DISCLAIMER: "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" and other related entities are owned, trademarked, and copyrighted by Anthony E. Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS Worldwide Inc., Alliance Atlantis Corporation, CSI Productions and CBS Productions. This is fanfiction and is written purely for the enjoyment of fans, and the author acknowledges that no profit is made from the writing and/or distribution of said writing.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Response to something Kim challeged me with. Catherine, Sara, a crime scene in a warehouse, and stuck all night needing a way to entertain themselves. It's probably not what she had in mind ;) but oh well.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
The Night is Still Young
By Amy Jo
"My crime scene is where?"
"Your," Grissom says waving the assignment between Sara and I, "crime scene is on Losee Road."
"Damn. Well let's get moving then." My words are directed at Sara even though I'm already walking out the door.
Losee Road. That means a warehouse. Next to the railroad tracks. A big open, warehouse with lots of trace evidence everywhere that we will collect and will ultimately be unrelated to our case. Probably a dead hobo who either got too cold at night or drank himself to death.
I'm in the truck and waiting before Sara has even reached the lab doors. I'm tempted to let loose the inner bitch and honk the horn to get her to hurry up but she steps out the doors and jogs up to the truck before I get the chance.
I might not have honked the horn at her, but I'm pretty sure she hears me when I mumble, "About damn time."
Whether she hears me or not, she remains silent as I put the truck in gear and get us started toward Losee Road. With any luck we'll be done processing the scene there by the end of our shift.
The building I pull up to is exactly what I thought it would be. A large empty warehouse parallel to the Union Pacific railroad tracks. On first glance there seems to be only one entrance to the warehouse; a heavy-duty rolling service door, large enough to accommodate even the Tahoe we rolled up in.
The door is only half-open, held up by what appears to be a spare piece of two-by-four. Two police officers stand outside the door chatting with an elderly man who looks incredibly relieved to see Sara and I walk up with our kits in our hands.
"Gentlemen," I say with a smile that belies my attitude. "What have you got for us tonight?"
"DB inside," one of the cops starts. "Hasn't been there too long, I don't think. He's a little ripe but I think that's his normal scent."
"I only check on the place about once a month," the elderly man nervously interjects. "I'm supposed to check every week, but I don't get around like I used to and if I tell them I can't be here as often as they want, they'll replace me with someone else."
Classic. "And when was the last time you were here?"
"Ummm. Well today is Tuesday ." I can almost see the wheels spinning in his head. "The last time I was here was three weeks ago Friday. So..."
I'm not patient enough to wait for him to figure it out, so instead I just brush it off, "That's good enough for now."
He looks pleased and smiles a big, toothless grin at me. I turn to the officers again, "How many people have been in there?"
"Just Mr. Vieley here," the officer indicates the grinning old man, "and myself. Mr. Vieley assured me he didn't let anyone else in there tonight and it's pretty obvious that that guy in there was dead. I didn't see the need to call a bus to check him out."
"That's good. Less people to rule out."
I leave Sara outside to talk to the officers and I can hear her explaining how she's going to be taking their shoeprints as I carefully set my kit just inside the door. My hand digs in one of the pockets of my CSI vest and I pull out a small flashlight to scan the interior of the warehouse. Though it is not much, my eyes take in everything they can before the scene becomes disturbed with the traffic of investigation.
Dirt floor. Lots of shoe prints everywhere, but with only my flashlight I can't easily tell which are fresh and which are old. There are boxes lined up against the wall furthest from the door, but otherwise the only other thing in the room is our dead body. And the officer outside was quite right; it is very obvious that no amount of medical attention would have helped him.
The odor is strong, a healthy dose of spilled alcohol and cigarettes. Underlying that odor is subtle stench of decay; whoever he is, he hasn't been here long, but long enough that the release of bodily fluids had begun to attract the customary insects. Why the hell wasn't Gil here for this instead of me?
