DISCLAIMER: These characters and situations do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. I have borrowed them as part of my sanity maintenance.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Challenge: Icons - Frustrated
FEEDBACK: To deb123em[at]gmail.com

The Kids of Today
By Debbie


In yet another all-night store there was still no delivery of fresh milk. Catherine sighed at the empty shelves where the milk should have been, and pondered her luck. This was just another addition to her night of woes.

It had all started the previous evening when Lindsay's regular minder had fallen ill. Catherine's last minute solution- it was Sara's night off and she had been able to come over at short notice – was just the tip of an ever increasing pyramid of mishaps.

Her shift had gone from bad to worse; losing some important trace evidence, a stand-up disagreement with Grissom, the subsequent banishment to a crime scene in the desert (who'd have thought her mild mannered friend could be so devious), and finally the dropping of temperature to a chilly January night were now long gone, but the aches and pains of a 40 year-old remained. Catherine grimaced; surely things could only get better.

Another pit stop, and still no milk, Catherine slammed her hands down on the roof of her car. She was going home without milk, Sara and Lindsey would have seen there was none and bought fresh, wouldn't they?

Thoroughly exasperated she opened her front door to silence. There was no welcome home hug from her daughter, no smell of breakfast, and no milk. Seething, she continued through the house till the sound of a computer games monotonous background music competing with the vocal talents of Travis guided her to her bedroom.

Marching into the room her anger spilled out, "What the hell are you playing at? I've had the shift from hell, got drenched and cold, come home to have a nice warm shower to find there's no heating on and probably no hot water, there's still no milk in the fridge, never mind the fact there's no welcome home hot drink or breakfast, and you… you… you are listening to that cat's choir and playing computer games. I don't work all…"

Her words drifted off at the sight before her, a roaring log fire, two steaming hot cups of cocoa with plates of Danish pastries and pancakes, an obviously drawn bath of hot water smelling of vanilla and jasmine, and the young occupant advancing on her, "… and what are you smirking at young lady?"

"Catherine, shut up…" murmured Sara Sidle as she reached out to envelop her lover, "… and kiss me"

The End

Return to C.S.I. Fiction

Return to Main Page