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 Four
An hour later, the Tahoe picked its way through the traffic characteristic of the Las Vegas suburbs, threading its way back to the CSI building parking lot having returned from the scene as part of the normal early Saturday afternoon traffic, rather than as part of a large convoy of high speed police vehicles. Whilst this made the journey longer, it did also mean that it was quieter and calmer, something much appreciated by the exhausted CSIs. Whilst Catherine had woken briefly to climb into the Tahoe, she soon fell asleep again, snuggled into Sara's side. Sitting next to Catherine on her other side, Greg too was sleeping, his face relaxed and breathing steady, making Sara feel very conscious as to how young he really was; even though he was near her age and very much a grown man, there were times when she couldn't stop herself from regarding him like she might Lindsey, though this impulse seemed thankfully restricted to whenever she caught him either asleep or extremely sleepy.
Sara continued her silent assessment of her colleagues by turning her attention to the large, slumped bodies in the seats in front of her. All had worked hard and for a very long time, but unlike Catherine and Greg, Warrick and Nick had physically had to cover a massive area. Not only had they worked intellectually hard whilst processing the scene, but had also literally walked miles, criss-crossing their areas, checking how people were doing, supervising the gathering of the evidence, of which much had been human remains, which brought its own emotional toll on the guys. Even though she was sitting behind them, Sara could tell from their stillness and from the way their breathing blended with the louder patterns of Greg and Catherine that their weariness and exhaustion had given way to sleep, leaving only the young officer driving and Sara awake. As Sara cast her eyes further forward, she glanced in the rear view mirror, catching the reflected gaze of the officer. She knew that, whilst he couldn't see all the CSIs, he had to know they were asleep. Judging by his reaction, he hadn't realised that she was still awake, refusing to sleep. Smiling tightly at him, he understood her silence, returning his focus to the road ahead. Whilst he may not have understood Sara's need to assume this vigil, he understood her need for silence. And a vigil it was, unlikely as it may seem.
Even now, so many years after that fateful night when Sara's life had been permanently altered, the bullet still lodged in her lower back, rendering her legs useless, responsible as it was for her lack of feeling or movement below her pelvis, Sara still had moments of uncertainty, of fear, of anger, and of guilt. She no longer had much of an emotional response concerning the shooting; the days of her being angry at Tommy Rodriguez for pulling the trigger of the gun that launched the bullet now in her back had, in the main, gone, replaced instead by compassion. She had seen him at trial, a shaking, scared 17 year old whose life was now dramatically altered, perhaps even more so than her own. Virtually abandoned by his family, but not enough to warrant State intervention, Tommy had taken the stereotypical path of so many, falling into the 'wrong sort', joining a gang and become a part of the seedier side of street culture. That night, he had been performing his gang initiation, only no one had thought to tell the boy that he was being even braver or perhaps stupider than the gang required. Yes, he was going to be driven by a collection of parked up cruisers, and yes, he was supposed to press the trigger, firing a hail of bullets in their direction, but he was not expected to use live ammunition. The gang was all about noise….live ammunition was noise and substance, of which Tommy Rodriguez's friends had little. Sara had been unlucky, an innocent bystander, her position on the door step elevated her above the cars parked in the street below, placing her on the level that Tommy had aimed at, one high above all the cops he could see. He hadn't meant to hit anyone, he'd declared that on the stand at trial, and Sara, sitting in the public seating, watching this broken, scared little boy in the body of a 17 year old man, truly believed him. Watching him as he gave evidence, as he was sentenced, as he left the court to begin a long sentence at the county jail, she truly believed him. And from that moment, she no longer felt anger for Tommy Rodriguez; she no longer felt anything about the shooting, not even pity or sorrow.
Sitting in the Tahoe, she was conscious that these people, her friends and colleagues, her lover, they all pushed themselves to the point of physical exhaustion because she had asked them to, not explicitly, but implicitly, when the case came in at the start of shift. This was what made the difference between the graveyard shift and the other shifts, both now, and before when the shift was Grissom's; it went beyond the normal conventions of CSI staying on a case until it was solved. These people had worked to exhaustion because it was what was right; it was what the victims needed. The fact that there wasn't a murderer on the loose, there wasn't a rapist looking for their next victim, didn't matter. This case was important, requiring something extra, something special, something that these people gave Sara without question or hesitation. Something that Sara should have been elated about, making her feel full of pride. Instead, she was feeling frustration and even anger, frustrated that she couldn't, as she saw it, rise to the occasion and offer that something extra too. She hadn't gone down to the scene with the others, hadn't worked the case like they had. All she'd done was sit on the highway and watch, occasionally making some phone calls or talking to reporters. In Sara's mind, her anger was not directed at the bullet, but at what the bullet made her in terms of her ability to work with these people who were prepared to do so much for her, resulting in her frustration. To her, no matter how tired she felt, or how hard she had worked, she didn't feel like she had earned her exhaustion. To that end, she did the only thing she felt she could, she watched over the ones who had. It was a token gesture, but one that, in just some small way, made her feel slightly more at peace with her guilt, her guilt that somehow she was just a tolerated burden, indulged by everyone because of how devastated they had all known she would have been to not only lose her legs but also her work.
Sara was brought out of her potentially destructive introspection by the realisation that they were drawing into the CSI parking lot. Refocusing her attention on the comforting presence of her lover, she said quietly but clearly so that all could hear her
"Guys? Wake up, we're back" before continuing quietly, so only her lover could hear
"Cat? Love? Come on, time to wake up" punctuating her words with a gentle kiss on the parts of Catherine's head that she could reach, prompting her lover to stir to wakefulness but seem generally reluctant to move into a more upright sitting position
"Huh?" Catherine was not known for her quick grasping of reality on waking
"We're back at the lab. You can change here before we go home and sleep in our bed for a couple of hours" offered Sara, aware of Catherine's lethargy on rousing
"I fell asleep on you" observed Catherine, finally straightening up so that she could look into Sara's eyes
"Everyone did" commented Sara, lightly, absorbing the love that radiated from Catherine's presence greedily, using it to chase her dark thoughts back into the recesses of her mind
"But you didn't" observed Catherine, taking in Sara's gaunt, almost hollow appearance, noticing the shadows lurking in her facial expression
"I didn't need it like you guys did" tried Sara, dismissively, knowing that if it was anyone else talking with her, she would have torn away from their gaze and changed the subject, but something in Catherine's look kept her pinned where she was.
