DISCLAIMER: Zuiker, CBS, etc. pp. They are still not mine. But my holiday isn't over yet and since I consider this story a direct continuation of the first part, therefor I think it's safe to assume this is still a one time offense.
SEQUEL: This is a continuation of my story Beyound cause and effect Sofia. It would really make a lot more sense, if you read that one first. The story is a bit depressing though, it even depressed me. So this is my way of getting out of that depression. Hope it works.
SPOILERS: Mmmh, well, sort of. It would be better if you already saw "A bullet runs through it". There's a slight mention of "Werewolves" too. Any spoilers beyond that would be purely coincedental.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Looking past the evidence - Sara
"Grissom, ey, I've a question..." Sara Sidle knew to expect the unexpected when walking into her bosses office but finding Detective Sofia Curtis, in quite an agitated state, threw her for a loop. "Sofia.... you're on administrative leave." Sara tried to act not too surprised.
"I know." Of course she did.
"You should not be in this building." Internally Sara was smacking herself over the head. Why did she always have to state the obvious when she didn't know what to say.
"I was just talkin to a friend." There was barely controlled anger in Detective Curtis' voice. "If I can't talk to a friend who the hell am I supposed to talk to?"
Sara tried to stay calm. "Any friend outside this department."
"And how many friends outside work do you have, Sara? Oh, maybe I should leave and talk to my mother, oh no, I forgot, she's a cop too."
That one did hurt. "I can recommend a departmental psychologist."
Sara didn't mean to provoke the blonde. But everytime she was reminded that Sofia had left the CSI to become a cop, she felt like hurting someone. Which she probably did. Sofia just stared at her. The fire in her eyes was gone, she looked drained. Turning to Grissom who had watched the whole display with detached curiosity, Sofia simply shook her head. "All right um, this was a very bad idea."
The blonde quickly left, not even looking at her former colleague. Sara watched her go then turned to her supervisor. He just stared back.
"Nothing." There was no judgement in his voice, there never was. Really frustrating sometimes.
"She should have known." Sara tried to defend herself. "I mean... she was the QA/QC for almost a year, for all we know Sofia wrote the rules on administrative leave herself. She should have been more professional."
"Yes! Yes, Gil, like us."
"Sofia is a professional, Sara. She is a cop. She is also a human being who hurts. Who do you turn to when you hurt?"
"Who do you turn to?" The words haunted Sara. It wasn't as if she had been mean to the other woman or anything. She had simply pointed out the rules, not wanting to get Sofia, or Grissom, into more trouble than they were already in. Couldn't the blonde see that she was only trying to help? Proving Sofia's innocence was difficult enough without the detective compromising it. So what if the blonde had no friends outside the department. Sara could understand how difficult it must be. That's why she offered psychological help. They were trained for these kinds of situation. Was she the only one following the rules this time? Sara knew Greg and even Captain Brass had tried to call Sofia anyway. She knew because Greg had asked her for the phone number and if she heard anything but the brunette hadn't. Not that she would have. After their somewhat strained phone conversation a few weeks back, they hadn't talked again. Which was okay with Sara since she had no idea what to say to the blonde. We spent one evening together. One. An evening that had started out promising but then Sofia had made it clear they had no chance. That she'd be leaving. Which she did only a few weeks later. Now that she was back what did she expect? That I'd come running into her arms? Jump at the opportunity of a possible relationship that was doomed from the start? Just because she said, she missed me? The shooting had made one thing perfectly clear: Cops got killed. The guns, the car chases, everything was a prelude to an inevitable outcome. If Sofia wanted to be a part of it, so be it. It was her choice. But then she had to live with the consequences. And if it hurt... she could have stayed a CSI. There had been alternatives. There had been choices. "Who do you turn to when you hurt?" Sara knew the answer to that question because she hurt too: no one.
Sofia Curtis' name was cleared. The combined efforts of the whole department made sure of it. Sara felt relieved. She stilled heard Sofia's acccusations in her head, still saw the pained look on the normally so vibrant woman though she tried to ignore it. Now that the case was solved, maybe everything would turn back to normal.
