fic- a hand to hold
Jul. 31st, 2008 06:42 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregTitle: a hand to hold
Rating: PG
Warnings: Well, Sofia’s in this one. So, if you hate her, you might not want to read it.
Spoilers: “Play With Fire”, “Spark of Life”, “Bang-Bang/Way to Go”, “Fannysmackin’” and “Post Mortem”.
Summary: Sofia goes to Greg's apartment to comfort him and learns about his relationship with Nick Stokes. (Also Brass/Sofia)
A/N: While this is most definitely a Nick/Greg piece, there’s also lots of Sofia, mainly because I like her and people don’t write about her enough. This was inspired by her kindness to Greg in “The Spark of Life” and her comment about going to his apartment in “Unbearable.” There’s implied Brass/Sofia because I heart them. Also, in continuation with my other fics, Greg has an obsession with Doctor Who (BEST SCI-FI SHOW EVAR!) and named his cats after characters.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its respectful owner, I am making no profit, et cetera.
i.
Sofia Curtis wants to fit in.
As if the demotion hadn’t been enough, it feels like everyone on grave hates her as well as swing. She feels like she’d broken up a family even though it wasn’t her fault. After all, Ecklie ripped her from her family, too. She thinks of her coworkers on days as a family and now she’s taking the blame for breaking apart a family – and it wasn’t even her fault.
She misses being trusted. Hell, she misses being liked. She’s heard the nicknames and she still walks with her head held high. Her mother taught her that slander was not power. Ecklie’s right hand, Catherine Willows sneered. Others whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear, “Kiss up. Ass kisser. Brown noser.” But she doesn’t kiss ass, she just respects her superiors.
The idea that Catherine Willows is now her superior jars her a little.
Growling a little to herself, Sofia grips the steering wheel tighter and accelerates, still reading the directions to Greg Sanders’s apartment.
She thanks God for Greg on a regular basis. He’s the only one of her colleagues, sans Jim Brass, who seems to trust her and like her. Or, at least, not actively dislike her. He’s the only one who seems willing to give her a shot, who doesn’t snap at her for talking to herself. Who smiles at her and says, “hey, Sofia,” when he passes her in the halls.
Christina, the DNA tech on days – Sofia feels a little stab when she remembers her family – told her once that Greg danced in a showgirl’s headdress. When she thinks about the lab explosion, all she can remember is thinking, thank God it wasn’t one of my guys. Now, she silently berates herself when she sees Greg trying so hard to do well, trying to get out of the lab, away from the memories.
Right now, she just wants to be his friend. She bought some beer and rented a movie, got directions to his apartment and drove there. Right now, she’s willing to be his crutch.
She gets out of her car, grabs the DVD and alcohol and walks up three flights of stairs until she reaches his door. She knocks and calls softly, “Greg? Hey, it’s me. Sofia. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” A pause. “I’ve got alcohol.”
The door clicks and she finds herself staring at a tall, muscular man with brown eyes, dark hair and a slight frown. Nick Stokes. One of Catherine Willows’s minions. Shit, she thinks. “Hi, um, I must’ve gotten the wrong address,” Sofia mumbles, her face burning. “Sorry for bothering you, I was just – ”
“If you’re looking for Greg, he’ll be back in about an hour,” Nick tells her. He looks tired and confused, wearing a pair of grey flannel pajama bottoms and a white wife beater. “You can, uh, stay here if you want.”
Sofia pauses. “Greg’s out and you’re in his apartment? What’re you doing? House-sitting while he’s taking his clothes to the Laundromat?”
“Very funny, Curtis,” Nick says, but he smiles a little. Looks less wary. “No, actually, Greg and I live together.”
Now that’s surprising, but Sofia doesn’t comment. “Oh. Okay. May I come in?”
Nick steps to the side and Sofia enters, letting out a low whistle at the living room. It looks like a bomb went off. Clothes, DVDs, CDs, cassette tapes, magazines, journals, books and papers lay strewn over the floor. “It’s a mess, I know,” Nick sighs. “You can just sit down and I’ll clean it up.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sofia assures him. She sits down on the couch, next to a fluffy caramel-colored cat that meows at her. “Aw, pretty kitty,” she coos. “What’s his name?”
The Texan grins. “Her name is Leela. She’s Greg’s.”
Nodding, Sofia picks up the feline and starts petting her. “She’s gorgeous.” Jumping when she hears another meow, she asks, “How many cats do you have?”
“Two. That one is Romana.” Nick points at the sleek black cat. “They’re named after characters on Doctor Who. It’s British sci-fi and Greg’s pretty much hooked.”
