Fic: Taking A Chance - Part 2
Title: 3 Weeks Later
Author: Mikey
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Sofia
Summary: Takes place in season 5, Nesting Dolls
Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I don't own them, just having some fun
Warnings: English is not my first language. I like to think that it's good enough... but there might be some small grammar errors. Point them out and I'll happily correct them
3 Weeks later
I lean back on the couch, beer in my hand and sigh happily. Billie Holiday is singing in the background and I hum along softly, smiling. It’s my night off, and I sure plan on enjoying it. 2 months ago, I would have spend this time in a bar, scooping out potential lovers for the night. But now… I am absolutely infatuated with Sara Sidle. I chuckle slightly at my own expense, because I have no idea how she’s done it. She’s the type of person I would feel competitive with, striving to do better, proving my worth, and some way or another, she gets me to stumble and babble when I’m around her. Not exactly what I would call ‘proving my worth’.
It’s ironic how she gets me to be so unbalanced all the time, since I’ve never acted like this around anyone. I can do the cocky, self-assured, butchy type who can get whoever she wants, but the bumbling and stumbling lovesick fool? Not my kinda deal, at all. And all she needs to do is give me one of those million watt smiles and it all doesn’t matter anymore. I sigh and drink the last of the bottle before putting it down on the table before me. It’s my night off, and I want to enjoy it. So why can’t I get my mind to stay of the Sara subject?
My thoughts drift off to the occasional breakfasts we have had. Keeping the conversation light and off work was challenging in the beginning, but I soon found out we had quite some things in common. Love for music, books we’ve read,… the kind of tiny, seemingly unimportant things that matter anyway. Hell, the only reason I’m listening to Billie Holiday right now is because Sara told me she loved her music. It isn’t something I usually listen to, but the music seems to fit my picture of Sara, and I can’t help but love it just for that. I’ve even told her stories about my family, something she always smiles at, but never offers to share some of hers. I still don’t know what that case was about, but it isn’t hard to figure out that she had quite the hard childhood.
A knock at the door makes me look up sharply. I’m not expecting company, it’s the middle of the night after all. Everyone I know is either asleep or at work. I frown and pick up my gun, just to be sure. I make my way over to the door and am surprised to see the woman who’s been haunting my thoughts all night on my front porch.
‘Sara?’ I ask softly, trying to see the woman better in the dark. I’m suddenly very aware of my clothing choice of the night; some old, too big flannel pyjama pants and a white tanktop and I inwardly cringe.
‘Hey.’ She mutters softly, then gestures at my door. ‘Can I come in?’
I blush. ‘Yeah, sure.’ I say quickly, holding the door open a bit further and moving out of the way. Something is clearly wrong with her tonight. First of all, she’s supposed to be at work right now. Secondly, when she brushed past me inside, I noticed tear strains on her face. And thirdly, she’s awkwardly hugging herself and looking everywhere except at me. I put my gun on the side table quickly and walk over to her.
I gesture to the couch. ‘Take a seat. You want something to drink?’
She shakes her head while sitting down, immediately pulling her knees up and hugging them. I’m quite at a loss of what to do. Her whole demeanour right now is screaming at me to keep my distance, but she still came here, obviously looking for some kind of comfort. I run a hand through my hair and sit down on the couch, keeping my distance for now. She takes in a shaky breath.
‘I need to… talk to someone. Someone who won’t try to mother me and bestow me with pity like Catherine would, or offer some annoying quotes before leaving like Grissom did. I need someone who’ll let me say whatever I need to and hold me when I need to let it all out afterwards. Do you think… Can you do that?’
I nod shakily, before realising that she’s still refusing to look at me. I clear my throat softly. ‘Yeah, I uh… I think I can manage that.’