At some point, Catherine had registered that they had stopped, because she wasn't surprised when all the guys got out, leaving the ladies waiting. Whilst she was conscious of the guys' presence, as they opened up the back of the Tahoe, extracting Sara's chair, even going as far as to be able pick up snatches of their conversation as they tried to decide who was feeling alert enough to safely help Sara out, or whether they should go and grab the collapsible frame she had in her office that allowed her to complete the transfer herself, Catherine was also aware of a feeling of privacy, giving the confidence to address the matter head on now, rather than waiting until they were both away from their colleagues. Muttering
"I'm going to kill Grissom" Catherine drew Sara into a deep embrace, kissing her as intensely and as passionately as she could summon her weary body to allow her to, drawing from the sort of energy reserves that only the deepest love can tap in to. When she could no longer hear the outside world, so loud was her heart pounding in her ears, a result of passionate love and more practical oxygen issues, Catherine reluctantly parted from Sara, noting the slightly startled, deer-in-headlights look her lover was sporting
"Sara, you deserve rest as much as the rest of us; you worked just as hard if not harder than the rest of us. Don't let yourself think that we don't need you professionally; don't let yourself think that we only tolerate your presence, because we don't. You should see the mess I make of shifts when you have a night off!" teased Catherine lightly, trying to draw Sara out of the places that she periodically went to, this latest doubts, Catherine was certain, were triggered by the memories that Grissom's phone call had produced. Seeing her words beginning to have some effect, Catherine placed a tender kiss on Sara's now kiss-swollen lips, before saying
"And don't ever let yourself think that I don't need you, that Lindsey doesn't need you, because, my dear Sara, you are, no matter what happens" Catherine was unable to continue her observation as they were interrupted by the opening of the door against which Sara had been pressed up, causing her to slump a little before Catherine reacted, pulling Sara close, and Nick reached out to hold her upright, offering as he did so a rather sheepish
"Sorry, I didn't know you were leaning against it, I should have knocked or something."
"Don't worry Nick, nothing happened" offered Sara dismissively, offering a smile of friendship to the visibly worn out Texan
"Umm, are you Ok with me lifting you out? Greg-o and Warrick are going to stand by as catchers…..but we could get your frame for you if you'd rather?" Sara had never known this, but one day, the three guys had performed a little 'experiment,' strapping their legs together to stop them using them before trying to cope with being lifted in and out of the Tahoes as Sara needed to be. Up until then, they hadn't fully appreciated how much trust was needed to be placed by Sara in the person carrying her, especially considering how independent she insisted on being. It was that experience that had made the guys stop and seriously consider who they thought was the best to lift her out now. Carrying Sara was never something that male bravado ever touched on. Since Nick was the strongest to start with, Warrick and Greg had decided that he was the best to carry Sara now, but all three were ready to get the frame for her if she wanted it. This was not a question of pride, but one of genuine friendship and concern
"Go ahead Nick. To be honest, I think I would probably drop myself if I used the frame!" offered Sara, recognising the general concern in Nick's tone, but also knowing that they guys wouldn't be giving her the option of them carrying her if they didn't genuinely believe they could do it.
Moments later, Sara was installed once more in her wheelchair and the 5 CSIs began their weary trek across the car park, their path determinedly set for the floor with their labs on. For Warrick, Nick, Greg and Catherine, their focus was the locker room where they could shower and change out of forensics overalls, before dragging themselves somewhere to sleep. For the guys, this would probably be the couches in the break room, none of them fancying the idea of driving home. For Catherine, she needed to get Sara home, no matter how tired they both were, even if it meant calling in favour with the PD through Brass. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened. Sara, not in overalls, needed to go to her office for a moment, to check on what cases the FBI had taken for them, as well as perhaps grab Sofia, the Day Shift Supervisor, for a moment and see if there was a chance of getting some of that shift to help her out, before too dragging herself home to sleep, but more crucially, stretch her body out of its sitting position, preferably in a warm bath.
As the others headed to the locker room, Sara went to her office, with her intention being to have a quick check on what cases the FBI CSIs had caught for them, as well as perhaps persuade Sofia that the Day Shift wanted to work a couple of hours over, since otherwise, there was no real point of anyone on Night Shift going home to sleep, given their shift started again in less than 5 hours or so. Somehow though, she doubted the chances of this happening, at least not without some heavy negotiating on her part, which was just not going to happen. No matter how many times the Night Shift worked into Day Shift, it was a rare sight indeed if many of the Day Shift ended up working overtime into to the Night Shift. Sara had never managed to work out if this was because they rarely felt the urgency or need to work the extra hours to conclude a case quickly, or if their cases were simply more straightforward. One thing she was certain of though, it wasn't because they were better!
Crime is a 24 hour business – it is no respecter of sleep or conventional working hours. In the same fashion, Las Vegas was also a 24 hour city, a fact Sara was often grateful for, especially when she wanted Chinese take out for dinner after work….at 10am! But Crime on its own is not responsible for all of the CSIs case load, a healthy dose of sin is also combined, as typified by the Snuff film murder or all those various cases that inexplicably ended back up at Lady Heather's, and sin, sin is heavily biased towards the hours of darkness. What was it Greg had said? 'Night brings out the kink'? Thinking about it in that regard, Sara was quite happy to be supervising the shift that maxed out its overtime each month; as a forensic scientist, snuff film murders and Casino deaths were far more fascinating than day light car jackings; at least she could never complain that her slice of night time humanity made for a mundane job.
