DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters. I do this only for my sanity.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again I'm not sure this is what Shatterpath envisaged but the prompt just fired the words for part two of my so far unfinished trilogy Mine, Yours, and Ours.
SERIES: Second part of the 'Mine, Yours and Ours' triology following Mine.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Yours
By Debbie
Sofia watched Catherine as she sauntered across her bedroom floor, all hips and easy grace. Smiling, she thought back over the last few hours. There had been absolutely no grace then.
She and Catherine had no time for grace and slowness of movement. No, their relationship was all about the here and now, all passion, power and sex.
Yet, Sofia had noticed a subtle change in their after-sex interactions. Catherine no longer jumped straight off the bed. Instead she lingered, gently caressing the blonde hair, murmuring nothings in her ear, almost as if allowing herself to rest. And lately, the last few times, Catherine had fallen asleep against Sofia, prolonging whatever time they had to stay through unhurried wakefulness in each other's arms.
Sofia grinned as the red-head poked her head out of the bathroom door; toothbrush jutting out of her mouth as she offered a foamy smile. At times like this, strangers could easily believe they were a couple, rather than two hardly-friends who just happened to be work colleagues who just happened to share amazing sex.
And it was amazing. It was different; it was passionate, and it was rough. But more than anything, it was real.
And Sofia needed it; needed it like she had never needed anything before. Despite whatever else was happening in her life, she needed this and wasn't willing to give it up.
Hearing the water faucet finally switch off, she giggled, a sound she rarely made, and only ever in Catherine's company. It was almost as if she was allowed to be something she wasn't in her presence.
Only with Catherine could she let go the control that ruled her life; the control her mother had driven into her, the control that made her a better police-officer. With Catherine, she had no control. It was fast, it was furious, and it was crazy. It made her laugh and yeah, it made her giggle.
With Catherine, she played hip-hop full-blast and didn't care who they disturbed, she sang the words out loud, nonsense or not, she danced around the room and couldn't care less how she looked.
With Catherine she let go.
A soft kiss on her lips announced her lover's departure.
"Thanks, baby. Next time."
Four quick words and then she was gone. Until the next time.
Feeling strangely alone, Sofia pondered the riddle that was her relationship with Catherine.
Sex.
And yet, more than sex. She chuckled again. Hell, with Catherine it was all about sex. There was no getting away from it, it just was. From that first night when Catherine had started out in anger, only to soften and almost ask permission, to this. This almost but not quite domesticated departure.
That first night, Sofia might have had a drink or two, but she'd known that anger was what drove Catherine. She'd felt the anger in her roaming hands, had known there was someone else causing those eyes to blaze with a passion Sofia had never seen before.
Even knowing and feeling that anger, there hadn't been a damn thing she could do to stop it even if she'd wanted to. When Catherine had pulled back, with eyes pleading for permission to continue, Sofia had granted it because she wanted it. She had wanted Catherine, and Catherine had wanted her. There was the simple truth of them.
Sometimes the truth is as simple as letting her want it.
Sometimes the truth is as simple as theirs.
Afterwards when Catherine had whispered, in a tone that brooked no argument, "You're mine now, Sofia," she'd known that was the truth too. She'd known it, accepted it, and even now, she lived it.
Later when she gave herself time to remember that night, she wondered just why this woman had wanted her. Remembering Catherine's hostility whenever she was around Gil, the time she'd 'investigated' his case; the time she'd glued his bow-tie together, and that very morning, the morning of the tryst, the CSI's look of hatred directed right at her, as she and Gil had exited the morgue after taking the autopsy report for Catherine's body she saw it clearly: Catherine resented what Sofia appeared to have with Gil.
It was obvious Catherine wanted that for herself, so she'd taken Sofia, taken Sofia away from Gil, and Sofia had gone with her. She was in this woman's thrall and she didn't care. She was Catherine's, and Catherine was hers; each other's perfect lover.
Catherine was everything she had ever wanted in a lover but Sara was something else.
Sara was her partner in life. Six months of quiet bliss since she'd given enough hints that Sara had asked her out, Sofia knew that Sara was the woman she wanted to spend her days with.
Only with Sara did she feel the calm she craved after shifts of murder and mayhem, the calm that stopped her job taking over, the calm that made her a better person. With Sara, she had all the time in the world. It was slow, it was careful, and it was safe. It made her happy and it made her smile. With Sara she had sweet, unhurried love where both cared enough to get things right. With Sara she held on.
Sara was everything she'd ever wanted in love, but Catherine was her lover.
Sara was her medicine and her cure, but Catherine would always be her addiction.
In the quiet moments after Catherine walked out the door, Sofia touched a photograph of Sara she always carried in her purse, and wondered how she managed to keep it all secret.
Sometimes, she was convinced Sara couldn't help but know about her nights of passion. How could she not? As promised, Catherine always left a mark somewhere on Sofia's body, the mark that said 'mine'. And Sara knew Sofia, all of her. How could she not?
Sometimes she caught Sara staring at her interaction with CSI Willows; the look was unreadable, even to her. At other times she was convinced Sara knew nothing, that she and Catherine left no trails; that they hid all clues completely from the woman who saw everything. She was convinced they were being so careful, when she knew they were anything but.
The guilt at what she was doing behind Sara's back occasionally reared its head, but thoughts of Sara and their connection usually sent that particular demon scurrying to the back of her mind. She hated herself for the deception and yet she didn't. No matter how much she loved Sara, and she did, there was no way she could keep away from Catherine. The simple truth was she wanted it all.
Sometimes the truth is as simple as letting her want it.
Sometimes the truth is as simple as that.
Ready at last, Sofia closed the door to Sam Braun's personal suite, smiled at her memories and then forgot them. She grinned at the thoughts of her breakfast date with Sara.
Later that evening, the blonde recalled her perfect twenty four hours. She knew that eventually something had to give, but for now, she wanted to enjoy her choice.
Grinning, she walked towards the DNA lab.
As she passed Catherine's office, she saw the door slightly ajar; slowing when she heard voices she couldn't fail to recognize, her partner and her lover in a heated discussion.
Her grin dropped when she heard a few of the words being shared.
Walking towards the office door she saw Sara step into Catherine's personal space, leaning her head towards the red-head, and saw how Catherine slowly but surely pushed Sara away.
Unable to move, she watched as Catherine spun around and caught sight of her. Eyes locked and pain flashed across blue eyes. The redhead stormed out, but not before throwing one last glance towards Sara.
Sara followed her colleague, barging against Sofia as she passed.
Still stunned, Sofia barely heard the muttered words, "We need to talk."
Only then did she see it, only then did she realize just how wrong she'd been; it had never, ever, been about Grissom.
Sometimes the truth just is.
The End