She smiles softly, still staring at something that only she can see. ‘Yeah.’ She whispers. ‘For some reason, I think you can.’ She takes another of those shaky breaths before softly starting her story. ‘My father… he was a, violent man. It was worse when he was drunk, which happened more and more over the years. In the beginning, my mother tried to protect me from him, taking the beatings meant for me on herself. But I guess that, after a while, it got too much for her. She started drinking herself, and after my father took his anger out on her, beating her, r-raping her, she would turn to me and work out her frustration. All those years, I thought that this was the way everyone lived. The fighting, the yelling, the trips to the hospital …’ She hesitates for a moment. ‘The feeling of hunger, pain and fear every day…. Most of my memories of that time are… jumbled, I guess, mixed up, incomplete. Sometimes I just remember a certain smell, a certain word yelled at me, or even the object I tried to focus on in an attempt to… block them out.’
She’s silent for a few minutes, but I know she isn’t done yet. I don’t really know what to think about everything she’s telling me right now, don’t know how to react. How do you deal with something like this? My attention focuses back on her as she continues.
‘Then there was the day that everything changed. My mother was… out somewhere, when my father came home, absolutely wasted. I guess he decided that, since my mother wasn’t home, he would use me for once to get his… satisfaction.’
I can’t help but close my eyes when she says that. Oh god... not that. Not that too. When I open my eyes, I see the tears roll down her cheeks, and I barely restrain myself from crossing the distance and taking her in my arms.
‘He was… he was lying on top of me, when my mother came home. She freaked out, completely lost it. He didn’t even have time to get up before she stormed over with a knife and… and stabbed him. She just… kept stabbing him, over and over. I can’t remember, but I must have screamed, because the cops later told me that the neighbours called after hearing it. I do remember the smell, the feeling of blood all over me. How my mother told me to clean up the mess, while she went to take a shower. I remember the noise of the door being broken down, the young cop puking his guts out when he saw me. I remember a woman, and the fact that I couldn’t let go of her hand. I remember…’ her voice finally cracks. ‘I remember her telling me I was safe, and I remember I told her that safe was a made up place. That it didn’t exist.’
She finally breaks down completely, and it only takes me a second to close the distance and take her in my arms. She clings at me, desperately, her whole body shaking with sobs. And all I can do is rock her slowly, offer some whispered words of assurance. I can feel my own tears rolling down my cheeks and ending up in her hair, frustration of being unable to do more then just holding her.
I have no idea how long we stay like that, but when Sara’s grip loosens, I regretfully loosen my hold on her as well, giving her the chance to pull away if she needs to. But she doesn’t, and I don’t mind at all.
‘I’m so tired.’ She whispers finally, her voice hoarse and low from crying. ‘I’m tired of pretending I’m fine. Tired of going home and trying to block out any feeling with alcohol.’ She sighs. ‘Most of all, I’m tired of lying to myself.’
She pulls away, and I have to bite my lip to keep in the whimper that threatens to escape at the loss of contact. She gives me a small smile.
‘I… thank you, Sofia. I really needed that.’ She’s starting to get embarrassed so I give her an assuring smile.
‘Anytime, Sara. And I mean that.’
She nods slowly and I can see the gratitude in her eyes. She yawns, then chuckles. ‘Sorry. I guess all that crying worn me out. I should probably go home, get some sleep.’
She trails of at the end, showing that she doesn’t really want to go, to be alone again. It only takes me a split second to decide that she’s staying here. I’m not about to let her shut down now.
‘Come on.’ I say, standing up and offering her my hand. She takes it, looking confused. ‘You’re staying here tonight.’ She opens her mouth, probably to disagree. ‘No buts Sara. I mean it.’
I tug at the hand I’m still holding, taking her towards my bedroom. ‘Do you need something to sleep in?’
She nods, so I rummage through my closet, pulling out some other pyjama pants and a tanktop. I grin at her, handing them over. ‘Here. At least I won’t be the only one looking silly.’
‘I think you look adorable.’ Sara mutters, before blushing.
I’m speechless for a moment, then I just have to smile. ‘Thanks, I guess. I would rather go for sexy, but I’ll take what I can get.’