Normality was relative in their line of work. Sometimes it was amazing, how strange and bizarre cases could get. Sara had seen a lot in her six year career as a CSI in Vegas. Dead aliens, human rabbits, a vampire with a taste for jocks, but a werewolf shot by a silver bullet was new. Because of the bizarre nature of the case, the team worked even harder than normally to get the case solved before the media got wind of it. When Sara's phone rang, she quickly looked at it, but didn't answer. The last thing she needed in a situation like this, was a call from the blonde detective, she had been avoiding since their clash in Grissom's office. It was only when she was paged a few hours later, that she realized that the call could have been work related.
The street where Sofia had wanted to meet was dark and in a scarcely populated area. Stupid, Sara thought, what's she doing out here all alone? This is dangerous. She parked the car a few yards off the telephone booth, the detective was leaning against totally relaxed. Sara grabbed her kit and got out of the car.
"I've been waiting for you." There was a slight teasing note in Sofia's voice.
"Sorry." Sara was angry with herself. She should have known, the earlier call had been work related. "I headed out as soon as I got your page."
Good. Pretend you didn't get the call. Sofia studied her pensively. "Really?...." she said. "Cause, ah... I left a voice mail several hours ago."
Busted. Yes, I know I'm avoiding you. And now I know that you know. Sara tried to hide her embarrassment by changing the subject. "What's up?"
First it seemed as if the blonde wanted to add something. She just looked at Sara while playing around with a toothpick she had been chewing on. But to Sara's utter relief, Sofia led it slide. "The anonimous call was traced to this phone booth." She pointed behind her. "I figured you wanted to process."
Sara nodded and got a closer look of the inside of the booth. At first glance nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except... "There is finger print powder on the phone?"
"Yeah." Sofia teased. "I got bored waiting. I thought you might need some help."
Sara just gaped at the detective, stunned.
"No usable prints" the blonde supplied, "but check out the floor."
Sara swallowed the reprimand she was about to make and turned back again. "It's a lot of hair. Similar hair to the crime scene."
"The victim was killed twelve hours before this call was made. If that's his hair?" The detective speculated. "What's it doing here?"
The noise in the bar was bearable. Sara had an easy time finding her way through the not too crowded entrance. She had been just about to finish her last report when the news came in that the werewolf case was solved. Catherine and Sofia had done a good job at keeping the freak show aspect out of the media and Grissom had invited them all for drinks. At first Sara hadn't been sure if she should go when the detective was going to be there. But then Grissom insisted. Ever since the abduction he had made it a habit to get his team together once a week for a night of casual drinks and talk. Well, one beer couldn't hurt, Sara sighed, putting on a forced smile.
"So, Catherine. How is Allison?" The husky voice of Sofia Curtis send shivers down Sara's spine. It had been a bad idea to sit next to the blonde. Every time she talked or moved or even breathed Sara had noticed their closeness. But it had been either that or sitting straight across, looking at her the whole evening.
"She'll be okay." Catherine answered. "It will take a while but she's more independant than she looks." She smiled at Grissom. "It helps that she has her mother back. Thank you for finding her."
"Nil tam difficile est, quin quaerendo investigari possit." He offered nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. "Nothing is so difficult that a thorough investigation can't find it."
"Maybe." Sofia chimed in already a little drunk. "But they also say: Quantum est, quod nescimus. There's a lot, we will never know."
"Hey." Greg piped up. "Speak english, will ya? This is supposed to be a fun night out. Not Greek 101."
"Latin." Warrick corrected him laughing, getting up. "Which I do take as my cue to leave though."
"It's his wife." Nick teased, grinning at the others. "She won't let him out of her clutches."
"It's the company." Warrick grinned back. "And I'd rather feel her lively arms round my neck than listen to dead languages."
"Oooh, now there's a picture I can take home with me tonight." Nick winked which earned him a slap on the shoulder by Catherine.
"Margaritas ante porcos." Grissom pretended to be disappointed, while Sofia and Catherine laughed.
