FF: Turf Wars
Title: Turf Wars
Pairing: Sara/Sofia... not yet, but maybe... if you're good.
Rating: PG-13 for some language. Whatever.
Notes: I think this is my first posting to this community. So, HI.
Where was she anyway?, I wonder, trying to focus on the umpteenth fluid-stained bed sheet in front of me. Poring over it for the last 15 minutes, I’d snipped a few pieces here and there, but mostly I just stared blankly while my mind wandered in ten different directions.
It’s her case, after all. She should’ve been in the interrogation room, not Brass.
“Shit,” I mutter, fumbling with the scissors in my latexed hand. Normally this sort of thing is not a problem for me.
Shift started an hour ago. What the hell?
“Sara Sidle, just the woman I was looking for.”
That gravelly voice is coupled with her long form, sharply dressed in black slacks and a black dress shirt, draped across the doorway to the lab. I rapidly process Sofia's calmly confident appearance, in contrast with me, in all likelihood, looking like a hunched-over deer in headlights peering up from a crusty hotel sheet. I nearly scowl at the injustice of it all.
“Hey…” I offer, peeling off my clear lab goggles and wiping a bead of sweat from the bridge of my nose. Fuck.
“Heard our guy didn’t cop to anything even after your damning presentation of the evidence. He’ll come around, especially if his lawyer’s worth a damn.” Sofia drums her fingers against the door jam and smiles tightly at me, waiting for a response.
“I guess…”
“But hey, there’s somebody I want you to meet. Carla,” Sofia waves in a petite brunette from the hallway, “this is Sara Sidle. Best damn CSI in this place.”
I’d really never felt such instant disdain for someone before, but, look at that, there it is.
“And Sara, this is Carla Iannotti, one of the police department’s new interns.”
The young girl couldn’t be a day over twenty.
“Hey Miss Sidle, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Carla intones, extending her hand to meet mine. I snap off the latex glove and brusquely shake her hand.
“Likewise Carla,” I manage, eyeing the detective intently. The young woman looks back and forth between Sofia and I, her perky smile never waning.
“That’s why I wasn’t up here earlier. Would’ve asked Brass to make introductions with Carla here, but then… you know, he might have scared her off police work forever,” Sofia laughs a little at her own joke, but I remain nonresponsive, so she immediately straightens up.
“Well okay then, looks like Carla’s gonna be shadowing me for a couple of days, so I’m gonna finish showing her around. Catch up with you a little later?”
“I’ll be here.”
I replace my goggles and grab another glove, eager to return to bed sheet, where at least I can stew in silence.
////
On any other given day, I’d be less than thrilled to be sharing the break room with a chatty Catherine, but tonight I don’t mind it quite so much. I barely make it to the coffee machine when already she’s mentioning the New Girl.
“Did you meet Carla? The PD intern?”
I roll my eyes at the wall in front of me. “Yeah, sure did.”
“Seems like a nice kid. Better than the shithead frat boy they brought in here last semester. You know, the one who was all, ‘Dude, is that like… a dead body??’”
I have to laugh. “How could I forget.”
“But Jesus, couldn’t they have found someone a little less… naïve?” Catherine deadpans, “I have a Chevy in my driveway older than her.”
I don’t know which I find funnier, Catherine’s comments or the fact that Catherine and I are commiserating over coffee. After the laughter subsides, I gather my coffee and vending machine granola bar and head for the door.
“Back to the sheets already?” Catherine looks incredulously at me.
“What can I say? Mr. Maltin was a very busy guy.”
///
“Semen, semen, and… yup, more semen,” I point out the various samples to young Miss Carla. She peers over to the next table.
“And what’s this one?” She leans in closer to the piece of cloth, examining the stain. “Is that blood?”
“Nope. That’s fecal matter.” I love my job.
The young girl blanches a little bit, and steps back just a hair. “Oh.”
Just then, Sofia strides in, sleeves of her shirt rolled up to her elbows. “How’s it goin’ ladies? Carla, is Sara showing you anything of interest?”
I nod, barely suppressing a smile.
“Oh yeah,” Carla replies, “Yeah, definitely. I’m just gonna go… wash my hands a sec.”
