Don't Shoot Me; I'm Only the Piano Player (Warrick/Sara)

Title: Don't Shoot Me; I'm Only the Piano Player
Rating: T
Summary: Grissom told Sara to get a diversion. One member of the night shift soon discovers she is a performer at one of the Vegas Strip night clubs. But...is her partner a bit... too-friendly?
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters! I don’t own CSI: or the song Always On Your Side by Sheryl Crow. I also don’t own the rights to the title of this story, as that is the title of an Elton John album.
Author's Notes: This is a story I'm very excited to write! I was very ecstatic when this idea came to me, so I'm hoping I can do a good job with this story! This is going to be another Warrick/Sara fic. I hope you guys enjoy it! By the way, this fic takes place after Too Tough to Die :) Warrick will most-likely appear in the next chapter.


“Sara... do you have any diversions...?”

He said to get a diversion, but those words were foreign to Sara Sidle's ears. She actually wasn't sure those words had ever been directed at her before in her life. Diversion... what did that word even mean? Something outside of work, outside of law enforcement, Grissom had said. What else did Sara have besides her work? Her work was her diversion, her escape- her work was her release... her work was her life. Doing anything else, or slowing down in her work was absolutely terrifying to her…

…Which was perhaps the main reason she needed a diversion.

Sara had never really ever explored her creative of 'fun' side; she never had time to. Sara was not a mother like Catherine, so she didn't have a child waiting for her to come home every night and tuck them into bed. She wasn't Grissom, and so she didn't get an adrenaline rush from riding roller coasters. Sara was not like Warrick, so she didn't like going to casinos to play the slots or a few card games to help take the edge off. And she definitely was not like Greg or Nick, so she didn't find playing Playstation or Gamecube all that appealing.

So what did Sara like? Grissom made it sound like that would be a good place to start. Sara liked lots of things- she liked helping people and the feeling she got when the bad guys were put away, she liked listening to her scanner when she went home every night to catch up on what was going on, and she liked reading crime novels to see what was and what was not accurate. But outside of law enforcement and work? Well, Sara wasn't so sure about that. She was really going to have to think about that one.

Things Sara liked to do that didn't have to do with work... that was a tough question. She liked to sing... but that was more of a habit than a hobby. Besides, she didn't think she was that good anyways, let alone good enough for her voice to take her anywhere. But...singing was the only thing Sara could really think of for something she liked to do outside of work and law enforcement; it certainly did help to take the edge off of a hard day at work. Some notes were harder to hit than others, others easier. The sounds varied from soft to loud, peaceful to powerful in just moments, and she liked that. It was a good way to relieve stress- if she was in a bad mood- perhaps she was angry- she would sing a song that required a large amount of vocal.

Sara sighed to herself, running a hand through her hair as she sat in the front seat of her car in the parking lot at the lab. She still thought her voice was like nails on a chalkboard- perhaps even worse-, but...it was the only thing she could think of. Grissom said if she didn't find something to like... she was going to burn-out, and that alone was motivation to find a hobby or something to be interested in. If she burned-out... then what would she do, where would she go? What would she do as a release to escape herself? She figured she'd barely be able to function properly in the world anymore. She'd be useless... and Sara didn't like feeling useless. She liked feeling needed.

So she was going to take this chance and try to do something with her singing. She could just sing along to songs in the car or at home as she always did, she thought, but… that wouldn’t really be a diversion, would it? At home she had her scanner, pager and cell phone… not to mention the almost endless collection of forensic textbooks and crime novels she kept in her bookcase. Maybe she could find a club or bar somewhere on the Strip looking for performers and audition there. She didn’t want to run the risk of humiliating herself in front of a bunch of people, but… she didn’t want to burn out. So she was going to take this risk, whether she wanted to or not.

A part of Sara actually wondered if she was going to get this diversion just so she could look at Grissom and say, “I told you so!” She wondered if she was going to get this diversion just so she could prove to him that she wasn’t just the boring workaholic that ordered from catalogues to give herself something to look forward to- that she had a life outside of her work. Despite her reasons, Sara had her mind set on this now and she wasn’t going to stop until she found what she was looking for. To Sara now if were if she were searching for the lost treasure of Atlantis.

