Sara
Burn patterns the shape of birds in flight. The shape of hell, or some version of it. When the photos aren't laid out in front of me, they play through. That's what this case is- a haunting.
Cara Douglas, 24, freshly graduated from LVU. She was burnt alive in her own home four days ago by the man she loved- a prominent lawyer with money, genetics and the entire judicial system on his side. I know it, can't prove it, and it's eating me alive.
I shift against the break room wall, dragging my foot up to rest behind me as I attempt to re-focus my attention on Ecklie. This impromptu, unnecessary meeting he called would usually irritate me beyond measure, but I had desperately needed a break. 5 hours is too long to be staring at photos of utter destruction, hoping to see something new.
My gaze drifts down to Greg, sitting at the table in front of me, focused on an elastic weaved elaborately between his fingers. Catherine is nearest to the door, prostrate and focused, pen pressed between two fingers like a weapon. I know her well enough to recognize that this razor focus isn't directed at Ecklie. She has her own case that is wearing on her- a high profile one that Gil asked for her help with and then promptly disappeared. I notice that he wasn't roped into this mandatory meeting, and I know she will have words for him later.
Wendy is seated at her side, dark gaze occasionally drifting over, as though to be prepared when she strikes. If anyone is going to point out the absurdity of this meeting, it's Catherine.
Movement in the hallway draws my attention, Sofia's confident strides slowing as she approaches the open break room door. She frowns as she assesses the situation, gaze eventually meeting mine through the window. I give my head a subtle shake and she immediately turns on the toe of her boot, attempting a silent retreat.
Ecklie pauses mid-sentence, glancing over his shoulder.
"Curtis"
She stops, hesitating a moment before turning back around and poking her head into the room.
"Come on in, you might as well hear this too"
I bite back a smile as she shoots an irritated glance at the back of his head before making her way along the edge of the room towards me.
It's been days since I last saw her. The heightened crime surge that spanned the better part of summer has yet to dampen, despite the intensity of August smouldering into the embers of autumn. Brass blames it on the relentless heat- desert folk driven slowly to madness. The rest of the world to follow. Something bleak and poetic about that. Gil chalked it up to some cyclical pattern that humanity follows. Next year would be better- or worse- he couldn't quite be sure.
I've been too preoccupied to worry about any of it. Partners killed one another, madness ensued, shifts turned to triples. I drank too much coffee and did my job well and kept Sofia within my orbit as often as possible. It became like second nature, falling into step with her at crime scenes, going for breakfast after shift. By September I was no longer trying, we naturally gravitated to one another.
Her brow furrows softly as she listens to Ecklie continue his lecture on our new lab protocols. Vanilla and leather invade my senses, a hint of spearmint gum.
"Didn't he send this out in an email last week?" she whispers
"Yeah" I mutter tiredly. "I think he might be avoiding the sheriff?"
This week has been heavy, nearly everyone working on some notable case. Nicks and mine is high profile, with no probative evidence. A case on days involves a casino mogul. Catherine's crosses state lines. I saw the sheriff stalking through the halls earlier, on the hunt for answers that none of us yet have.
Ten minutes pass like this, my mind drifting continually back to the Douglas case, to the house on fire. I attempt to focus on anything else- the dark bags beneath Ecklies eyes. The way Greg keeps inadvertently flicking himself with his elastic, having abandoned even the semblance of attention. The way Sofia keeps shifting against the wall, restless. I glance over at her, bright gaze focused on the mug of coffee in my hands, a soft furrow to her brow. I know her mind is elsewhere too. I press my mug into her hand, despite her distaste for sweetness. She takes it, smile playing over her features as her gaze flicks up to meet mine, drawing the mug up to her lips.
I note a bruise on her hand, spanning from knuckle to wrist. She seems to be accumulating injuries at a concerning rate, though it might just be that I'm paying attention now.