Sofia cocks her head and scratches Romana behind the ears. “Sounds like you two are pretty close. You and Greg, I mean.”
“Well, we’ve worked together for almost six years.” Nick rubs the back of his neck. “So, sorry if this is rude, but why are you here?”
The blonde takes a deep breath and begins to explain, starting with when she heard about the lab explosion and the burn victim and then her suggestion to Greg. “I guess I just assumed he was like me. I mean, I don’t really have any friends outside of the lab– ” she blushes a little, admitting at being an outsider, “ –and I gave him that advice and figured that, I dunno. Maybe I want to be his friend. I wanted to be a crutch for him if he needs it, because he’s been so nice to me and I didn’t know how to repay that kindness.”
Nick nods slowly. “I don’t really think Greg needs a crutch, Sofia.”
The words sting like a slap across the face and Sofia takes a deep breath. Stands up and runs a hand through her long fair hair. “You know, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have come here. Greg’s got you; I don’t see why he’d want or need me. I was obviously mistaken when I thought I could be his friend.” God, this hurts. She’s always been sort of an outcast, but that was her own choosing. Sofia doesn’t like to mingle with people; she prefers to stay in her own social circle. When Ecklie ripped that away from her, she had to start again, reinvent herself. “Um, sorry again,” she mumbles and starts to walk to the door, putting the DVD in her purse and picking up the beer.
When she looks one last time at Nick, she sees his face stricken. Confused. Hurt, even. “That’s not what I meant,” he tells her hastily. “I – I meant that you don’t have to be Greg’s crutch. He doesn’t need one. I didn’t mean that I wanted you to leave. In fact, I like that you’re here.” He smiles at her, that Nick Stokes lady killer smile and, for the briefest of moments, Sofia’s a little weak in the knees. “Really, though, I like that you and Greg are friends.”
“I do, too,” Sofia admits. “He’s the only person on grave who’s actually accepted me.” She smiles. “He’s a good guy.”
“He likes you.” Nick grins, a little mischievously. “He thinks you’re hot.”
At that, Sofia lets out a real laugh and, God, it feels good. She hasn’t laughed for a while. “He’s pretty cute.”
Nick nods and looks a little wistful. “Yeah, he is.”
It’s then that Sofia sees the obnoxiously bright green Post-It on a table next to the sofa. She cocks her head and reads the words, instantly recognizing Greg’s writing.
Nicky –
Went to getgrose groceries. Back in a few hours.
xoxo, Greg.
If Nick noticed her reading the note, he has the grace not to say anything. Instead, he asks, “What movie did you bring?” Mutely, Sofia hands him the case and Nick reads aloud, “The Royal Tenenbaums.” He arches an eyebrow. “Is it good?”
Sofia shrugs. “I think it is. It’s about this dysfunctional family who have to reconnect because their dad says he has stomach cancer, when, really, he’s broke and needs a place to live.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Sofia says, laughing. “It’s really funny. I mean, it’s quiet and it has a beautiful soundtrack. Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, Paul Simon, the Velvet Underground, Nico…” She raises her eyebrows. “I thought Greg might like it.”
Nick knits his brow. “Well, Greg prefers action and comedy movies. He likes Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez and the guy that made Moulin Rouge!” Still, he sits down next to her. “You know, I heard stories about you from– ”
“Let me guess. Catherine Willows?” Sofia cuts him off.
“Yeah. She said you were with Ecklie in conspiring against us and that you had a hand in breaking up the team.”
Sofia barks a laugh. “Yeah, I had a hand in splitting up one of the best CSI teams I’ve ever seen, ever had the pleasure to work with and got myself demoted in the process,” she drawls. “Sounds a lot like me.” Laughing inwardly, she tosses her blonde hair back, still pissed about this whole thing. “You know, I heard some stories about you, too.”
Nick raises one eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I heard that you have a revolving door to your bedroom. You know, one woman a week. That you slept with Catherine to get where you are. That you had a hooker girlfriend. That you were, well, kind of an ass.” She grins. “I think those stories are wrong, though.”
“I think the stories about you were wrong, too,” Nick intones quietly.
They sit in comfortable silence, waiting for Greg. Finally, the door bursts open and Greg Sanders bounces in happily, arms loading with bags. “Honey, I’m home!” he shouts in a sing-song voice and stops when he sees Sofia. “Sofia?”
“Greg?” she replies.
“I… What are you doing here?” Greg looks around, perplexed.
“She came to see you,” Nick answers. “Is that a problem?”