Putting the car in park, Sara pulled out into the street and began to cruise down the Strip, looking around for any signs or flyers in windows or telephone poles. She saw something for a wrestling match… no, she wasn’t built for wrestling and that wasn’t what she was looking for anyways. Driving along, Sara continued to keep her eyes peeled. The Tangiers was looking for a dancer… no, she wasn’t a dancer- that would be a job for Catherine since she had experience in that field. There was a poker tournament… a park picnic coming up (Sara wondered if Vegas actually had parks), and then an ad for a restaurant that just opened up.

Sara’s search was coming up empty. But she had to keep looking! She had to keep trying; she wasn’t going to stop now- she couldn’t. Shift ended early that night so she had plenty of time, and she didn’t want to go get something to eat because if she did she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it with this burden hanging over her shoulders.

You’ve got to keep trying, Sara kept telling herself. Keep looking; you don’t want to end up working at a McDonald’s for the rest of your life because you burned out, do you? The thought of serving people cold patties that had been sitting on the grill for hours before they ordered it made her cringe; the smell of French fry oil was making her shudder. She had to keep looking.

While day-dreaming about the horrors of working at a fast-food restaurant chain, Sara failed to notice where she was going, or if any bystanders were in front of her for that matter. Driving along she immediately stopped when someone screamed at her.

“Hey! I’m walking here! Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” a man- a rather horrible-looking man with five o’clock (actually more like ten o’clock…) shadow and messy oily hair- said, slamming his palms on the hood of her car. That got Sara’s attention and she waited to make sure he made it across the street before she started moving again.

Smooth, she thought to herself. Almost hitting a bystander because she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going in her haste to find a diversion told her she was desperate.

But then Sara saw something… that man who she almost hit had been a gift from god. Just as she stopped she saw a paper on one of the telephone poles with an ad for one of the night clubs on the Strip. Sara reached over the passenger’s seat and tore it off the pole in order to reach it before she got back on the road and pulled over to read it.

The club was called Midnight. Sara had heard of it, but she wasn’t one to go around to Vegas clubs and bars on her nights off so she had never actually known anything about it, other than that it opened a few years ago. If it was still open that meant that it was probably getting pretty good business. Looking down at the paper, Sara reached into the glove compartment and took out her mini mag-lite- something she always kept in her car incase of emergency- to better read the paper in the dark of the night.

Wanted: Performers for Midnight Night Club

Sara felt the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach again- this could be it.

Must be at least 18 years of age to apply.

That wasn’t going to be a problem for Sara.

Will hire: Dancers, stand-up comics, magicians, singers…

That was all Sara needed to see- if she could make the cut for this place she would have her diversion.

Looking down at herself, she frowned- brown slacks, mahogany sweatshirt, flat shoes. She didn’t exactly look the part that was for sure. She had just gotten off shift not too long ago, so she didn’t stop at her apartment to change clothes or get all dolled-up. She didn’t really think it would matter, though, because it was just an audition, after all… if some crazy person inside that building actually liked her voice she didn’t think what she looked like was going to matter much to anyone. She didn’t really have anything all that dressy anyways, so she decided just to go as she was and get it over with.

Putting the car back in drive, Sara pulled back out and headed off to the club.

The Midnight Night Club had been a regular destination for drifters, tourists, and Vegas residents for almost five years now. It was open from midnight to five in the morning- hence the name- seven days a week. The outside of the building left a lot to be desired- the building looked old and run-down; the stucco was beginning to get an ugly grey color to it with tarnished the light orange color the place was supposed to be. It had a large sign over the door that clashed with the orange stucco of the building with navy blue neon lights that flashed that read ‘Midnight’ in large writing, and underneath ‘Night Club’.

Sara pulled up in front of the building, looking at the clock- it was about 12:45 now, so the place was open, she knew by looking at the hours of business sign outside right next to the ‘no loitering’ sign probably purchased at a hardware or drug store. Pulling down her visor above her, Sara looked at herself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down stray strands of rebelling hair. Reaching behind her seat, she grabbed her bag and looked around- a few make-up touch-ups wouldn’t do much harm, would they?

Sara never went overboard with her make-up, so she kept only a small quantity on her person for small touch-ups. Usually she only wore a dash of lip-gloss and some eye shadow and she was done, so that made it easy to find when she actually chose to do touch-ups. Looking at herself in the mirror, Sara quickly applied a color of eye shadow she felt drew attention to her eyes (if they were drawn to her eyes, they wouldn’t really be staring at the rest of her body which was what she was aiming for), and put on a light color of lip-gloss before putting everything away and putting the visor up.

