A/N: I started writing this as a one shot, but it didn't exactly turn out that way. I hope you enjoy it anyway, and please review! It's my first CSI fic and any feedback is greatly appreciated.
Sara's words cut into her like a knife. A departmental psychologist was not the person she wanted to speak to, and she had the feeling Sara knew it. Her response seemed so cold, so heartless. It was as though Sara didn't care about the turmoil she was going through at the moment, and the need to speak to someone who cared on a deeper, more meaningful level than a psychologist. What Sofia didn't understand was the hatred the night shift seemed to have for her. She wasn't sure what she had done to be given the cold shoulder every time she stepped into the lab. Especially from Sara. The day the two met there was some sort of unspoken competition between them, but Sofia was the one who didn't understand the rules. She didn't want to admit to anyone – not even herself – that the real reason why she switched from being a CSI to a detective was the hostile atmosphere in the lab. Yes, it had been a slap in the face to be demoted from her position, but it also served as a good excuse to get out of the lab.
Now she wished so much that she had alliances among the CSIs. Especially with every cop in the city shooting her dirty looks. She felt like she had nobody to turn to. She thought she could talk to Grissom, that he'd be open and available, but she was wrong. She wanted to tell him – someone, anyone – her fears about the outcome. She wanted to explain herself and her reasoning and get some reassurance. But he seemed to stare right through her, his face expressionless. No sympathy, no concern, no anger. Nothing. But once she got going she couldn't stop. And then Sara came in and informed her of the obvious.
"Sofia." The disdainful look she shot at Grissom did not go unnoticed by any party in the room. "You're on administrative leave."
"I know." She wasn't stupid, despite what everyone thought.
"You should not be in this building." Her words were sharp and uncaring.
Her tone made Sofia defensive. "I was just talking to a friend. If I can't talk to a friend, who the hell am I supposed talk to?"
"Any friend outside the department."
"And how many friends do you have outside work, Sara? Or maybe I should go talk to my mother – no, wait, sorry, I forgot. She's a cop, too," she snapped. She would never tell her mother anything, but she wasn't about to let Sara know that. She was fed up with Sara's attitude. She wanted to make her see that this situation was much bigger than some petty competition, or whatever the hell it was going on between them. Maybe she shouldn't be there, but what else was she supposed to do? There was nobody for her to confide in – couldn't Sara let that slide? No, of course not. On the clock, Sara Sidle was always the professional, no matter the situation.
"I can recommend a departmental psychologist," Sara said, a hint of venom in her voice. She must have noticed it when Sofia's face crumbled because her own face softened, just a little bit.
Sofia looked away, humiliated. When she thought she could speak without crying, she directed her apology to Grissom. "You're right. I'm sorry. This was a really bad idea."
He didn't say anything, didn't come to her defense. They just watched as she left his office and Sara didn't even make any effort to move out of the way.
She tried to appear calm and collected, but everything was quickly building up inside of her, and she had to get away with at least a little bit of dignity. As she turned the corner, out of sight of Grissom's office, she ducked her head and picked up the pace. When she turned another corner she ran right into Catherine, who dropped the file folder she was carrying, its contents spilling to the floor. Catherine grabbed Sofia's arms to steady herself, but Sofia pulled away and continued towards the exit. In any other situation she would have stopped and helped clean up, but not today. Not now.
"Sofia!" Catherine called as she bent down to stuff the papers back in the folder. "Sofia!" she said a little louder, just in case Sofia hadn't heard her. When the blonde didn't pause or even slow down, Catherine stood, handed the folder to one of the lab techs with instructions for it to be sent straight to Grissom, and headed off after the detective. She always placed part of the blame of the team break-up on Sofia's shoulders, even though she really had no say in the final decision. Catherine had been angry and Sofia was an easy and available scapegoat. But now, in light of everything that was going on, it seemed petty. Especially after the interview. Sofia had been so shaken up that she couldn't piece the events together. Her heart went out to the younger woman and had tried to offer her some kind gesture and the best she could do was offer a break, but Detective Ortega wouldn't allow it. He had put Sofia through the ringer, and now that she had a minute, Catherine wanted to check on her. She figured Sofia could use a friend right now, but she had been pretty cruel in the past and she wasn't sure the detective would accept the apology, despite the situation.