“I’ve got booze,” Sofia supplies helpfully, holding up the case of beer.
Greg snorts.
ii.
It’s always the waiting, Sofia thinks to herself, twisting her hands in her lap. So far, she hasn’t heard anything about Jim’s surgery and, even though she’s not religious, she’s prayed for him. Please, God, don’t let him go. I need him. I can’t lose this man. I’m not ready to say goodbye.
“Hey.”
Sofia glances up and sees the tall, wiry blonde man in front of her. “Hi,” she murmurs.
Greg sits down. “How’re you holding up?”
“Not too well,” she admits. “I can’t stand this waiting, you know? I don’t want to hold my breath. I don’t want to be hopeful, but I don’t want to write out an epitaph only to have the doctors tell me, ‘don’t worry, he’s okay.’” She runs her hands through her hair. “And his daughter isn’t making it any easier. She just wants his money and that’s it. She doesn’t give a fuck if he lives or dies.”
“You need to talk,” Greg says simply.
“I cope better with my thoughts in my head,” Sofia nearly snarls back.
Greg doesn’t recoil, he merely nods. “You know, I’m a good listener.”
For a while, Sofia doesn’t say anything. Then, “Did you know that Jim and I are together?”
She can almost hear Greg’s eyebrows raise as he looks at her. “Really?”
“Yeah. It was after the Officer Bell thing. Um, I was upset and we went out to talk. He came over, I made us some drinks. We traded stories and then… Well, I’ll let you figure out what happened next.” She smiles a little. “He was really worried about me. He thought I was going to leave Vegas again. I almost was. I couldn’t handle the stares. I thought that I would always be the cop that killed another cop.”
“Wow,” Greg whispers. “Does anyone else know?”
“Not a soul. And if you tell anyone, Sanders, I’m armed.”
Greg knows she’s joking, but he has no doubt that she’ll follow through with the threat if she has to. “You always just seemed like really close friends. I had no idea…” Greg tails off.
“Yeah, well, that’s how you and Nick seem. And if he dies– ” the word seems to scare Sofia; her blue eyes lose their spark for a moment, “If he dies, then I’ve still earned my right to grieve and no one will have to know.”
Taking her hand, Greg whispers, “Jim’s a fighter, Sofia. You just have to believe in him. And if he’s got you, then why would he let go?”
Sitting up a little straighter, Sofia nods. “How did you deal when they buried Nick?” She knows she’s prying, but she needs some comfort. After all, she’d just spilled her guts to Greg and he could do her the same courtesy. “I heard you were the only one who didn’t lose their shit. Even Hodges did.”
Silently, Greg nods. “Yeah. I just sort of broke down inside. I could hardly think. I was so, so worried and I lost myself in trying to find him. I was so scared, Sofia. So scared. Then we found him and he had to go through treatment and – ” Greg closes his eyes. “I was scared he wouldn’t come back. But he did. And I was so proud of him. He still has nightmares.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sofia murmurs. She squeezes Greg’s hand. “He’s so lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have him.” Greg looks up at Sofia, his eyes large and bright. “And Brass… Jim… is lucky to have you.”
Sofia finds herself blinking back tears. “Am I going to be enough?”
“Of course. You’re Sofia Curtis. Blonde, beautiful, tough as nails, composed, fucking amazing Sofia Curtis!” Greg grins at her. “If Brass didn’t want to come back for you, he’d need to get his head checked out.”
Wiping her nose with her hand, Sofia laughs a little. “Thanks, Greg.”
“No problem,” Greg reassures her.
There’s a sigh and Nick sits down next to Greg. “I hate waiting,” he mutters.
Sofia half-smiles. “Tell me about it.”
Two weeks later, when Brass is back, Greg spots Sofia in the break room, reading a magazine. He sees Brass walk in and lean down to whisper something in her ear. She laughs and pushes him away a little. As he walks away, Brass runs his fingers over her shoulders a little, through her pale hair and Greg smiles as he looks at Sofia’s grin.
iii.
“Nick, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Greg,” Sofia soothes.
Nick sets his jaw and keeps clenching and unclenching his fists. “I wish I would have punched that asshole in the face,” he snarls.
“What would that have accomplished?” Sofia asks, raising one eyebrow.
“It would’ve made me feel better.”
“It wouldn’t have undone the damage they did.”
For a moment, Nick scowls at Sofia, but she just looks back at him, her gaze calm. “Why are we in the waiting room?” he demands.