Unlocking her door, Sara stepped out and closed the door, locking the car up. Smoothing out the sides of her sweater, she took a deep breath, looking down at her feet. She felt so nervous, like she did the first time she went in for a job interview. But she shouldn’t feel nervous, she thought, because that would make her audition mean nothing if she was nervously fidgeting or rambling whilst she were doing it. She had to be smooth, confident- that meant no insistent hair-flipping, no nervous biting of the nails, and no playing with loose threads on her clothing. She had to be perfect and straight-forward; the way she was with murder suspects in the interrogation room.

Composing herself, Sara put both arms to her sides as she approached the building. Pushing the door open with her elbow, she was surprised at what she discovered in the building. For a night club on the Strip she was expecting strippers and loud music blaring through the speakers. This place actually looked rather nice- the flooring was a nice deep red color; the carpet almost looked like velvet. The walls were a nice calming cream color and they were covered in photographs of the Strip and various performers. To her left was an oak-finished bar with about ten stools pulled up, four of which were occupied by customers. The bartender looked like a fairly decent person, too, and to her surprise greeted her with a kind smile.

“Welcome to the Midnight, Miss,” he told her, currently drying a glass with a white towel. “Can I get you something to drink- Bacardi and coke, or maybe a cold beer, perhaps?”

As appetizing as that sounded, Sara had a job, no a mission, to accomplish. “No thanks,” she told the man, reluctantly turning down his offer. “I’m looking for the owner, actually,” she said, reaching into her pocket for the flyer she had gotten off of the telephone pole. “I was interested in auditioning here to be a performer,” she explained, showing him the flyer.

The bartender smiled, nodding down at the paper in understanding. “I’ll get him for you, please have a seat while you wait and make yourself comfortable,” he told her, motioning toward one of the barstools as he walked out from behind the bar Sara thought he probably spent most of his hours behind and headed toward the back of the building.

Sara nodded and sat down as he suggested, taking another look around the building; signs for Budlight, Corona, Samuel Adams, Heineken and other imported beers. The bar area looked rather nice with the arrangement they had chosen, however, and it didn’t look like a sloppy bar where drunks came to wash their worries away beer after beer.

In moments the bartender was walking back toward the bar with a man trailing behind him who Sara assumed to be the owner and manager of the building. He was an older-looking man with graying hair and round glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. Sara didn’t think he looked like someone who would own a night club on the Vegas Strip, but then again she thought maybe he was the reason this place looked so nice and decent inside. She figured that a younger manager would’ve made this place into a regular strip club just like anywhere else.

“Yes… how can I help you, Miss?” the older man asked, taking off his glasses to wipe them off with his shirt.

“Hi…” Sara said, getting off of the stool, suddenly feeling much more nervous than she previously had. “My name’s Sara Sidle, I’m here about the auditions for performers?” she said, handing him the flyer she had showed to the bartender.

The man looked like he had never seen the flyer before in his life, which struck Sara as odd seeing how he was the manager after all. He squinted at it and held it closer to his face to try and read it. “Auditions, eh?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Sara replied.

“Oh! That’s what he was talking about!” the old man said. Sara raised a brow in curiosity. “I may be the manager, honey, but I’m not the manager of our performers and entertainment,” he told her, handing her back the flyer. “That’s Trey’s job, he’s in charge of all that stuff,” he explained.

“Where can I find Trey?” Sara asked, beginning to get impatient. Old age or not, this guy wasn’t giving her the information he should know to give her.

“Someone said my name?” Sara turned around to see a man about her age, if not a little older or younger. He had clean-cut dark brown hair and dark, glistening green eyes. He was clean-shaven and the first few buttons were undone on his shirt, revealing his hairless chest. He had a nice building and Sara could see his muscles through his clothes. She almost focused on his body more than the possibility that this man could be the person she was looking for. “How can I help you?” he then asked, looking at Sara.

“…Trey?” Sara asked, mentally cursing as the old man hadn’t given her his last name. She felt it was rude that she barely knew the man and she was calling him by his first name, it was like a student calling their teacher by their first name.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Trey Wolfe,” he said. “And you are…?”

“Sara,” she immediately replied. Shaking her head, she said, “I, I, mean… my name’s Sara Sidle- First name Sara, last name Sidle.”

“Well, okay First Name Sara, Last Name Sidle,” he said with a grin. “How can I help you?”