Sofia heard Catherine calling to her but she was not about to stop. She didn't need or want another lecture on how she shouldn't be at the lab or another "hey, shouldn't you find someone else to talk to?" She was on her way out, anyway, with plans to go straight home and drink away every last thought, every vision, of the past few days.
By the time she made it outside tears were already blurring her vision. The path to her car stretched impossibly on. She crossed the street and climbed into her car. She put the key in the ignition, but didn't start it. She could barely see; it would be reckless to drive home right now. She could hit innocent bystander and have that person's death on her conscious as well. She pulled the key out and dropped it in the cup holder.
She yanked the rubber band out of her hair, letting it fall around her face like a protective shield. She pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head and then slouched in her seat, resting her head on her hand, as the tears started to fall. She had never felt so alone before. She truly had no one to turn to.
Seconds later, she heard a knock at the passenger side window. Sofia hastily wiped her eyes, pulled down the hood, and looked up. She couldn't help but roll her eyes when she saw Catherine Willows standing there. Reluctantly she unlocked the door and Catherine poked her head in.
"I'm sorry I bumped into you it will never happen again. I'm leaving now so don't worry about lecturing me about how I shouldn't be here. I get it. I'm leaving," she said quickly, not looking Catherine in the eye. She wiped her eyes again and grabbed her keys.
"Sofia, stop." Catherine waited until the detective put the keys down before she continued. "Can I come in?"
"Sure, why not. I've already broken several rules the past few days. What's one more?" she said bitterly.
Catherine chose to ignore that comment and climbed into the car. An awkward silence settled over them. She had decided she'd come and check on Sofia, but she hadn't thought about what she'd say. What should she say? Honestly, she treated the poor woman like crap over the past year. What made her think that Sofia would trust her, especially right now? Well, she was here, so there was no turning back. "How are you holding up?" she asked, hoping she sounded as sincere as she felt.
The situation was strange and uncomfortable for Sofia as well. She didn't know what to make of Catherine's gesture. Catherine had always regarded her with a cold shoulder and an eye roll, no matter what type of information she'd bring to the investigation. To say that they were friends would be a stretch. But the truth was she was so desperate to talk to someone that she would have talked to Hodges if he'd listen.
Before she could formulate a response, the demands of her body took over and she burst into tears.
It took a few moments for Catherine to respond. Over the past couple of years Sofia had never shed a tear, never laughed, never even told a joke in her presence. And now, here she was, sobbing. Sofia was an incredibly private person, more so than Sara, if it were possible. Nobody knew anything about Sofia. That's probably because nobody ever thought to ask, Catherine thought guiltily. She didn't know if she should touch the distraught woman or if she should just wait it out. She figured she should at least let Sofia know she had her support, even if it was rejected. She reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Sofia flinched and raised her hand for it to stop, and Catherine withdrew her hand.
Sofa was beyond embarrassed. The walls she had so carefully constructed around herself for years were falling down. And not just crumbling slowly, but collapsing all at once. Nobody had ever seen her like this. Ever since she was a young girl she had been taught to keep the "weak" emotions at bay. Her mom had her sights already set for her daughter to follow in her footsteps from an early age. She learned that it was a man's world out there, and if she ever wanted to be taken seriously she had to be tough. She had to put on a brave face and a tough exterior; otherwise the men would take advantage of her. So over the years she taught herself to hold back the tears, to hold back any visible signs of pain. And it worked. She was met with respect from the start. And now this, this changed it all. Nobody had prepared her for what she was going through. She hadn't shed a tear in front of anyone, with the exception of her pillow or a bottle of beer, in the past twenty-ish years. She had been too proud to let ex-boyfriends see how much they hurt her, and she was too proud to let her friends help. For Sofia, crying was the ultimate vulnerability and she hated to feel vulnerable. So to say she was embarrassed was a bit of an understatement. She was angry at herself for allowing anybody to see her cry, especially Catherine Willows, of all people. This wasn't her; she was supposed to be stronger than that. She covered her face with her hands and rested her head on the steering wheel. She felt Catherine's hand on her shoulder, but waved her away, not quite ready to accept comfort from anyone. She looked out her window and took several deep breaths.