She blushes again and I grin at her, before pointing at the bathroom door. ‘Go change. There should be a new toothbrush in the cupboard under the sink that you can use.’
She nods and disappears through the door, closing it behind her. I sink down on the bed, wrapping my arms around me. This has been a weird night. It just hit me that it must have taken a lot out of Sara to come here and tell me all this, opening up like she did, and I feel… honoured. I realise that I still don’t know what exactly happened tonight, but I guess it can wait until tomorrow. I look up when the bathroom door opens again. I guess I see Sara’s point, at least, she looks utterly adorable. She looks a little uncomfortable again though. I get up again and gesture at the bed.
‘Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.’
She stares at me for a moment, then moves her eyes to the bed, clearly hesitating.
‘Sara.’ I say, and wait for her to look back at me. ‘We’re friends, right?’
She looks at me confused and nods.
‘Friends can share a bed. I don’t want to leave you alone tonight, ok? Besides, I could use a little cuddling myself.’ I admit. She hesitates again, then nods and moves toward the bed. I sigh in relief before quickly going into the bathroom. I’m back in my bedroom in record time, and I can see her already dosing off at one side of my bed. The look of Sara Sidle lying in my bed makes my predatory streak come out for a second, but I push it back quickly, sliding under the blanket at the other side of the bed. She’s lying with her face in my direction, and she’s as tense as she can be.
‘Turn around.’
She frowns at me, but complies. The moment her back is facing me I pull her against my body, wrapping my arms around her. Her back grows even more rigid and I can feel her fighting off the urge to move away. ‘Relax.’ I whisper in her ear. ‘I don’t bite, scouts honour.’
I feel like a goof for saying that, but at least she’s chuckling, and slowly relaxing a bit more. I give her a soft kiss on the back of her head. ‘Night Sara.’
‘Night Sofie.’ She mutters back, already half asleep. And damn her for using that much hated nickname and making it sound so familiar, sweet and sexy at the same time that I actually like it.
Part 3
Author: Mikey
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Sofia
Summary: Takes place in season 5, Nesting Dolls
Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I don't own them, just having some fun
Warnings: English is not my first language. I like to think that it's good enough... but there might be some small grammar errors. Point them out and I'll happily correct them
3 Weeks later
I lean back on the couch, beer in my hand and sigh happily. Billie Holiday is singing in the background and I hum along softly, smiling. It’s my night off, and I sure plan on enjoying it. 2 months ago, I would have spend this time in a bar, scooping out potential lovers for the night. But now… I am absolutely infatuated with Sara Sidle. I chuckle slightly at my own expense, because I have no idea how she’s done it. She’s the type of person I would feel competitive with, striving to do better, proving my worth, and some way or another, she gets me to stumble and babble when I’m around her. Not exactly what I would call ‘proving my worth’.
It’s ironic how she gets me to be so unbalanced all the time, since I’ve never acted like this around anyone. I can do the cocky, self-assured, butchy type who can get whoever she wants, but the bumbling and stumbling lovesick fool? Not my kinda deal, at all. And all she needs to do is give me one of those million watt smiles and it all doesn’t matter anymore. I sigh and drink the last of the bottle before putting it down on the table before me. It’s my night off, and I want to enjoy it. So why can’t I get my mind to stay of the Sara subject?
My thoughts drift off to the occasional breakfasts we have had. Keeping the conversation light and off work was challenging in the beginning, but I soon found out we had quite some things in common. Love for music, books we’ve read,… the kind of tiny, seemingly unimportant things that matter anyway. Hell, the only reason I’m listening to Billie Holiday right now is because Sara told me she loved her music. It isn’t something I usually listen to, but the music seems to fit my picture of Sara, and I can’t help but love it just for that. I’ve even told her stories about my family, something she always smiles at, but never offers to share some of hers. I still don’t know what that case was about, but it isn’t hard to figure out that she had quite the hard childhood.