“I, uh…” Sara stuttered- so much for not being nervous. “Uh…”

“She saw one of them… dern flyers you put up,” the old man butted in. “Son, you’ve gotta tell me when you put them stuff up. Customers ‘er confusin’ me.”

“Sure,” Trey said, looking over at the older man. “Sara…” he then said, turning to look at her. “Why don’t we go somewhere a little quieter? My office is just in the back,” he said, motioning toward the back of the building with his thumb.

“Sure,” Sara said, nodding a little as she allowed him to lead her toward the back. Thank god he got me away from that old man; I was beginning to think about punching him in the face.

“Have a seat,” Trey said once they were in his office. It was a rather large room with more pictures of performers- probably the ones he recommended and/or hired- framed on his walls and desk. Sara nodded and took a seat in one of the red leather chairs across from him. “So Sara…” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re here to audition.”

Sara nodded. “I saw the flyer and thought I’d give it a shot.”

Trey just nodded, looking at her for a minute. Sara didn’t exactly know what he was looking for in his gaze, but he stared at her for some time, remaining absolutely silent. She hated silence like this; this was usually the time in the job interview where the man would say ‘We’ll keep in touch’, which really meant ‘You just screwed this up big time’. “You’re really pretty, you know that?” he asked.

Sara laughed a little, taken aback as it was the last thing she was expecting him to say to her. “Thanks…” she said, trying to hide the redness that was flushing her cheeks.

He just nodded, biting a pen in his mouth as he thought. “So what do you want to do here as a performer? Dance, sing?” he asked.

“Sing, actually,” Sara told him. “I don’t know if I’m much of a singer, but…”

“Nonsense,” he told her, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sing something. Come on, right now, sing something.”

“Oh, I…” Sara immediately felt her stomach drop. She knew she was going to have to sing eventually, but…

“Come on, don’t be shy,” he told her. “I’m sure you have a beautiful voice. I can even put the radio on and you can sing along,” he told her, reaching over and flipping a switch on his radio, turning the volume knob. “Ah, Sheryl Crow,” he said, listening to the song fill the room through the speakers. “Anyone can sing along to Sheryl Crow. Go ahead and try,” he told her, motioning with his hand for her to start.

This is it, Sara, you can do this, Sara told herself. It wasn’t like she had never sung along to Sheryl Crow before; this was going to be easy! And actually, she had sung along to this very song. Go for it.

“My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away…” Sara sang along to the first verse. “But every now and then you come to mind…

‘Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side…”

“Stop right there,” Trey said.

Oh shit, you blew it, Sara! She told herself, starting to panic. Let me do another song! I…I had something in my throat! That’s what it was! That’s not my real singing voice!

Trey looked over at her, his face hard to read. Sara could normally read what people were thinking or feeling by the look in their eyes, but at the moment she could not do so. “…That was…” Trey started.

Horrible, I know! Dreadful, nails on a chalkboard, torture—

“Amazing,” he finished.

Embarrassing—wait… what? Sara thought, blinking. “…What?”

“That was absolutely amazing,” he told her, shooting her a smile. “I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

“…I…you…really?” Sara asked in disbelief.

“Of course!” Trey said. “And coincidentally I’m not only the manager of this stuff… I’m the musician,” he grinned. “I play the piano, so you’ll be up on stage with me,” he told her. “I hope you don’t mind that too, too much,” he smiled.

“I… of course not!” Sara said. “I’d… be honored…”

“Good,” he smiled, “Then you’re hired! When is it convenient for you to come in?”

“Well…” Sara said. “I work the night shift…so…” she thought aloud. “Maybe… Friday nights?” she asked. “I can come in whenever.” I have enough personal time.

“Sure, that would be wonderful,” he told her. “So let me show you around a little and help you get used to the place,” he said, getting up from his seat and walking over to the door. Sara got up, silently cheering in victory as he led her out the door. “So…” he said, walking down a long hallway made by a long red velvety curtain hanging from the ceiling. “This is the stage,” he told her, walking up a few steps. “Come on up!” he encouraged her.

Sara nodded slowly and made her way up the stairs, stopping right next to him. “It’s so… big,” Sara said, unable to think of anything else to use to describe it.

“Isn’t it, though?” he asked, walking over to one of the sides of the stage and pulling on a gold-colored tassel. Slowly the curtains parted to reveal rows of tables and chairs for the audience, which, at this time, was not present. “You’re going to be up here,” he told her, walking over to her.

