DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI or any of the characters represented in the show. They're owned by someone else who isn't me. No copyright infringement is implied/meant/deliberate in any way, shape or form, and no money is changing hands/no profit is being made, etc.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: Mention of "A Bullet Runs Through It".
Late Night Horrors
By Del Robertson
"AAHHHH!"
Detective Curtis cocked her head at the sound of the ear-piercing shriek. Unholstering her gun, she clutched it firmly in her grasp, finger indexing the trigger. Instinctively, she darted down the hallway in the direction the scream had come from.
She had just passed the door to the break room when it opened behind her. Reflexively, she spun about, leveling her gun.
"What the hell was that?" Catherine asked.
"Somebody screamed," Sofia shrugged, already lowering her weapon, "I'm not certain where it might have come from, though."
"At – " Catherine surreptitiously checked her watch, " – three in the morning, the only place it could have come from was the lab."
"Right," nodded Sofia, turning to proceed down the corridor.
Catherine glanced back at the break room, then up and down the dimly lit corridor. Reaching out, she grabbed Sofia by the elbow. "Hang on, I'm coming with you."
"Why, Ms. Willows," Sofia smirked, "I didn't know you cared."
"It's not that," Catherine snorted. "I just don't want you getting turned around in the dark and shooting me by mistake." She caught the slight bristle at her words, instantly regretted them. "Hey." Sofia shrugged Catherine's touch off, continued down the corridor. "Hey, listen – " She hurriedly caught up, grabbed Sofia's shirt sleeve, spun her around. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."
One blonde eyebrow arched. "Of course not."
"No, I want to apologize," Catherine continued. "I'm sorry if you thought that was some crack about that friendly-fire incident you and Brass were involved in. It was insensitive of me."
"Yes, it was."
"Jeez, what do I have to do to convince you I didn't mean it?" Catherine persisted.
"Drop it."
"That's what I'm trying to do. But, you're determined not to let me."
Sofia stopped so abruptly that Catherine ran into her from behind. Peering around the corner, she looked up and down the darkened corridor, listening for the slightest sound. "I meant just drop the conversation and forget it," Sofia whispered harshly, starting down the hall to her left, then abruptly deciding to go right. She paused at a closed door, tried the knob. Locked. Cupping her hands around her face, pressing her nose to the glass, she peered inside. Empty.
Catherine pulled her away from the glass. "But, you haven't been able to forget about it, have you?" she pressed. "I'll bet you wake up at night in a cold sweat, seeing all of us accusing you of something you didn't do – "
"What do you care?" Sofia snapped harshly, Catherine's assessment hitting a little too close to home.
"I care." She caught the subtly arched brow. "I do!"
"Right." Sofia attempted to resume her search down the corridor, but discovered Catherine had effectively pinned her up against the locked door, barring her escape. Irritated, she turned her ire on the CSI. "You've never cared a lick about me, Catherine."
"Oh, but I have." Before she could react, Catherine had effectively closed the distance, her tongue licking over soft lips, her mouth locking onto Sofia's.
"What the - ?!?" Sofia pushed Catherine away, wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Proving a point."
"Which is?" Sofia asked, leaning away, effectively dodging another attempted kiss.
"You're attracted to me."
"I'm what?"
"Attracted – to – me." Catherine punctuated each word with a kiss to Sofia's neck.
"No, I'm not." Sofia angrily pushed her away again.
"Yes, you are. The clues are all there," stated Catherine matter-of-factly, her hands wandering freely over the detective's body, fingertips brushing over the swell of breasts as she followed the cut of Sofia's shirt down to her waist. "The lingering looks, the way your eyes focus on my chest area. I doubt if you'd be able to describe my face to a sketch artist, Detective Curtis. Then, the cocky way you smirk at me, the stagger in your walk whenever you know I'm watching." Hands firmly latched onto svelte hips, fingers hooking themselves into Sofia's blue jean beltloops. "It's okay," she dropped her voice to a husky whisper, breathed into Sofia's ear, "You can admit you want me."
"I don't." Sofia's eyes threatened to roll back in her head as Catherine leaned into her, pressing her full body length against the squirming detective. A shrill scream could be heard in the distance. She attempted to find the strength to dislodge Catherine; failed miserably in the attempt. "And, even if it were true, there's somebody in trouble."
"There's a body here in trouble, too," Catherine purred, reaching her hand between Sofia's legs, cupping her, pressing into her warmth.
"AAHHHH!"
"You okay?" Sara asked.
Sofia sat bolt upright in bed, the top sheet firmly clutched in her knuckle-white grip. Perspiration rolled off her brow, soaking her nightshirt. Feeling Sara's palm rubbing reassuring circles on her back, she willed her breathing to slow.
"Yeah, I think so," she nodded, her voice trembling in her throat.
"The shooting again?"
"No," Sofia exhaled sharply, "Worse."
"Really?" Sara arched a brow. "What could possibly be worse?"
"I was in the lab and someone was screaming for help and I was trying to get to them and – ."
"Easy, babe," Sara heard the tension rising in Sofia's voice, kept her own voice at what she hoped was a soothing level. "What happened; you couldn't get to them?"
"No." Sofia took another shuddering breath. "Catherine had her hand down my pants."
"Wow." Sara's eyes went wide. "Wow."
"I know; it's horrible!" Sofia buried her face in her hands. "I've never had such a grotesque dream."
"Hey, it's okay, baby." Sara's hand stroked through Sofia's hair, attempting to calm the obviously distraught woman. "I've had worse."
Sofia lifted her head, eyed Sara suspiciously. "I don't believe you."
"It's true," Sara protested. "I dreamed I was in a hotel room, wearing a white robe; I think I had just come from the shower."
"You're right; That's truly horrible," Sofia deadpanned.
"Smartass!" Sara swatted her with a pillow. "For your information, Grissom was there, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, stretched out on the bed in a seductive pose."
Sofia's eyes widened, mouth dropped open. Her jaw worked for several seconds, no sound coming out. "That's it! Halloween tradition or not," she leaned over, using her hand to sweep several DVD cases into the trashcan beside the bed, "No more Friday the Thirteenth marathons before bed!"
"I don't believe it." Sara eyed her lover incredulously. "You're blaming our nightmares on old Freddy Krueger movies."
"Well, it's either that or the pizza and ice cream with chocolate syrup – ."
" – Freddy Krueger it is, then," shrugged Sara. "I refuse to give up the Cookies and Cream."
The End