I turn my focus back to Ecklie but am distracted by the weight of Catherine's gaze, frowning as I turn to meet it. Her gaze flicks over to Sofia for a second before snapping back to mine- cold and questioning. I draw my arms across my chest, defensiveness prickling at the back of my neck. I'm not sure exactly what she's insinuating, but I know it's accusatory. I watch her gaze turn back to Sofia who simply holds it, cool and intense, drawing the mug back up to her lips.
I blame the intensity of this week. The long hours and the heightened emotions. We're all on edge, and while Catherine is trying not to tear Gil apart, it means the rest of us are more likely to become the targets of her frustration.
The meeting drags on for another ten minutes before Ecklie dismisses us. Everyone moves listlessly out of the room, as though having just been roused from sleep. I notice that Sofia has clocked Warrick, waiting for her at the table. I reach out as she moves past me, my fingertips barely grazing her arm before I remember myself. I draw my hand back just enough to hover awkwardly in the space between us.
It's been difficult to not initiate physical contact with her. I never want to startle her the way I've watched other inadvertently do. The way I did, that day in Phoenix. I'm hardly the most tactile person, but it feels like second nature to reach for her.
I refuse to unpack that, offering her a smile when she turns to me, glancing at my hand with amused confusion.
"I uh, have something for that" I say, nodding to the angry bruise spread across her own hand. "Will you be around for a few minutes?"
She glances down at it with a frown, as though she'd forgotten.
"It's not as bad as it looks" she assures me, though relents as I pin her with an insistent look.
"Yeah, I'll be here, I have some bad news to deliver to Warrick"
"Ouch, no luck?" Warrick asks from his seat at the otherwise deserted table.
Sofia turns, moving to take a seat next to him.
"The truck traced back to a cattle rancher in Pahrump-"
Her voice fades as I make my way to the locker room. I take the long route in an attempt to evade Catherine, Ecklie, and the sheriff, who I clock once again from across the lab, stalking with purpose through the halls.
Warrick pushes out of his chair as I re-enter the room.
"Thanks for the update, I'll talk to you soon" he says, hand falling to Sofia's shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.
He bumps my arm softly on his way by.
"Get some rest girl"
I smile, though have little intention of doing so.
Sofia leans back into her chair to look up at me as I press a small tin of Comfrey salve into her hand.
"Comfrey. Use it, okay?"
She glances down at it, examining the label-less tin.
"Ok, thanks" she says, closing it into her fist and making a move to stand.
"You're not going to use it" I state tiredly.
An amused smile plays over her lips.
"I told you I would"
I quirk an eyebrow, gently pushing her shoulder back into her seat before dropping down into the chair across from her.
"You don't trust me" she accuses with a teasing smile as I retrieve the tin from her hand, wiggling the lid off.
"I trust that you have the best intentions"
I draw her cool hand into my lap, brow furrowing as I lightly trace the margins of the deep purple bruise.
"What happened?"
"An arrest got a little violent"
I warm the salve beneath my thumb before rubbing it in gentle circles over her skin, noting a few stray freckles. A littering of scars.
She clears her throat softly, shifting in her seat.
"Where did you learn about Comfrey?"
"My parents were hippies. My mom used to make a lot of foraged medicine".
Before she became violent. Before illness took hold.
My gaze flicks up to meet hers with a soft smile.
"Some worked better than others. This one helped"
Sofia smiles, the kind that reaches her eyes, and my chest clenches softly at the rare sight. I rub a final circle into her hand before pressing my thumbs gently into her palms, holding her gaze.
"Did he get you anywhere else?"
Her lips part, a soft inhale.
"Here maybe?" I suggest, fingertips raising to smear the bit of salve left on my hands onto her chin. She frowns playfully, leaning away from my touch.
"Here?" I ask innocently, fingers grazing her jawline.
She can't quite bite back a laugh, shooting me a mock-warning look as she grabs my wrist, holding it away from her face.
The rhythmic click of heels signals Catherine entering the break room with all the subtly of a brewing storm. Sofia snaps her head over to the door and I sigh, slowly drawing my hand back as I regard Catherine with a weary expectancy. Azure eyes shift between the two of us before she snorts quietly, eyes rolling before narrowing onto me.