"I'm sorry, Catherine. I just don't know if I can trust you. It's not like you and I are friends. I don't know if you're going to run off and tell Grissom or Ortega, or whomever, what I say to you. How do I know you aren't going to use this against me?"
"Look, Sofia, I know we started off on the wrong foot. Several wrong feet. But this ordeal, this situation, has made me realize that whatever it was I was angry at you for is not important. It's petty and stupid. When we got split up, I was so angry. The night shift is another family to me and then we got torn apart. I couldn't be mad at Grissom because he's my boss and I couldn't be mad at Ecklie because he'd fire me in a heartbeat. You were new; you came on board the same time our team was split up, so I blamed you. I know it wasn't your fault or your decision. I know that now and I knew it then. But I was so angry at the whole situation I channeled it into the most accessible person. I know it's not fair and it's a really pathetic excuse. I tend to do that. I hated Sara for the longest time when she first got here, even though all her orders came through Grissom. I guess it's just how I deal with things sometimes," she paused, unsure how to proceed. She resituated herself so she was in a better position. "I know I've done and said some pretty hurtful things to you."
Sofia nodded. She had avoided looking at Catherine the whole time, choosing to look out the window, at the dials on her instrument panel, or at her hair instead. It wasn't that she was trying to ignore what the older woman was saying. It was more so that she was afraid she'd give in and forgive her, just like that. In any other circumstance it wouldn't be so easy. She wanted to be angry and to hold a bit of a grudge. But right now she needed an ally, and Catherine was making herself available.
"Sofia," Catherine called softly, not continuing until the detective looked at her. "Sofia, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. If I could take it back I would and I know that sounds cheesy and cliché and maybe it is, but I'm serious. I wish I had gotten to know you before making a judgment. I don't know if I'd be telling you all this under different circumstances. Maybe, maybe not. Sometimes bad situations can bring out the best in people, and I do want to make things right between us. I wish it didn't take this to make me realize what a bitch I've been. Now, you can accept my apology, reject it, think about it, whatever. But it's there. And I'm here if you ever want to talk. It can be about anything, about nothing. I'm a fiercely loyal person and am the ideal secret-keeper. When you're ready to trust me, I'm a good person to trust." She paused to take a breath, letting it out slowly. "I feel like I'm trying to convince a new company to hire me," she joked, trying to lighten the mood. Sofia smiled politely, and had long since returned to the art of avoiding looking at Catherine. After several seconds passed, the silence started to become awkward once again. "Well, think about what I said. You know where to find me." She opened the door and started to get out.
"Catherine," Sofia whispered so softly that the CSI wasn't sure she'd even heard anything. It was the first time she had said anything since the older woman began her apology. Catherine sat back in the car and looked at her, waiting. She watched as Sofia struggled silently to find her words, and after several failed attempts, came to her rescue.
"Do you want to go grab some coffee?"
Sofia nodded, her eyes red and rimmed with tears.
"Come on, I'll drive. I know a place a bit farther out so we can have some privacy."
Sofia followed Catherine to her car, unsure of what lay ahead. Could she really trust her? Right now the overwhelming need to talk, to get everything off her chest, superseded pretty much anything. She didn't know what she was going to say to Catherine. She had planned what she was going to say to Grissom earlier, but now everything was all jumbled up in her head. She couldn't make sense of her thoughts. She really hoped Catherine's concern for her was genuine, because she wouldn't be able to handle much more rejection.
A/N2: Thoughts? comments? Would anyone like to volunteer to be my beta for subsequent chapters/stories?