“Alright,” Sofia looks concerned as Carla swipes by her and into the hallway. Turning back to me, she shoots me a look of playful consternation.
“What?” I feign innocence. “She asked to see the Maltin samples.”
“Lovely,” groans Sofia as she has a look for herself.
I can’t help but watch as she pushes a stray blonde hair back behind her ear, her long eyelashes dancing as she squints at the tiny swatches. A vein at her neck strains, and I realize I am staring.
Carla enters the room with a loud sigh, her resolve obviously hardened. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to all this stuff. Really exciting work you guys do here, though.”
“No problem, Carla. And listen, tomorrow will be better. We’ll be out in the field, and you’ll get a better feel of things. For now though… it looks like you can knock off if you’d like. I won’t make you stay for check-off till tomorrow,” Sofia winks at the young woman, and I nearly gag.
“I’ve got just a million questions, Detective. It’s a shame I only get a few days with the unit. You think I could pick your brain over dinner one night? You know, that way I could really get the inside scoop.”
My eyes widened at the request. Is she for real?! Sofia, though, doesn’t seem to be fazed by it.
“Absolutely. I’ll see you tomorrow, Carla.” Another wink and the girl bounces off, smiling. The whole terrifying scene that just transpired has left me speechless, so I glare at the detective yet again.
“What?!” Sofia shrugs her shoulders, propping up a toothpick between her lips.
“Do you think that’s such a good idea? Having dinner with a glorified ridealong?”
“She’s an intern, and yes. I think it’s a fine idea.”
“What is she, seventeen?” I ask over my shoulder as I straighten the lab for check-off.
Sofia falls in step, returning some metal trays to their storage cabinet. “PD told me she was 22, about to graduate UNLV. This is some senior credit thing.”
I scoff and nod my head sarcastically, my back still turned.
“What’s with you?” Sofia asks, dropping a box of gloves on the table.
“Nothing… I just…” I turn around and her head is cocked to the side, with that look: furrowed brow, slightly narrowed eyes locked on to me, genuinely concerned. Hands at her hips, the weight of her gun sliding her belt just a little off-center.
“I’m just in a bad mood,” I lie. Chicken shit.
Pairing: Sara/Sofia... not yet, but maybe... if you're good.
Rating: PG-13 for some language. Whatever.
Notes: I think this is my first posting to this community. So, HI.
Where was she anyway?, I wonder, trying to focus on the umpteenth fluid-stained bed sheet in front of me. Poring over it for the last 15 minutes, I’d snipped a few pieces here and there, but mostly I just stared blankly while my mind wandered in ten different directions.
It’s her case, after all. She should’ve been in the interrogation room, not Brass.
“Shit,” I mutter, fumbling with the scissors in my latexed hand. Normally this sort of thing is not a problem for me.
Shift started an hour ago. What the hell?
“Sara Sidle, just the woman I was looking for.”
That gravelly voice is coupled with her long form, sharply dressed in black slacks and a black dress shirt, draped across the doorway to the lab. I rapidly process Sofia's calmly confident appearance, in contrast with me, in all likelihood, looking like a hunched-over deer in headlights peering up from a crusty hotel sheet. I nearly scowl at the injustice of it all.
“Hey…” I offer, peeling off my clear lab goggles and wiping a bead of sweat from the bridge of my nose. Fuck.
“Heard our guy didn’t cop to anything even after your damning presentation of the evidence. He’ll come around, especially if his lawyer’s worth a damn.” Sofia drums her fingers against the door jam and smiles tightly at me, waiting for a response.
“I guess…”
“But hey, there’s somebody I want you to meet. Carla,” Sofia waves in a petite brunette from the hallway, “this is Sara Sidle. Best damn CSI in this place.”
I’d really never felt such instant disdain for someone before, but, look at that, there it is.
“And Sara, this is Carla Iannotti, one of the police department’s new interns.”
The young girl couldn’t be a day over twenty.
“Hey Miss Sidle, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Carla intones, extending her hand to meet mine. I snap off the latex glove and brusquely shake her hand.
“Likewise Carla,” I manage, eyeing the detective intently. The young woman looks back and forth between Sofia and I, her perky smile never waning.
