Catifights and Creaks

Title:
Catfights
and Creaks

Author:
ANNE (the
insane one)

Rating:
R

Summary:
I felt
like writing about a catfight between Catherine and Sara :D<>

Spoilers:
Well, I
don't know if they're spoilers but here we go anyway: Playing With
Fire, Lady
Heather's Box, Jackpot, After The Show, Early Rollout

Disclaimer:
Characters et al belong to the people that make CSI

I
sigh in
satisfaction as I put my feet up in the break room.

It
has been a g dag day, and to me, there is nothing better than few minutes of
solitude
before the rush of the evening starts.

The
next thing I
know, in storms Sara Sidle, cursing and clumping around like she has
ants in
her pants. And I certainly knew about ants in pants, after that
unfortunate
incident where Gil and I took Lindsey on a picnic and I sat on an ant's
nest.
To Gil's credit (and the fact he is still alive), he was been very good
about
it and never mentioned the incident again.

Iestlestle with my
conscience. On one hand, it's probably rude just to sit here and let
her act
out when she is trying so hard to make someone listen to her. On the
other
hand, this is my last half hour before work starts and I just wanted to
be left
alone!n myn my good manners.

"Is
everything okay, Sara?"

"Bad
day."

Leave
it to me to
be nosy. "Man troubles?"

"He said no! Again!"

Geez,
you'd think
the girl would get a hint. "I'm sorry."

"And
it's
not as if he actually said no either! He subtly works his way around
it, while
still crushing every little hope I ever had!"

Now there's a subject I can help with. Perhaps I can be all girly,
ya-ya
sisterhood type of thing. "Oh I know! Guys do it all the time! For
example, Grissom! His classic response to all situations he wants to
get out of
without hurting your feelings is 'I don't know what to do about this!'
I mean,
I leave him to babysit Lindsey one night and she asks him if she can go
to an
Eminem concert. Now, would a simple 'no' satisfy Grissom? Of course
not! He
just says 'I don't know what to do about this.' Biiig trouble when I
get home,
that's for sure. If a woman asks him out on a date, and he would never
in a
million years go out with her, he doesn't just say no. He says 'I don't
know
what to do about this!' It drives me mad!" I finish my little rant, and
realise Sara is staring at me. "Ah, sorry about that. I'm still
battling
with Lindsey over Eminem."

I
wish somehow I
had a magazine or something that I could pretend to be reading. Her
staring at
me is slightly uncomfortable. "So, anyway," I say, trying to shift
her focus, "men tend to do that sometimes."

"You know a lot about Grissom, don't you?"pan>

"You
can't
be friends with someone for over fifteen years and not know a lot about
them."

"And he knows a lot about you."

I
am starting to
sense this is not going in a good direction. "Uh, yeah. A lot more than
he
needs to, I'm sure." I decide it's safer not to talk about Grissom
anymore. "So, tell me about the guy. Maybe you can change his mind."

Sara looks at me as if I have two heads. "We were talking about him.
Grissom."

Oh shit. "Huh?"

"The
first
time I asked him out, he said, "I don't know what to do about this."

Oh
shit.

"Then
today
I decided to try it your way. I asked if he wanted to have sex, take
our minds
off the job."

My mind goes sideways. "I'm sorry, my way?"

"You
know
what I mean, Catherine. Surely I shouldn't have to spell it out for
you.
Everyone knows you've been doing the boss for years."

If
I had been
drinking anything, it would have been expelleding ing my splutter. "I'm
sorry, what?!"

"There's no need to be coy, Catherine. We're both adults."

Suddenly I'm not so sure about that. "Sara, I don't know where you've
been
getting these ideas from, but Grissom and I have never…"

"That's
not
the t ant anymore, is it? I want him. And I'm going to have him."

I
raise an
eyebrow. "Grissom's not something you buy and sell on the marketplace,
Sara. If he said no, he said no."

"Oh,
because
you know him so well, don't you? Inside and out I'm sure."

My
mind is still
trying to process this new information. I'm wondering what the hell has
come
over Sara. I mean, I knew she was a little ga-ga over the man, but not
psycho
stalker obsessive.