Before Sara could continue her philosophical ponderings concerning the nature of crime at any given time of the day and the impact this had on the CSI shifts, she was brought to an abrupt halt in the hallway by the one person on Day Shift she and all her colleagues actively avoided
"Sara? This is early, even by your old standards" Clara was a lady with the knack for stating the obvious, even for a criminalist
"Not early, late"
"I'm sorry? It's gone two in the afternoon. Your shift doesn't start for a few hours yet. Why are you in so early?" She specialised in not listening, interrupting and then prattling. No one on the graveyard shift could fathom how she managed to become a CSI. Privately, Sara felt that calling Clara an 'airhead' was insulting to the air!
"I'm not in early, Clara, I'm still in from last shift" Sara tried patience…..and short words
"But your last shift ended hours ago. It's the middle of my shift now!" 'Perhaps this was why nights were so busy, because no one let themselves become in need of the CSI services when this woman was what was available' thought Sara, internalising her cutting remarks in the hope that a civil approach might accelerate the torture that constituted conversation
"I know it's the middle of your shift. I'm still here because we had a scene at the start of last NIGHT shift that has taken until now to process. I'm just finishing MY shift having had to work overtime." Sara's patience was starting to fade…..if only her office was 5 yards closer
"Clara? I thought you were going to collect some results from Trace for me?" 'Thank God, the sanity that is Sofia' Sara had never felt so thankful for an interruption from her opposite.
"NOW!" Obviously, Sofia's interjection had not been a speculation, it was a suggestion, and Clara wasn't acting on it fast enough, prompting her to scuttle off, if possible, with her tail between her legs.
"Sara, sorry she cornered you. You just got back from the freeway incident?" Sofia, in contrast, was cool, calm and reasonably efficient, and also understanding that Sara wanted to get to her office and then get home.
"Yes. I just came by to see what happened during the shift so that I know what else we have to deal with. How's the Casino heist going?"
"Patchily; There's limited video footage from a variety of sources. Good job you're unlikely to need any AV work, we're monopolising Archie!"
"Fair trade. We're going to be running DNA hard for the next few shifts, not to mention Auto with all the trucks." As they reached the threshold of Sara's office, there was an awkward pause, as Sofia waited to see if Sara asked whilst Sara waited to see if Sofia offered about overtime cover. Finally, just before stalemate was reached, Sofia, being the least comfortable in prolonged silence said
"Look, a couple of us have decided to hang on a couple of hours at the end of shift….we're waiting on some information from the casinos……since we'll be here anyway, do you want us to catch the first case that comes in? Half of you guys might be able to get a couple more hours sleep that way?" Even Sofia winced at how reluctant she sounded when making the offer.
"Umm, thanks, but….well….if there will be a couple of you around, then yeah, I could perhaps let Greg and the others have a little bit more sleep."
"You're going to be back?" Sofia couldn't contain her shock. She had thought she was offering herself as supervisor to Sara's team, not her team to Sara. Unsurprisingly, Sara had noticed. Wheeling herself into her office, Sara threw over her shoulder
"Thanks, but it's my shift to run, but the extra helping hands would be good. No need wake people up if your guys are just going to be hanging around on their rare overtime!" before starting to rifle through the papers that had accumulated on her desk overnight. The characters may have moved on, and the political rivalry between Sofia and Sara might not exist, unlike it had been between Ecklie and basically everyone, but the competitive nature was still there. No one disputed that Las Vegas was the best crime lab in the country…..Sara couldn't help it if her shift was the best in the lab. She wasn't smug…..much!
20 minutes later, a much more awake Catherine Willows left the locker room, with only one destination in mind, Sara's office. Catherine knew her lover, and knew that, despite her best intentions, she could become absorbed in her work and lose track of time. With a determined stride, she swept through the glass lined corridors, idly noting the activity in AV and the deserted DNA lab, exuding a demeanour that dissuaded anyone from stopping her….until the rarely used paging system rang out
"Catherine Willows, please come to reception"
Stunned, she stopped dead, her hands feeling to the points on her belt where pager and cell would have been, had both not run down beyond use hours ago. She toyed with the notion of ignoring it, but the conscience that never let her ignore the telephone when she was in bed with Sara wouldn't let her ignore the paging now. Detouring, she headed for reception, her face reset into a "Don't mess with me and make it quick" look. There were only two people who can penetrate that face, Sara and
"MOM!" Lindsey, who, on seeing her mother, raced across reception, intent on giving Catherine a hug, which she gratefully returned. Thankfully, there were times when Lindsey forgot that, at 12, she was supposed to be preparing to turn into a stroppy teenager.
"Linds! What a surprise!" More thoughtful observations seemed beyond Catherine at present. Lindsey didn't notice, too busy being excited about something
"Nancy said she'd help me plant some seeds in the garden this afternoon!" This sudden enthusiasm for gardening left Catherine stumped, assuming that she had recovered from the shock of seeing Lindsey in the first place. Not that that it wasn't welcome, there were just some places that Catherine never expected to see her daughter, and the Lab reception in the middle of the afternoon was one such place. Didn't her daughter have school?
"Gardening?" queried Catherine, deciding not to question her daughter's absence from school just yet, certain the true reason would emerge at some point
"Catherine…" before Lindsey could continue her somewhat surprising revelations, Catherine's attention was drawn to her sister
"Nancy!" Like any good CSI, her powers of observation were still excellent, even if she seemed incapable of generating coherent sentences.
"Yesterday's field trip got Lindsey interested in seed germination so, as it's Saturday, I said we could plant some seeds as an experiment." Suddenly, Catherine had the crucial fact. Despite having last seen Lindsey at the start of a school day, it was now Saturday afternoon, explaining why Lindsey was around. Not for the first time did Catherine offer up a silent curse to the God of Time Keeping about her inability to keep track of weekends when shifts overran.
