Disclaimer: I don't own CSI/Sara/Cath/Any other character, they are the property of CBS/Bruckheimer. This is just me playing with someone else's toys. But don't worry, they are most certainly having fun and I promise to put them back unharmed when I'm finished. Seriously, no copyright infringement intended folks.

Authors Note: Hello my friends, I'm afraid I have a serious case of mental block on my other story 'Come Ride With Me.' I've been rather down of late and have somehow lost my direction a little bit with it. I should have planned it much better than I did. Thank you for all your kind reviews. Let me reassure you, I'm not giving up but I've decided to have a little break from it, get a bit of distance, in the hope that I can jumpstart the flow again.

However, still being hooked by the Sara/Cath pairing and needing to cheer myself up somehow, I've been allowing my mind to wander away in other directions resulting in another story uncoiling itself in the recesses of my brain. So ok, it's probably not the newest of ideas, I officially suck at titles and it is also not intended to be a majorly long fic BUT it is my plan to update very regularly (hooray), obviously the more reviews and love I get from you all, the faster the brain-cells work. :-) So please, please let me know what you think - I really need a bit of a boost.

Warning: This story contains sex between two consenting females. It has been rated M for sexual content. If femmeslash is not your thing or you are not old enough to read this, don't go any further.

High-Five

Chapter 1

Sara pulled herself back from the vacant trance she'd slipped into and began to re-read her scrawl adding the occasional dot to an i and cross to a t before adding her signature to the end. It does look like chicken scratch she thought to herself with a half-tut remembering Nick's comment about her handwriting once. She knew that by now Grissom was well used to translating her scribblings and seeing as he was the only person who needed to be able to read it, she didn't much care. She folded the paper into three, tucked it inside an envelope and addressed it to 'Gil Grissom' before sliding it carefully into the inside breast pocket of her jacket.

Sara stretched and rose to her feet letting her eyes sweep the room. Greg was in the lab opposite waiting for Wendy to give him his case-clinching DNA results and he was clearly trying out his schoolboy charms on his successor. Wendy shook her head disapprovingly at his antics but Sara saw something in her eyes that belied her unimpressed exterior. She saw warmth and a definite twinkle. That boy could be 'in' there if only he'd stop to notice she thought with a smile. Greg was such a lovely guy, he deserved to be happy and now he had stopped chasing her maybe he'd eventually see his chance elsewhere.

Sara's feet beat a familiar path through the warren of labs towards Grissom's office. Her watch showed that shift finished over an hour ago so with any luck he might have too. No such luck! Grissom was ensconced behind his desk surrounded by textbooks, his glasses balancing on the end of his nose and a cream-cheese bagel held in mid-air as he took great interest in something in one of the visibly weightier tomes. I guess he might not even notice me if he's that engrossed she mused but quickly decided against it. Tomorrow would suffice. She pointed herself back in the direction of the locker room only to hear a scuffling behind her and Grissom clear his throat to speak. Great!

"Sara, could I have quick word if you have a second?" Grissom had phrased his request as a question in his usual polite way but as Sara was well aware, there was no possibility of answering 'No.' She turned to face her stocky, greying supervisor, a neutral expression on her face. Grissom gestured to the chair opposite his and re-seated himself presiding like a king on his throne. Sara stepped into the slightly musty room glancing at all the bottles, jars and tanks on shelves lining the walls.

"You know it's like a 7-Eleven for witches in here," she grimaced at a particularly vile looking container of overactive miniature cockroaches.

Grissom looked amused. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Sara rolled her eyes then looked expectantly at her boss waiting for him to finish polishing an especially resilient spec from his glasses. He always polished his spectacles when he had something to say which may well not sit well with his audience. When it didn't look like he was going to spill anytime soon she prompted him.

"Griss, today would be nice."

"Oh, yes, right," he began like he'd genuinely forgotten he had something to say. Then in the style peculiar to himself he launched straight to the point. "I've arranged for you to represent us at the forensics convention in Miami on Thursday."

Sara blinked and shook her head as if his universal translator had ceased functioning and his words had emerged in Klingon. "What?"

"At least two CSI's from the department need to go and I've selected you."

Sara's mouth hung open. "So I don't have enough of a life outside the department for you to ask me if I'm able to first?"

Grissom looked surprised. "I thought you'd be pleased. You're the first person I thought of. I'd have gone myself but I'm due in court on the Hatcher case. The department is even stumping up a small budget for you to bring back a couple of the latest gadgets as you see fit." He tilted his head to one side, "so are you able to?"

"It is Tuesday morning." Sara announced incredulously at her supervisor's furrowed brow. They both knew the reason Grissom had chosen her was because she had nothing else in her life that would prevent her going. She wondered if now was the time to slap him round the head with the envelope currently burning through her jacket pocket.

"That is correct." Grissom had modified his tone as if he was explaining something complicated to a child. "So will you be able to go?"

Sara attempted to stare him out but gave in almost instantly. "Yes," she sighed through a clenched jaw. At least having some government dollars to fritter would make it a bit more fun. "Who else is going?" she inquired reluctantly.

"Ecklie has been told to select someone from the day shift to join you. I don't yet know who it will be. The flights have been arranged, your ticket and everything else you'll need is in your pigeonhole."

"You'd already told them yes?" Sara demanded not quite believing what she was hearing. Grissom pursed his lips and his patient expression settled on his face but he said nothing.

"Is that all?" Sara huffed

"Yes." Grissom replied calmly

"Fine. Good. Goodbye." Sara got up from her chair and strode out of the room.

-- -- --

Sara swung the door of the cab shut and tipped the driver. She took the sunglasses from her head and replaced them on her face before swinging her rucksack over her shoulder and making a beeline for the main door of the terminal building. It was very busy. There were what seemed like hundreds of travellers waiting for transfers, sneaking crafty cigarettes before their flights or just generally milling about in the morning sunshine.

If anything, the inside of the terminal building was even more crowded. How am I going to spot Ecklie's nominated victim among this lot? Sara wondered. She checked in, her luggage small enough to carry-on, and went in search of a bar. Forty minutes early, she figured she could squeeze in a Bud or two before meeting her travelling partner.

The time passed quickly as she observed the multitudes to-ing and fro-ing around her. Three beers and a glance at her watch told her it was time to get going. She made her way back to the fountain in the main terminal entranceway where it had been arranged the lucky day-shifter was going to meet her.

Sara perched on the edge of the fountain and busied herself looking for the headphones for her iPod. The last thing she wanted was to have to make polite conversation all flight with a weirdo from days. She rummaged around knowing they were in her bag somewhere but her frustration increased as it became obvious that she would have to take absolutely everything else out in order to find them.

"Whatever it is you've forgotten, it's too late now," an over-familiar voice broke through the noise of the crowd.

Sara's fingers finally stumbled upon the jack end of the phones as her brain registered the voice. She looked up with her mouth open, withdrawing her hand from the backpack thus losing the earpieces once again to its deep dark recesses. "Catherine?"

Remember: Lots of reviews make me smile (and I need to) plus it makes new chapters come quicker. :-) I might even get another up a little later on tonight… I am working on it. :-o