“…Wow,” Sara said, still not really believing her eyes. The building looked so… small from the outside!

“Yeah, it really is something,” he sighed, slowly moving closer to her. “You’ll have to wear something a little more… stage-worthy, of course,” he smiled.

Sara laughed. “I just wore these from work.”

“So I gathered,” he smiled, “But you have such a nice body…” he mused, putting both of his hands on her shoulders. “You’re so tall, and you have such nice legs… wouldn’t you like to show them off?” he asked, his hands slowly moving downwards, traveling down her arms. “A dress, perhaps, that showed off your arms…” he suggested.

Sara was now starting to feel uncomfortable. She didn’t exactly like where this guy’s hands were going… but maybe he was just trying to help? If he was trying to help, he wasn’t. Sara didn’t like getting touched. She almost let out a squeak at what he did next.

“And your stomach is so flat,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and slowly drawing her toward him. “You wouldn’t have to worry about weight, that’s not an issue for you…” he mumbled, his hands slowly traveling up…

“Y-You know what, I really need to go,” Sara said, quickly breaking out of his grasp. “I… I’m sorry, it’s late, I need to go…” she repeated, resisting the urge to shake like a shaggy dog after a bath. “I have work early tomorrow, and… gosh, it’s almost 3:00 am!” Sara said, laughing weakly as she peeked at her watch on her wrist.

“Okay,” he shrugged. “I’ll see you on Friday!”

“…Right! Friday…” Sara said. “…Goodbye!” she added, almost running off of the stage toward the door of the building. She didn’t care about anything or anyone else at that moment, she wanted… something. A shower, to get rained on, heck she would’ve even settled for being splashed by a taxi!

“Congratulations,” the bartender said as she made her way to the door. “I suppose I’ll be seeing more of you!”

“…Yeah!” Sara said. “Uh… goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” the bartender said, but Sara was already out of the building.

Sara ran to her car, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, rubbing her arms with her hands as if to warm herself up.

Don’t shoot him, Sara, she told herself, he’s only the piano player.
 
I dunno what to say. I always love your writing, but this was incredible. The diction was crisp and clear, and the imagery was amazing... I love how you set the stage for what is to come, and I'm curious to see how Warrick finds out about this guy... and what he does about i!
 
love the fic so far!! cant wait to see a new chapter. so far i think you captured the characters really well. especially the creeper musician (trey). kinda reminds me of that chris guy that they had catherine date...lol. but who knows maybe he was ur inspiration...:). anyways update soon please:)
 
lol gotta love those late night sudden inspirations (thats how a lot of school assignments get finished) :) hope to hear more soon:)
 
I agree 100% with what Zan said. You're one of the most talented writers I've come across - you should totally publish some of your fics!

I can't wait to see what happens next - eek, poor Sara getting groped like that. Warrick'd punch his lights out! lol

It just proves how talented ya r cos I'm not even a Warrick/Sara fan! lol


Xx..::Mia-Sara::..xX
 
Hi !!
I think you had great inspiration :
Sara singing + maybe Warrick playing piano or guitar = an excellent story !!
Keep it up !!
Megara
 
Thanks Cordelia! That comment just made my day :D *huggles* Warrick/Sara's a great ship, so maybe you could stop by in the WS thread some time? *hint, hint, nudge, nudge* ;)

Thanks Megara and Sissi! :D *huggles both*
 
lol, y'know what, I probably will, even though I'm a GSR prodominantly and then a lil bit of Snickers. I'm fairly open minded lol. And with writers like you, it just makes us multishippers even more confuzled!! lol



Xx Mia-Sara xX

ETA: I popped on over to the W/S thread and gave a short, random post lol.
 
Oh! It was very good, I liked it a lot and really want to know where it's going. I'm not really a Warrick/Sara shipper but this has got me interested! Keep it going!
 
Aww, thanks Cordelia :)

And thanks CSI_in_training! I'm going to update soon; I've been figuring out the plot in my head :) Hehe, I'm so excited! It's so much fun to write this fic; I just hope that you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!
 
Here's the next chapter, guys! I just hope it doesn't suck...!