"That's great sweetie. You can watch them grow over the next few weeks and months." Obviously, this was not the expected response, because Lindsey instantly began a disagreeing protest
"But yesterday, Mrs Rawkins was telling us that seeds germinate overnight!"
"That's because she was teaching you about the desert, where there are special seeds that do germinate and flower in one night. Your seeds for the garden take longer. You'll have to look after them for a few weeks or so." Explained Sara, arriving at the conversation, Catherine's bag in her lap
"Oh, ok. Can we watch the basketball together this afternoon?" As far as Lindsey was concerned, the Science God herself had spoken, prompting her to no longer need to talk about seeds. Ever since Lindsey had started taking her maths and science homework to Sara whilst she was in hospital, the young girl had decided that Sara knew everything about science. If she said the desert seeds were special and her seeds would take a few weeks, well, that was the end of the matter. And anyway, it was Saturday afternoon, that meant Lindsey had far more important stuff to discuss with Sara, namely watching the basketball on television.
"I'd love to, but you're going to have to tape one for me. I've got to sleep before I come back to work again." Sara hated having to say that, but it was a fact. If she was going to start her next shift and work through it, and probably beyond, given how many assignment slips were on her desk from the previous night, her body was in desperate need of some hours horizontal, if not actually asleep. Fortunately, Lindsey had come to understand that her parents had to sometimes sleep on weekend afternoons, and she and Sara had worked out a substitute deal for those afternoons.
"It's ok. When you didn't come home this morning, I set the tape. We can watch it after school one day?"
"Sure thing, just name the time and I'll be there." Sara sealed the deal with a big grin, once again counting herself lucky that so far, she had never had to let Lindsey down completely. Rearrange plans? On occasion, yes, but break her word or promise? Never, and she had no intention of doing so. Watching a basketball game with Lindsey, be it NBA or NCAA was their routine. It had started when Sara had been in hospital and, one day, Catherine was called in unexpectedly for a couple of hours. Sara offered to keep an eye on Lindsey in the form of a 'visit' by Lindsey and Sara had turned the TV to the basketball, deciding that there could be nothing in a basketball game that a 9 year old couldn't safely see. Whilst she herself had never played basketball in college, she had played it a little in school and had had friends who were very good, making it easy for her to answer Lindsey's questions about it. Out of that one afternoon, a habit formed, whereby they would watch a game together. Who was playing was not what was important, somehow, even before Catherine and Sara's relationship fully developed, Saturday afternoon basketball just became Sara and Lindsey's 'thing'. The first time Sara had had to miss the ritual, Catherine had suggested taping the game for them to watch later, and the alternative routine had begun.
"Tuesday? I have after-school stuff Monday and Wednesday, and Thursday is agggggggeeeeeeeees away!" Lindsey exaggerated the pronunciation as only a young girl could.
"Tuesday it is then. We all set?" Glad to have the basketball issue settled, Sara was eager to get out of her chair, which meant going home.
"I'm parked in your bay, hope I've not got a ticket!" joked Nancy, the adults knowing that her permits were in order, but that was incentive enough for Lindsey to gather up her jacket and bag from the chair she'd left them on and start hurrying the adults into leaving. She'd been out with her mother often enough to understand that parking tickets were not the sort of thing a happy afternoon needed.
As Nancy and Lindsey headed for the car, Sara and Catherine followed at a slower pace, allowing for a quiet conversation
"You rang Nancy to come pick us up?"
"Yeah. We're both too tired to drive…." Began Sara, wondering if Catherine would accept that as the reason
"We could have taken a patrol car, Brass did offer" countered Catherine, recognising a half truth when her lover offered one
"I just thought it would be nice, and Nancy didn't mind" tried Sara again, shrugging evasively
"I'm sure she didn't" Catherine didn't need to verbalise the rest of the question. Sara heard the 'Quit dodging and tell me what's really going on here' without a word being uttered. Too tired to try and come up with anything other than the truth, she quietly mumbled
"I thought you'd like to see Lindsey, you know, what with the scene and all"
"Oh" Catherine winced at the inadequacy of her response, but unable to articulate what she was feeling. Misunderstanding, Sara rushed to explain further
"I don't like it when you have nightmares. If I can do anything to stop you having them, I do. I just thought, what with the scene, you might sleep better if you'd seen for yourself that Lindsey was fit, healthy and happy….." Sara's explanation was interrupted by the tender pressing of soft lips against hers as gentle hands cupped her face. Pulling back in surprise, Sara looked at Catherine in a happy daze, unable to stop the wonderful feelings of love and happiness swell out of her chest and into her face.
"You're wonderful. Have I told you lately that I love you?"
"You may have mentioned it once or twice" admitted Sara shyly, trying not to squirm at the compliment. Whilst she no longer dismissed Catherine's compliments, her self belief and confidence, at best a little low, didn't always make it easy for her. Before they could explore that particular line of conversation any further, Lindsey ran back into reception, visibly impatient and announced, perhaps a little louder than either Sara or Catherine would have liked, given their location
"Nancy said to stop being sweet and to get out to the car or she's going without you!" before rushing out again, leaving Sara and Catherine to follow in her wake at a slightly more sedate pace.
Sara awoke from her welcome but all to brief sleep conscious that she had been woken by something, but what it was that had dragged her into alertness was not immediately obvious. There was no ringing telephone, no screaming Lindsey, no doorbell, none of the noises that her sub conscious associated with 'alarm clock', which, a quick glance at, confirmed that she really should still be asleep, so it wasn't that either. Turning her head to her right, Sara absently reached for the covers which had somehow ended up pushed down round her hips, a normal state of affairs. Whilst Sara found she could never be too hot in bed, maintaining a death grip on the covers, her lover was more sensitive to heat, often finding the covers and Sara's warm body too much. Smiling, Sara was just grateful it was the covers that Catherine rejected each time they slept, rather than Sara. The smile quickly disappeared when her head settled on the sight of her lover, standing at the window, a striking silhouette against the beginnings of sunset.
