I don't own CSI just the characters I make up.

My first fic. Please reveiw.


She watched him. Asshole. Son of a bitch. Piece of shit. But worse then that, he was a coward. She watched him as he told his story to Brass. Each time he revised his tale, the detective threw another piece of evidence that she and Grissom had collected at him.
Pathetic. She would have thought he'd at least try to preserve the dignity he had left by keeping his mouth shut. Asshole.

What makes him tick? She thought to herself. Did he enjoy hitting her? Did he think the bruises and cuts and badly broken nose was sexy? Was he so blinded by anger that he couldn't see he was beating his wife to death? Too many questions she thought. She settled on her original assessment. He was an asshole.

"Brian Settle you're under arrest for the murder of Chloe Settle." Jim Brass's words trailed off in Sara's mind or maybe she just stopped listening to him. She pushed herself away from the corner of the interrogation room with her left foot, her arms remained folded over her chest, her head down as she crossed to the door and left the room.

Grissom was waiting outside. He looked at her. After a case like this she was usually so angry but today she seemed distracted.

"You did good work Sara." She had done good work. The case had been frustratingly obvious, but they had struggled to connect the husband to crimes. Sara had found a series of tiny carpet fibers that had been transfered from the husbands shoe to his wife's face. They connected the crime to carpets in his office, his girlfriend's bedroom and the snooker room at his favorite bar, and of course to his shoe. Tiny fibers almost invisible on her body and in the wad of gum lodged in his tread. But she'd found them.

"Thanks." She said quietly.

"Tea?" She looked up at him. He held a paper cup in his hand, that tag of a tea bag dangling over the side. She accepted it.

They sat down on a bench in the hall. It was late. Shift had been over for several hours.

She looked up at him.

"Sometimes I have flashbacks." She admitted looking down again quickly. "The black eyes, the large sunglasses she wore to cover them, bruises on her stomach," her voice was quiet, monotone and it got quieter still, "her legs, the fear in her eyes."

Grissom was unsure what to say so he tried the obvious,

"Your mother?" He asked. A few silent tears fell down her cheeks, her eyes followed Brass and a young uniformed cop as they escorted Brain Settle down the hall.

"No," She answered him. Grissom was a little surprised. Who was she talking about? She answered his unasked question.
"My ex-girlfriend."


What do you think? Please let me know.