“Because the doctors said that Greg’s asleep. Besides, I figured you needed a chance to calm down and I’m not going to let you in there with Greg while you’re acting like a loose cannon with a vendetta against some punks. When Sara went in to visit him, he nearly fell off his bed because she came in too quietly. He’s jumpy, Nick, and with you sounding like a raging bull, not to mention the swearing and you threatening to beat the shit out of the guys who did this, I doubt you’ll be much help.”
“I just want to see him,” Nick tells her, his voice suddenly very quiet.
Sofia puts a comforting hand on his leg. “I know you do, Nick. I do, too. But he’s alive. He’s going to be fine. And you should just be glad he didn’t end up like Vasco Ruiz.”
Nick lets out a sigh. “You’re right, Sofia.” Rubbing his forehead, he says, “I’m gonna go get something to drink.”
She nods mutely and Nick returns five minutes later. After that, he’s jumpy and can hardly stay still. “I’m hungry,” he announces. “Do you want something to eat? I’m going to go to the vending machine. Do you want anything? I could buy you a soda, or I could get a Twix and we could share that– ”
“Nick,” Sofia states abruptly. “Calm down. Sit down. Relax. The waiting is the hardest part.”
She’s thankful that a doctor walks out a moment later. “Mr. Stokes? Miss Curtis? Mr. Sanders is awake now and he’d like to see you both.”
“Thank you,” Sofia says and smiles at Nick. Nick stands, unsteady on his feet, and walks with her to see Greg. “You go in first. I’ll wait out here.” She leans against the doorjamb and peers in. She can’t help but smile when she sees Nick sit next to Greg and take his hand, talking rapidly and stroking his forehead.
Two hours later, the entire team has come and gone except Nick, and if Sofia were someone else, she would have said that visiting hours were almost over but instead she drops a quick kiss on Greg’s forehead and pats Nick on the back. “See you tomorrow,” she whispers to both of them.
iv.
Sofia watches the trial with a hawk’s eye, her head high and her back straight. She ignores the whispers around her, although she does resist the urge to throttle someone who said, “That son of a bitch should be hanged. He had no right to kill that innocent kid.”
She anxiously crosses and uncrosses her long legs, proud that Greg’s held his own for so long. Just hold on, Greg. Just a little longer.
Then Nick takes the stand, all pressed clothes and careful words. Yet Sofia detects the smallest hint of nerves from him as she watches him fix his tie. Please, Nick, don’t break down, she silently begs.
Of course, she should have known better as he stared down the juror, strong as an ox and twice as dangerous. The corners of her lips twitch up as he shuts down the juror who suggested the police planted the rock and she smiles when she sees the silent nod exchanged between the two.
She talks to Greg during their brief recess, a little sad that Nick isn’t there to comfort him. “You did nothing wrong,” she assures him.
Greg smiles a little. “I just wanna be able to sleep again.”
“Greg, we put ourselves in harm’s way every day and, sometimes, we pay one hell of a price for it. Some people will never understand that.” Sofia squeezes his arm. “Just remember, no matter what they decide, I’ll be here for you. I was willing to be your crutch three years ago and that hasn’t changed.”
With the smallest of smiles, Greg hugs Sofia and pulls away. “Thanks,” he whispers.
After the verdict –which outrages Sofia (excusable? she thinks, raging in her head. Like hell it was excusable!)– she goes outside to find Greg. She wants to take him out for a few beers, maybe watch a movie. Play poker until their shift starts.
When she does find him, she sees that she’s too late – Nick got there first. He has one arm slung over Greg’s shoulders and talking in low voices.
As she watches them, Sofia realizes that she’ll never fit in with them, but she’s okay with that. As long as they’re happy together. She starts when she hears her cell phone go off. “Curtis,” she answers briskly.
“Sophie? Where are you?”
She smiles to herself. “I’m at the courthouse. Where are you?”
“I’m at André’s where I made reservations for two. Unfortunately, my date is late.” She can hear his smile, even if she can’t see it.
“Give me twenty minutes. I just need to change. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Sophie.”
As Sofia Curtis sits down opposite Jim Brass as he tells her about four times how lovely she looks, she smiles, realizing that there’s at least one person she fits in with.
end
Rating: PG
Warnings: Well, Sofia’s in this one. So, if you hate her, you might not want to read it.
Spoilers: “Play With Fire”, “Spark of Life”, “Bang-Bang/Way to Go”, “Fannysmackin’” and “Post Mortem”.