"Cat?" Sara called out softly from her supine pose, not wishing to startle the evidently engrossed Catherine
"Go back to sleep hon, you need your sleep before shift" came the distracted reply. Deciding not to obey, after all, what sort of girlfriend put work before love, Sara pushed herself across the bed until she was at the far side. Sitting up, she used her hands to push the covers off the bed completely, the easiest way to get rid of the tangle around her legs, before carefully swinging her body around so that her legs fell off the bed, leaving herself sitting on the edge of the bed facing Catherine, her hands planted firmly on the mattress behind her, propping her up.
"I give good hugs" offered Sara simply, waiting for Catherine to turn round and acknowledge Sara in her own time. Sara knew from personal experience how horrid 'what's wrong' was as a question, having been asked it by well meaning sorts too many times whilst she was growing up, shuffled from one well meaning foster parent to the next, with all the questioners knowing the answer already. She had vowed to herself never to ask such banal questions of Catherine, and, in nearly 4 years, she had managed to keep that vow.
Whilst Sara waited for Catherine to respond, she looked past her still love out into the garden where Lindsey, unaware that she was being watched, was enthusiastically playing a mixed game of fetch, basketball and football with the neighbour's dog. By accident one day, the dog had ventured into the garden when Lindsey was practising shooting hoops. As the ball rebounded from a missed shot, the dog chased after the ball, only to then start pushing it back to Lindsey with a mix of running into it and head butting! Evidently, Jack was home and had let his dog come over and play with Lindsey. If she was still playing in a bit, Sara thought she might go out and join in, but only once she'd helped Catherine get past her troubles. In un-awkward silence, both ladies watched their daughter at play, full of innocence and at peace with the world, something her parents wished for her constantly. After the fourth or maybe fifth shot that Sara watched, Catherine finally broke the silence
"She would love a dog"
"And one day, the Sheriff will worry that I might leave or talk to the Press about him, and decide that if Grissom could have tarantulas, I can have a dog sleep in my office whilst I work." Commented Sara seriously
"She loves playing with Lucy"
"And Jack loves that Lucy loves playing with Lindsey, and that we don't mind paw prints in our flower beds!"
"She's grown so much since she first played with Lucy. I remember being scared every time Lucy jumped up on her, she seemed so much bigger than just a normal sized Labrador" observed Catherine wistfully
"Kids grow taller, but Moms' always have little girls to love" observed Sara sagely, happy that Catherine was talking to her, sharing the parental stress she was feeling, rather than feeling she still had to shoulder the burden as a single parent.
After a few moments, Sara heard Catherine take a big gulp of air, just as she saw her shoulders shake……it was at moments like this that Sara would trade everything to be able to walk over to Catherine and pull her into the tightest, warmest, most loving hug possible, and just hold her
"Come here" Sara's low, husky order was enough to get Catherine to turn away from the window, and the outstretched arms and familiar look of raw love was enough to get Catherine to cross the room and collapse into Sara's body, pushing them both back into the mattress. The feeling of safety and love as Sara's long arms held her close was enough to turn the quiet tears into all out sobs. As Catherine cried into her chest, Sara rubbed her back and whispered soothing nonsense, using her voice to calm her agitated love. Later, she would be unable to recall what she had said, but she knew with certainty what she hadn't said. She didn't need to ask what was wrong, what was upsetting Catherine: to Sara, it was obvious.
As Catherine let go of the emotions she had been suppressing and ignoring ever since the evidence had been confirmed as a school bus, she lost herself in Sara's embrace. Nestling into Sara's body, she buried her face into the nap of Sara's neck and cried, deep, heart-wrenching sobs. She was dimly aware of Sara starting to talk nonsense as she rubbed Catherine's back, much as they both did when Lindsey was sick or hurt. Under Sara's tender care, the feelings of fear and anguish receded, as did the endless cycle of torturous 'What If?' questions. Instead of working herself into a frenzy over questions like 'What if Lindsey's trip had finished 30 minutes later?', questions which served no purpose except to cause unnecessary pain; instead of berating herself for feeling relief that it wasn't her baby's bus in the crash, Catherine collapsed into the warmth and security of Sara.
As her sobs subsided, Catherine inhaled the scent that was Sara, revelling in its familiarity and loving associations. Settling more comfortably against the swell of her lover's chest, Catherine began to hear the steady beat of Sara's heart, beating a harmonious counterpoint to the rhythm of her 'pillow' as Sara's chest rose and fell as she breathed slowly, calmly, constantly. Closing her now red eyes, Catherine let her mind drift, leaving the horrors from her shift behind her, anchoring instead on the joys of her home life: her daughter, happily playing in the garden, unaware of the emotional wringer her mother had gone through; her partner, calmly holding her, comforting her, loving her, unaware perhaps of all the worries and fears that Catherine's dreams had brought her, but understanding some and acknowledging all without question or judgment, only love, unconditional love. Letting the sounds of her family wash over her, Catherine finally relaxed, finally at peace with herself and her job once more. Just as she was about to settle into a light doze, lulled by the steady rise and fall of her 'pillow', Sara spoke, guessing from the changes to Catherine's body language and breathing
"You're not falling asleep on me are you?"
"Would you be upset if I said yes?" Catherine's response came out as a mumble, so reluctant was she to move from her position
"Not really, but you would wake up with an irritated cheek, which would probably hurt a bit" observed Sara practically, conscious that Catherine was resting her face on her very damp t-shirt. This observation forced Catherine to take a quick stock of her position, deciding to change it. Pushing herself onto her forearms, she quickly manoeuvred so that she was now lying on top of Sara, looking down at her, blond hair cascading forwards to fall at the sides of Sara's face.
