DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I promise I'm only borrowing them and will return them to their rightful owners whenever they ask for them back. My imagination took a flight of fancy.....my bank account stayed empty. (Seriously, the cast of CSI belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and Alliance Atlantis and I'm only borrowing them for some free daydreaming that I wrote down).
SPOILERS: None specifically, although good knowledge of what happens in general is required. There will be the occasional reference to a case seen on the show, with any eps up to the end of Season 3 regarded as fair game. It is from this point that the AU occurs, although back story from the show (such as Nesting Dolls in s5 most obviously) will be incorporated where relevant/appropriate.
SERIES/SEQUEL: This piece is a standalone piece in its own right, but there is a
companion piece of the same name in the L&O: SVU fandom (coming soon).
These two fics will combine to be a crossover......eventually
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Cold Feet, Cold Case, Warm Hearts
By ncruuk
Part One
Quiet weeks have an annoying habit of turning into busy weekends. Whilst Monday could see the entire graveyard shift processing a hit-and-run for want of anything else to do, Saturday was a different story. For some reason, tonight was the night all hell decided to break loose, and a double homicide was just the beginning.
"Sidle"
*Grissom. How's that B and E going?*
"Just packing up now. Was looking to head back to the lab with the evidence."
*No.*
"No? Grissom, the evidence needs to be got back….."
*LVPD is providing officer escort. You're heading on again.*
"To my third scene since leaving the lab for a homicide? I'm going to start running out of stuff here Gris….."
*Brass is going to meet you at the next one with a new kit for you. 4106 Henderson. Double DB.*
"Brass is gonna meet me? Where's everyone else?"
*Elsewhere. Look, I'm sorry Sara, but we're busy tonight. 4106 Henderson.* And with that, the line went dead.
'Great. Thanks Grissom. Guess this means this double is turning into a triple.'
Resignedly, Sara reopened the back of her Tahoe and cast her eye over the contents. 3 boxes of evidence bags, CCTV equipment, rolls of camera film…..this had been a big scene to process, not least because whoever did it had left lots of themselves behind, taking most of her kit with it. She hardly had any print powder left, not to mention gloves and evidence bags.
'Just another Saturday night in Vegas' she thought, her inward contemplation broken by the approach of two officers.
"Ma'am?"
"Ah, Officers."
"We've been told we're taking the evidence to Criminalistics for you?"
"You done one of these before?" Sara asked the older of the pair, eying them critically
"Yes Ma'am. And orders from the top, this one's an escort job, what with all those bloody jewels."
"Ok." Satisfied, Sara watched the evidence from the jewellery store B and E be transferred from the Tahoe to a convoy of police cruisers, before getting into her Tahoe and, lights flashing, driving over to the less glamorous part of town.
Drawing up at yet another scene, she was met by Jim Brass who had at his feet one of the spare CSI kits.
"Man, these things weigh a ton." Was his opening comment
"Yes, which is why we each pack a personal kit and then ride around in these huge Tahoes" was Sara's comeback, as she bent down to pick up the kit. Brass understood the gesture for what it was and began leading Sara to the scene.
"Okay, heart of the wrong side of town. Two DBs in the living room with execution style gunshot wounds shouldn't be weird right? But getting shot in the head is messy. This place is completely clean." As Brass lifted the tape for Sara, she said
"Since when have you ever known a CSI to call a crime scene clean?" And with that, another scene began to be processed.
A couple of hours later, the obvious evidence bagged and tagged and the bodies removed to the morgue, it was time to start processing the less obvious. Two dead bodies don't die in a room and not bleed. No matter how smart a killer thinks they are, a CSI is smarter, unlocking many secrets of a scene…..but only if that scene wasn't being alternately bathed in red and blue light. What was often comforting was now not only plain irritating, but was also preventing Sara from working. Wearily, Sara got up from her crouching position, absently noticing how stiff her legs were feeling, before making her way to the front doorway, her intention being to either get the cars moved or the lights turned off.
4106 Henderson was two houses up from an intersection. Henderson had been blocked off, but the cross street was still open. As Sara reached the doorway, preparing to shout to Brass, no one noticed the dark SUV with no lights speed towards the intersection. As Sara called out, no one noticed as the front passenger window of the SUV wound down. Everyone noticed the sound of automatic weapons fire. Years of training kicked in as all dropped to the floor amid shouts and sounds of returned fire. After a few seconds that felt like minutes had passed, an eerie calm returned to the scene, still bathed in the familiar pulses of red and blue light. Officers began to rise, miraculously unharmed. Weapons were re-holstered as memories were searched for clues or details. What had happened just then? As comments began to carry across the cool night air about how lucky they'd been, one shout ripped through the cooling night air.
"OFFICER DOWN! OFFICER DOWN! OH MY GOD, SARA!"
4 YEARS LATER:
"Hey Sara?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you think these are?" Greg Sanders, once eager, hyperactive lab-rat, now eager, hyperactive CSI, carefully entered his mentor's office, clutching a stack of photographs.
"I can't say until you show me!" teased Sara gently, inwardly amused at his continued occasional shyness around her even after all these years of friendship.
"Oh, sorry."
After a minute or so of careful perusal, Sara looked up again.
"Tracks?"
"Yeah, but from what? They're too shallow to be a bike and no stroller would leave a single line like that, I checked. We're kinda stumped." Came Greg's honest reply.
"Hmm. You got any shots or maps of the scene?"
"In the layout room."
"Ok then. You push, I'll think!" And with that, Greg moved round behind Sara as she released her brakes and picked up the photographs, dumping the bulk of her pile on her lap, but focussing intently on one. Her focus never wavered once, trusting Greg to manoeuvre her carefully and safely through the sometimes chaotic corridors of the Crime Lab. Entering the layout room, she looked up to see Jacqui also there.
"Slow night?"
"Yeah. All of tonight's perps are wearing gloves, so thought I'd come and help Greg with his latest mystery."
"Ok" Smiling, Sara refocused her attention on the plasma screen mounted at one end of the lab.
"We got a site sketch?"
"Yup. Officer Calloway volunteered." Replied Greg
"Excellent. Let's see it." Jacqui, being nearest, pressed a few buttons on a computer, bringing up a neat, free hand annotated sketch of the crime scene. These sketches, often drawn by a police officer, were an informal aid that had been added to the graveyard shift 'to-do list', irrespective of scene size, specifically so that Sara could help in this manner. Never used in court, the sketches showed a layout of rooms within a house or of the garden, and were simply a means of allowing Sara to 'see' the scene's layout, not just the key points of evidence.
"Ok, show me where this tread was?"
"Here. That box shows the lawn and that's the brick driveway. The boundary was muddy."
"We got a picture of the grass?"
"Here." As Sara began contemplating the grass and track, Jacqui looked across to Greg, shooting him a look as if to say "Grass? WTF?". Speaking in a near whisper, though that was quite unnecessary given how engrossed Sara was, Greg elaborated.
"There are two broad types of grass. Grass that grows horizontally and has big, infrequent blades, and grass that grows vertically with a high density of longer, very fine blades. We generally can't get impressions from the horizontal stuff, but you can occasionally get them from the vertical stuff since it squashes."
"Ah, this is horizontal stuff. No prints or impressions then." Offered Jacqui
"Yup" agreed Greg.
"We got any of those collecting sheets? The really big ones?" asked Sara
"Right here." Said Greg, gesturing to a drawer.
"Fingerprint powder?" This time it was Jacqui that gestured.