Summary: Sofia goes to Greg's apartment to comfort him and learns about his relationship with Nick Stokes. (Also Brass/Sofia)
A/N: While this is most definitely a Nick/Greg piece, there’s also lots of Sofia, mainly because I like her and people don’t write about her enough. This was inspired by her kindness to Greg in “The Spark of Life” and her comment about going to his apartment in “Unbearable.” There’s implied Brass/Sofia because I heart them. Also, in continuation with my other fics, Greg has an obsession with Doctor Who (BEST SCI-FI SHOW EVAR!) and named his cats after characters.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its respectful owner, I am making no profit, et cetera.
i.
Sofia Curtis wants to fit in.
As if the demotion hadn’t been enough, it feels like everyone on grave hates her as well as swing. She feels like she’d broken up a family even though it wasn’t her fault. After all, Ecklie ripped her from her family, too. She thinks of her coworkers on days as a family and now she’s taking the blame for breaking apart a family – and it wasn’t even her fault.
She misses being trusted. Hell, she misses being liked. She’s heard the nicknames and she still walks with her head held high. Her mother taught her that slander was not power. Ecklie’s right hand, Catherine Willows sneered. Others whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear, “Kiss up. Ass kisser. Brown noser.” But she doesn’t kiss ass, she just respects her superiors.
The idea that Catherine Willows is now her superior jars her a little.
Growling a little to herself, Sofia grips the steering wheel tighter and accelerates, still reading the directions to Greg Sanders’s apartment.
She thanks God for Greg on a regular basis. He’s the only one of her colleagues, sans Jim Brass, who seems to trust her and like her. Or, at least, not actively dislike her. He’s the only one who seems willing to give her a shot, who doesn’t snap at her for talking to herself. Who smiles at her and says, “hey, Sofia,” when he passes her in the halls.
Christina, the DNA tech on days – Sofia feels a little stab when she remembers her family – told her once that Greg danced in a showgirl’s headdress. When she thinks about the lab explosion, all she can remember is thinking, thank God it wasn’t one of my guys. Now, she silently berates herself when she sees Greg trying so hard to do well, trying to get out of the lab, away from the memories.
Right now, she just wants to be his friend. She bought some beer and rented a movie, got directions to his apartment and drove there. Right now, she’s willing to be his crutch.
She gets out of her car, grabs the DVD and alcohol and walks up three flights of stairs until she reaches his door. She knocks and calls softly, “Greg? Hey, it’s me. Sofia. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” A pause. “I’ve got alcohol.”
The door clicks and she finds herself staring at a tall, muscular man with brown eyes, dark hair and a slight frown. Nick Stokes. One of Catherine Willows’s minions. Shit, she thinks. “Hi, um, I must’ve gotten the wrong address,” Sofia mumbles, her face burning. “Sorry for bothering you, I was just – ”
“If you’re looking for Greg, he’ll be back in about an hour,” Nick tells her. He looks tired and confused, wearing a pair of grey flannel pajama bottoms and a white wife beater. “You can, uh, stay here if you want.”
Sofia pauses. “Greg’s out and you’re in his apartment? What’re you doing? House-sitting while he’s taking his clothes to the Laundromat?”
“Very funny, Curtis,” Nick says, but he smiles a little. Looks less wary. “No, actually, Greg and I live together.”
Now that’s surprising, but Sofia doesn’t comment. “Oh. Okay. May I come in?”
Nick steps to the side and Sofia enters, letting out a low whistle at the living room. It looks like a bomb went off. Clothes, DVDs, CDs, cassette tapes, magazines, journals, books and papers lay strewn over the floor. “It’s a mess, I know,” Nick sighs. “You can just sit down and I’ll clean it up.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sofia assures him. She sits down on the couch, next to a fluffy caramel-colored cat that meows at her. “Aw, pretty kitty,” she coos. “What’s his name?”
The Texan grins. “Her name is Leela. She’s Greg’s.”
Nodding, Sofia picks up the feline and starts petting her. “She’s gorgeous.” Jumping when she hears another meow, she asks, “How many cats do you have?”
“Two. That one is Romana.” Nick points at the sleek black cat. “They’re named after characters on Doctor Who. It’s British sci-fi and Greg’s pretty much hooked.”
Sofia cocks her head and scratches Romana behind the ears. “Sounds like you two are pretty close. You and Greg, I mean.”
“Well, we’ve worked together for almost six years.” Nick rubs the back of his neck. “So, sorry if this is rude, but why are you here?”