"I'm sorry, I got you all wet" commented Catherine in all seriousness
"You do that quite often!" countered Sara, flirtatiously, glad that Catherine's equilibrium had returned
"Sara! I wasn't talking about that, and you know it!" Catherine's mock outrage works on many, but not Sara, who spotted the twinkle gradually appearing in brightening blue eyes.
"Don't worry about it, I was going to take it off in a minute"
"Oh really?" Now it was Catherine's turn for the flirtatious teasing, gently easing her thigh in between Sara's relaxed thighs
"Yup, was going to have a shower." Stated Sara, in all seriousness
"Oh" Catherine tried not to let her face register the slight rejection she thought Sara was giving her, her thigh coming to an abrupt stop, millimetres from the apex of Sara's thighs.
"Hey, I only meant that since I didn't have a shower at the end of shift, I need to have one before shift" explained Sara quickly. Obviously Catherine hadn't been as good at keeping her face 'neutral' as she had hoped.
"Cat, I love you, your mind, your spirit, your body…..I love all of you, and I love making love to and with you." Sara's simple heartfelt words made Catherine blush with the intensity of the emotion accompanying them, reassuring her that Sara was not put off by her emotional outburst just now. A tiny, rational part of her did inwardly note that she should never had thought that in the first place, but emotionally stressed mothers don't have to be rational all the time, so she wasn't too troubled by this oversight.
"I love you as well" agreed Catherine, leaning in to catch Sara's lips in a tender kiss. Just as Catherine was attempting to deepen the kiss, Sara eloquently ended it, an impressive feat given that, lying on her back as she was, she couldn't simply pull her head back from Catherine's. By way of explanation on seeing Catherine's perplexed look, Sara elaborated verbally
"I have to go to work early to sort out the rest of last night's work, which doesn't give me enough time to ravish you as I would like to, not to mention I would probably fall asleep at my desk as a result during shift!" Accepting Sara's comment as a genuine reason, Catherine propped herself up higher again on her arms, returning some distance between their faces, enabling her to get a good look at Sara's expressive dark eyes….
"There's something else you're not telling me, another reason….." began Catherine, astutely reading her lover, continuing when Sara looked like she was about to comment, saying
"And it's not the idea of Sofia, who no doubt will be lurking tonight, catching you asleep on the job. It was something to do with us."
"Yes" admitted Sara shyly
"Tell me?" asked Catherine quietly, imploringly
"As much as I like it when we 'play' together, I thought, given what we're having to work on now, you might like to play with Lindsey in the garden whilst I had a shower and sorted myself out, you know, 'Mom' time…." Confessed Sara quietly, though she finished with a muttered
"But the ravishing comment was true too!"
Before Sara could say anything further, Catherine had swept her up into a tight hug and was kissing her senseless. As tongues duelled, hips instinctively thrust as physical desire and love surfaced, despite intellectual aspirations and intentions. When they were finally forced to separate in order to avoid passing out, neither lady was in any doubt about the other's desire. Flushed, Catherine ran her fingers through Sara's now dishevelled hair, saying
"You can be very sweet sometimes you know"
"You told me that last night at the scene" recalled Sara, remembering the cuddle they'd had after Catherine had spoken to Lindsey
"Well, you are, lots of times in fact. It would be great to play with Linds for a bit, if she'll let me"
"She will"
"But what about you? You deserve some 'Mom' time too…" said Catherine, quoting Sara back at her
"And I will have it, there's a basketball game to watch on Tuesday….." said Sara, looking actually excited at the prospect. The sparkling eyes and big grin were enough to convince Catherine that Sara really was being truthful. A quick glance at the alarm clock did also confirm Sara's earlier statement that she would be having to go back to work in a bit, though Catherine would stay until the official start of shift in order to help Lindsey get ready for a sleepover at a school friend's house. Happy that her family seemed to be settled back into its regular, comfortable routine, Catherine dropped one final kiss on Sara's face before standing up. As she stretched up to her full height, Catherine greedily drank in the sight of her prostrate lover's lean body before leaving their bedroom, laughing at the shooing motions Sara was making with her hands.
To her immense surprise, Lindsey had actually been ready for her sleepover on time, allowing Catherine to arrive at the CSI building early for her shift. Admittedly, it was only about 20 minutes early and nearly two hours after her lover's arrival, but still, she certainly had some time in the building to call her own, and Catherine certainly knew what to do with it. Stowing her coat in her locker, she carefully picked her way through the corridors, taking the long way through the maze so that she wouldn't be walking past the labs where she might be accosted by her day shift colleagues, aiming for Sara's office. Whereas once it had been a dark, creepy place, unless you were as enamoured with bugs as Grissom had been, which Catherine wasn't, it was now almost like a second home to her, and certainly more comfortable than her own 'office'. In truth, the only people who had an actual office within the labs were the supervisors, although all the CSIs ended up with an area in a lab that everyone respected as being private. Investigators, at least in their working areas, have a professional need to be scrupulously neat and tidy, but at some point, an unwritten code had developed, where each CSI ended up with a little corner of clutter, somewhere in the labs. No one questioned it, and no one tidied it. Catherine's was no different. Tucked in a corner of a generic lab, she had a heap of files, a bag of sweets, a collection of random pens, a couple of trashy novels, some make up, a drawing or three from Lindsey and photographs, lots of photographs. On quiet nights when nothing was happening, she would often retreat to the memories the photographs triggered: of Lindsey's first 'solo' swim in Nancy's pool, with inflatable arm bands and big smile, front milk teeth missing; of her graduation, that moment when she attained the degree that made everything possible now, and had signalled that the major turnaround of her life was well underway; of Sara, so many of Sara…..
But it was not to the photographs that she was headed now. Why look at photographs when there was something real and alive to admire? Smiling, Catherine slowed her determined step, lightening her tread and crossing the deserted corridor to stop just by a door frame. Seeing that Sara was engrossed in her work, Catherine was happy not to announce her presence, instead she silently leaned against the door frame and just watched, admiring yet another facet of her complex, fascinating, loving Sara.
