Sofia

Golden light floods through branches of the Acacia trees lining the quiet street, the distant sound of kids playing basketball at the end of the cul-de-sac just reaching me. A soft breeze rustles the leaves. A dog barks somewhere far away.

I stare at the mountains in the distance, focusing on the way light plays across the low ridges. I take a few deep breaths in a futile attempt to center myself before turning back to the quaint house, surrounded by police tape. To the carefully tended rhododendrons exploding crimson against the white stucco, the color of strawberries. The color of arterial blood.

I run a hand over my tight ponytail, reassessing the scene. I make eye contact with the woman whose son killed two other men before turning the gun on himself, and then look quickly away. She's tucked into the back of a police cruiser, awaiting social services. I had delivered the news to her as she returned from the grocery store- two paper bags in a discarded heap on the sidewalk. Eggs broken, milk souring in the heat. I had held her hand as she cried, eerily silent and utterly devastated. How do any of us endure?

All of the victims were part of a drug ring that we've been trying for months to infiltrate. 10 kilos of coke was stashed in the kids closet, accounting for a small portion of what we believe is in their collective possession. All the victims were under 20, killed with a .45, and bled out on the garage floor.

"Well, I guess that's three less for us to worry about" officer Hall muses as he slips under the police tape, hands coming to rest on his gun belt as he approaches me near the end of the driveway. "Ready to get out of here?"

My jaw aches with tension as I turn to face him, shooting him an incredulous look.

"We want them behind bars you moron, not dead. They were just kids."

He shrugs, weathered hand coming up to loosen the top button of his uniform.

"Kids with 10 kilos of coke in their possession. Come on, you know what trajectory they were on."

"So we should what, be grateful that they took each other out? What is wrong with you?"

He holds up a hand in a half-hearted show of surrender.

"I'm just saying, the fewer bad guys on the streets the better, right?"

I run a hand over my mouth before slipping the aviators from my face to look him straight in the eyes.

"I don't know what kind of mentality they approach the job with down in Baltimore, but here we hold a bit more reverence for life."

We don't, not really. There are far too many officers just as callous as him, but I'm in the mood for a fight.

"I suggest you pull your head out of your ass and access some empathy. A dead teenager is never a win."

I'm speaking calmly, but clearly my body language is giving away my anger as Brass has clocked us from the yard and is making his way over.

"Everything okay over here?" he asks in a tone that is clearly saying 'don't start'. He slips his sunglasses off, looking at Kevin expectantly.

"Yes sir, just heading back to the station."

"Good. When you get there, fill out the case report on this will you? I'll need it when I get back."

My shoulders instinctually tense and I can tell that Hall wants to protest, but wisely keeps quiet.

"Will do sir."

Brass plasters a smile on his face as Hall turns back to the street before turning to regard me, arms out in a gesture of bemusement.

"What are you doing, huh? He's not worth it and you are about one more dust-up away from a suspension."

I scoff, slipping my aviators back onto my nose. I could assault someone and they wouldn't have the capacity to send me home, not with the volume of cases that we're currently drowning beneath.

"I'd like to file the report Jim. I've been far more involved here than Hall and-"

"You need to go home" he cuts me off, thick hand coming to rest on my shoulder as he guides me towards the sidewalk.

"I'm-"

"Sofia, I'm very tired, okay? Please don't make me explain to you why you need to go home."

He turns to me, placing his other hand on my shoulder and looking squarely at me. His hound dog eyes are bloodshot and dark, and I feel a sense of comradery. It's been a long two months in the trenches together, and we both look equally worse for wear.

"Have a whiskey or three, whatever helps scrub this bloodbath from your mind, and get some sleep. You've been through enough this year kid, don't add burnout to the list."

I run my tongue over my lip in irritation but ultimately don't protest. Brass focuses on something behind me and I turn to see Grissom ducking under the crime scene tape, kit in hand. His blue eyes meet mine before glancing at Brass, whose dropped his hands away from me to open them up towards Gil.

"Look at that timing. He'll give you a ride" he says, clapping a hand on Gil's shoulder as he stalks back towards the scene.

Grissom glances over his shoulder with a bemused look before turning to face me, a furrow to his brow.

"You want a ride?"

I offer him a half-hearted smile, crossing my arms.

"Want is a strong word. I'm being evicted from the scene."

He smiles, giving me a single nod.

"Ah. I think half the department is maxed out on overtime" he muses, heading towards his Tahoe. I trail behind him, feeling my phone buzz against my hip. I slip it out of my pocket, glancing down at the screen.

Kyle

I roll my eyes, slipping it back into my pocket unanswered.