One of the police cruisers outside slowly rumbles to life and I hear the crunch of dirt and gravel under its tires as it leaves. I'm surprised when I hear the sound of the second cruiser following the first. I turn and step toward the door, nearly colliding with Sara.
"Jesus, Sara." I can feel my heart thundering in my throat, her sudden appearance startling me.
A small grin graces her lips. "Not much in here, huh?"
"No."
"I got the boot prints from the cops and Mr. Vieley for comparison. Looks like I have my work cut out for me in here," Sara says as her eyes scan all the scuffs and marks on the dirt floor.
"Yeah. Make a path to the body so we get that out of here when David shows up." Sara looks at me and I see frustration in her eyes, belatedly realizing that my tone quite resembled someone giving an order. "C'mon I'll help."
I don't know why I offered to help, Sara is capable of doing this herself. It seemed like a good idea to deflect a little of her anger about my order and I realize I made the right move when the corners of her mouth twitch in what just might be a smile.
We work quietly, taking pictures and molds when necessary. By the time we get to the body David has pulled up in the coroner's van outside.
"Evening ladies," he says loudly from the doorway. "Got room for me in there?"
"Make your way through the evidence markers, David," Sara turns to him with a smile.
"You think I'd mess up your crime scene, Sara?" David says with a shy grin.
"No more than I'd touch that dead body before you got here."
I'm slightly bothered by the easy, almost flirtatious, banter between the two. I can feel the easy friendship between Sara and David and it bothers me. Trying not to think about it, I move toward the door and let David have complete access to the path we cleared. As soon as David steps in the warehouse the atmosphere quickly slides back to nothing less than professional. But that slight uneasy feeling is still with me.
"Perimeter?" Sara asks, tilting her head toward the outside of the warehouse.
"I doubt we'll get much from out there. I'll take the outside perimeter, you work in here with David and then start on the inside perimeter." Now why the hell did I say that?
Confusion crosses her face and she looks like she wants to say something but she grabs her kit and heads toward David.
I head outside with my kit, noting with disdain that the cop cars and David's van have destroyed any evidence of other comings and goings from the warehouse. I'm not surprised, just disappointed. After so many years on the job, so many crime scenes disrupted by those with only good intentions, I should be used to this by now.
The outside perimeter has nothing useful. The property isn't exactly well kept; but it's obvious none of the small pieces of garbage I came across, or any of the odd disturbances in the ground itself, have any relevance to what happened inside that warehouse.
I'm putting what little evidence, relevant or not, into the back of the Tahoe when David pushes the gurney with our dead body out of the warehouse. Shutting the back doors to the truck I head over to his van.
"Prelim thoughts?" I ask.
"Sara and I are thinking alcohol poisoning." For some reason his mention of Sara disturbs me and I can't figure out why. All this thinking and not thinking is starting to give me a headache. "I'll have something more concrete for you tomorrow."
"Thanks David," I say with a warm smile, pleased when he notices and blushes.
Back inside Sara has collected the personal items out of the DB's pockets and is carefully labeling the bags and bindles. Even with something this mundane, her face still shows intense concentration. That girl really needs to relax a little.
"He have any ID or anything useful?" I ask.
"Nope. Looked, and smelled," a wry grin crosses her face as she looks up at me, "live your average hobo. No ID, but an empty bottle of Wild Turkey in one pocket and an empty bottle of Colt 45 in the other."
I laugh at the way her nose wrinkles as she says 'smelled' and the grin on her grows wider. She looks amazing when she lets her guard down long enough to let one of those grins loose. I try not to let my confusion show as I wonder where that thought came from, but I'm not sure I'm successful as she continues to watch me, her eyes questioning.
"Great." I mumble.
"A case like any other Cath." Apparently she heard me.
"Yeah. I guess," I say with a wave of my hand, brushing off the slightly snide comment I made. "I think I was just looking for something more exciting tonight."
"The night is still young," Sara says, grin returning and her voice several tones deeper than it was just a minute ago.