It was at moments like this that Catherine could indulge in one of her favourite pastimes, watching Sara. You didn't need to be told to know that Sara was an intense, complex character: it was tangible, you felt it. The intensity was what hit you, and had hit Catherine, hard, all those years ago, when tempers had run hot and manners cool. Second chances were hard to come by in life. In the gambling capital of the World, where so much of life seemed reduced to a throw of the dice or a hand of cards, Catherine Willows had had some really shit hands, but she'd shuffled her deck well: Lady Luck dealt her a pair of second chances, first with her life, then with her heart.
If you'd asked Catherine Willows 10 years ago if she'd ever turn her back on Gilbert Grissom and throw her lot in with another, she'd have laughed. Established within the Crime Lab, her past was behind her and, for the first time in a long time, she'd felt like she had a real future to look forward to, as a Mother to Lindsey, and as a forensic scientist. The chance she had taken, that Grissom had taken, that they'd both taken together, it had finally pulled all the way though. As a CSI level 3, she was the most senior on the night shift after Grissom. She had respect, from herself and her peers, good health, a beautiful daughter, a solid income, a respectable career. And the common thread? Gilbert Grissom, one of the few men all those years ago who had looked at her face, not her body, and who had talked to her, not for her body but for her mind...and for that she was grateful. But now, 10 years on, she wasn't leaning on the doorframe watching Gil work. Now, she was leaning on the doorframe watching the one person who became even more special to her than Gil was. Her second, second chance, her Sara.
Watching Sara work, head bowed in concentration, it was easy to forget that over eight years had passed since that tumultuous meeting on Sara's first day. To this day, Catherine didn't really know why she had decided to be so angry and bitchy to Sara once she had taken a permanent post in Las Vegas, but, whatever her original motivation had been, it had long faded, first into habit as somehow, both she and Sara expected to verbally spar with each other, before then being long forgotten as a true romance had blossomed. Sitting behind her desk, intent on the paperwork that was as much a part of being a CSI now as actual criminals were, Sara's face took on a relaxed serenity as she methodically worked her way through the files, mastering her domain. Just as Catherine was congratulating herself on how long she had managed to stand observing her lover unobserved, the silence was broken
"You're watching me" came the amused observation, Sara's head never lifting up from its bowed position
"Yes" Catherine was no longer surprised when Sara called her on watching without Catherine ever being aware of Sara looking up to see her. Somehow, Sara seemed to have a 6th sense, a Catherine sense
"Ok then" Sara's calm acceptance of this fact, as she transferred one file from the pile to her left to the pile on her right might seem inconsequential or even down right rude, but to Catherine, it was just another little thing to make her already soaring heart swell with pride, pride that she and no one else, not even her daughter, was allowed this luxury. The saying goes that every cloud has a silver lining, but that's not necessarily true. As Catherine had learnt over time, if you grew up being Sara Sidle, most silver linings were precursors to stormy clouds.
"You're watching me" came the sharp voice from the bed, eyes glued to the TV screen hanging from the ceiling
"Yes" Catherine acknowledged gently, squeezing the hand that she had been holding loosely
"Don't!"
"Why?" Again, Catherine kept her hand firmly in place and her tone was gentle. It was only a few weeks since their first forays into a cessation of hostilities following that awkward first kiss that first time Catherine had visited Sara at her recuperation hospital. Whilst they maybe couldn't yet commit to calling each other 'girlfriend', they were certainly no longer casual colleagues. In that time, Catherine had come to understand some of what made Sara be Sara, her coldness of manner, her need for independence and solitude. Catherine wouldn't admit to being privy to all of Sara's secrets, but she treasured each one she did know, if only because of the crack that it represented in the barricades Sara had constructed around herself, the real Sara.
"Just don't" Again, Sara hadn't taken her eyes away from the TV, seemingly intent on the Discovery Channel show, but Catherine already knew Sara had seen it before
"Honey, why don't you like me looking at you?" Catherine kept up her gentle enquiry, knowing deep down that Sara needed to break down her fears and problems, before they broke her down.
"I just don't" Sara's tone was hollow and her eyes seemed to be unfocused, like she was lost in a memory, rather than in the TV show
"Do you know why I watch you?" Catherine's gentle question provoked an unexpected response
"Because you're checking up on me" Catherine's initial reaction was to make some sarcastic flirty comment about checking out, not checking up, but something made her pause. Just occasionally, it was like an unseen hand holding her back, helping her know when to give Sara enough time and space to finish her thoughts. Later, that unseen hand would reveal itself as the deepest, most perfect love, the sort that soul mates have, but for now….it was still haphazard instinct which didn't always work.
"He always checked up on me." Today was a good day for instinct.
"Who's he?" Catherine began stroking the back of the clutched hand, noting the palm was turning sticky with sweat.
"My father" The tone was so flat, so devoid of emotion, Catherine didn't really know what to say. She'd never heard any mention of Sara's parents, by either Sara or Grissom and there had never been any attempt to contact or inform them once it became apparent that Sara's injury was serious. As Sara lay strapped to her bed whilst her back worked out what was happening to it, it was Catherine who had held her hand, it was the CSI graveyard shift who had kept her company. No one had noticed the absence of any worried, loving parents; it would seem perhaps because there were never any to be missed. Whilst Catherine was trying to work out what to say, Sara continued, her voice flat, empty, as a transcript of a witness statement sounds when read in court by some faceless official to whom the people involved are just names, not faces, not victims.
"He would watch me at home doing my homework, making sure I never slacked. When he couldn't watch me, he would check my books later, making sure the work was done. When I wasn't doing my homework, he would watch me reading, check my bookshelves to see what I was reading. Whatever I did, he watched. If I didn't do what was expected, what was required by him, I was punished. He had large hands, calloused from working; he had a broad leather belt, roughened from years of wear with denim work clothes. I had soft skin he said, a luxury I was granted by him, when he chose to allow me an education. It was a luxury he could take away from me if I didn't appreciate it. If I didn't read the right stuff, if I didn't do my homework, I felt his hand, I felt his belt.