The blonde takes a deep breath and begins to explain, starting with when she heard about the lab explosion and the burn victim and then her suggestion to Greg. “I guess I just assumed he was like me. I mean, I don’t really have any friends outside of the lab– ” she blushes a little, admitting at being an outsider, “ –and I gave him that advice and figured that, I dunno. Maybe I want to be his friend. I wanted to be a crutch for him if he needs it, because he’s been so nice to me and I didn’t know how to repay that kindness.”
Nick nods slowly. “I don’t really think Greg needs a crutch, Sofia.”
The words sting like a slap across the face and Sofia takes a deep breath. Stands up and runs a hand through her long fair hair. “You know, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have come here. Greg’s got you; I don’t see why he’d want or need me. I was obviously mistaken when I thought I could be his friend.” God, this hurts. She’s always been sort of an outcast, but that was her own choosing. Sofia doesn’t like to mingle with people; she prefers to stay in her own social circle. When Ecklie ripped that away from her, she had to start again, reinvent herself. “Um, sorry again,” she mumbles and starts to walk to the door, putting the DVD in her purse and picking up the beer.
When she looks one last time at Nick, she sees his face stricken. Confused. Hurt, even. “That’s not what I meant,” he tells her hastily. “I – I meant that you don’t have to be Greg’s crutch. He doesn’t need one. I didn’t mean that I wanted you to leave. In fact, I like that you’re here.” He smiles at her, that Nick Stokes lady killer smile and, for the briefest of moments, Sofia’s a little weak in the knees. “Really, though, I like that you and Greg are friends.”
“I do, too,” Sofia admits. “He’s the only person on grave who’s actually accepted me.” She smiles. “He’s a good guy.”
“He likes you.” Nick grins, a little mischievously. “He thinks you’re hot.”
At that, Sofia lets out a real laugh and, God, it feels good. She hasn’t laughed for a while. “He’s pretty cute.”
Nick nods and looks a little wistful. “Yeah, he is.”
It’s then that Sofia sees the obnoxiously bright green Post-It on a table next to the sofa. She cocks her head and reads the words, instantly recognizing Greg’s writing.
Nicky –
Went to get
xoxo, Greg.
If Nick noticed her reading the note, he has the grace not to say anything. Instead, he asks, “What movie did you bring?” Mutely, Sofia hands him the case and Nick reads aloud, “The Royal Tenenbaums.” He arches an eyebrow. “Is it good?”
Sofia shrugs. “I think it is. It’s about this dysfunctional family who have to reconnect because their dad says he has stomach cancer, when, really, he’s broke and needs a place to live.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Sofia says, laughing. “It’s really funny. I mean, it’s quiet and it has a beautiful soundtrack. Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, Paul Simon, the Velvet Underground, Nico…” She raises her eyebrows. “I thought Greg might like it.”
Nick knits his brow. “Well, Greg prefers action and comedy movies. He likes Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez and the guy that made Moulin Rouge!” Still, he sits down next to her. “You know, I heard stories about you from– ”
“Let me guess. Catherine Willows?” Sofia cuts him off.
“Yeah. She said you were with Ecklie in conspiring against us and that you had a hand in breaking up the team.”
Sofia barks a laugh. “Yeah, I had a hand in splitting up one of the best CSI teams I’ve ever seen, ever had the pleasure to work with and got myself demoted in the process,” she drawls. “Sounds a lot like me.” Laughing inwardly, she tosses her blonde hair back, still pissed about this whole thing. “You know, I heard some stories about you, too.”
Nick raises one eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I heard that you have a revolving door to your bedroom. You know, one woman a week. That you slept with Catherine to get where you are. That you had a hooker girlfriend. That you were, well, kind of an ass.” She grins. “I think those stories are wrong, though.”
“I think the stories about you were wrong, too,” Nick intones quietly.
They sit in comfortable silence, waiting for Greg. Finally, the door bursts open and Greg Sanders bounces in happily, arms loading with bags. “Honey, I’m home!” he shouts in a sing-song voice and stops when he sees Sofia. “Sofia?”
“Greg?” she replies.
“I… What are you doing here?” Greg looks around, perplexed.
“She came to see you,” Nick answers. “Is that a problem?”
“I’ve got booze,” Sofia supplies helpfully, holding up the case of beer.
Greg snorts.
ii.
It’s always the waiting, Sofia thinks to herself, twisting her hands in her lap. So far, she hasn’t heard anything about Jim’s surgery and, even though she’s not religious, she’s prayed for him. Please, God, don’t let him go. I need him. I can’t lose this man. I’m not ready to say goodbye.
“Hey.”
Sofia glances up and sees the tall, wiry blonde man in front of her. “Hi,” she murmurs.
Greg sits down. “How’re you holding up?”