"Ok, Greg, go out into the corridor and lay down a continuous strip, overlapping them until it's about ten feet long, sticky side up." Giving Sara a look as if to say "What the hell are you thinking?" Greg got up and went to do exactly that.
"Jacqui, grab the powder, and follow me." Grinning, Sara wheeled herself out into the corridor in time to see Greg just finishing.
"Ok, Jacqui, hold down one end, Greg the other." And, once they were in position, Sara carefully wheeled herself along the sheets, making sure she kept her right wheel along the centre. Reaching the end, she turned herself around to face the bemused pair before explaining
"Dust and scan that. I think that it will be about the right size and width. You're looking for a manual wheelchair tread." Before continuing up the corridor to the break room, leaving the pair standing in the corridor looking bemused.
Slow shifts meant long nights, meaning coffee was required.
After half an hour and two cups of coffee, Sara was halfway through the latest forensics journal when Greg once again appeared standing hesitantly by the break room doorway. Looking up, Sara waited for him to speak.
"Ok, so wheelchair tyres are like car tyres – lots of patterns, many of which enable you to then trace the make and so on."
"Yes."
"Wheelchair treads are held by the manufacturers in databases, but we can only compare an image that has been made by a wheel that is perpendicular to the ground. Most chairs have them set at an angle, rather than a 90 degree vertical setting. The manufacturers can't help us unless we know the pitch or what the impression looks like at 90 degrees."
"Go on." At this, Greg took another step into the break room and nervously ran his fingers through his allegedly artistically styled messy hair.
"Um, so, well, see, the computer needs more data to make the projected model to either calculate the pitch or create a 90 degree impression."
"So?" Again Greg's nervousness got the better of him. Whereas Grissom made Greg-the-lab-rat ramble, Sara seemed to make Greg-the-CSI stall, requiring occasional gentle prodding.
"So, could we borrow your chair or your wheel or well, you know….."
Laughing at the simplicity of the request, Sara gave Greg one of those smiles he used to live for. Not the slightly up-turned smirk, but the fully fledged beam, where Sara seemingly lost her shyness and allowed her whole face to become animated.
"Of course you can borrow my chair. Why do you think I grabbed a pile of work when we left my office?" teased Sara, plainly enjoying the moment.
"You knew I was going to need to ask that, didn't you?"
"Yup."
"When?"
"You really want me to answer that?"
"No, wait, it was when you made me lay out the sheets in the corridor, wasn't it?"
"Uh huh"
"And it only took me half an hour to follow up something you already knew." Seeing the funny side now, Greg flopped onto one of the easy chairs before smirking at Sara. At her look of askance, he explained
"Did Grissom teach you to be like that or is it instinctive to all graveyard supervisors?" before ducking out of the way of the accurately flung journal.
"Cheeky boy. Yes you can borrow my chair. If you must take it apart, put it back together properly and don't leave any fingerprint powder on it. Bring it back in an hour?"
"Sure. Thanks. Where do you want to sit?"
"The table." And, with the ease associated only with long-term friendship, Sara wheeled herself over to the table and dumped her papers on it before Greg carefully scooped her out of the wheelchair and placed her gently in one of the chairs at the table. With a final word of thanks and a promise to behave, he left the break room wheeling the chair as Sara settled down to some paperwork, coffee once again in hand.
'You'd think living this close to the desert we could avoid mud wrestling at crime scenes' pondered Catherine as she left the locker room following a much needed shower. What had started as a road accident had turned very mucky when the car was discovered in a ditch. The second vehicle had ended up in about two feet of mud, meaning Catherine had spent a fruitless couple of hours trying to process the scene, most of which was under two feet of mud. Tired and smelly, she had dragged herself back to the lab where she enjoyed a hot shower and clean clothes. The promise of a cup of coffee and a much needed sit down would complete her recovery in preparation for analysing the fruits of her muddy labour.
As Catherine approached the break room, she saw an unusual yet welcome sight. Two impossibly long, lean, denim clad legs lazily stretched out across the floor under the table. Those legs could only belong to one person and, as far as Catherine was concerned, that person was definitely better than coffee. Entering the break room, Catherine moved round behind Sara and dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her engrossed lover's head, causing her to sit up with a start.
"Cat!"
"Coffee?"
"Do I ever say no?" Laughing, Catherine picked up Sara's empty mug and headed to the coffee pot.
"You're grounded?"
"Only for an hour. Greg found some tracks on the driveway that he worked out were wheelchair tracks. He's borrowed my chair so that the computer can accumulate enough reference data to make a comparison model for the manufacturers."
"Ah. We don't often get wheelchair tracks."
"No. Greg's first I think." Offered Sara, gratefully taking the coffee from Catherine.
"You smell!" was Sara's quick response as Catherine passed her
"And I love you too" countered Catherine cheekily as she set her coffee on the table before repositioning Sara slightly.
"Seriously, I thought you were at a collision on the Freeway…." began Sara, trying to picture the assignment slip.
"I was, but the second car didn't stay on the freeway. I've been processing the ditch!"
"Oh, sorry." Came Sara's sheepish reply
"Don't worry, you're forgiven. Anyway, I shall just have to curry favour with the Boss to get some better assignments!" teased Catherine as she pulled Sara's shoes off her feet and hoisted them into her lap before beginning a gentle yet firm massage on them. Surprised at having her legs moved, Sara glanced to see where her feet were and, on seeing what Catherine was up to, smiled at her lover.
"Thank you" came the simple yet heart felt reply.
"I love you too." Replied Catherine, seriously this time. To the casual eavesdropper, the exchange may have sounded one sided, with Catherine offering all the affection and Sara just receiving it, but eavesdropping doesn't allow all the evidence to be presented. On occasion, the phrase 'actions speak louder than words' becomes something more than an overused cliché. Early on in their acquaintance, Catherine had made the mistake of assuming that, because Sara rarely entered into a conversation on a topic outside of forensic science, that meant she had no opinion, view or contribution to make about other subjects. Later, this misnomer was corrected and Catherine discovered Sara's most comfortable vocabulary – her smiles and frowns. Sara could communicate more in a single look than Catherine felt she could in a lengthy speech. Spoken words of affection, whilst heartfelt, are not always intimate. A murmured "Love You" in the company of others is shared, made public, broadcast to all who can hear. A look or a glance, no matter how fleeting, Catherine had quickly learnt, when being sent to her by Sara, was far more intimate and private. That look was for her and no one else. That unabashed smile, with no hint of self-consciousness about the gap between her teeth? That was love, and it was all Catherine's.
After a few tranquil minutes, Catherine reluctantly stopped her massage. The quiet, almost domestic time had done even more than her hot shower had to soothe her fraying nerves and tense muscles. It had served also as a time to check on her lover's well being. No matter how rational or irrational her fear was, a part of Catherine was always concerned that Sara's seemingly redundant legs would get abandoned by her circulation. Even before the accident, Sara had admitted to getting numb feet on occasion. Now, without any sensation at all, there was sometimes a seed of worry in Catherine's mind, despite protestations from her rational inner scientist based on medical advice and physiotherapy routines. The massaging was, in a way, purely selfish on her part, since Sara couldn't feel it, but at some point it had become a ritual that the two of them shared, grounding each of them and renewing their connection in much the same way that a kiss or making love also did.
Catherine had just replaced Sara's shoes when Greg returned to the break room. His arrival caught Catherine's eye before Sara's.