"I was grew up among hippies, people who spoke of free love and peace. But actions speak louder than words. My parents were not hippies, but they spoke and acted as hippies because what else were you supposed to do in San Francisco in the 60s and 70s if you owned a bed and breakfast? No one who wasn't a hippie was staying there during that time, and no hippie would stay somewhere that didn't 'share the love'. They may have spoken of free love, but never to me. Love came at a price. My price was understanding how fortunate I was to have an education. My father watched to make sure I understood the value. If I didn't, well, I waited for the beating."
Sara finished her recitation of events long ago and continued to stare blankly in the direction of the TV which was still playing, quietly. There were no tears on her face, they had been beaten out of her long ago. In the Sidle house, you didn't cry. Everyone had their price, everything had its value. Tears had no value, only a cost, the cost of more beatings.
Catherine sat quite still, shocked by this revelation. As a mother, she couldn't understand how a parent could be like that to any child, let alone their own. As a CSI, she couldn't stop herself waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"What did your mother do?"
"He watched her, checked up on the domestic chores. If something wasn't right, wasn't to his liking, he hit her too, only he hit her after he'd drunk, when he hit harder."
"I'm so sorry Sara" Catherine was struggling to control her tears, struggling to picture Sara, no older than Lindsey, being punished for reading the *wrong* book, for wanting to play in the garden before doing her homework.
"Don't be" Sara's words sounded harsh and unfeeling to Catherine's ears
"Sara!" Catherine's startled cry connected deep within Sara, connected thoughts to emotions to feelings that hadn't been connected in so long. For the first time in a very long time, Sara actually started to care what someone thought, to care that someone understood what her childhood felt like.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Seeing that she had Catherine's attention, Sara took a deep breathe and decided to give the full story, well the full bit of this part of the story, in all it's morbid glory.
"Don't feel sorry for me because of what you think I lost or missed growing up. You can't miss something you've never had. I never questioned the bruising, the beating, the broken bones when, in her anger, my mother destroyed the dining room table and chairs as I sat working at the table. Don't feel sorry for me because I lost my childhood. I had a childhood, it was just different. Don't feel sorry for me now, because it's happened, it's gone, it's in the past." By the time Sara had finished, she was no longer staring blankly, instead, her eyes were locked on Catherine's as her voice had a tone, pleading with Catherine to understand. At that moment, if Sara could have felt them, she would have been on her knees, begging for Catherine not to feel sorry for her. After years of having no view of her childhood, of not wanting anyone to know about her or it, Sara was finding that she wanted this woman, this maddening, frustrating, fascinating, beautiful woman not only to know, but to understand, to understand what it was that Sara had journeyed through to get to this hospital bed.
"Sara, I don't feel sorry for you, I could never feel sorry for you." Before Sara could interrupt, Catherine placed a finger on her lips to silence her, wanting to finish her thought, and inadvertently setting off a chain reaction within Sara… 'Catherine's finger's touching my lips' became the internal 'happy chant'.
"But I care for you, not out of pity, not out of duty, but out of love"
"Love?" If it hadn't been so serious, the look of genuine disbelief on Sara's face would have been comical, allowing Catherine to break into a warm smile.
"Yup. Good old fashioned, honest to goodness, heart thumping, breath stealing love." Despite all of Catherine's years in the glitz, glamour and shadow of Las Vegas, there was still the little girl from the farm in Montana who dreamed of a handsome white knight who was going to rescue her and love her for ever.
"For me?" Sara almost squeaked out the words
"Yup"
"Oh."
"Surprised?" Asked Catherine, suddenly the uncertain one, realising that she had perhaps not picked her moment wisely, given the emotional wringer that Sara had just relived.
"Relieved" came the unexpected response, accompanied by a big beaming smile, the sort that normally lights up a child's face when given an ice cream say.
"Oh?" Now it was Catherine's turn to be wrong footed
"Because ever since I saw you, I'd felt something, something that has only been getting stronger. I didn't really know what it was at first, but now I do."
"You do?" Now it was Catherine's turn to squeak
"Yup. Good old fashioned, honest to goodness, heart thumping, breath stealing love."
"What you thinking about?"
"Huh?"
"You looked miles away. What were you thinking about?"
"Nothing really"
"Oh? You know you're crap at lying Cat. It must have been something good"
"What makes you say that?"
"The look on your face. Share?" Sara by now had come out from behind her desk, obviously ready to start the shift. Pulling an unresisting Catherine into her lap for a quick snuggle, she muttered in a very bad European accent
"Tell me, I have ways of making you talk" before starting to tickle Catherine's sides with light fingers, whilst pressing hot wet kisses along her jaw. Hardly a torture, unless shift started in less than a minute.
"Ok, OK, I'll confess!" laughed Catherine, enjoying her lover's private playful side making a rare appearance at work.
"Good, I could do with a nice thought to start work with"
"It's not that great. I was just remembering the first time I told you I loved you…." Catherine trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. Sara had no problem treading round the delicate subject
"We were talking about my father watching me, and then you dropped a bombshell, telling me you loved me"
"Spot on"
"And you know what Ms Willows?"
"What Ms Sidle?"
"I still do"
"What, love me?"
"Yup, good old fashioned, honest to goodness, heart thumping, breath stealing love!" Struck by Sara's good humour and sparkling eyes, not to mention still wandering fingers, Catherine laughed, a rich peal of merry, happy joy, echoed on a more moderate level by Sara's chuckle and grin, before jumping out of Sara's grasp and, turning to leave the office threw over her shoulder
"I'd love to stay, but my boss? She's a terrible task master….hate to be late!" prompting Sara to groan, something which sounded a lot like
"You're so dead Cat" before she too set off for the break room, trying to drag her mind back to the minutiae of the job.