“Not too well,” she admits. “I can’t stand this waiting, you know? I don’t want to hold my breath. I don’t want to be hopeful, but I don’t want to write out an epitaph only to have the doctors tell me, ‘don’t worry, he’s okay.’” She runs her hands through her hair. “And his daughter isn’t making it any easier. She just wants his money and that’s it. She doesn’t give a fuck if he lives or dies.”
“You need to talk,” Greg says simply.
“I cope better with my thoughts in my head,” Sofia nearly snarls back.
Greg doesn’t recoil, he merely nods. “You know, I’m a good listener.”
For a while, Sofia doesn’t say anything. Then, “Did you know that Jim and I are together?”
She can almost hear Greg’s eyebrows raise as he looks at her. “Really?”
“Yeah. It was after the Officer Bell thing. Um, I was upset and we went out to talk. He came over, I made us some drinks. We traded stories and then… Well, I’ll let you figure out what happened next.” She smiles a little. “He was really worried about me. He thought I was going to leave Vegas again. I almost was. I couldn’t handle the stares. I thought that I would always be the cop that killed another cop.”
“Wow,” Greg whispers. “Does anyone else know?”
“Not a soul. And if you tell anyone, Sanders, I’m armed.”
Greg knows she’s joking, but he has no doubt that she’ll follow through with the threat if she has to. “You always just seemed like really close friends. I had no idea…” Greg tails off.
“Yeah, well, that’s how you and Nick seem. And if he dies– ” the word seems to scare Sofia; her blue eyes lose their spark for a moment, “If he dies, then I’ve still earned my right to grieve and no one will have to know.”
Taking her hand, Greg whispers, “Jim’s a fighter, Sofia. You just have to believe in him. And if he’s got you, then why would he let go?”
Sitting up a little straighter, Sofia nods. “How did you deal when they buried Nick?” She knows she’s prying, but she needs some comfort. After all, she’d just spilled her guts to Greg and he could do her the same courtesy. “I heard you were the only one who didn’t lose their shit. Even Hodges did.”
Silently, Greg nods. “Yeah. I just sort of broke down inside. I could hardly think. I was so, so worried and I lost myself in trying to find him. I was so scared, Sofia. So scared. Then we found him and he had to go through treatment and – ” Greg closes his eyes. “I was scared he wouldn’t come back. But he did. And I was so proud of him. He still has nightmares.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sofia murmurs. She squeezes Greg’s hand. “He’s so lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have him.” Greg looks up at Sofia, his eyes large and bright. “And Brass… Jim… is lucky to have you.”
Sofia finds herself blinking back tears. “Am I going to be enough?”
“Of course. You’re Sofia Curtis. Blonde, beautiful, tough as nails, composed, fucking amazing Sofia Curtis!” Greg grins at her. “If Brass didn’t want to come back for you, he’d need to get his head checked out.”
Wiping her nose with her hand, Sofia laughs a little. “Thanks, Greg.”
“No problem,” Greg reassures her.
There’s a sigh and Nick sits down next to Greg. “I hate waiting,” he mutters.
Sofia half-smiles. “Tell me about it.”
Two weeks later, when Brass is back, Greg spots Sofia in the break room, reading a magazine. He sees Brass walk in and lean down to whisper something in her ear. She laughs and pushes him away a little. As he walks away, Brass runs his fingers over her shoulders a little, through her pale hair and Greg smiles as he looks at Sofia’s grin.
iii.
“Nick, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Greg,” Sofia soothes.
Nick sets his jaw and keeps clenching and unclenching his fists. “I wish I would have punched that asshole in the face,” he snarls.
“What would that have accomplished?” Sofia asks, raising one eyebrow.
“It would’ve made me feel better.”
“It wouldn’t have undone the damage they did.”
For a moment, Nick scowls at Sofia, but she just looks back at him, her gaze calm. “Why are we in the waiting room?” he demands.
“Because the doctors said that Greg’s asleep. Besides, I figured you needed a chance to calm down and I’m not going to let you in there with Greg while you’re acting like a loose cannon with a vendetta against some punks. When Sara went in to visit him, he nearly fell off his bed because she came in too quietly. He’s jumpy, Nick, and with you sounding like a raging bull, not to mention the swearing and you threatening to beat the shit out of the guys who did this, I doubt you’ll be much help.”
“I just want to see him,” Nick tells her, his voice suddenly very quiet.
Sofia puts a comforting hand on his leg. “I know you do, Nick. I do, too. But he’s alive. He’s going to be fine. And you should just be glad he didn’t end up like Vasco Ruiz.”