"I need your help. San Francisco PD is dodging my calls and I know that you have some connections down there. I need some documents released"
"I can put a call in, see what I can do" I offer, tucking loose hair back behind my ear.
"Thank you" she says, shooting us a final look before turning on her heel and heading back out into the lab.
When I turn back to Sofia she scoffs, rolling her own bright eyes as she pushes out of the chair. While my method for dealing with Catherine these days is a sort of gentle submission, Sofia's is casual dismissal.
"Thank you" she echoes, hand ghosting over my shoulder as she heads for the door.
"Hey, you want to grab breakfast after shift?"
She pauses in the doorway, quirking an eyebrow at me.
"Don't you have plans with Grissom?"
I frown, brow knitting softly. How did I forget that?
"Yeah, I do"
She offers me a smile, tucking her uninjured hand into her pant pocket.
"I'll see you later"
Gil is at his desk, frowning at a crossword.
"You know, you can do this at home" I say from the doorway of his office, announcing my presence.
He glances up at me briefly, tapping the pencil against his lips.
"You finish your case?"
I sigh, leaning against the door frame.
"The robbery on Wilshire, yeah" I say tiredly, running a hand through my limp waves.
With no more leads on the Douglas case, Nick and I have been forced to take on new ones. We keep the box of evidence nearby though, glancing through it every chance we get.
"Go home, get some rest" Gil says gently, and I know it's not a suggestion.
"You feel like leading by example?" I ask, smiling softly.
It's been a while since we've spent any meaningful time together. He lays the pencil down, leaning back in his chair.
"I'm waiting on a tox report, could be a while"
I sigh, moving into his office. A mug of old tea and a mess of folders cover his desk, beneath the crumpled and unfinished crossword. I glance over at the door before letting my hand fall to his shoulder, thumb softly running over the skin just above the collar of his shirt.
"I could meet you there?" I suggest, gaze wandering over the crossword, noting the spot his pencil has been tapping incessantly against.
"That sounds nice" he agrees, leaning back to look up at me.
I hold his gaze for a long moment before stepping back with a flirtatious smile.
"I'll wait up" I say, walking back towards the door.
"Oh, and it's tenacious" I say, turning briefly back towards him.
He frowns and I nod towards the crossword.
"41 across. Tenacious"
His frown deepens as he picks up the crossword, examining it closer. I chuckle, heading back into the hall.
"Sara, go home"
I scoff, nearly tripping over my own feet as I walk backwards, glowering at Brass as he sifts through the pile of folders handed off to him by the undersheriff.
"How am I supposed to go home when that smug bastard is being set free? He murdered Cara Douglas and you know it, where is the justice here?"
"Just because we don't have enough to hold him doesn't mean we won't uncover something substantial enough to get him back in here, okay? Come on, you know that"
My rage is fuelled by more than just our inability to pin this arson on Mattias Lane, though it is the driving force. I slept restlessly, alone in Gils apartment. I discovered him on the couch when I got up, book tented in his lap, asleep. I made no attempts to keep quiet as I made myself a coffee, closing cupboards with more force than necessary. When he was finally roused from sleep, he explained that he hadn't wanted to wake me. I'd barely supressed an eye roll as I pulled on my boots, not bothering to explain that I feel unmoored. That I miss him. That sleep comes easier when I'm not alone.
On top of that, my last meal was coffee and a near-stale biscuit, and I haven't taken a day off in two weeks. My equilibrium is entirely askew.
"I have to go back over the scene, there has to be something that we can find to expand the warrant…"
Brass sighs, looking over my shoulder wearily. Before I can turn around I feel soft hands take hold of my shoulders, the smell of vanilla, black coffee, and mint when she speaks quietly against my hair.
"Do you want to go get breakfast?"
I feel myself sway ever so slightly back, grounding myself in her presence. While all I feel like doing is fighting my way to a conviction against Lane, I know there is little that can be done now. I continue frowning at Brass, crossing my arms over my chest.