"Hey Greg. I hear you've been playing with wheelchair tracks?"
"Yes. Jacqui and I now have an image the manufacturers can use for comparison on the tyre, as well as the pitch angle for the wheel. How was your case?"
"Muddy! So, that was your first wheelchair print?"
"Yeah, and Sara went all Grissom on me!" protested Greg, hoping to have a sympathetic audience with Catherine.
"Sara went all Grissom?"
"She made me take tracks from her chair when she knew just by looking at the photos what they were!" pouted Greg good naturedly
"And so you told her about 40 minutes after you'd asked her for help what they were when she could have told you within seconds?" summarised Catherine
"Yup."
"And you're calling that 'going all Grissom'?"
"Yes. " Greg began to sound hesitant. Is it such a good idea to complain to your colleague, in front of your Boss, that her lover resembles Gil Grissom?
"I like it! Anyways, I've got evidence to process." And so, having topped up her mug and squeezed Sara's shoulder affectionately in passing, Catherine left, allowing Sara to unravel her latest 'intrigue' with Greg.
Days turn into nights turn into days. In truth, for the long term members of the graveyard shift, 'day' and 'night' had little meaning anymore. Is night when you work or when you sleep? Philosophical ponderings aside, at some point a new 'day' had dawned and now a new shift was begun.
"How was your night off?" Catherine asked Nick as he helped himself to a cup of coffee at the start of shift.
"Really great thanks. How was the shift?"
"You missed Catherine mud wrestling!" offered Greg enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to the death glare that was being sent his way.
"Oh man. I always miss the good stuff!" Was Nick's only response.
"What good stuff?" asked Warrick, as he arrived for shift.
"Apparently Cath here was mud wrestling last night?"
"Well, we both processed a scene standing thigh deep in mud, if that's what you're talking about?"
"You really know how to squash a guy's fantasy, don't you?" was Greg's deflated comment in response to Warwick's realism.
"Thankfully." Came Catherine's dry quip, shooting a grateful look in Warrick's direction.
"So a quiet shift then?" asked Nick, returning to more serious matters
"Yeah. Greg got some wheelchair treads, we closed our freeway crash. All in all, a fairly average shift." Concluded Catherine
"Well, this one isn't" interjected a new voice from the doorway.
All faces turned to look at Sara as she entered the break room, a pile of files in her lap.
"Before you ask, no, we're not getting help from day shift as they are already pulling a double due to some casino heists that happened a couple of hours ago. And no, we're not helping them with those, because we've just been slammed. Tonight would seem to be the night."
"Casino heists?" asked Nick, clearly surprised by the news
"All three of Sam Braun's places were hit within 10 seconds of each other."
"But those places have automatic hook ups with the police department. Instantaneous response and lock down type stuff." Volunteered Warrick clearly baffled as to how this could have occurred. For casinos as big and successful as Sam Braun's, a few million dollars on a state of the art security system was peanuts in comparison with the amount of money a casino had in its vaults.
"True, but no one anticipated a take down of all three together. The combined system fried, thought it was a systems error and so shut down and reset itself, nullifying any help it could give us. The casinos have collectively agreed to hush it up. Day shift is having a field day with it. We're not helping." What Sara didn't say was that she and Catherine had come in when it happened to help, in anticipation of the two shifts working together, only for the Sam Braun connection to emerge. At that moment, everyone agreed that the graveyard crew really shouldn't get involved unless it became absolutely vital because, for Sara and Catherine at least, this could be regarded as a family case.
Now, two hours later, the decision had been taken out of their hands as the graveyard shift caught a case that, on any other night of the year would have justified them calling on the day shift for help.
"We're going out into the desert. Forty minutes ago there was an explosion in a small ravine/canyon type thing at the side of the road. A motorist some distance away spotted it and called it in. Helicopters were sent up to find it, getting us an exact location and some photographs of the epicentre and surrounding blast zone." At this point, Sara passed out some photographs.
"Gees, that's one hell of a scene we've got to process" was Nick's comment.
"The helicopters are estimating a debris zone of about 3 square miles. On scene reports from local fire crews are suggesting signs of a vehicle or vehicles, as well as evidence of human body parts." Continued Sara
"That's not caused by a few gas tanks." Observed Greg
"Which is why we're still here, and not already at the scene?" Came Warrick's speculative enquiry. Nodding, Sara took up the explanation.
"Haz-Chem are currently assessing the scene to see what other agents are present. As Greg says, there was something more potent than gasoline there, be it chemical or even nuclear. LVPD are checking with all the licensed truck firms for chemicals and radioactive materials to see if they are missing any trucks. Until then, we and the Coroner's Office are waiting to hear if we have to go in suited up. We're going to have to take so much kit as it is, so the more information we can have before we go, the better." Pausing to gather in the photographs, Sara took a calming breath to try and slow her racing pulse. As horrendous as this scene was, this was what the criminalist in her now lived for. Since her accident, she rarely went out to scenes, only getting out for the politically sensitive or massive 'all-hands-on-deck' ones.
"Brass is going to come by and we're all going out together. Since he knows how we work the best out of all the captains, he's going to be running the police once we get control, no matter whether it's a homicide or not. He'll bring the most up to date information. In the mean time, go and change into overalls since site access is by rope line only." At this, Sara couldn't help but grimace. No matter how determined she was, there was no way she was going to be able to abseil into the scene like she might once have. This was going to be a case where she would be forced to supervise 'hands-off.' As the groans of the CSIs penetrated her mental meanderings, she refocused and said, in rarely used commanding tone
"Go. Change. Check all the Tahoes to make sure you have more than full stocks of everything we normally need. More kit will meet us there, so the Tahoes will just need to get us started. Everyone meet back here changed and ready in one hour." Recognising the dismissal for what it was, the CSIs quickly drained coffee cups before heading out to go and sort themselves out. Nothing was said as each person was beginning to prepare themselves for what the night was going to bring. Holding back, Catherine waited for the room to clear of all but Sara before perching on the edge of the sofas right next to Sara. Drawing one of Sara's hands into her lap, Catherine waited until Sara focussed on her.
"Hey, stay calm. You can do this."
"But what if I can't Cat?"
"When has Sara Sidle not done what she set her mind to? You want to do this, and can do this."
"This is big Cat, bigger than the bus crash, bigger than the dead plane guy. This is a big scene full of we don't know what!" Sara's voice began to rise as the stress she was beginning to feel crept in to her tone
"Think Sara, remember what Grissom said when he told you about being supervisor. Remember the conversation." Catherine spoke gently, seemingly becoming more relaxed as Sara became tenser. Finally, Sara seemed to really hear what Catherine was almost cooing and after a moment, began to visibly calm as she remembered the conversation she had with Grissom and Brass the day it was suggested she should become supervisor.
"No, no way."
"But I thought you were ambitious Sara?" came Grissom's emotionless response
"Yes, but not to go straight to supervisor. What about everybody else? Catherine has seniority……"
"I'm not recommending Catherine." Grissom interjected, in that same neutral tone
"Why now? You never gave it to me on the nights you were away…."
"You didn't need the opportunity. The others all benefited from the insight. You already had that." Again, Grissom parried Sara's emotional thrust with cool rationale.
"I was never really a 'team' person, why the hell do you think I can lead one?"
"Wrong. You are a team person. You're dependable, confident, respectful, have integrity. What you were not always was communicative, but that is hardly a requirement. You and Catherine both accused me, correctly, of being less than forthcoming on many occasions. A supervisor needs to inspire their team, to lead, often by example. You can do all of that." Countered Grissom, still remaining completely calm.