Our drive is mostly silent, as is typical after a scene so gruesome. After pulling your third triple shift in two weeks. I stare at the houses as they pass and wonder what it's like not to carry so much death with you. To wake up in the morning with a sense of optimism about the world. I'm a master of compartmentalization, but even I have my limits.

Those limits were pushed after my attack; broken after everything that occurred in Phoenix. It was too much- the accumulation of it all. The sound of bullets leaving the chamber, too close. The nauseating feeling of too much blood lost, soaking into a stark white t-shirt. Violent hands tearing at my clothes, attacking me with vitriol. Sara and her soft touch and her body, always close but never close enough. The wreckage and the trauma and the suffocation and the wanting. It's all separate but melding into a chaos of feelings that I can't quite separate.

I need a break. I need therapy. I need an escape. I need to quell this burning desire. I need, I need.

I draw in a breath, turning my gaze to Gil. He's focused on the road, quiet classical music filling the space. He hasn't shaved in what looks like weeks and it suits him. He handles the exhaustion of this job worse than most, but he wears it well. I feel an itch of irritation, spearing my nails softly into my palm.

I appreciate qualities in Gil that I believe most overlook. What he lacks in the ability to connect, he makes up for in his matter-of-fact manner. In his love for insightful conversations on the human condition. In his ability to keep an open mind in even the most intense of situations. I respect it- admire it even. It's what makes it so troubling that I've grown dangerously fond of his girlfriend.

I've been known to grasp for comfort in human beings. A few one-night stands after horrific cases. Flirtations to keep my mind away from the darkest of places. Gil had been one of them I suppose, in the most empty and innocent sense. I know he finds me attractive. I know he appreciates my perspective, even when it differs from his. It felt nice to be noticed by him- to hold his attention when so many others failed to. I suppose it began like that with Sara- different, but a flirtation nonetheless.

If only it had remained that simple. She is not a grasp at comfort, or an empty flirtation. I'm not exactly sure what she is, but if my irritation at Gil is any indication, it's more than just a physical desire.

I shift in my seat as we pull into the department lot, exhaling a tired sigh. I don't notice I've done so until Gil glances over at me with a knowing glance.

"You know, there's no shame in taking some time off. I believe you've more than earned it."

I chuckle, running a hand over my loosening ponytail.

"Yeah, but then what would I do with my time?" I ask, to which he smiles.

As he kills the engine in front of the building, I'm already sliding out of the Tahoe.

"If you run into Sara, will you tell her I'm out here? I'm giving her a ride back to the lab and I don't think she's gotten any of my calls."

I shoot him an amused glance that he doesn't seem to register. A ride to the lab. It's absurd that he thinks I still don't know about their relationship, but I allow him his ignorance.

"Yeah, will do. Thanks for the ride"

I absently rest a hand against my holstered gun as I walk through the doors of PD. All I want is to settle in at my desk and get some more work done, but I know that if Brass finds me here he will have words. I'll have to settle for packing up some files to look at tomorrow.

I slip my phone out as I make my way through the halls, glancing in at Vartan and a few others gathered in his office for Friday night drinks. It's a ritual that mostly involves expensive whiskey and an airing of the week's grievances. I occasionally partake, but am in no mood tonight.

I note another missed call from Kyle, frowning as an anxious feeling turns my stomach- what could she possibly want? I put a call through to Sara, returning a smile from Rogers as he passes by.

It goes to voicemail as I enter the sectioned off area where my desk sits, pushed up against the desks of three other detectives. My saunter slows to a stop as I notice Sara, settled onto my chair with one leg pulled up beneath her, a concentrated furrow to her brow.

"Make yourself at home" I say, smiling as her head snaps up to look at me. Surprise quickly morphs into a sheepish smile as she leans back in the chair.

"Sorry, this seemed like the quietest place to get some work done."

"You mean a place where Ecklie won't find you and send your overworked ass home?"

She purses her lips into another smile with a soft shrug of a shoulder, and I hope it's not clear how blatantly I adore her.

I glance at the papers spread out across my otherwise immaculate desk as I approach, squinting softly at the crime scene notes to make out what it is she's looking at. Of course it's the Douglas case, this one is eating her alive.

I nod towards her cell phone, laying at the edge of the desk.

"Grissom is trying to get a hold of you. He's waiting outside."

She frowns, grabbing her phone and looking at the black screen.

"Fuck" she mutters, sliding the papers back into the manilla folder. The overhead lights are off, leaving only the intimate secondary lighting and the lamp on my desk. I prefer it like this, find it easier to think.

"Why did you get thrown out of the scene tonight?" I ask, crossing my arms as I move to lean against the edge of my desk.

