Author's Notes: Sometimes a story idea hits you so hard that you have to start writing and sharing, even if you're in the middle of another project. That in no way means that the other project is abandoned or even put on hold. It just means the writer is a multi-tasker;)
This story came about after an evening marathon of the first season of "America's Next Top Model" on VH1. If you need to blame someone for it, blame Tyra.
Beauty and the Beholder
by Kristen Elizabeth
You're gonna find, yes, you will
That you're as beautiful as you feel
- Carole King
"That's great, Sara. Amazing. Now just turn a little bit to your left…exactly. Hold that."
If you had told twenty-two year-old Sara Sidle that becoming a CSI would eventually result in having her picture taken for a prominent magazine, she would have balked at the very idea, and probably gone on a twenty-minute rant about inequality between the sexes in the work place and the unnecessary sexualization of career women in order to keep them as objects rather than co-workers.
But that would have been before years of being seen as "one of the guys" took a toll on her self-perception to the point where she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt truly beautiful.
"One more, Sara. Look beyond me…like you just had a breakthrough on a big case."
Beyond the photographer, beyond the lights, there was a sea of familiar faces, all gathered to witness what most of them never thought possible. But there was one face in particular that stood out.
And he was not happy. At all.
It all started a week earlier.
For Sara, it hadn't been a very good day to begin with, and she'd only been awake for an hour, thanks to a temporary power outage in her building that had prevented her alarm clock from going off. Fortunately her inner clock was so conditioned that she was able to make it into work with only minutes to spare. But there had been no time for any sort of grooming.
So she arrived at the lab in black pants and a black turtleneck, sans makeup and with her hair limp around her shoulders. She told herself that it didn't matter what she looked like; her job was hardly appearance-based. After grabbing a much-needed cup of coffee, she slipped into her usual seat around the break room table, between Nick and Warrick.
"Let me guess," Nick said. "Alarm clock didn't go off?" Sara shot him a look. "Hey, it's all good," he went on. "I admire a woman who'd rather be on time than have on makeup."
She knew him well enough to know that he truly meant it as a compliment. But that didn't stop his words from stinging.
And it certainly didn't help matters when Catherine strolled in a moment later, looking like she was vying to be America's next top model. How did she afford clothes like that, anyways? Sara had a pretty good idea of what she took home every month, and it probably wasn't enough to budget in designer labels.
She sat at the head of the table with a toss of her perfectly layered blonde locks. Her glossed lips were turned up in a coquettish smirk.
"You look like you just ate a canary, Cat," Warrick noted.
"Not quite." Catherine leaned forward. "I had dinner with Sam and my mother last night."
"Well, certainly can't account for your good mood," Nick said.
"You're right. But this can. Sam has a friend in the magazine industry."
Sara spoke up. "Doesn't he have friends in every industry?"
"True," Catherine conceded. "But this particular friend has connections at Glamour magazine. As it turns out, she's getting ready to put out a major article on real-life criminalists."
"About damn time someone did." Warrick snorted softly. "I can't turn on the TV anymore without seeing some actor picking up evidence with his bare hands."
"Or collecting without photographing," Nick added.
Greg tacked on, "Or only taking one photo."
Catherine ignored them and focused on Sara. "Guess which real-life criminalists are going to be photographed for the article?"
"Congrats," Sara said, wryly. "I'm sure you'll do us all pro…wait." She frowned. "Criminalists? Plural?"
"Mm-hmm. See, they really want two models. Women, since the article focuses on females in forensics." The older woman turned up her smile a notch. "I volunteered you."
Sara's jaw dropped. All eyes were on her, waiting for her reaction. After the initial shock had passed, she blinked and reached for her coffee. "Then you can just un-volunteer me. I am no model."
"I knew you were going to shoot this down without even considering it," Catherine sighed. "Listen, if it helps, you weren't my first choice. But Sofia had to go and join the force, and they really want women currently working in the field." She looked at the boys. "As I'm sure you're aware, there's a severe lack of ladies in the lab."
"Lack of ladies in the lab," Greg repeated. "Try saying that five times fast."
Sara hoped her eye wasn't visibly twitching. She was well aware that she didn't have what it took to stop traffic. She didn't even have what it took to distract a certain man from his bugs. And she certainly didn't need Catherine throwing that in her face. "My heart goes out to you," she snapped. "But I'm not interested."
Catherine folded her arms over her chest. "How can you not be interested? We'll get to keep the clothes." She gave Sara's outfit a once-over. "Trust me, that's a good thing."
Her cheeks burned; why couldn't this attack have taken place on a day when she'd at least gotten to wash her hair? "I'm not sure how much clearer I can make this. I am not about to let myself be humiliated on a national scale. If you're okay with having your intelligence undermined in favor of your physical appearance, that's your prerogative. But I…"
Nick cut her off. "Sara, c'mon. At least consider it."
"What?" She rounded on him. "Are you seriously advocating that I do this?"
"I am," Greg spoke up. "I'll buy ten copies when it comes out."
"Forget it," Sara reiterated. "It's not going to happen."
Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Why? Give me five good, legitimate reasons, and I'll drop the subject and never bring it up again."
Holding up her hand, Sara started counting down with each finger. "One, I loathe the idea of being exploited."
"It's a professionally written article about the positive impact of women in forensic science," Catherine interrupted. "We'll be wearing business suits, expensive business suits, but nothing even remotely exploitative. Next."
"Two, as you were so quick to point out, and no one seemed able to dispute, I am not model material."
Warrick shot her a cool frown. "Girl, I'd pick you in a Best Legs contest any day of the week."
Sara's hard expression softened a bit. "Long legs do not a model make." She waved her hand over her face. "It's all about this."
"What's your third lame excuse?" Catherine asked, brusquely. When Sara didn't immediately reply, she pointed a triumphant finger at her. "Ah-ha! See? You couldn't even make it to three."
"Give me a minute and I…"
Nick gently cut her off. "Sara, think about it this way. No one will expect you to do something like this." He winked at her. "You might just set this place on its ear."
"I can't believe that you want me to embarrass myself like this." Sara shook her head. "So much for friendship."
"That's not what he's doing, Sara. He's just trying to get you to see what we see when we look at you." Greg shrugged. "Hotness."
The compliment helped, however misguided by leftover hormones it might have been, but she wasn't quite ready to concede just yet. Sara looked up at the overhead lights until the glare was too much and she had to close her eyes. "I am so going to regret this," she muttered.
"Regret what?" Grissom's sudden appearance forced her eyes open. He had wandered into the room sometime in the midst of her internal debate, and stopped across the table from her, waiting for an answer.
Catherine stepped in when Sara couldn't find the words. "I'm trying to convince Sara to do a photo shoot with me for Glamour magazine."
Grissom frowned. "Why?"
"Because we're smart, sexy scientists," Catherine shot back. "And women, in case you'd forgotten."
"I hadn't forgotten." He went to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "I just don't consider it relevant."
It was right then that Sara made her mind to not only do this, but to enjoy it. Her femininity was so transparent that it didn't even register on Grissom's radar. There probably wasn't anything she could do about that. But what she could do was make sure it didn't disappear completely. And if she had to display whatever goods she had between the glossy pages of a magazine in order to do that, it would be well worth the risk of embarrassment.
She turned to Catherine. "When and where?"
"You're in?"
Sara's smile was hard. "Oh…I'm in."
To Be Continued