"I'M A BLOODY CRIPPLE!" shouted Sara, Grissom's ever increasing calmness in the face of her anger only angering her further.
"And I'm deaf. Sara, we don't solve at the scene, we start the case. Once we've collected the evidence, we return to the lab where we outthink the criminal, thereby making the case for Brass or whoever. You don't think with your legs, you use your senses, which are unchanged. Going to the scene doesn't matter. How many cases am I involved in?"
"All of them, even the slam dunks." Admitted Sara quietly, still simmering
"How many scenes do I go to?"
"Not all of them" conceded Sara grudgingly.
"So, what's the problem? I supervise cases from the lab, so can you."
"But I don't know how!"
"Yes you do. What was your role in Greg's training, exactly?" at this change in questioning, Brass couldn't help but break into a smile. He could see where Grissom was going, and it was down the home straight. Everything was going to be fine.
There was a long pause as Sara obviously processed all the available information and evidence available to her. Finally, the pause was broken by Sara's near whisper
"I taught him when he needed to learn, helped him when he needed help, oversaw his work when he did things alone. I tried to do everything for him that you do and did for me."
"And what am I?"
"My supervisor" came the hollow response
"And you did everything I did. Sara, you may not have ever been supervisor in name, but you did all the jobs. I never gave you the acting-supervisor job because you couldn't learn from it, the others could. Keep doing what you did for Greg, with a bit more paperwork, and you'll be a great supervisor." At this point, rather than sounding neutral, Grissom's voice finally had some warmth and support in it.
"Excuse me." After a long pause, Sara had abruptly pushed back and began moving away from the table towards the door, excusing herself almost as an afterthought. As she headed outside, Brass made to follow her, only to be stopped by Grissom.
"No, let her go. Let her do what she does best."
"What's that?"
"Process the evidence."
"Honey?"
Sara was drawn back to the present from her recollection to look at Catherine.
"I can do this Cat, can't I?"
"Most definitely"
"I'm scared" admitted Sara shyly.
"There's no need to be. You are a great leader Sara. You have the knowledge. You have the respect." Catherine carefully helped Sara's at times fledgling self-belief gather and grow into the sort of confidence she had when it came to evidence. Squeezing the clasped hand, she unknowingly echoed the words that Grissom said to Brass that night in the restaurant
"Just do what you do best."
"What's that?" came the tentative reply that, from anyone else, would have seen to be a hook cast specifically to fish for a compliment. Catherine knew that her lover's question was genuine and once again cursed the people who, over the years, had broken Sara's belief in herself so badly. However, before Catherine could reply, a new voice offered the response from the doorway
"Process the evidence Sara. That's where the answers are." Smiling, Catherine looked up to great the new person
"Jim. Either you got here quicker than we expected, or I'm running late?"
"A bit of both I'm afraid." Offered Jim as he came all the way into the break room, heading to the coffee pot to grab what would probably be his last cup for a very long time. Smiling weakly, Sara lifted their clasped hands to her lips and placed a fleeting kiss on Catherine's knuckles before releasing them. Looking into Catherine's clear blue eyes, Sara said quietly
"Thank you. Go get changed. I can do this."
"I know you can babe, I know you can." And with that, Catherine rose smoothly to her feet and left the room, giving Sara's shoulder one final reassuring squeeze, heading for the locker room to change. After a brief moment, Jim, complete with two cups of coffee, sat down at the table and began to spread out his papers. Sara went to join him.
"I'm guessing you now know more than dispatch knew when they spoke to me half an hour ago?" offered Sara as a conversation opener. Despite becoming more relaxed and open around other people since the double effect of her accident and relationship with Catherine, she still found herself most comfortable when talking about work. Then, no small talk was needed.
"Not much, but certainly more. Haz Chem have assessed it and decided that there was something as well as gasoline, but whatever it is, they don't know. They do know that the site is non-hazardous for personnel."
"Meaning we can go in without needing gas tanks and masks." Clarified Sara, skimming the outline notes contained in the relevant email.
"Glad you understand this science stuff, I'm rather out of my depth with a lot of it." Offered Jim apologetically
"But you understand more of it than a lot of the PD, and you understand how important it is, which is why the Commissioner made you the guy in charge." Volunteered Sara honestly, still engrossed in the various reports provided by Jim.
"If you say so" Jim was evidently reluctant to accept this. Whilst he had once run the CSI department, Holly Gibbs' death had had a significant impact on not only his job, but also his own self belief that had seen a re-emergence when Sara had been shot. However, the night of the biggest scene the lab had ever had to Jim's knowledge, was not the time to be having such thoughts. Taking a deep breath and a gulp of coffee, he forced himself to refocus on informing Sara of everything he knew. "Anyways, we're now checking all the chemical firms in the area to see if someone has lost something that could go bang. In the mean time, the fire department are busy making sure that nothing is burning. By the time we get there, they say they will be ready to let you in."
"Which is going to be a hell of a problem. That ravine means everyone is going to have to be harnessed and roped in" responded Sara pragmatically, shuffling through the various Polaroids that had been produced from somewhere.
"Yeah. This is where it becomes your show." Said Brass simply, causing Sara to look up with a start.
"My show?"
"Yes. All the Chiefs agree that there is nothing that can be done until we work out what the hell happened up there. Right now, we don't know who, what, how, why, any of those helpful questions. That's what the geek squad can tell us, and you run the geek squad." Geek Squad was usually used as an insult, but Brass' smile took the sting from the words.
"So CSI has complete control of the scene?" asked Sara, trying to comprehend the situation.
"Sara, YOU have control of the scene" Brass, conscious of the struggles that Sara had at times with her position, carefully set out exactly what was going to happen at the scene.
"Until we know exactly what happened, no one can do anything. CSI is the group that can find the answers. The faster you find the answers, the faster we can all do our bit. So, since no one can do anything 'til you've done your thing, we're all standing by ready to help however we can. My guys will do what I tell them. The Fire Chief's guys will do what he tells him. The Coroner's guys will do what Doc Robbins tells them. But the Chief, the Doc and I, we do what you tell us to do. Sara, it's your scene to process." Brass placed a fatherly hand on her left hand, hoping to transmit strength to the still uncertain woman. Ever since her accident, Sara had gradually blossomed into an outgoing, confident woman as she learnt through necessity that she didn't need to be completely self-sufficient and that there were people who genuinely loved and cared for her, but there were still times when Jim was reminded of the 'old Sara', whose self-belief and confidence outside of straight forensic science had been eroded to nothing by previous events and experiences.
"I've never run a scene this big before Jim….." came the quiet admission.
"I know, but Grissom once told me that there were no big scenes, only smaller scenes. There is nothing about this scene you haven't dealt with before. Just break it down like you would any other. Don't worry about the size; don't worry about all the people. Just do what you normally do. We're all here with you." Taking a deep breath, Sara slid her hand out from Jim's and said quietly
"This is just like any other scene." Like a boxer might repeat their mantra before a fight. Remembering everything that Grissom had taught and shown her, everything that Brass had supported her through, remembering everything she had overcome since the shooting, remembering Catherine's unwavering love for her, drawing on her love for Catherine and the thirst for forensics she still had, she looked at Jim. Eyes that had been clouded with fear and worry were now dark and clear, full of determination and confidence. As Grissom had observed, the legs may not work but the mind was, if anything, sharper. Sara knew how to do this. Sara could do this. Sara was going to do this.