Stunned at the way her voice reverberates through my body, the only indication I give for long moments that I heard her is the wide smile on my face. I'm even more stunned when I answer her a in low tone that matches hers, "It is."
A slight awkward silence falls between us; Sara keeps her gaze locked on mine, unflinching. I shake my head, trying to banish the feeling that intense gaze seems to be inspiring in me.
"How far did you get in here?" My voice has thankfully returned to normal.
"Just got the personals from the guy's clothing and talked with David about the possible cause of death. I haven't managed to get around the inside perimeter, or anything else for that matter."
"Too busy flirting with David?" I say the words without thinking and immediately feel regret. As well as the sharp pain of my own hand smacking my forehead for being so stupid. "I'm sorry that was..."
"Uncalled for?" There is a slight bit of hurt in her voice, though mostly all I hear is rage.
"It was," I say, lowering my hand to see her standing in front of me. Her posture is rigid, angry. Her eyes reflect the same rage and hurt that I heard in her voice. "Sara, I..."
"Why don't we just get back to work," Sara says as she leans down to once again get her kit.
When she turns to walk away from me I reach out to her, unaware that I've even moved until I feel her forearm in my hand. She turns to me quickly and I realize my grip is more forceful than I intended. I loosen my grip, but don't let go of her arm. "Sara I really am sorry."
She doesn't look at all convinced.
"Guess I'm a little bitchier than usual today," I say with a small laugh, trying desperately to alleviate the tension somehow. She doesn't respond at all, only looking from where my hand rests to my eyes. I quickly pull back my hand and sigh in frustration as she walks away quietly.
Talk about mood swings. One minute I'm calm, the next irritated. Adding to my confusion is the reaction I had when she smiled up at me and lowered her voice. For a brief moment I got the impression she was flirting with me in that moment, flirting quite differently than she had been with David.
I feel a headache starting from my disjointed line of thinking. Focus on the case. Gather the evidence and get the hell out of here.
Sara has started her grid search of the perimeter and I move to where the body had been lying on the floor and work my way out from there. I focus intently on the ground below me, ignoring whatever else may be going on. I'm barely aware that Sara has stopped her initial investigation of the perimeter of the room and has moved along to a grid search of the expansive interior of the warehouse. In fact, the only thing that gets my attention is a loud snap followed by a heavy thud.
"Shit," Sara curses loudly at the sound.
My head turns immediately to the door of the warehouse, now almost completely closed. A large piece of the two by four that was previously holding the door up is now lying about three feet inside the warehouse. There is one small piece of wood creating a gap between the door and the ground.
Sara stops her search and looks at me in wide-eyed surprise and repeats, "Shit."
Without the lights of the city coming through the door, the warehouse is considerably darker than it was mere seconds ago. There's still enough light in the warehouse for us to see what we're doing, but it's dark enough that gathering any evidence is going to be a pain in the ass unless we get that door open again.
Figuring Sara's now steady string of curses is the most accurate way to describe the situation, I say nothing as I put the evidence in my hands back on the floor and walk calmly to the door. Taking a quick look at the door it's easy to figure out that the weight of the steel easily crushed the half-rotted piece of wood that once held it open.
Sara is standing at the wall next to the door, intently examining the controls that once operated the door. She curses again, "Damn it."
"Something wrong?" I question lightly, hoping that if I don't show any anger maybe it will calm her down too.
"These controls are useless. They probably haven't worked correctly in years."
"Well that certainly explains why the door was propped up. Can you give me a hand here?" I ask crouching on the floor in front of the door. The irritation in my voice is clear but Sara doesn't seem to notice, obviously just as frustrated as I am at this point.
The door is still held up marginally, a piece of the two by four wedged between it and the ground. Even with our efforts combined, the heavy door remains stubbornly in position.
"That's not going anywhere, is it?" I ask with an exaggerated sigh. The questions is, of course, rhetorical and I am only mildly surprised when Sara chooses to answer.
"Not anytime soon," Sara says as she shifts and sits unceremoniously on the ground.