Fridays were usually the days that employees working places looked forward to the most; it meant that they usually got the weekend to themselves. No paper-pushing, no walking through crowded buildings to get the latest fax to the boss, no worrying about trying to stay alert with the latest memos thrown around the building- the weekends were peaceful days for these hardworking citizens. For the members of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, that wasn’t entirely true. Crime didn’t suddenly stop on Saturdays and Sundays to give the members of law enforcement some time to themselves to rest up and get back to their own lives.

But the possibility of not having the weekend off was the least of Sara Sidle’s worries at the moment. Friday was the day she had told Trey at the Midnight Night Club that she would be coming in to perform. The performance was also one of the least of her worries; she was more worried about what would happen during the performance. All she could think about was how uncomfortable she felt when he touched her, telling how nice a body she had. She couldn’t stop thinking about the possible places his hands could’ve gone if she hadn’t stopped him when she had.

She told herself not to go pointing fingers, however, because for as far as she knew he could just be one of those touchy-feely people, also known as the people you meet for the first time that go in for the infamous greeting known as ‘the hug’ instead of settling for a friendly handshake. Trey seemed like a nice guy, and he really could’ve just been trying to give her advice, she knew. He didn’t seem like one of the creeps she had met while working her job that turned out to be convicted sex offenders in six different states, he seemed like a normal, successful man.

So Sara decided not to make a big deal over it. She didn’t want to ruin the relationship she had with him (which was purely professional in all aspects), seeing how hehad gotten her the job. If she said or did something that gave off a bad vibe from herself to him, she could be out the door in seconds without a diversion and she would be right back where she started. She didn’t want that to happen; it was hard enough finding a place looking for performers the first time and she didn’t want to have to do it again.

So after staying up for about three hours pondering this in her head the night before, Sara was sound asleep under a clump of blankets and pillows in the center of her bed at her apartment. She stirred just a little, waking up momentarily. She immediately regretted this; she always did this. She always woke up before her alarm clock went off which just made how exhausted she was ten times more apparent than the first time she cracked an eye open. She buried her head under a pillow, trying to muffle out the noises of the morning and fall back to sleep like a stubborn teenager who had to get up for school.

And as if on cue- as if Sara was given just the right amount of time to burrow back in her little hole like a small rodent- her alarm clock clicked on and the annoying sound of a cheerful-sounding radio-show host filled throughout her apartment. She didn’t know how loud the volume on her alarm clock was set, but all the layers of blankets and pillows in the world wouldn’t have been able to block out the sound entirely.

“Welcome to 97.7 AM radio!” Sara heard the man saying. She wondered how he could sound so cheery at 6:30 in the morning; she was enthusiastic about her work, yes, but even she wasn’t as alert and excited until she had her first cup of coffee in the morning and had been up for about an hour or so. “It’s currently 6:31 am on Friday, July 18—“

Sara groaned, turning her back to face the alarm clock in defiance. She almost felt like saying, “Five more minutes”, but this guy was persistent and obviously had been at his job for awhile. He was good at being loud and obnoxious.

“Wake up and smell the coffee, sleepy-heads! It’s a beautiful day outside with possible highs of 98 and 101 in Henderson and Las Vegas!”

Whoop-tee-do- that surely made Sara want to get up.

“We’re going to be playing all the greatest hits of the 90’s today, so get up and keep your radio tuned to 97.7!”

“Shut up…” Sara mumbled, finally sitting up and slamming her palm down on the alarm clock snooze button. Throwing pillows away from her so she could get up out of her little pillow-and-blanket fort, Sara yawned and raised her arms high above her head in attempt to wake herself up. Throwing the sheets off of herself she got up and headed toward the bathroom for a shower.

After showering, getting dressed and fixing her hair to make herself presentable, Sara grabbed her things and headed out the door, closing and locking it behind her. Reaching into her pocket, Sara got out her car keys and unlocked her car, getting inside and starting it up. Turning on the radio as she backed out of the parking lot (and making sure she did not in fact tune into 97.7 AM radio), Sara started humming along to Michelle Branch, which ultimately brought her train of thought back to where it was at 3:00 am that morning.

She had already settled on the fact that it was an accident and that Trey didn’t mean anything bad about the way he touched her. He was just that type of person, it didn’t mean he was dangerous, or… lecherous. It just meant that he was friendly, that was it. But try as she might, Sara could not shake the uncomfortable feeling she got in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about it.