"Right…This is going to take more than 5 CSIs to process. It's going to take a hell of lot more than 5 CSIs to process this scene before next week. We need more bodies." Brass couldn't help but smile. This was the Sara he knew, this was the Sara he remembered from the night of the shooting, right before all hell broke loose. Cool, calm, focused, determined Sara, irrespective of the circumstances. This was the Sara that was running this case.
"Day shift?"
"Busy." Sara fired off her answers as she was once again rifling through photographs and papers.
"On what?"
"100 million dollars that went walkies from 3 casinos. No day shift helpers."
"No shit? Can you get any from any other labs? FBI?"
"Nope. The FBI are already on standby to cover any major scenes that come up whilst we're on this one, and you know damn well that there are no other labs we can wake up."
"Major scenes?"
"It's a Saturday night in Vegas. When was the last time you had one of those without a DB?"
"So no more CSIs; who do we call?"
"We need as many official bodies as we can: Cops, cadets, firemen. I don't care. The Coroner's Office need to do autopsies, we need to find the bodies. We need people with flashlights walking across every inch of that blast area looking for bits of vehicle, bits of anything, possibly even body parts."
"Cops I've got. Any cop within 100 miles who has line training is being called in. The fire chief is doing the same with some of his guys. We can do flashlight searches."
"Good. We're going to need lots of kit: Markers, bags, cameras. You got any police photographers spare?"
"You always complain when you see our photographs."
"That's because they don't know what to photograph. Technically, their ability to take the photographs is fine, so they can take the pictures that we tell them to, given the scene is going to be virtually pitch black."
"Yeah, they can get clean shots of what you tell them too. I'll round up a few. The fire chief should have a couple spare too." Brass began making notes in his pocket book, Sara, oblivious, continued on her assessment based on what she currently knew.
"We need every vehicle the lab has out there, even the Day shift ones. They're back at the lab now so don't need them. We'll need the big rig to bring evidence back and the major incident truck needs to have some kit loaded into it."
"Major Incident truck needs kit?"
"I remember reading in the package I was given about disaster management. There is a plan where by the major incident truck can be loaded up with some basic kit so that we can do some preliminary tests at the scene. They always need to be redone for court and convictions, but in San Francisco we found it useful to help us direct our focus on processing the scene." Explained Sara, beginning to gain confidence as, amongst other things, her memories drew together to show her that she did know how to deal with a scene of this magnitude, even if some of her experiences had only been as a CSI 1 in San Francisco.
"Ok, who do I talk to?"
"Huh? Oh, the CSI in charge . . . which I guess would be me." Pausing a moment to consider her best course of action, she reached for her cell phone and rang Greg.
"Sanders"
"Greg, where are you?"
"Finishing checking the kit with the others"
"Stop doing that. Go to my office. There is a binder on the shelf labelled 'CSI DM MIT'. I think it's red. Take it and go and find whichever tech you think is the best all-round tech, who can do a bit of everything well, but especially scopes and chem tests. Do exactly what the binder says. You're going to convert the major incident truck into a basic multi-purpose lab so that we can do field tests."
"I don't know how to do that" came Greg's nervous reply as he made his way back up to Sara's office.
"Yes you do. It's basically ringing people and telling them what to do. Everyone knows what to do. You then check it with the tech and make sure you're both happy that everything is there and then it gets driven out to the scene."
"How do I get to the scene?" Greg, trying to keep his fear under control, tries to focus on the relatively mundane.
"Uh, point 22 on the list I think. A police car drives you out at speed to catch us up. Greg, you can do this, just follow the process." Sara's words of confidence do as much to Greg's confidence as he dreamt a kiss might once have. On hearing them, even though she can't see him, he stands a bit taller and walks a bit faster. Sara's belief in him helps him have belief in himself.
"CSI DM MIT. Possibly red ring binder. Grab Bobby and together we do exactly what it says. Does he need to get changed too?"
"Yes."
"Right. We'll see you at the scene." And with that, Greg hung up, setting about his task.
Putting her phone away, Sara glances at Brass to see he's smirking
"What?"
"You"
"What about me?" asked Sara, frowning slightly
"You've risen to the occasion. How the hell do you know about the disaster management programme like that?"
"Umm, I read the manual when I was given it?" Sara's response clearly implying that this should seem obvious, as if to say 'Surely I thought everyone read every line of every procedural manual and memorised it?'
"Why?" Brass obviously hasn't.
"Same reason she subscribes to gun magazines and reads all the latest journals. It might be useful one day." Offered Catherine as the rest of the CSIs, minus Greg, return to the break room, making Sara blush.
"Like I said, you're doing a grand job. Now, what else do you need?"
"Umm, vehicles?"
"You said you need all the Tahoes, both shift's sets. Greg's sorting the Major Incident Truck, and I presume someone somewhere knows about the big rig?" recapped Brass.
"How we getting out to the scene?" asked Nick, as Sara seemed lost in deep thought
"Caning it in a convoy" Was Brass' quick response
"We need more police drivers then. Those Tahoes are fully loaded now. We can't drive them in a blue light convoy when they're that heavy. They need drivers who are pursuit trained." Stated Sara
"Let me guess, the disaster management pack?" queried Brass lightly, already scribbling something down.
"Yes."
"Ok. I'm guessing 12 Tahoes?" At Sara's nod, Brass continued "Ok. Drivers I can do. They're department vehicles, so my guys can drive them. Given how many guys I'm sending out there, there should be 12 around who can drive those tanks. I'll go make some calls." As Brass took his leave, Sara called out
"About the big rig, call Traffic. It's over at the garages and comes with a driver."
Waving in acknowledgement, Brass moved out into the corridor so that he could make his calls as the CSIs worked out what they were going to do.
"Catherine, you've been here the longest. Have you ever done such a big scene before?"
"Nope. Came close a couple of times, but we never actually had to get the trucks out. There is no right way, only your way."
"Hmm, in that case…." Sara paused a moment to study the original aerial shots taken from the helicopter, before motioning for the others to gather round her and look at them.
"Catherine, I want you to talk to the fire chief and find out where they think the hot spot is. Rope it off and then process it. You should be looking for clues about what actually caused the explosion and what was involved. Once Greg gets there, he'll help you."
"Fire Chief, Hot Spot, cause and source of explosion. Got it. Will I get extra bodies?"
"Yeah, but don't know when or what yet. Nick, Warrick, I want you to divide the rest of the scene in two, each working from the centre of the hot spot out to the scene edges in opposite directions so that you sweep the whole site."
"Man, that's a big area" said Nick
"I know, which is why you're both going to get as many bodies as possible. Brass is rounding up cops and firemen to help with flashlight inspections. Anything that looks like it shouldn't be there, they can put a yellow marker down. Each of you is going to be supervising and running your section."
"We going to be able to use the cadets?" asked Warrick
"Depends. Are they going to be able to do line drops? That's the only way in and out, for both people and evidence."
"Probably not then. Don't think line drops feature for cadets." Offered Nick.
"No cadets then."
"What are we going to do about bodies, if there are any?" asked Catherine, amazed at how well Sara was planning the scene in anticipation.
"Radio Sara and I'll send David or someone down to do the necessary. We'll be waiting at the top for your call." Said Doc Robbins as he entered the room. Turning to Sara he said
"I was told to get into these overalls and come over here to see what you wanted me to do. David has already loaded up our vans and he and a tech are already driving out. Should get there about the same time we do since I'm assuming we're going faster?"