"Um,
Sara,
maybe you should calm down a little."

"I
never
thought he would go for a stripper though."

I'm
beginning to
get pissed off. Although, I must allow for the fact that Sara may be on
drugs.
But then again, wouldn't they be happy pills?

"Sara,
you're getting way out of line here," I warn, not wanting this to get
ugly.

"I'M
getting
out of line? You're screwing the boss! No wonder you've got seniority."

Okay,
that's it.
I won't kill her, but I certainly don't mind getting my claws out on
occasion.
"I am not sleeping with Grissom. And yes, you are getting way out of
line." I glare at her. "And somehow, I don't think Grissom goes for
moping girls half his age that swoon everytime he walks into the room!"

"I
do not
swoon! At least I’m not constantly flirting with him like a whore."

Did she just call me what I think she just called me? Bitch!

"Back
off
Sara. I'm ly wly warning you now."

"You're
warning me? I should report you for half of the crap you get away with.
At
least with me, Grissom can expect a mature relationship."

I
raise an
eyebrow. "Mature? Do you have any idea what Grissom wants in life? Do
you
know his feelings, his desires?" I smirk at her. "I do. I know what
he wants. I know what he feels. He didn't tell you about his surgery,
did he?
You may have asked him out, but I'm the one he calls his wife. I'm the
one he
offers to make love to."

Sara's eyes are popping out of her head.

BAM!
SHOT DOWN!

I
feel like doing
a little victory dance, but I think that would be childish. But then
again, I'm
the one she's accusing of being childish aren't I? I better not. I've
noticed
out of the corner of my eye that a little crowd is forming, headed up
by Greg
Sanders. Perhaps I better wind this up.

"Sara,
this
is neither the time nor the place. If you have a problem with me…"

"This
is
definitely the time and the place. You're constantly unprofessional,
Catherine,
particularly around Grissom, and I think this is the best place to
discuss it."

I'm
sorry, I’M
unprofessional? Where the hell did that come from?

"You
swan
around here in your low cleavage tops, flirting with every man that
works here.
I mean, what kind of work can you expect them to do when their
equipment is
short-circuiting because they drool on it?"

Okay, first of all, ew. Second of all, someone is going to DIE.

"Your
life
spanshorshortening through each word that comes out of your mouth."

Sara shudders in front of me. "Ooh, I'm scared. Big, bad Catherine's
gonna
come get me."

I
raise an
eyebrow. What the hell is this woman ON?

"Uh,
Sara,
have you taken anything recently? Anything you're not used to taking?"

"Oh
sure,
just because the hooker wants Grissom, I'M on drugs!"

Um,
yes, that's
what I was getting at. And what the fuck does she think she's talking
about,
calling me a hooker! You know that really, really pisses me off, when
people
assume that exotic dancers are hookers!

"You
know
what? Kiss my ass, Sara! I have better things to do than listen to your
whining
and pitiful arguments. At least I've lived! At least I don't sit at
home,
ordering takeout and crap from catalogues on the computer. I have human
interaction. And you know what? I was a damn good exotic dancer. I'm a
damn
good CSI. And so what if the men here drool over me? It makes me feel
good.
Although the way you're going, I'm not sure you'll ever know what it
feels like."
I pick up my bag. "And by the way. Stay the hell away from Gil
Grissom."

"Excuse
me?"

I
turn around,
and walk over to her, standing toe to toe. "I said stay the hell away
from
Gil Grissom. Do you need me to repeat that another time?"

"Or
what?"

"I
beg your
pardon?"

"What
are
you going to do to me?"

I
narrow my eyes.
"Do you really want to find out?"

"I'm
not
scared of you, Catherine."

"I'm
glad to
hear it."

"But
really,
there can't be that much of a competition. A divorced, ex-cocaine
addict
stripper? What kind of shot do you really think you have?"

"You're
a
bitch, Sara. Go back to your hole and stay there. Continue being a
hermit for
all I care. I'm done with you."

I
feel the slap
be I s I see it coming. It stings and I'm about to retaliate when I
hear that
voice.

"What the HELL is going on here?"

Oh
shit.