County, Nevada.'
Standing tall, I clip it to my belt.
"As you all know," Gil presses forward as his team respectfully listens silently, "Catherine Willows is officially starting her new position with us tonight. I expect you all to be the kind, courteous people I know you are and help this transition be as easy as possible for her."
No one disagrees, a few of Gil's team members sending me small nods to show their intentions for cooperation. While I expected his team to be nothing less than professional, I appreciate their no drama attitude. There doesn't appear to be any intentions for jurisdictional conflicts or pissing matches to determine who's the boss of whom.
"As you also know, Catherine will take up a secondary supervisory role to me. She is to be considered my equivalent when you are assigned to a scene with her. She is a CSI level three, your direct superior and supervisor on any case you work together. Is that clear?"
More nods follow, a few now looking over at me with renewed focus. Likely trying to figure out what exactly they're in for having me as their supervisor. What my leadership style is.
"For the first couple cases, Catherine will be paired with myself to give her a chance to learn her way around and familiarize herself with our policies and work flow. But, after that, she's going to be assigning the cases herself."
Seeing no obvious argument or resistance to his words, Gil takes a step back, gesturing to me.
"Catherine?"
"Thank you," I offer, stepping slightly forward to stand closer to him at the head of the table. "First, I want to let you guys know how excited I am to have been asked to join you all. You're one hell of a team," I state honestly. "It's truly an honor to be able to join you in the amazing work that you do."
Swallowing, I grow quieter, voice heavy under the next words that need to be stated.
"I'm very sorry about what happened to Gabe. I know he was your close colleague, and your friend. He seemed to be an amazing man, and I only regret that I never got the chance to meet him." I look them all in the eye, seeing them looking back at me with equal intensity. "I have no intentions of trying to replace him, no one can do that."
I let them all see the honesty in what I'm saying.
"I also have no intentions of changing the way you guys work here. Yes, I will be your superior, but you have all proven through your exemplary work that you don't need someone to change any damn part of what you guys obviously already do so well. I'm here to help you, work with you, and grow alongside you as we all try to move forward from everything that's happened."
Nodding to Gil, I let him know I'm finished speaking my peace.
"Alright everyone," Grissom states, "Let's get to work."
"Hey," I offer in mild surprise, noting the person standing a couple lockers down from mine as I try to remember the combination Gil gave to me this morning.
While the morning briefing seemed to go smoothly with the guys, there was one very notable absence in the group. The one person whom I'm the most nervous to begin working with.
"Hey," Sara responds, giving me a polite nod as she puts a couple things into the pockets on her CSI vest before hanging it back up. "How was your first day?"
I smile, hoping her rare decision to interact with me and actually continue a conversation under her own volition is a good sign.
"Pretty good," I conclude after giving it honest thought. "Paired with Gil for now until I learn my way around. But I think I'm making progress."
Sara gives me a ghost of a smile before nodding politely again.
"Good."
She turns to walk past me, and I reach out and gently take her arm.
"Sara."
Lowering her head, she forces herself to remain still, though I feel her arm tense under my fingers.
"I hear you're starting back to work tomorrow," I say, having been informed by Grissom towards the end of our shift when he got the news from Brass.
Sara continues watching the bench in front of her.
"Cleared IA," she confirms. "Passed the weapons re-certification. Nothing left in the way of my reinstatement."
Finally, she looks up, her eyes searching mine like she's still trying to figure out if I myself am a threat to that reinstatement. I thought we'd already resolved that particular issue. But, I'm starting to get the feeling that Sara not only doesn't trust most people easily – but that she doesn't trust me at all.
"Good," I repeat her word back to her. "I look forward to working with you."
Sara's silent for an uncomfortably long time before she finally nods, pulling her arm gently but purposefully from my grip.
"Is that all?"
"I'm not investigating you anymore," I tell her, eyes narrowed slightly as I try to figure out why she's still acting so defensive around me. "You don't need to ask my permission to exit a room or leave a conversation with me."
Sara looks away, "You're my superior, yes?" she questions, tone hard to read. It's not unpleasant per se, but it's almost eerily calm. Like she's working hard for it to sound that way.
"Yes, but-"
"Then I technically do need your permission to leave a conversation or a room when you're speaking to me. At least I do if I don't want to appear disrespectful or insubordinate."
Her eyes again shift back to mine, the dim lighting making them appear even darker than usual, the deep specks of green reflected off the emerald color of her t-shirt.
The energy between us is charged, tense. There's emotions and underlying subtleties that I can't make enough sense out of. Sidle's eyes are as guarded as the rest of her, and I know I'll never read past enough of her walls to figure out what the hell is going on with her.
With us.
"You're free to go," I tell her instead in defeat, watching her keep our gazes locked for a few moments longer before she pulls her keys from her jeans and steps to the door.
"See you tomorrow, Miss Willows," she offers tightly.
Then, she's gone.
"Sara Sidle," I mutter to myself, realizing just how rattled I am by our terse encounter as I'm left standing in the now vacant locker room. "You're giving me grey hairs."
Turning, I toss my stuff in my locker, packing up so I can make my way home to my little girl. The one female in my life who doesn't exude drama filled subtext.
As I finish grabbing my things and shut my locker, I let my hand rest gently on the cold metal.
"One day down," I whisper out. "And so it begins."
AN: Thanks for reading.