"Margaritas?" There was a word Greg understood. "Now you're talking, boss man. Waiter!" He yelled, looking at the remaining circle of his colleagues. "Anyone else want one? Sara? Another soda?"
"No, thanks, not for me." It was obvious that Sara was the only one not enjoying herself. Sofia looked at her and put a soothing hand on her thigh. "Are you alright?" she asked, not even noticing that the brunette stiffened under her touch.
"I'm fine. I'll just need to..." Sara stood up, pointing in the general direction of the ladies room.
"Okay." Sofia replied, following the CSI's lanky frame with her eyes.
There was a long cue before the stalls, so it took Sara a good fiften minutes to come back to the table. Only the three men were left sitting there, engaged in idle conversation.
"Where is everyone?" Sara asked, pulling out her chair.
"Catherine said something about picking up Lindsey." Nick supplied distractedly, trying to listen in on some animated discussion between Greg and Grissom in french of all things. "And I think Sofia didn't feel too well. She wanted to get home."
"Did you call her a cab?" Sara asked irritated by the childish display of her friends.
"Nah." Nick shook his head. "Her cars's only parked a couple of blocks down. She'll be fine."
"Idiots." Sara mumbled, picking up her jacket and throwing a few bills on the table to cover her tab. "She's much too drunk to drive."
When the brunette stepped out on the street, she couldn't see the blonde anywhere. Hurriedly she went to her own car, that was parked only half a block away. Cruising down the street, she saw Sofia's vehicle standing in front of a grocery store. But the woman was nowhere to be seen. Sara stopped, looking around and was just about to turn the car when she spotted the blonde a bit further down. "What is she doing?" She wondered, slowly driving closer. When she was on the same heigth as the detective, she rolled down her window. "Sofia. Hey. What are you doing there?"
"What does it look like? I'm trying to get into my car." The blonde answered in a futile attempt to open one of the doors with a key.
Sara sighed. "Well, it's not your car."
"It's not?" Sofia looked up, examining the offending vehicle closer. "It's not." She smiled, finally looking at the number plates. "No wonder I couldn't open it. And I thought the battery of the central locking was empty again."
"Get in here." Sara just shook her head. "I'll drive you home."
There was no hesitation from the blonde. She simply stepped around, opened the passenger door and hopped in. "Do you still know where I live?"
"You kept the apartment?" Sara was surprised and quickly looked at Sofia while putting the car in drive.
"Sure. Boulder City is only forty miles away."
Sara didn't comment, just concentrated on the traffic. "I always told you, I'd be leaving CSI not necessarily Vegas." Sofia added, making herself comfortable and moving a bit sideways to study the brunette next to her. It irritated Sara.
"Have you put the seatbelt on?"
"No. But you can't arrest me for it." The blonde teased. "You're not a cop."
"Yes!" Sofia exclaimed. Then her voice got softer. "If I weren't I wouldn't be sitting here next to you, would I?"
No, you probably wouldn't, Sara thought. And I wish you weren't. The alcohol wasn't the only smell that permeated the car. There was a slight sensual note as well, she always associated with the blonde. Sara hoped they were there soon. She felt slightly hot.
"Does it bother you?"
"What?" Sara was sure she had missed out on part of the conversation.
"Everything." There was a slight pause. "That I'm a detective now, that I'm sitting in your car, that I'm drunk... That I'm touching you..."
"You're not..." But she was. Sara only now noticed, that Sofia's hand lay on her right thigh, slowly stroking up and down. Her first instinct was to hit the brakes. "Stop it."
Sofia obeyed immediately. Not without a silently mumbled "you could have said please," though.
Sara smiled painfully. This isn't working, she thought and briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she had made a decision. "I'm sorry. I really need to concentrate on driving."
Sofia chuckled. "So it's okay to touch you when you're not driving?"
"I didn't say that." Thankfully Sofia's apartment block was already in view and Sara could put an end to this.
"No, but you implied."
"An implication not backed up by any physical evidence."