"Right. What do you want us to do with body parts, if there are any?" asked Sara, glad the experienced coroner had joined them. It was not a night for him to have off.
"Record the location, photograph, and then bag and tag like any other evidence. I want a coroner there if it's a complete torso, head, body…..basically, anything more than a limb, get a coroner. That way, we're covered."
"Ok. I think that's everything for now. I guess I'll have to say some more when we see what help we have there, and feel free to give whoever you get given as help pep talks or whatever as you feel necessary. What do you guys think about making everyone take time outs if they get human remains? They're not going to be CSIs, we don't want anyone freaking out down there." Everyone seemed to make agreeing noises to this suggestion, all instinctively recalling how they reacted to their first body, though it was the Doc that offered the specifics.
"They find remains, they time out for thirty minutes. Sub someone else in." Again, there seemed to be general murmurs of agreement, suggesting that a rule had just been made. It was at this point that Brass returned
"Right, we're ready to go when you are. I've got cruisers and motorbikes downstairs ready to give escort and a dozen pursuit drivers waiting for the keys for the Tahoes. The big rig has set off and the Incident truck has just arrived to be loaded up by Greg and Bobby. A cruiser is also waiting to then take them out to the scene. I've rounded up 100 officers and the Fire Chief's got 50 heading out there. The coroner's office seem to have already set off." At this point, Doc Robbins cleared his throat, causing Brass to look up from his pocketbook.
"Sorry Doc, didn't see you there. Do we need anything else, or can we roll?"
"Good to go I think?" asked Sara, looking to see if anyone had any questions, which they didn't.
"In that case, let's go. Nick, Warrick, can you ride in one Tahoe with these aerial photos and work out how many guys you would ideally like in a perfect world to do a decent sweep? Then work out how many you need as a realistic minimum. Catherine, Brass, Doc, we fit a Tahoe?"
"Sure we can." Said Brass as they began to file out, heading for the parking lot.
"We'll catch you up. We need to grab your jacket and stuff." Said Catherine, sending a pointed look at Sara, who at that point realised she was about to set off out into the middle of nowhere in just her jeans and button-down shirt, not to mention the small matter of personal hygiene issues. Whilst she had never been a fan of 'going behind a bush' when processing the big scenes, her current situation made that not an option, instead requiring a certain amount of forward planning. Chuckling at Sara's expression, Catherine and Sara set off to the locker room whilst everyone else gathered up the documents and headed for the lift.
Catherine held opened the door for Sara and waited for her to enter the deserted locker room, before slamming the door closed and dropping into Sara's lap, propelling the chair back up against the door, ensuring total privacy from any eyes that might attempt to venture in.
"What the Fu…" before Sara could finish her exhaled expletive, her lips were crushed in a powerful, passionate, all consuming kiss. Even if she hadn't wanted to participate, her attempted question had given Catherine all the opportunity she needed to ensure that Sara was not a passive participant. As she threaded her fingers through the long, dark silk, Catherine deepened the kiss, taking full advantage of not only her knowledge of Sara's weak spots, but also the fact that her partner would never drop her, no matter how weak her own knees might have been rendered. After a few moments that could have been seconds or hours, Catherine reluctantly forced their lips to part, mumbling
"I need oxygen babe."
Smiling shyly, Sara rested her forehead against her lover's and said in a matching mumble
"Not that that wasn't appreciated, because it was, but why did you do that?"
"To distract you." Came Catherine's simple reply, visibly bracing herself for the expected explosion. She was not disappointed.
"WHAT THE HELL?"
"No need to shout, I'm sitting in your lap."
"Cat, what the hell made you think that now was a good time to distract me?" asked Sara at her normal volume, the disbelief and anger continuing to colour her tone
"Because you need to stop thinking." Came Catherine's still simple reply, now looking straight into Sara's now brooding eyes.
"Run that one past me again?"
"You need to stop thinking."
"Were you just in the break room when Brass and I were discussing the single biggest crime scene this lab has had to deal with in at least the last twenty years?" asked Sara, genuinely beginning to wonder at her lover's sanity.
"Yes."
"So tell me why I need to stop thinking?"
"Because I know you, and you're not thinking about the crime scene."
"I'm sorry?" Sara was now starting to sound extremely insulted, but Catherine knew where she was going and knew that she had to keep going.
"I know you Sara. You are not thinking about the crime scene. I know you're not thinking about the crime scene. Don't insult me by claiming you were." Catherine's tone hardened, even if her body language and eyes did not.
"Catherine, I think you need to get up from my lap NOW." Sara's eyes were now fiery with anger, and her posture was rigid. If she could have dumped Catherine on the floor, she would have, but Catherine's embrace of her chest was too firm.
"No. You need to listen to me Sara Sidle. That over-large lump of highly developed grey matter inside that cranium of yours is not currently thinking about what needs to be done to process this scene. That brain of yours is running itself ragged having arguments with itself about how you're going to fuck this up and why you can't do what you've already started doing fabulously." Catherine's tone softened with every word, as too did her embrace.
"Look at me." When Sara's head didn't shift from gazing at the floor to Catherine's right, Catherine gently held Sara's chin and turned it so that it was looking at her.
"Right now you're worrying that you're going to make a mistake, that you're going to forget something, that you're going to screw up, that you don't know how to handle all the people there. Right now you're cursing the fact that Tommy Rodriguez screwed up his gang initiation and used live ammo not blanks when he drove over the intersection that night you were at 4106 Henderson. Right now you're cursing the fact that you had to stop being a regular CSI because you can't scamper down gorges to scenes like this. Right now you're wishing that Grissom had never taken that post back at UCLA and that his hearing had never deteriorated. Right now, you're wishing that everything that ever happened to put you in this position never happened. Because right now you're trying to work out how you can avoid having all these people look at you and wait to be told by you what to do. Am I right?" Catherine ended her increasingly passionate monologue by challenging Sara to disagree.
"Yes. Only I like having you in my lap. Don't want to take that back." Admitted Sara shyly, trying to avert her eyes from Catherine's penetrating, loving gaze.
"Oh honey, when are you going to realise you can stop hiding?" asked Catherine, as she pulled Sara into the tightest, warmest, most motherly embrace she could conjure up whilst sitting in a stark locker room, roughly about 2 minutes before they had to go and join a major motorcade. As she waited to feel Sara relax and respond, she couldn't stop herself recalling the first time that she had been able to crack Sara's protective barriers and gain a tiny insight into what past experiences had forced Sara to be so withdrawn and isolated.
"Hey, how you doing?" asked Catherine automatically as she entered Sara's latest hospital room. Actually, hospital room was a bit harsh, this was a bit more like a highly specialised hotel suite.
"Ok I guess." Came Sara's response from, well, somewhere.
"Where are you?" asked Catherine, on seeing that the bed was empty.
"Here." Said Sara, as she carefully and slowly wheeled herself into view. "I was washing my hands, lunch was sticky." She offered as an explanation.
"Oh, sorry…." Catherine instantly felt guilty. After weeks of Sara being static in various braces in bed, later only to be able to use a wheelchair under supervision, it was taking a while for Catherine to remember that now that Sara was at the recuperation hospital, she had a slightly greater degree of independence. Her internal worries were interrupted by Sara
"Don't apologise. It took me a while to realise that once I was in this thing I could move myself about round here when I felt like it."