"What an idea. Go and relax, both of you. Take a load off" Brass implores, waving a folder at us dismissively before taking the opportunity to stalk off towards his office.
I sigh, turning around as Sofias hands drop away from me. She looks tired, loose ponytail falling over her shoulder, the grey-blue of her blouse highlighting her bright eyes. She appears to need this just as much as I do so I relent, turning to walk beside her towards the PD locker room.
"What did you do?" I ask, knowing that with the sheer volume of cases piling up in PD, she must have done something to prove a liability.
"I lost it in an interrogation" she admits. "This guy is responsible for trafficking five women and he couldn't care less. It's…" she clicks her tongue, giving her head a single shake, hands clenched into fists.
I sigh, lingering in the doorway as she continues into the room. I watch her pull open her locker, revealing a few items pinned to the door. I squint at them as she pulls her bag out, curious. I make out a newspaper clipping, a couple of photos pinned neatly beneath. A silly magnet from Mexico. A handwritten note. She catches me staring, amusement playing over her features as she unbuttons her blouse.
"You can look, you know"
She slips the thin material off her shoulders, holding my gaze with a playful look. I purse my lips into a smile as I keep my gaze locked on hers, fighting the sudden, overwhelming urge to take in the sight of her body that I know is both toned and curved, tanned to an enviable shade of golden brown. I ignore her playful provocation, clearing my throat softly as I wander in, cheeks warm.
"I uh, didn't peg you for the sentimental type"
She chuckles as she grabs a loose black t-shirt out and pulls it over her head. The newspaper clipping is an old article on the promotion of her mother to police chief- youngest woman in Nevada to scale the ranks. The photo beneath is of her and a few men I don't recognize, tanned and laughing, coconut drinks in hand. The one beneath that is her, her mother, and Kyle at dinner. I stare at it long enough that she seems to notice, shrugging softly.
"I haven't bothered to take anything down"
I don't mention that I know they've been separated for at least two years and she only transferred back from Carson City 14 months ago. The note, in messy cursive, reads 'Stay safe, I love you'.
"Sara"
I draw my attention back to her as she pushes her locker shut, sliding her bag over her shoulder. She takes a few steps towards me, gaze searching mine for a long moment.
"You okay?"
I force a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I'm fine"
She quirks an eyebrow, as though to say 'please'.
I sigh, smile fading from my lips.
"The Douglas case, I just want to see justice served and I'm not sure that's going to happen"
She hums softly in acknowledgement.
"Why this one, specifically? It's been a summer's worth of brutal cases"
I search her blue eyes and feel the full weight of my exhaustion settling in. She seems to observe this and after a moment gives her head a single, soft shake.
"Never mind, let's get some food"
She brushes my shoulder with hers as she passes- a soft, innocent form of comfort that began sometime after we returned from Arizona. At particularly rough scenes, on particularly long nights, it has become our private, innocuous way of offering each other a sliver of comfort. My tenderness towards her wins out and I call her name as she reaches the door. She turns back and I'm not exactly sure how to explain.
"She spent ten years in foster care and made it out the other side. She put herself through college, worked two jobs. She bought herself a house, and he killed her before she had a chance to enjoy the life she worked so hard for. I just…" I trail off, blinking back the burn of tears as I look away from her, over at the row of lockers to my right.
"She was forced to take care of herself for her entire life, and now… she needs someone to care enough to fight for her"
Sofia stares at me for a long moment- her soft intensity that feels warm and electric. No pity, just understanding.
"No one is giving up on this case, we just need a little more time"
I nod and I can tell she knows that isn't comforting. She wanders back to me, her hand sliding down my arm to gently grasp my wrist.
"Come on, I'll buy you breakfast and we can talk it through again if you want. There's a..."
Brass appears suddenly in the doorway, an apologetic look colouring his exhausted features.
"You two will have to grab breakfast to go- triple homicide just outside of Henderson, all hands on deck"