"Mmh, dilated pupils, heavy breathing, a pulse going about fifty miles per hour. I'd say there is enough evidence for a search warrant."
There was a parking spot just outside the building and Sara rolled the car slowly in front of it. "Well, you won't get one."
"It was worth a try." Even drunk, Sofia knew when she was going too far. She reached for the door handle and opened it. Before she got out, she turned back. "See you at work?"
Sara stared at her for a moment. Then she nodded slightly. "Sure, at work."
"Can I buy you a coffee?" It was funny how being drunk left some people miserable and despressed the next day while others seemed to be not affected at all. Actually, Sara thought, concentrating on the computer monitor in front of her, Sofia sounds positively chipper tonight. "Nah, I'm good." She answered gesturing to the mug standing right next to her keyboard.
"Anything else then? A donut? Sandwich?"
The blonde still hadn't moved an inch. Sara could see her silhouette near the door clearly reflected on the screen. It was a rather slow night. On impulse Grissom had offered to send everyone home if they promised to be on call. Sara had volunteered to stay at the lab, in case something urgent came up. But so far nothing happened. Now she almost regretted her decision.
"Aren't donuts for cops?" She finally answered, when it looked like Sofia wouldn't be leaving her alone soon. The blonde let her head drop down. Sara considered pulling up a blank white page to dim the effect of the sharp reflection.
"Are you ever going to let me forget that?" The detective asked softly, finally stepping closer. "After last night I... I thought we were good."
"We are." Sara turned around, facing the blonde. There was frustration in those blue eyes, a lot of questions, a hint of hope. Sara let her gaze drift. The detective had lost weight. Not much, maybe two or three pounds, but she could clearly make out the straightening of curves, how the dark blue shirt clung more losely to her body. How Sofia's hands seemed more fragile, less strong. Hands, she hadn't even noticed when they had brushed up against her in the car. Or did she? She should have. "Did you get your car back alright?" Sara asked turning to her screen again. All this looking made her dizzy.
"Not yet. I took a cab in. I'll get it after shift."
Sara nodded slightly. The vehicle was parked safely. It should still be there. She pulled up another screen, checking the information, making a few entries. Filling databases wasn't her favorite part of the job, but somebody had to do it. It made work a lot easier in the long run. Mindless work, but usefull on nights like this. Absently she took a sip of her now cold coffee.
The brunette had almost forgotten that the other woman was still there. She closed her eyes. "Yeah."
There was a long pause. Whatever Sofia was about to say, she'd rather she'd not say it. When nothing was forthcoming, Sara got edgy. "What?"
There was another pause. The blonde shook her head. "Nothing." She said and and left. It was only when Sara was sure, she was alone again, that she allowed herself to lean back in her chair and let out the breath she'd been holding. It couldn't go on like this, she told herself. At least tomorrow is Saturday. Two more hours and I have a whole weekend to sort this mess out.
The weekend. Fortyeight hours of fun and relaxation. Meeting with friends. Following your interests. Doing a little shopping or just generally having a good time. Sara Sidle hated weekends. Usually she spent at least one of her days off at the lab, catching up on reports, trying out equipment if the department got something new. Anything to avoid spending time alone in her apartment. But Grissoms new social policy included a strict order to stay away from work during off hours. It was probably nice for Catherine to spend more time with her daughter. Or for the newlywed Warrick and his wife. She could even picture Nick having a date or just doing his sports and Greg hanging out with his strange geeky friends. But her? Sara didn't really have a friend or a lover to spend time with. She didn't have a hobby like Grissom and his bugs. She didn't even have a dog or a cat that she could take for a walk or play around with. Her weekends consisted of cleaning up the apartment, which took about half an hour, seeing that she seldom spent any time there. Of doing a little grocery shopping while waiting for her washing to finish. If she really stretched it, she could fill out three to three and a half hours. Now what to do about the other fortyfive?