I recognize the tone in her voice immediately as anger. Though I can't tell if it's at the situation or if she's still pissed about the rude remark I made about her flirting with David. I'm tempted to make a flip remark about how it could be worse, but somehow I get the feeling she wouldn't appreciate it. Instead I grab my cell phone from its clip on my belt and flip it open, hitting the speed dial number for Brass.
"Jim?" I ask when he answers.
"Yeah Catherine?"
"Can you do me a favor and get a hold of Control? I need the two officers that were out here at Losee earlier to return."
"Why aren't they still there?"
"Didn't seem to need them anymore," I tell him, though I'm honestly not sure why they aren't still here; I was inside the warehouse when the officers left, presumably on Sara's authority. "Seemed like they would be better off somewhere else than babysitting an empty warehouse."
"They're supposed to remain on scene until you guys are done." His tone is clipped and I can tell he's annoyed that the officer's didn't stay.
"I know that. But really it didn't seem to matter at the time. Can you just get them back here for me, please?"
"Something happen?" He asks, showing a little bit more concern.
"No, nothing happened. Just need them to help us clarify a few things."
Brass seems content with that answer and agrees to send the officers back over as soon as they can get a free minute. In the meantime, it looks like I'm stuck here with Sara. I didn't realize I had turned away from her as I was talking, but as I notice a slightly surprised look on her face when I clip the phone back in place.
"What?"
"Clarify a few things?" She asks with an amused grin.
"Yeah. I need them to clarify why this door doesn't work properly."
"You planning on asking them that from inside, or have you figured out a way for us to get on the other side of that door?" If I didn't know Sara better, I'd swear she was holding back laughter.
"Both," I say with a smug grin as I take a seat on the ground. "They are going to get here and help us open this door, and then I'm going to ask them why the hell they didn't tell us it was broken."
Sara seems to be much more amused about the situation now than she was earlier as she suddenly bursts into giggles. I stare at her in shock and I can't figure out what astonishes me more; that Sara actually does something so unlike her as giggling, or that I find myself enjoying the fact that I caused that beautiful reaction.
"You think they knew?" Sara asks.
"Someone had to shove that two by four under the door to keep it open. Mr. Vieley doesn't look strong enough to hold the door open and prop that piece of wood in there," I tell her, adding with a smile, "Hell, we're two strong women and that door didn't even budge. I'd like to think the two of us are stronger than an old man."
Sara catches the humor and giggles again. I'm really beginning to like that sound the more I hear it.
"It's pretty safe to say we won't be collecting much evidence until they get back here," I say after a few minutes of silence. "There's not much light in here."
"Not really enough to get any work done," Sara mumbles.
"You know, that's really not such a bad thing," I say and Sara looks over at me confused. "Well I know it's going to suck after those boys get back here and help us with this door; we're going to have to make up for the time we lost. But it could be worse."
"How so?" Sara asks, clearly disappointed that our work has been interrupted.
"Well, for starters our John Doe DB could still be here stinking up the place." I wrinkle my nose at the memory of the 'fresh' scent of our victim.
"Can't handle a little odor Cath?" Sara asks, her tone returning to light and playful with a bit of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, I can handle it," I say with a smile. "I just like people I'm going to spend quality time with to smell better than an outhouse, that's all."
Sara looks at me, intrigued with the playfulness in my voice. I know I've been a little contradictory today; bitchy one moment then teasing and light the next. It's confusing to not only me but to Sara as well, and she is cautiously playing along.
"So this is quality time?" She asks. She surprises me when she continues, "Boy you sure know how to show a girl a good time, don't you?"
"Oh, I know exactly how to show a girl a good time," I say the words without thinking. Though slightly embarrassed at this little revelation, I find that I am unable to keep the smirk off my face as Sara's jaw drops.
Sara quickly recovers and the smirk is driven from my lips when she drops her voice low and looks at me with unmistakable heat and says, "Do you now?"