A knock at the door makes me look up sharply. I’m not expecting company, it’s the middle of the night after all. Everyone I know is either asleep or at work. I frown and pick up my gun, just to be sure. I make my way over to the door and am surprised to see the woman who’s been haunting my thoughts all night on my front porch.
‘Sara?’ I ask softly, trying to see the woman better in the dark. I’m suddenly very aware of my clothing choice of the night; some old, too big flannel pyjama pants and a white tanktop and I inwardly cringe.
‘Hey.’ She mutters softly, then gestures at my door. ‘Can I come in?’
I blush. ‘Yeah, sure.’ I say quickly, holding the door open a bit further and moving out of the way. Something is clearly wrong with her tonight. First of all, she’s supposed to be at work right now. Secondly, when she brushed past me inside, I noticed tear strains on her face. And thirdly, she’s awkwardly hugging herself and looking everywhere except at me. I put my gun on the side table quickly and walk over to her.
I gesture to the couch. ‘Take a seat. You want something to drink?’
She shakes her head while sitting down, immediately pulling her knees up and hugging them. I’m quite at a loss of what to do. Her whole demeanour right now is screaming at me to keep my distance, but she still came here, obviously looking for some kind of comfort. I run a hand through my hair and sit down on the couch, keeping my distance for now. She takes in a shaky breath.
‘I need to… talk to someone. Someone who won’t try to mother me and bestow me with pity like Catherine would, or offer some annoying quotes before leaving like Grissom did. I need someone who’ll let me say whatever I need to and hold me when I need to let it all out afterwards. Do you think… Can you do that?’
I nod shakily, before realising that she’s still refusing to look at me. I clear my throat softly. ‘Yeah, I uh… I think I can manage that.’
She smiles softly, still staring at something that only she can see. ‘Yeah.’ She whispers. ‘For some reason, I think you can.’ She takes another of those shaky breaths before softly starting her story. ‘My father… he was a, violent man. It was worse when he was drunk, which happened more and more over the years. In the beginning, my mother tried to protect me from him, taking the beatings meant for me on herself. But I guess that, after a while, it got too much for her. She started drinking herself, and after my father took his anger out on her, beating her, r-raping her, she would turn to me and work out her frustration. All those years, I thought that this was the way everyone lived. The fighting, the yelling, the trips to the hospital …’ She hesitates for a moment. ‘The feeling of hunger, pain and fear every day…. Most of my memories of that time are… jumbled, I guess, mixed up, incomplete. Sometimes I just remember a certain smell, a certain word yelled at me, or even the object I tried to focus on in an attempt to… block them out.’
She’s silent for a few minutes, but I know she isn’t done yet. I don’t really know what to think about everything she’s telling me right now, don’t know how to react. How do you deal with something like this? My attention focuses back on her as she continues.
‘Then there was the day that everything changed. My mother was… out somewhere, when my father came home, absolutely wasted. I guess he decided that, since my mother wasn’t home, he would use me for once to get his… satisfaction.’
I can’t help but close my eyes when she says that. Oh god... not that. Not that too. When I open my eyes, I see the tears roll down her cheeks, and I barely restrain myself from crossing the distance and taking her in my arms.
‘He was… he was lying on top of me, when my mother came home. She freaked out, completely lost it. He didn’t even have time to get up before she stormed over with a knife and… and stabbed him. She just… kept stabbing him, over and over. I can’t remember, but I must have screamed, because the cops later told me that the neighbours called after hearing it. I do remember the smell, the feeling of blood all over me. How my mother told me to clean up the mess, while she went to take a shower. I remember the noise of the door being broken down, the young cop puking his guts out when he saw me. I remember a woman, and the fact that I couldn’t let go of her hand. I remember…’ her voice finally cracks. ‘I remember her telling me I was safe, and I remember I told her that safe was a made up place. That it didn’t exist.’