“That’s why I wasn’t up here earlier. Would’ve asked Brass to make introductions with Carla here, but then… you know, he might have scared her off police work forever,” Sofia laughs a little at her own joke, but I remain nonresponsive, so she immediately straightens up.
“Well okay then, looks like Carla’s gonna be shadowing me for a couple of days, so I’m gonna finish showing her around. Catch up with you a little later?”
“I’ll be here.”
I replace my goggles and grab another glove, eager to return to bed sheet, where at least I can stew in silence.
////
On any other given day, I’d be less than thrilled to be sharing the break room with a chatty Catherine, but tonight I don’t mind it quite so much. I barely make it to the coffee machine when already she’s mentioning the New Girl.
“Did you meet Carla? The PD intern?”
I roll my eyes at the wall in front of me. “Yeah, sure did.”
“Seems like a nice kid. Better than the shithead frat boy they brought in here last semester. You know, the one who was all, ‘Dude, is that like… a dead body??’”
I have to laugh. “How could I forget.”
“But Jesus, couldn’t they have found someone a little less… naïve?” Catherine deadpans, “I have a Chevy in my driveway older than her.”
I don’t know which I find funnier, Catherine’s comments or the fact that Catherine and I are commiserating over coffee. After the laughter subsides, I gather my coffee and vending machine granola bar and head for the door.
“Back to the sheets already?” Catherine looks incredulously at me.
“What can I say? Mr. Maltin was a very busy guy.”
///
“Semen, semen, and… yup, more semen,” I point out the various samples to young Miss Carla. She peers over to the next table.
“And what’s this one?” She leans in closer to the piece of cloth, examining the stain. “Is that blood?”
“Nope. That’s fecal matter.” I love my job.
The young girl blanches a little bit, and steps back just a hair. “Oh.”
Just then, Sofia strides in, sleeves of her shirt rolled up to her elbows. “How’s it goin’ ladies? Carla, is Sara showing you anything of interest?”
I nod, barely suppressing a smile.
“Oh yeah,” Carla replies, “Yeah, definitely. I’m just gonna go… wash my hands a sec.”
“Alright,” Sofia looks concerned as Carla swipes by her and into the hallway. Turning back to me, she shoots me a look of playful consternation.
“What?” I feign innocence. “She asked to see the Maltin samples.”
“Lovely,” groans Sofia as she has a look for herself.
I can’t help but watch as she pushes a stray blonde hair back behind her ear, her long eyelashes dancing as she squints at the tiny swatches. A vein at her neck strains, and I realize I am staring.
Carla enters the room with a loud sigh, her resolve obviously hardened. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to all this stuff. Really exciting work you guys do here, though.”
“No problem, Carla. And listen, tomorrow will be better. We’ll be out in the field, and you’ll get a better feel of things. For now though… it looks like you can knock off if you’d like. I won’t make you stay for check-off till tomorrow,” Sofia winks at the young woman, and I nearly gag.
“I’ve got just a million questions, Detective. It’s a shame I only get a few days with the unit. You think I could pick your brain over dinner one night? You know, that way I could really get the inside scoop.”
My eyes widened at the request. Is she for real?! Sofia, though, doesn’t seem to be fazed by it.
“Absolutely. I’ll see you tomorrow, Carla.” Another wink and the girl bounces off, smiling. The whole terrifying scene that just transpired has left me speechless, so I glare at the detective yet again.
“What?!” Sofia shrugs her shoulders, propping up a toothpick between her lips.
“Do you think that’s such a good idea? Having dinner with a glorified ridealong?”
“She’s an intern, and yes. I think it’s a fine idea.”
“What is she, seventeen?” I ask over my shoulder as I straighten the lab for check-off.
Sofia falls in step, returning some metal trays to their storage cabinet. “PD told me she was 22, about to graduate UNLV. This is some senior credit thing.”
I scoff and nod my head sarcastically, my back still turned.
“What’s with you?” Sofia asks, dropping a box of gloves on the table.
“Nothing… I just…” I turn around and her head is cocked to the side, with that look: furrowed brow, slightly narrowed eyes locked on to me, genuinely concerned. Hands at her hips, the weight of her gun sliding her belt just a little off-center.
“I’m just in a bad mood,” I lie. Chicken shit.