I have no idea how our conversation took this turn and I'm astonished that it doesn't seem to bother me in the least. In fact, I find my confidence growing even as my body flushes with familiar heat.
"I've got a few tricks you haven't seen yet, Sidle," I answer her.
She seems stunned again and I feel satisfaction at being the cause of her bewilderment. The playfulness, the obvious flirtatious remarks we are easily exchanging is not something we have ever done before, and perhaps never would have without the stress of our earlier mild confrontations and the fact that we now seem to be stuck here.
With daring I don't possess she leans over, closing the slight distance between us, and whispers to me, "Show me."
She settles comfortably just out of my reach, and the shock of her words has me frozen. Does she really mean what she is saying? Is it possible that I am misinterpreting her words? The challenge I see in her eyes makes my decision for me, wise or not.
My eyes narrow and a smile plays on my lips as I move carefully but with speed and precision. Sara's eyes widen in surprise as she suddenly finds me straddling her hips, knees digging into the soil at the side of her hips. My hands rest on her shoulders, fingertips playing lightly with the fabric of her tank top as I attempt to give her best innocent look.
My new position allows me to look down at her and watch as the look in her eyes changes from surprise to slight trepidation at what I might do next.
"Trick one," I tell her, lowering my voice until it is nothing more than a whisper, "Catch 'em by surprise."
I see a slight smile on her lips as my head lowers to steal that beautiful smile. I hear her gasp in surprise as my lips first brush hers. Her hands rest on my hips, fingers digging into the fabric of my slacks as I tease her with quick, fleeting kisses. Sara pushes forward, wanting to deepen the kiss.
For a brief minute my brain kicks in even as I'm losing myself in sensation. This was supposed to be a relatively simple DB, a night's worth of work and nothing more. I'm not supposed to be trying to seduce a coworker. Definitely not Sara, a woman I'm best known for fighting with; fighting so often there are bets at the lab as to when the fight will turn physical and which of us would win. I don't think this is the kind of physical interaction the lab techs are betting on.
My lips reach a particularly sensitive spot just behind her ear and as Sara moans quietly I quickly forget what I'm supposed to be doing and concentrate instead on what I am doing. This will irrevocably change things between us, good or bad, but I want nothing more in this moment than to hear that moan increase in pitch and intensity.
I suck a bit of flesh from that sensitive spot into my mouth, taking a small nip with my teeth. Underneath me Sara's upper body shakes and her hands squeeze tighter. I'm going to have to remember that she likes this; I will want to return to this spot later, but for now my lips move down the line of her neck savoring the taste of her skin.
I can feel her heartbeat raging out of control under my lips and I smile with lustful pride. There is something so infinitely arousing about having this kind of control over cool, confident Sara.
"Cath?"
I continue smiling as I realize it was a small struggle for Sara to even form that much of my name.
"Hmm?" I mumble against the skin of her shoulder as my lips taste more of her.
I think she's going to say something, but she apparently decides not to and I feel her hands release my hips and an instant later I feel her fingers winding into my hair as she pulls me away from her. I expect some question about what is happening here, maybe even about what caused the abrupt change in my behavior. I'm surprised and delighted to feel her pull me closer to her, her lips crushing against mine in hunger.
This is nothing like the teasing kisses I brushed across her lips minutes ago. This is a demanding kiss, her teeth gently biting and her tongue pushing against my lips until they part under her persistence. A kiss that makes me weak in the knees almost instantly and very grateful that I'm not standing upright for this assault.
At this point I'm not sure who is seducing whom, and I'm not certain it matters. I had thought I had a slight advantage in this position over her, but the way she is holding me to her makes me reconsider.
Sara's fingers gently tug at my hair, pulling me slightly away. Her breath is coming in ragged gasps, matching my inability to breathe easily. Sara's fingers slide easily out of my hair and I shudder uncontrollably as they move delicately down my neck. The seemingly gentle touch spreads a heat through my body like fire I've never known before.