You’re obsessing over everything again, she told herself, Stop over-analyzing everything. She was just always weird this way about things like that; she always had been. She was just being careful, she told herself. One of her pet-peeves had always been being touched, and she barely knew Trey. Any physical contact with a person she didn’t know very well other than talking or a handshake made her uncomfortable… so why just focus on Trey? There was no reason to, she told herself. He was a nice, normal guy who gave her the way out of her black tunnel of doom leading to her burning-out.

But working her job, Sara had seen so many things like this that had quickly escalated to something more. A simple touch… an ‘accident’, had sometimes turned into severe molestation charges, or worse. She wasn’t a victim, though, she told herself once more, she was just being paranoid. She was not a victim and Trey was not a threat to her or anyone else. He was her partner, he was the piano player.

Finally reaching the lab, Sara got out of her and closed the door after grabbing her bag, taking a deep breath. She told herself to think of something else; if she looked as serious as she did now that would look fishy to the other CSIs in the building, and they would be able to worm the story of what happened the other night out of her. Then Trey would get in trouble, she would lose her job… and that wasn’t necessary…

…Because Trey wasn’t a bad guy, and she wasn’t a victim.

Walking through the double glass doors of the lab, Sara put a smile on her face as she headed to the break room. Now that she had gotten all her worries about her new job out of the way, she could think of the positive things about it. The rush she would get when she was on stage in front of a large crowd of people- or the sudden jerk in her stomach she would feel that would make her vomit all over the people sitting in the first row of the large crowd of people (Positive, Sara, stay positive)- that would make her feel great. The spotlight would be on her, everyone would be watching her, waiting to see what she would do. She liked that, as she had never really gotten that much attention in her lifetime outside of the workplace.

Walking into the locker room Sara turned the lock on the metal locker that belonged to her until it clicked off. Taking it off she opened the door and put her bag inside, looking at herself in the small mirror positioned on the door of her locker. She still sort of looked like she had just gotten up, but she knew she would have time to fix herself up later in the evening when she got home before she had to be at the Midnight.

Lost in her own little world, she failed to notice Warrick walk into the room before he made his entry in the room verbal. “Hey Sara,” he greeted her, making her jump a little as he opened up his own locker.

“…Hey!” Sara said, finally noticing him being in the room.

Sara Sidle and Warrick Brown’s relationship had been like a rollercoaster ride. Since Sara had been called in by Grissom to handle the internal investigation of the Holly Gribbs case, they had gotten off on a rough front. Sara and Warrick were not ones to take any crap from other people, and since they both had that same personality trait they clashed like light and dark clothes in the wash. Recently, however, they amended their friendship and learned to put aside their differences. Warrick realized that Sara wasn’t out to get him; that she was only doing her job, and Sara realized that Warrick wasn’t someone who didn’t accept responsibility for his actions, that he was a sensitive person with his own personal demons like herself.

“You and I are working together today,” Warrick said, hanging up his jacket on one of the coat hooks in his locker. Taking off his sunglasses, he handed her a small slip of paper containing the information about their assignment.

“…Drive-by shooting,” Sara read off the slip of paper, nodding slowly. “Fun,” she commented dryly, looking up at him with a grin.

“Yeah, well, day-shift is actually handling all the good stuff- we get to search through a clump of metal full of bullet holes for six hours,” he told her.

Sara scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Warrick just shook his head. “Maybe we can ask Greggo for one of his CDs so we at least have some white noise,” he shrugged, closing up his locker.

“Sounds good to me,” Sara smiled.

Warrick nodded, walking out with Sara by his side. “I’ll go see what he has and I’ll meet you in the garage.”

“Deal.”

Two hours into shift Sara and Warrick were still working on the broken-down, rusted, dirty, old, bullet-filled Pontiac that was still missing one wheel in silence. Sara was under the car on a dolly trying to get samples liquid that was dripping from under the car. Actually, she wasn’t sure what wasn’t dripping; it was raining oil, gas and transmission fluid… and she didn’t exactly have an umbrella.

“How’s it going?” Warrick asked, wiping his hands off on an oil-stained rag.

“This car is a piece of crap…” Sara mumbled. “Radiator’s cracked…” she commented, making a grunting noise as she tried to move something on the car’s underside. “And…”

Warrick raised a brow, waiting for her to finish her thought. As Sara was about to speak Greg ran through the doorway, holding up a box full of CDs. “I have the music!” he said in a sing-song voice.

Sara rolled out from under the car, wiping off her forehead with her shirt sleeve. “What’d you got?”