"I just feel, well…" Catherine wasn't done with her internal battle
"Stupid? Yup, how do you think I felt when I kept calling for a nurse to move me when I got too hot in the sun by the window, only to be reminded that I could do it for myself?"
"Oh. One of us should have been here…." began Catherine guiltily, conscious that no one had been by to visit Sara since her transfer here 4 days ago on account of being overrun at work.
"Hey, not your fault I get moved on fight night" reassured Sara, referring to one of the busiest nights in the LV CSI calendar. "Anyways, I had plenty of stuff happening here to keep me busy, like arguing for a police scanner!" teased Sara, hoping that Catherine would drop the subject.
"I hope they said no?" countered Catherine, recognising the long running teasing topic and understanding that it was Sara's way of getting the other subject dropped.
"Yeah, they did. But they did give me the internet, so I can at least read my journals and magazines" replied Sara happily.
"You are a strange one at times Sara Sidle. Next you'll be begging Gil for work!" Catherine couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice, only to stop when she saw Sara's sheepish expression.
"You didn't, you haven't…..have you?"
"He said no, but I will try again." Admitted Sara quietly.
"Oh honey, we have to find you a hobby." Said Catherine, moving over to Sara and squeezing her shoulder affectionately, before deciding to change the subject again, sensing that Sara wouldn't want to talk about this any further.
"I brought the stuff over from your apartment, you know, some of your clothes and books. Greg's going to come by later with some of the other stuff."
"Greg?" asked Sara, slightly panicked at the thought of him going through her stuff.
"Hey, relax, he didn't go past your front room, so transfixed he was with your media centre."
"Okay…."
"The guys decided that they wanted to get you a get well present, but they couldn't decide what. As Nick said 'Sara's not a grapes kinda chick'."
"No, I guess paralysed is a bit more than the flu bug" offered Sara, once again mocking herself, and again making Catherine wonder quite what had happened to make Sara have such a low opinion of herself, though she decided to let that comment slide for the moment.
"When Greg saw your sound system and music collection, they thought they would bring it over here for you, until they realised that the nurses probably wouldn't let them, since it would be a bit difficult to keep setting it up if you moved rooms again, so, well, to cut a long story short, the lab has clubbed together to buy you one of those digital MP3 players?" Catherine paused at this point, hoping that Sara knew what she was talking about, since she had only a limited idea, not being a gizmo mad geek. A geek, yes, gizmo-mad, no.
"They're getting me an MP3 player? But they're like, I don't know, 500 bucks or something….." began Sara unbelievingly.
"Which is not very much when it's a present from Greg, Warrick, Nick, Archie, Bobby, Jacqui, David…..pretty much any tech or coroner's assistant you've ever smiled at." Offered Catherine, trying to get Sara to understand that this is a present from lots of people.
"Oh…." Sara was stunned into silence
"Greg, Warrick and Archie are busy performing technical magic on it and your CD collection, and will come by later with it. In the mean time though, you get me and clothes."
"Thanks" replied Sara, absently, wheeling herself carefully across the room so she's looking out of the window, the light playful banter disappearing as Sara became seemingly emotionally detached.
Not quite understanding what happened, but understanding Sara enough to know that there was no point forcing her to talk, Catherine set her sunglasses and bag down on the nearby table before asking
"Should I put these clothes away for you?" Again, all she got was a distracted 'thanks' but it was enough, and so she began to arrange the clothes in the wardrobe exactly like she had found them at Sara's, knowing that this was not the time to try and impose a new wardrobe system on Sara. Having done that, she went to the small fridge and pulled out two bottles of cold water. Moving over to the window, she dropped one in Sara's lap before settling into a nearby chair. It was only when she'd finished her bottle and saw that the condensation had made Sara's jeans wet that she realised that Sara hadn't realised the bottle was there. Mentally kicking herself for being so stupid, Catherine cleared her throat whilst wondering how the hell she was going to talk about this without putting her foot in her mouth. The throat clearing brought Sara back from wherever she'd wandered.
"Cat?" No reaction to the use of the hated contraction.
"Umm, there's a bottle of water in your lap." Was all Catherine could think to say.
"Oh, thanks." Sara looked down and picked it up, noticing the dampness on her jeans. Looking in askance at Catherine, Catherine said the first thing that came into her mind
"There wasn't any soda in the fridge."
"I know. I'm not supposed to drink more than one a day."
"Oh." 'Way to go Cath…' came the inward groan
"Supposed to help stop me having kidney problems. Also am not supposed to drink too much coffee."
"Oh" 'Come on Cath, say something sensible' but still her jaw seemed incapable of movement.
"Fat chance of that happening…" finished Sara, obviously not noticing Catherine's inner turmoil as she unscrewed the bottle and drained about 2/3 of it.
"You're beautiful"
"What?!" further conversation, such as it was, was abruptly stopped when Sara spluttered, causing the rest of the bottle to empty itself out over her shirt.
"Oh god, I said that out loud, didn't I?" asked Catherine, suddenly realising that her jaw had decided to unfreeze at exactly the wrong moment.
"Umm, I don't know. Look, I need a dry shirt." Said Sara, trying to keep them talking about things that she could cope with. Dry clothes was a good topic of conversation.
"Ok, you want me to get you one from the cupboard?"
"Please." Again silence descended as Catherine went to retrieve a dry shirt from the wardrobe before Sara took it into the bathroom to change. Whilst Sara was changing, Catherine went and stood by the window, looking out over the garden seeing and yet not seeing as she thought about everything that had just happened. Meanwhile, Sara, having changed, took a moment or two to compose herself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, using the closed bathroom door as an opportunity to give herself a talking-to.
"Ok Sara, time to stop being silly. Catherine is becoming your friend. No, wait, you have already become friendly, so now you're becoming better friends." Even when berating herself, Sara instinctively stuck to the facts
"You let her supervise the boys in your apartment and go into your bedroom. You trusted her to go through your clothes, knowing that she would probably see the other stuff. Why don't you trust her with the some of the truth?" Quick as a flash, the insecure part of Sara internally responded with a whiny 'Because then she'll find out all about me.'
"And that's a bad thing? You're a cripple for god's sake. What makes you think you're going to be able to keep hiding when you can't even go to your own apartment?" Disgusted with herself, Sara decided that maybe now was the time to maybe start trying to stop hiding some of the important stuff from Catherine.
"She's going to find out eventually right? She'll have to 'cos there's no way I'm having the guys go through my bedroom or personal stuff when I have to move out. Best to tell her now so she can run away from me now rather than later……yeah, ok, I can do this." Looking determinedly at her reflection one final time, she unconsciously squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle, before lobbing the damp shirt into the laundry basket.
Entering the bedroom again, she saw Catherine standing by the window, the late afternoon sunlight catching her golden hair and warming her skin. In a strange reversal of events, it was Sara who now couldn't stop herself from saying
"You're beautiful" causing Catherine to jump, splashing herself with some water.
"You need a dry shirt? You've split some water on your top." Came Sara's practical response.
"No thank you." Replied Catherine, instinctively knowing not to call Sara on what she had just said.
"Ok. You're figuring me out, aren't you?" The only way Sara was going to do this was if she tackled it like an interview……short, sharp questions to find out what the other person knew before playing her hand carefully.
"I'm sorry?" Catherine was stunned virtually speechless, not only at the abrupt change in subject, but also in Sara's tone, manner and body language.