Sara repeats the movement of her fingers, obviously delighting in my reaction. When she leans forward and presses her lips along the same path her fingers just traveled a slight moan escapes my throat. I feel her smile against my neck just before she takes a nip at the sensitive skin there eliciting a slight yelp of astonishment from me.
I hear a faint chuckle from her as I make a poor attempt to squirm away from that touch; it is arousing and distracting and she knows exactly the effect it's having on me. My hand moves to her head, gently tugging her lips away from my skin. She looks up at me, momentarily confused, but understanding as I lean down to kiss her.
The way her mouth opens up to mine right away astounds me. We've shared only one kiss, one desperately passionate kiss, but the second kiss is much like old lovers; a kiss of desire and longing but the way we move together is familiar, as if we've done this a hundred times or more.
I gain the upper hand in the kiss as she focuses more attention on the movements of her hands. I feel her fingers lingering lightly on my neck before moving down to the first button of my blouse. The subtle intricacies of the kiss demand my attention as I focus on the feel o f her tongue against mine and the flavor of her. Warm, wet heat surrounds my tongue, and my senses, until our kiss leaves me breathless and nearly shaking with need.
I pull away to regain my breath, and my sense of balance, and become vaguely aware of Sara's hands moving faster and faster at undoing the buttons of my blouse. Her head dips and she places a light kiss on my collarbone as her hands move quickly up to push the blouse off my shoulders.
Her arms wrap around my back, offering support as her head moves lower. The move forces me to hold onto her shoulders tightly as I push into the support her arms offer. The position isn't entirely comfortable, but the feel of her lips sucking on the skin at the base of my throat is wonderfully distracting.
Her lips continue on a path only known to her but highly pleasurable as she kisses, licks, and occasionally bites at the skin now revealed by my open blouse. My fingers are digging into her shoulders, probably painfully but she doesn't seem to notice as all of her attention is focused on me. To be the object of her desire is more arousing than anything I've felt in a good long time. Even more arousing than earlier when I felt I had some control over this seduction.
I'm certain there is no inch of my uncovered skin that she hasn't marked as hers with her lips and tongue. Her arms are still around my back, the only thing keeping me upright, as she slides her tongue into the space between my breasts. The moan elicited by that move is deep and guttural and completely unfamiliar to me even though it's my throat the sound comes from.
I ache for her.
Whatever lingering thoughts I may have had about not letting this go too far while we are here, in the middle of a crime scene, are shattered completely when I feel her lips brush quickly across the silk of my bra and the aching hardness that is affirmation of my desire for her. Crime scene or not, my body is throbbing in response to her.
I barely register the crunch of gravel under tires outside. It's not until the second car rolls in that I begin to remember just what that means. The patrolmen that were here earlier have returned. At my request even. God damn but that's some horrible timing.
"Sara?" My voice barely works and I try again, "Sara?"
"Hmm?" Sara mumbles, but makes no attempt to move.
"We... uh... oh damn..." I weakly try to push away from her, knowing she isn't aware of what's going on outside. "We have company."
Sara lets me push away from her, even though she looks slightly confused. With shaking hands I manage to start buttoning up my shirt again. I know the look of disappointment in her eyes is mirrored in my own.
"Our rescuers are here," I say with a light chuckle.
Comprehension dawns in Sara's eyes and she grumbles, "Who needed rescuing?"
I can't really argue with that. We seemed to be doing just fine on our own before the officers decided to show up again. I realize that I called for them, but I'm not happy with their appearance now.
I stand up, removing myself from her more than comfortable embrace, and offer my hand to help her up. Not content to let things between us fall back to where they were earlier this evening I give an extra tug when she's on her feet, pulling her into a hug.
"Trick two," I whisper to her, "Always leave them wanting more." Though now I'm not sure if that applies to me or to her.
Soon we'll be back to collecting evidence and I might not know for sure where the rest of this shift is headed, but I have a good idea of what I'd like to see happen. And as Sara said earlier, the night is still young.
The End