Sara tried to sleep some time away but found she couldn't. Images filled her dreams. Images of a sea of hands reaching for her, wave after wave. Some passionate but friendly, most rough and hurting. They kept reaching until she woke up, disturbed and disorientated. She thought about going out for a drink, reminding herself instantly what happened if she allowed alcohol and depression become best buddies again. Narrowly escaping a DUI charge, being forced to talk to P.E.A.P. had sobered her up pretty good. "I can still go out though." She said out loud, trying to shake herself out of the funk she was in. "A night on the town, some dancing." If other people could have fun, so would she.
The club was crowded, noisy and filled with smoke. The strobe lights dancing over her head, would have normally gotten on Sara's nerves, but tonight she found them relaxing. The music was too loud, the funky beats too heavy for her taste. But the overall assault on her senses drowned out any deep thoughts she might have had. She must have picked the right clothes too, dark, tight, bare arms and neck because already several men had tried to pick her up. She had danced with two of them but when they invited her for a drink, she had declined. She wasn't looking for a one night stand. She wasn't even looking for mindless small talk. Mainly she wanted to dance and forget. Sara watched the crowd while she ordered some water, needing a break from her exercise on the dance floor. There were few couples, a lot of groups, mostly men and occasionally she saw a single woman like herself. One in particular caught her eye. She was standing across the dance floor, leaning against one of the fake marble pillars, decorating each corner. Sara couldn't see her face but she looked as if she was completely unfazed by the crowd around her pushing and pulling against each other. As if an invisible barrier was shielding her against the other people. Her black trousers and dark blue silk blouse gave of a subtle air of elegance. Her blonde hair flowed gently just below her shoulders. Her figure was slim, but still curved. Her pose completely relaxed. Sara could only imagine that her eyes must be a calm deep blue. She tried to see her hands but the woman kept them behind her back. It was the strange tranquility that pulled her towards the blonde. Like a safe haven in a turbulent sea. "Excuse me, mind if I borrow a cigarette?"
The squeaky voice next to her pulled Sara back into reality. She turned slightly to the side. "What?" she shouted. "Your cigarettes?" A heavily made-up redhead in a pink mini-skirt and matching top repeated. "Can I have one?"
Sara was confused for a moment. Then she realized that a full paket of Gauloises Blondes was lying next to her glass on the bar. "Those are not mine." She tried shouting over the noise, shaking her head and making a no smoking gesture, when she realized the music was too loud. "Do you know who they belong to?" The woman kept asking. Sara simply shook her head again. The redhead took a quick look around at the other patrons, then grabbed the package. "Well, finders keepers." She shrugged and headed quickly off. Stunned Sara followed her with her eyes until she was lost in the crowd. Finders keepers indeed. Some women had no shame. She gazed back to the dance floor, looking for the blonde. The woman was gone.
It was two o'clock in the morning when Sara Sidle pulled up in front of the CSI department. New social policy or not, she wasn't prepared to spend her weekend at home. If she was lucky, Hodges wouldn't be in and the other lab guys didn't care enough to tell Grissom about her slip. She quickly made her way through the corridors. The last lab on the right would be her best bet. Too far off and seldom in use.
"Sara..." Of all the people she could have met... "Did you forget something?" The blonde detective was standing near one of the microscopes, examing something.
"Sofia, hey... I, uh... didn't know you were in here." Well obviously, otherwise she wouldn't have barged in like that.
The detective stared at her for a moment. Then she inclined her head. "It's Saturday, Sara. You shouldn't be in this building." The irony was not lost on the brunette.
"I'm sorry. I was just..." What? Avoiding myself? Looking for a friend? "What are you doing here?"
Sofia looked as if she wanted to say something, but reconsidered. She nodded towards the scope and said. "Trying out a new chemical solution. It's supposed to fasten the process of optical plasma spectroscopy. Splitting of trace elements from the lead alloy of bullet fragments and shells."
Sara stepped closer, examing the bottle on the table. "Is it working?"
"Not really. But take a look, if you want."
The brunette hesitated, then bent over the scope. She compared the computer print out to what she saw. "That the same bullet type?"
"No match. Have you checked the concentration?"
The blonde leaned closer, pointing on a number on the read out. "Twice, see. I even left it longer than I was supposed to but with the same results."