"You've been to my apartment, you've seen my stuff. You've visited me here and before. You've watched me, unconsciously investigated me. You're figuring me out." Came the guarded explanation.
"I don't follow" Catherine was genuinely confused now. First she tells me I'm beautiful, now she interrogates me?
"You're an experienced CSI. You've seen more of my life than anyone has for, well, since my roommate at Harvard. What do you think you know about me?" again Sara's tone was challenging, and it was beginning to worry Catherine.
"I don't know what you're getting at Sara. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Have you ever just looked at the clothes in a wardrobe, or do you always check for boxes and stuff?"
"What? What are you…?" Catherine's protests died on her lips as it dawned on her what was going on.
"See, you have started figuring it out." Was all Sara said, as she moved to the window and angled herself so she was looking out of the window, not looking at Catherine, although she could see her reflection in the glass, able to watch without watching, so to speak.
There was a long pause as Catherine tried to work out what was happening here. One minute, Sara was her normal self, talking about work and mundane stuff like water versus coffee. The next, there was this massive tension between them with Sara shutting down and becoming bitter, almost as Catherine imagined she would become if she had just been dumped or something…….or something, like she was trying to push Catherine away, start a fight, give her an excuse for leaving. Not quite understanding what was happening, Catherine decided this was not what was going to occur and so, whilst trying to recap what she had seen at Sara's apartment, began to carefully participate in the questioning.
"Yes, I did see all of your wardrobe, not just the clothes. I saw you don't have much formal stuff, and what you do have is mainly tailored suits. I saw you have lots of jeans, shirts and tank tops, and that you favour dark colours, with the items that are brightly coloured coming from different stores, suggesting someone else bought them for you." Catherine began, processing her memory as if it were a scene, understanding this was what Sara was expecting, but not understanding why.
"My cousin, Martha." Volunteered Sara as a gesture of encouragement, hoping to accelerate the process so that she could get this over with.
"Your cousin Martha, probably still in the San Francisco area then, judging from the store bags folded on the shelf. All your short sleeve or sleeveless tops were stored mixed with the long tops. You can lift out a short sleeved top already with a long sleeve top ready to wear over it. You don't often wear short sleeve tops voluntarily, only when you get too hot and you have to take off the long sleeve top." Continued Catherine, noticing that Sara could see her reflection.
"Clever girl. Keep going." Came Sara's bitter encouragement. Catherine really didn't want to, wishing instead that she could turn and talk to Sara properly, but again, a part of her somehow knew that this was the only way Sara would talk about whatever the issue here was, treating it like a case, like something that had happened to someone else, like work……the penny dropped. Now, with a slight realisation as to where this was heading, Catherine continued, more resolute than ever to get to the bottom of the issue, no matter what barriers Sara put up.
"At the bottom of the closet was pile of books and a shoe box which had its lid displaced."
"What was in the shoe box?"
"Magazines"
"You can do better than that." Strangely feeling like she was back doing her proficiency board to try to become a CSI 1, Catherine wracked her brain to remember a detail about the magazine she had seen
"The magazines, they were….they were glossy, not forensics or work related." Plundering the darkest recesses of her brain, she couldn't picture anything more about the magazines, but she could remember the books. Putting two and two together and hoping she did get 4, she said
"The magazines and books were lesbian magazines and books. The floor of your wardrobe contained the only material in your apartment, other than anything that might be on your computer" pausing to think, she was finally able to picture the cover of the top magazine, recognising the woman pictured as being the actress that had become Hollywood's biggest new thing in that film that had opened last month….
"Sweetie, those magazines are the latest issues…..why do you keep your latest magazines and books in the wardrobe? Why not put the old forensics articles in there?"
Jaw set firm, Sara continued to look out the window, bracing herself for this moment. This was it, Catherine was about to work it out for herself, was about to figure it out. There was no way Sara was going to voice it aloud.
"Think about it"
"You're hiding them? From who? No, wait, you've already told me that. You said I'm the first person to see this much of your life since Harvard. You're not hiding those things from someone, you're hiding them from everyone." Bemused, Catherine turned so that she was directly between Sara and the window, forcing Sara to look at her. Before Catherine could speak, Sara spoke to her in an emotionless tone that, combined with her completely blank face, made Catherine genuinely concerned.
"See, you've figured it out. Now, what are you going to do? Run screaming from here to tell all your friends how repulsive I am? Or do you want to beat the crap out of me?" If there was any emotion in Sara's voice at all, it was resignation, like there was no option but to choose one of those two avenues of action.
"What?" Catherine couldn't keep the shock from her voice
"Come on, decide please, so we can get this over with." Not quite sure what to say, Catherine decided it was best to 'do' instead. Acting entirely on impulse, her subconscious taking over when her conscious mind faltered, she leant over, capturing Sara's head in her hands, before ducking down and kissing her lips. Now it was Sara's turn to be stunned
"What was that for?"
"I didn't want to beat the crap out of you or run round screaming and being repulsed." Catherine started by just turning Sara's words back on her whilst she herself tried to fathom quite where that spontaneous gesture had just come from, trying also not to dwell too much on how right it had felt, or how eager she was to initiate another, more passionate kiss.
"Why?" Sara seemed genuinely confused, but thankfully not repulsed or too panicked.
"Because I care for you, all of you, and I wanted to kiss you. And no, it wasn't a pity kiss. I've kinda wanted to do that for a while." Admitted Catherine shyly, hoping that her admission wouldn't set off Sara's finely honed 'fight or flee' reflex.
"Oh."
"Sara, I understand why you hide being gay at work, but why do you hide it in your own apartment?"
"I was safer that way." Came the slightly spaced response.
"Safer?"
"Once I hid myself I didn't get the crap kicked out of me anymore."
"You were beaten up?"
"You know what hate crime is Cat?" asked Sara, showing for the first time since starting the conversation that she was aware of who she was talking to.
"Yes, of course."
"Well, now you know why I keep it in the wardrobe." Came the strangely logical response.
"Umm, Cat?" Sara's gentle enquiry shook her from her slightly distressing memory.
"Yes babe?"
"Much as I like you in my lap, won't the guys be waiting?"
"Yes, sorry."
"Don't be. You were right. I was winding myself up for an attack…." came Sara's quiet admission.
"And now?"
"Now I just want to get out there and process the scene." Came the almost happy response.
"Ok then. But first, don't you need to take a little trip?" Prompted Catherine gently, reminding Sara why they had come to the locker room in the first place. On hearing Sara's groan, Catherine instantly switched from 'lover Catherine' to 'mother Catherine'. Easing out of Sara's now relaxed embrace, she stood up and turned Sara around so she was pointing towards the toilets. Using the same tone that gets Lindsey out of bed on school mornings, she said
"No matter how much you hate the fact that this is going to delay your departure by 5 whole minutes, we both know you hate the infections you know you will get even more. Now, go, before I do it for you!" The threat of having Catherine interfere with a task that Sara was more than capable of performing on her own was the 'deal-breaker'. Outwardly looking like she was grumbling, but inwardly rejoicing that Catherine actually cared enough about her to make such threats, Sara propelled herself into the toilets to attend to her business. Reappearing a few minutes later, she was met by Catherine, who was holding a large bundle of garments.
"Come on then. I've got a pile of clothes for you which can be dumped in the Tahoe. You set?" Nodding in agreement, Sara smiled the smile that only Catherine ever saw before setting off to join the guys at the Tahoes, hoping that they would have been too engrossed with the photos she'd given them for them to bother teasing her….much.