She finally breaks down completely, and it only takes me a second to close the distance and take her in my arms. She clings at me, desperately, her whole body shaking with sobs. And all I can do is rock her slowly, offer some whispered words of assurance. I can feel my own tears rolling down my cheeks and ending up in her hair, frustration of being unable to do more then just holding her.
I have no idea how long we stay like that, but when Sara’s grip loosens, I regretfully loosen my hold on her as well, giving her the chance to pull away if she needs to. But she doesn’t, and I don’t mind at all.
‘I’m so tired.’ She whispers finally, her voice hoarse and low from crying. ‘I’m tired of pretending I’m fine. Tired of going home and trying to block out any feeling with alcohol.’ She sighs. ‘Most of all, I’m tired of lying to myself.’
She pulls away, and I have to bite my lip to keep in the whimper that threatens to escape at the loss of contact. She gives me a small smile.
‘I… thank you, Sofia. I really needed that.’ She’s starting to get embarrassed so I give her an assuring smile.
‘Anytime, Sara. And I mean that.’
She nods slowly and I can see the gratitude in her eyes. She yawns, then chuckles. ‘Sorry. I guess all that crying worn me out. I should probably go home, get some sleep.’
She trails of at the end, showing that she doesn’t really want to go, to be alone again. It only takes me a split second to decide that she’s staying here. I’m not about to let her shut down now.
‘Come on.’ I say, standing up and offering her my hand. She takes it, looking confused. ‘You’re staying here tonight.’ She opens her mouth, probably to disagree. ‘No buts Sara. I mean it.’
I tug at the hand I’m still holding, taking her towards my bedroom. ‘Do you need something to sleep in?’
She nods, so I rummage through my closet, pulling out some other pyjama pants and a tanktop. I grin at her, handing them over. ‘Here. At least I won’t be the only one looking silly.’
‘I think you look adorable.’ Sara mutters, before blushing.
I’m speechless for a moment, then I just have to smile. ‘Thanks, I guess. I would rather go for sexy, but I’ll take what I can get.’
She blushes again and I grin at her, before pointing at the bathroom door. ‘Go change. There should be a new toothbrush in the cupboard under the sink that you can use.’
She nods and disappears through the door, closing it behind her. I sink down on the bed, wrapping my arms around me. This has been a weird night. It just hit me that it must have taken a lot out of Sara to come here and tell me all this, opening up like she did, and I feel… honoured. I realise that I still don’t know what exactly happened tonight, but I guess it can wait until tomorrow. I look up when the bathroom door opens again. I guess I see Sara’s point, at least, she looks utterly adorable. She looks a little uncomfortable again though. I get up again and gesture at the bed.
‘Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.’
She stares at me for a moment, then moves her eyes to the bed, clearly hesitating.
‘Sara.’ I say, and wait for her to look back at me. ‘We’re friends, right?’
She looks at me confused and nods.
‘Friends can share a bed. I don’t want to leave you alone tonight, ok? Besides, I could use a little cuddling myself.’ I admit. She hesitates again, then nods and moves toward the bed. I sigh in relief before quickly going into the bathroom. I’m back in my bedroom in record time, and I can see her already dosing off at one side of my bed. The look of Sara Sidle lying in my bed makes my predatory streak come out for a second, but I push it back quickly, sliding under the blanket at the other side of the bed. She’s lying with her face in my direction, and she’s as tense as she can be.
‘Turn around.’
She frowns at me, but complies. The moment her back is facing me I pull her against my body, wrapping my arms around her. Her back grows even more rigid and I can feel her fighting off the urge to move away. ‘Relax.’ I whisper in her ear. ‘I don’t bite, scouts honour.’
I feel like a goof for saying that, but at least she’s chuckling, and slowly relaxing a bit more. I give her a soft kiss on the back of her head. ‘Night Sara.’
‘Night Sofie.’ She mutters back, already half asleep. And damn her for using that much hated nickname and making it sound so familiar, sweet and sexy at the same time that I actually like it.
Part 3