Sara would have leaned back, but the blonde was too close. "Maybe the temperature had something to do with it. There's a difference of six degrees Fahrenheit."
"The description says room temperature." Sofia leaned even closer. She pointed towards another line on the print out.
"That's not very precise." The brunette had difficulties breathing.
"No, it's not." Sara could feel Sofia's warm breath on her neck. She cursed herself for still wearing the flimsy top she wore to the club. "Do... do you want me to try?"
"It's your weekend." There was a slight shift in the other woman's posture.
"I don't mind."
"I do. My shift ended two hours ago." The words were whispered directly into her ear. If she turned just one inch... "Then... what are you doing here?"
There was a tiny chuckle. "Revisiting my old territory?"
Sara had been wrong. The detective's hands weren't fragile at all. They felt strong, sure. "How about that coffee now?" Anything to get out of this room.
"Whatever you like."
Las Vegas was a 24/7 town. Anything you wanted, anytime you wanted, there was a place for it. Even more so on Saturday nights. Why they ended up in Sofia's apartment, Sara still did not know. She hadn't felt like being crowded so most of the usual places were out. They could have gone to one of the more local diners at the edges of town, where no tourists or gamblers ever dropped by. But neither of the two women felt like driving for long. In the end it had been her decision to go somewhere more private which Sofia only acknowledged with a raised eyebrow and a soft smile.
Now the blonde was standing behind the kitchen counter filling two mugs with coffee while Sara perused the DVD's again.
"I see your collection has grown." She said, going over a few titles she didn't recognize from her last visit.
"Yeah." Sofia supplied coming round from behind the counter. "Nothing much to do in Boulder, except hiking. Here." She handed the brunette her mug. "So I spent most of my spare time at the local video store."
Sara chuckled. "You're not into hiking then?"
"Nah." The blonde made a face. "Climbing around rocks, getting sweaty and dirty with the imminent risk of breaking your ankle in the middle of nowhere while thousands of bugs are out for your blood? Not my idea of a fun weekend."
"So what is?" They sat down on the couch.
"This is." Sofia leaned back. "Coming home to a nice apartment, relaxing, having a talk with friends." She turned towards Sara. "What is yours?"
"The same, I guess." When there was no reply, she added defensively. "Isn't it everyone's?"
"You don't strike me as the everyone' type."
"And what do I strike you for, counselor?" Sara couldn't help the slightly biting tone. She did not like being analyzed.
"When you're not being defensive? Self sufficient, curious, independent, smart, lonely, passionate, unwilling to open up." Sofia could have rattled off a few more adjectives but instead just looked at Sara.
"Got me down to a tee, have you?"
"Have I? You tell me."
"There's nothing to tell."
"The way I see it," the blonde continued, "Sara Sidle is a workaholic. Not necessarily because she wants to be, although you enjoy your work, but because she doesn't know how to be anything else. She doesn't have any friends because that would mean to get close to someone, to open up."
"I'm still in the room." Sara warned. "Stop treating me like a suspects."
"Then stop acting as if you're under interrogation."
"I'm not another one of your case files." She got up, furious.
"I can't help it." Sofia teased. "I'm a detective. I like a good mystery."
Is that what I am? Sara Sidle, mystery woman? Science nerd. That she could live with. She shook her head. "This was a bad idea." Sara said, throwing one last look at the now empty mug in her hand. "Thanks for the coffee." She placed it carefully on the table. "Good night, detective."
She was already at the door when Sofia's voice held her back."If that's all you came for."
Yes! No. She didn't know. Sara let her head drop down, leaning her forehead against the cool wood. Images popped into her head. Images of herself. Hiding in a closet as a child, hiding in her room during spring break at Harvard. Hiding behind a computer, a microscope, a book. Hiding anywhere they couldn't find her, where the hands couldn't reach her.