"I wasn't thrown out exactly. I was asked to go home" she says, rolling the chair back slightly to grab her messenger bag and slip the files into a pocket. When she glances back at me, I arch an eyebrow and she sighs.

"I got upset. It's just such a pointless waste of life… I guess the weight of the past few months is catching up with me a bit" she admits.

"I was also asked to go home, if that makes you feel any better."

It's her turn to raise an eyebrow as I drum my fingertips against the fake wood desktop.

"I called officer Hall a moron."

"He is a moron" she mutters, a smile pulling at her lips. I scoff quietly in agreement.

She holds my gaze for a few moments, chocolate eyes searching my face before she seems to remember herself, giving my desk a final glance before standing up.

"Big plans tonight?" I ask, despite myself. That itch of irritation is back. I don't want to think about her in Gils apartment. Her hair tied back, feet bare, reading that book on astrophysics she's been making her way through at a glacial pace. It's so intimate and it feels wrong in his hands. Which is absurd, I realize.

"Sleep" she says simply, half smile playing over her lips as she looks at me. "Hopefully"

"Yeah" I breathe, pushing off the desk and turning towards the door.

"Sof-"

I feel her behind me, feel her sudden hesitation, and something slips in me. She's been so tentative for the past few months; so afraid of startling me. It's sweet, and I desperately need it to stop.

I turn, startling her as she nearly collides with me. I rest my hand against her hip, curling my fingers around the curve of it as I lean in.

"Sara…" I breathe, my grip on her tightening slightly. "You don't need to be afraid to touch me."

I feel her breath hitch, stomach contracting beneath my hand, and suddenly I am acutely aware of everything. The heat of her skin through her black t-shirt. The two inches of height she has on me. The rise and fall of her chest, nearly pressing into mine. The sound of her breath- or is it mine?

I feel caught in a moment I didn't mean to initiate. I hadn't intended for my words to come out dripping with intention, but I suppose when you've been swallowing desire for long enough, it finds a way out. I part my lips with a soft inhale, intent of saying something to dispel this tension, but she pulls back just enough to look at me, and my breath catches in my throat.

Her gaze is dark and intense and the heat that has been building in my lower stomach turns molten. I blink, searching her gaze, considering doing something completely brazen when the overhead lights flicker on and the sound of voices fill the outer office.

"Three bodies fully bled out on the floor man, can you imagine?"

The moment breaks like shattering glass. Sara's gaze snaps over her shoulder and I drop my hand away from her, taking a step back. She watches officer James and Detective Hanson enter the room as I stare at her, attempting to understand what exactly just happened.

"Curtis, rough one?" Hanson asks as he drops heavily down at his desk. I tear my gaze from Sara to meet his, running a hand over my loose ponytail.

"Yeah" I say, though it comes out as more of a tired sigh. I can't bare to look at Sara again, so I mutter a quiet 'goodnight' and brush past her out of the room.

Fuck.

I silently repeat this sentiment over and over as I saunter down the hall, making a swift turn into Vartan's office where he's in the middle of pouring another round of whiskey.

"Curtis, you look like you could use a drink" he observes, not waiting for a response as he pulls a fourth glass from beneath his desk. I just force a smile and lean heavily against the thick oak.

"You know I worked a case once with four bodies completely bled out in a kitchen," he hands me the glass, grey eyes glancing up at me. "Couldn't eat for days."

I toss back the amber liquid in a single swallow, revelling in the way it burns my throat. Vartan chuckles, leaning back in his chair. I raise the glass in a half-hearted cheers before settling it back onto the desk, too hard.

"Thanks" I mutter, giving a nod to the rest of the guys in the room "Goodnight"

Fuck.

I dig blunt nails into my steering wheel as I turn out of the busiest part of the city, towards my condo.

The only thing worse than dealing with this burgeoning awareness of my attraction to Sara would be her knowing about this attraction, and I just did an excellent job of dropping my hand for her to see.

"Fuck" I breathe, jabbing the button of the radio, loud rock music filling the space. I sit with it for a minute before promptly jabbing myself back into silence.

I attempt to think about anything else, which is when I remember Kyle. I groan quietly, putting a call through to her at the next red light. The unease she fosters is far more appealing than the unease I'm sitting with now.

"Good evening Detective" her voice flows melodically through the phone.

"What do you need Kyle?" I ask, uninterested in pleasantries. We kept in touch briefly after I returned from Phoenix, though I put a punctuated end to that after our last conversation. Or I thought I had.

"I'm well, thanks for asking" she says conversationally. I roll my eyes, running my tongue over my lip. I reach over to grab the emergency pack of cigarettes stashed in my glove compartment, waiting for her to continue. To hell with it all.