Nick lets out a sigh. “You’re right, Sofia.” Rubbing his forehead, he says, “I’m gonna go get something to drink.”
She nods mutely and Nick returns five minutes later. After that, he’s jumpy and can hardly stay still. “I’m hungry,” he announces. “Do you want something to eat? I’m going to go to the vending machine. Do you want anything? I could buy you a soda, or I could get a Twix and we could share that– ”
“Nick,” Sofia states abruptly. “Calm down. Sit down. Relax. The waiting is the hardest part.”
She’s thankful that a doctor walks out a moment later. “Mr. Stokes? Miss Curtis? Mr. Sanders is awake now and he’d like to see you both.”
“Thank you,” Sofia says and smiles at Nick. Nick stands, unsteady on his feet, and walks with her to see Greg. “You go in first. I’ll wait out here.” She leans against the doorjamb and peers in. She can’t help but smile when she sees Nick sit next to Greg and take his hand, talking rapidly and stroking his forehead.
Two hours later, the entire team has come and gone except Nick, and if Sofia were someone else, she would have said that visiting hours were almost over but instead she drops a quick kiss on Greg’s forehead and pats Nick on the back. “See you tomorrow,” she whispers to both of them.
iv.
Sofia watches the trial with a hawk’s eye, her head high and her back straight. She ignores the whispers around her, although she does resist the urge to throttle someone who said, “That son of a bitch should be hanged. He had no right to kill that innocent kid.”
She anxiously crosses and uncrosses her long legs, proud that Greg’s held his own for so long. Just hold on, Greg. Just a little longer.
Then Nick takes the stand, all pressed clothes and careful words. Yet Sofia detects the smallest hint of nerves from him as she watches him fix his tie. Please, Nick, don’t break down, she silently begs.
Of course, she should have known better as he stared down the juror, strong as an ox and twice as dangerous. The corners of her lips twitch up as he shuts down the juror who suggested the police planted the rock and she smiles when she sees the silent nod exchanged between the two.
She talks to Greg during their brief recess, a little sad that Nick isn’t there to comfort him. “You did nothing wrong,” she assures him.
Greg smiles a little. “I just wanna be able to sleep again.”
“Greg, we put ourselves in harm’s way every day and, sometimes, we pay one hell of a price for it. Some people will never understand that.” Sofia squeezes his arm. “Just remember, no matter what they decide, I’ll be here for you. I was willing to be your crutch three years ago and that hasn’t changed.”
With the smallest of smiles, Greg hugs Sofia and pulls away. “Thanks,” he whispers.
After the verdict –which outrages Sofia (excusable? she thinks, raging in her head. Like hell it was excusable!)– she goes outside to find Greg. She wants to take him out for a few beers, maybe watch a movie. Play poker until their shift starts.
When she does find him, she sees that she’s too late – Nick got there first. He has one arm slung over Greg’s shoulders and talking in low voices.
As she watches them, Sofia realizes that she’ll never fit in with them, but she’s okay with that. As long as they’re happy together. She starts when she hears her cell phone go off. “Curtis,” she answers briskly.
“Sophie? Where are you?”
She smiles to herself. “I’m at the courthouse. Where are you?”
“I’m at André’s where I made reservations for two. Unfortunately, my date is late.” She can hear his smile, even if she can’t see it.
“Give me twenty minutes. I just need to change. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Sophie.”
As Sofia Curtis sits down opposite Jim Brass as he tells her about four times how lovely she looks, she smiles, realizing that there’s at least one person she fits in with.
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no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 02:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 04:41 am (UTC)Hot
Date: 2008-08-01 10:02 am (UTC)Meisaal
Re: Hot
Date: 2008-08-01 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 11:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-02 12:57 am (UTC)her accent is totally hot though.
greg jumping out of bed due to sara's tiptoeing should not have made me laugh. but it did.
plus, she's smart. you never say no to free booze.
ps: i've come to realize i have no one to discuss the csi fandom with on my friends list. mind an add?
also, i adore your formatting of your fics. it reminds me of those "5 things" memes that used to go around for a while, but it's just better. and longer, and more detailed.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 08:39 pm (UTC)how unsure she is when dealing with co-workers compared to suspects. i love how she's awkward.
Yes. I see her as being VERY awkward because she tries to be nice and it just blows up in her face and everyone is a dick to her, and I know I would be totally awkward around people like that, too.
Pfft, go ahead! ::adds you back:: Also, thank you about the formatting comment. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-08-02 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 08:39 pm (UTC)