DISCLAIMER: CSI and its characters are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author

By ralst


Sofia looked out over the expanse of Lake Erie, its cool waters sparkling against the fading light of winter's sun. Small boats bobbed on the waves and flocks of gulls screeched up above. It would have been romantic, except for the assorted limbs entombed in yellow plastic bags, that had washed up at their feet.

"The bags are the same brand as those found in Vegas," Sara informed her. The CSI seemed oblivious to their natural surroundings, as she rooted through the various piles of evidence. It made Sofia slightly nauseous but she refused to give in to the feeling.

"A fact the Ohio State Police could have relayed by fax, phone, e-mail or carrier pigeon."

Sara shrugged. "They needed an expert opinion."

"And naturally there's not a single CSI in the whole widwest trained to do this type of work." Sofia wanted a fight. She'd been forced to travel halfway across the country, to a state where she had no jurisdiction, all so that Grissom could retain his ironclad control over the case. It was ludicrous and, she suspected, highly illegal. The only reason they'd been allowed past the crime scene tape was because the officer in charge was an old friend of Brass.

"You didn't have to come." Sara began taking photographs of the various evidence bags, her gloved hands repeatedly adjusting the angle of the bags to capture the fading sun. "I'm perfectly capable of handling this without a police escort."

The wind changed direction and the plastic bags started flapping around in the breeze, their frantic song almost giving them life. Sofia turned towards the road and their waiting car. If she drove off that very second she could be back in her apartment in just over thirty hours; assuming she didn't stop for inconveniences like sleep, food or restrooms. It was tempting.


Sara held out a bagged and tagged limb in Sofia's direction.

"I've examined the others but I think we stand the best chance with this specimen."

Sofia blinked. She was used to collecting evidence and witnessing the detritus of a spent life but there was something about the ziplocked foot that made her want to puke.

"Put it in the car," she mumbled, before turning and walking away from the body parts to a more secluded part of the shore. Her hopes for the trip smashed against the realities of her job and travelling companion. When Brass had asked her to accompany Sara on an out of state assignment she'd been thrilled. Three or four nights sharing a hotel room with the brunette were an answer to her prayers and an opportunity she'd been searching for, for months.

The trip had started out badly and gotten worse with every mile. Firstly, Sara didn't talk, and then when she finally did open her mouth it was to discuss body retrieval methods. Then, on their first layover, Sara had spent twenty minutes on the phone to her 'boyfriend' before turning out the light and totally ignoring her companion. To begin with, Sofia had thought the boyfriend routine was some kind of practical joke, but when the second night came and Sara was once again glued to the phone, Sofia decided that she must have read the signals wrong.


The thought that Sara might be interested in men had never really entered Sofia's mind, despite the crush on Grissom that was so apparent. So when on the third day Sara had begun to discuss her mystery beau, in graphic detail, Sofia had been tempted to fill a body bag or two herself.

"Sofia, are you listening to me?"

Two more yellow plastic bags were thrust in Sofia's direction and with reluctance the blonde decided to accept the burden. Two left feet, a suddenly hetro crush, and two thousand miles of open road. If she arrived back in Vegas with her sanity intact, it would be a miracle.

The End

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