"Stay." A soft body leaned into her. Sofia's voice even lower than usual. Sara tried to escape the sensation, pressing further against the door. Her hands sliding up, supporting herself against the feelings of helplessness and want. The other woman's touch came not as a surprise. Slow, sure strokes, running first up her outer legs, then her hips, up to her arms, then back to her waist where they changed direction, moving under the cotton of her tank top and coming to rest on the front. The movement not unwelcome, if slightly invading. A small sigh escaped her lips. Unable to put into words what she wanted. It was her body that did the talking for her. Letting the tension drop, moving against it's counterpart behind her. Leaving room for hands to move again. Stroking, sliding lower. A thigh was pressed against her legs. "Spread them." The command was whispered in a low voice. She obeyed. Slowly. Her way of resisting. Sara felt helpless, trapped, safe. She wanted to turn. To see. Assess the look in Sofia's eyes. Leave. She wanted to. Go somewhere. Examine her feelings. Theorize her reactions. Analyse. Distance herself. She could do none of that. The soft plopping of buttons being opened only enhanced her need for air. There were kisses on her neck, momentarily distracting her from the sensations below. Hands. Moving again. There was more cotton but just as little resistance. Sara gasped. The kisses had turned into tender bites. Her head rolled back. She couldn't support herself any longer. She needed to get away, but found she couldn't. Between her and escape lay only a thin barrier, she couldn't breach. Not on her own. "Please." Her own voice. Rough. Breathless. Strange in it's urgency. An arm reached around her waist. Confined her. Kept her. From falling? "Let go, Sara." Sofia's voice. Familiar now in all it's subtleties. Another command the CSI needed to obey. "Please, Sara, just let go." And she did.
It took her a moment to catch her breath. The blonde was still holding her, kissing her shoulder blades which made breathing all the more difficult. Sara let her arms fall down. Mechanically she started to close the buttons again, still not turning around. "Leave them." Not a command this time, a request. Or had it been requests all along? "Why? You got what you wanted." A sigh. "No, I haven't." There was a strange tenderness in Sofia's voice. "I got what you wanted."
Sara finally turned. The look in the blonde's eyes was not what she had expected. Triumph. Yes. Satisfaction? Certainly. Superiority? Maybe. Anything but this sad questioning. She let her head drop down. Suddenly she felt ashamed of herself. "I didn't..." She couldn't finish that sentence. Instead she looked up again, lifting her hand to timidly follow the contour of the detective's face. "I'm scared."
"I know." The sad look slowly vanished from Sofia's eyes.
"I scare myself." Sara tried to be more specific.
"There's a lot we both need to learn."
"Starting here." Sofia kissed her softly, her confidence returning. "Come." She gently took Sara's hand. "Let me show you, what I want now."
Her voice was confident, full of warmth. Sara trusted that voice, the woman it belonged to. The feelings of heat and passion it invoked. A voice she could follow.
Sunday saw Sara making good on a promise she had made a long time ago. She made breakfast. The french toast got a bit burned, but then what did one expect of a CSI who claimed she couldn't cook. Detective Sofia Curtis only expected the best. Which she got. Twice. After breakfast.
Author's note: Pooh, frisked and conquered *wiping sweat off brow*. In between I got really frustrated with those two. Thankfully they made it just in time for me to enjoy the last days of my vacation.
- "Quantum est, quod nescimus" How much is there, that we do not know. - Sofia's translation was a bit off. But then, she was drunk at the time.
- "Margaritas ante porcos" I'm sorry to say has nothing to do with drinks. It means "pearls before swine". I would really love to see Grissom drunk one day. J
- P.E.A.P. in this story has nothing to do with computers or networking (if you're into that stuff google for Protected Extensible Authentication Protocol, not that I'd know what it's needed for). In this case it stands for "Police Employee Assistance Program" which is a crisis intervention and counseling service which was set up by the LVMPD (Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department) to help their employees and families to deal with the stress of working in law enforcement.
The soundtrack to this episode was kindly brought to you by "J'attandrai" (Music by Dino Oliveri, Text by Louis Poterat, 1937). The Rina Ketty version not the Tino Rossi one (or Dalida for that matter). The soundfile, lyrics and an english translation can be found at:
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