"I heard you've had a rough couple of weeks" she says, tone becoming more serious.

"You're checking in on me? How unlike you"

"I'm checking to see what level you're functioning on right now. Are we talking code orange- exhausted and sneaking cigarettes in your car, or have we entered full-blown code red like that time you drove to Colorado and took up day drinking."

I scoff, resting my elbow against my open window as I take a long drag. It had been near the end of our relationship and a case involving a young girl accidentally killing her sister had led to me tossing a few things into a duffle bag and leaving the state for a week. I haunted a dive bar across the street from the shady motel that I had chosen at random until I felt numb enough to return home.

"And remind me why you care?"

"Because you're going to be upset with me and I need to know what I'm dealing with."

I scoff in amusement. That sounds far more accurate.

"What did you do?"

"Where are you right now?"

"Just getting home" I tell her tiredly as I pull into my condo parking lot. "Kyle, what did you do?"

"The governors' inauguration ball is in a few days. I want to go."

"Why would you want to go to that?" I ask as I kill the ignition, scrunching my brow in confusion.

"The DA in Lyon County is stepping down and I want the job. I need to do some networking."

I chuckle, pushing out of the SUV with my boot. Just what I need, Kyle two counties away.

"No one wants to talk shop at those things, it's a bunch of affluent people getting wasted and making poor decisions" I tell her, flicking the ash from the end of my smoke. "And what does this have to do with me?"

She sighs and I hear what sounds like wine being poured. If I know her, she's somewhere quiet with an oversized glass of Merlot, going over today's files.

"I need you to go with me."

I scoff in amusement, taking another drag.

"No" I state flatly, crossing the deserted street.

"Fia" she sighs tiredly "please"

"Why? I'm sure you'll have no problem finding a date."

I draw in a final drag before leaning down to stub the embers out against my cracked cement step. She may be insufferable but her charm and looks have gotten her everything that her drive and tenacity couldn't quite secure.

"I know that, I'm not looking for a date. I need moral support. Please? This is important to me."

"I'm not going to the governors ball."

"Sofia" she whines, enunciating every syllable. My name only ever sounds like that in her mouth. "The beauty of lesbian relationships is that you usually remain friends afterwards, it's nice. Why can't we have that?"

"Because you slept with my patrol partner," I remind her, amusement coloring my voice as I rifle through my bag in search of my keys. Her audacity never fails to surprise me. "And I'm not a lesbian, and you're not nice."

She chuckles, pausing to sip her wine. "Really, because for a 'non-lesbian' you sure like to-"

"Kyle" I cut her off, unlocking my door "I'm not doing it."

"Okay, whatever" she breathes, irritation clear. "But that's going to be a little awkward for us."

I frown as I push into my condo, dropping my bag onto the bench beside the door.

"Why?"

I shut the door, slipping out of my boots. It takes a moment to notice that there are lights on, and when my gaze snaps to the kitchen, my breath catches in my throat violently for a second before I register the person sitting casually at my island with a glass of wine in hand as Kyle.

I shut my phone against my leg as I lean back against the door, pressing my eyes shut for a moment as my heart beats rapidly in my chest.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, eyes opening to shoot her a seething glare. She's got one slim leg crossed casually over the other, taking a slow sip of wine. Folders are lying neatly in front of her, dark hair long and loose.

"I'm sorry, okay? I tried to get a hold of you."

She's not sorry and we both know it.

"There are so many hotels in this city. You can't just let yourself in here" I mutter, my voice sounding tired even to me. I'm too exhausted to fight with her tonight.

"You know I can't sleep in hotels" she reminds me, sliding off the stool. She's in black silk pajama pants that make a soft swooshing sound as she walks, a black tank top clinging to her frame.

She approaches me tentatively, offering a soft smile. She smells like sandalwood and wine and I only lean slightly away as she reaches up to cup my cheek gently, running a thumb over my cheekbone as bright blue eyes search mine for a long moment.

"It was a last-minute decision to stay in Vegas and I wanted to see you."

When I don't respond she drops her hand away with a sigh, pressing the glass of wine into my hand.

"I let you keep that key for emergencies" I mutter, tipping back a long sip before moving around her towards the kitchen.

"You look exhausted" she notes, ignoring my words. I chuckle, tipping back the remainder of the wine before sliding the glass precariously onto the marble counter.

"I brought Thai food if you're hungry" she says, sliding back into her spot at the counter.

"You can stay here for one night. I'm going to bed" I toss over my shoulder as I head down the hall, hands clenched anxiously into fists.