“Metallica…” Greg said, looking through the box. “Led Zeppelin—“

“No thanks,” Sara sighed, rolling back under the car.

“Hey! That’s all good stuff!” Greg said, trying to convince her otherwise. “It’s rock ‘n roll history!” he sang loudly, walking off back to the DNA lab playing air-guitar.

“Well, we don’t want to listen to people who should be prescribed medication of they’re screaming so much in their songs!” Sara sang back, reaching a hand back out from under the car, feeling around for something.

“What are you looking for?” Warrick asked.

“Wrench, can you give it to me?” Sara asked.

“Sure,” Warrick told her, handing her the wrench that her hand just missed. “Say, Sara…”

“Yeah?” Sara asked.

“Has anyone ever told you that you can sing pretty good…?”

At the sound of that, Sara immediately dropped the wrench to the ground, hearing it hit the floor of the garage with a loud clank. Rolling out from under the car, Sara looked over at him, still laying flat on the dolly as she grinned. “So I’ve been told, but personally I think otherwise,” she said, getting to her feet and heading over to the sink to wash up.

“No, really!” Warrick said, following her over to the sink. “I’m serious, girl; you’ve got some pretty nice pipes,” he told her, shooting her a small smile.

“…Well, thanks…” Sara said, unable to hide her grin as she washed her hands after disposing of her oil-stained gloves.

“Have you ever considered doing karaoke at one of the night clubs?” Warrick asked.

Sara just laughed. “Does getting a job at one of the night clubs as a singer count?”

Warrick’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? You did?”

“Yup,” Sara said, finding herself feeling a bit proud of her accomplishment. Warrick was looking on at her in awe, like she had just won some big award. It made her feel pretty good about herself.

“That’s great, Sara,” Warrick said, “Which club?”

“The Midnight,” Sara answered, “I’m performing there tonight, actually,” she told him, unzipping her blue CSI jumpsuit leaving her in her regular work clothes. Actually, for a minute, Sara had to stop and ask herself why she told Warrick she was performing there tonight- did she want him to come, or… was it just something she said off the top of her head? Sara didn’t really even know Warrick as well as, well… Grissom, for example, but they were still friends, and… Sara felt oddly relaxed whenever she was around Warrick…

…and that would certainly help to ease her nerves while she was up on stage in front of a large crowd of people she had never seen before that were watching- waiting- for her to screw up and make a fool of herself. But Sara still ran the risk of making a fool out of herself in front of Warrick, one of her friends, so… she decided not to offer for him to come to her performance that night.

“Well that’ll be fun,” Warrick told her. “So are you getting off-shift now?”

“I better,” Sara smiled, “I need to get this oil and stuff off of me before I go over there. I’m supposed to look stage-worthy,” she said with a grin, throwing her scrubs on the table as she walked off.

“Okay, well… I’ll see you later!” Warrick said.

“See you tomorrow, Warrick,” Sara said, walking down the hallway to the locker room. After making a quick stop there and getting her jacket and bag, Sara walked toward the front doors of the lab. She found herself making a small stop in front of one particular room, however.

Looking into Grissom’s office, she noted that he was currently away from his desk. Looking inside, she saw various test subjects in jars and a… she didn’t know what, sitting on top of his desk proudly next to the little tablet that had his name. Unable to hide her grin, Sara poked her head inside and said, “Told you so.”

Unbeknownst to Sara, Warrick left shortly after she did with one thought on his mind- surprising her. Driving toward his home, he had an uncontrollable smile on his face the entire time. He had noticed that Sara hadn’t offered for him to come that night, which meant she wasn’t expecting him to show up. Well, Warrick was going to surprise Sara and be in the middle of that crowd of people in the audience anyways. He had butterflies in his stomach; he felt like he was going to be throwing a surprise birthday party for someone.

Parking in the driveway of his home, Warrick got out of his car and jogged up to the front door, unlocking it and walking inside. Warrick knew Sara the least out of everyone in Vegas- he even knew Greg better than he knew Sara- and he thought that perhaps after her performance they could go grab a bite to eat or get a drink and get to know each other better. He didn’t know why, but… he was really looking forward to this.
 
AMAZING! I'm in awe of your writing hun! So detailed and...amazing!! I hope there's another update soon - can't wait to see what happens when Rick sees her on that stage lol, and vice versa lol.


lovelove
Xx Mia-Sara xX
 
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