super5

Catherine leaned against the bar, sipping a martini and eyeing Sara who was clad in a red and black dress. "So you and Nick huh?" I said and she smirked. "Had a feeling that was going to come up," she replied, swallowing the remains of a rum and Coke. "We're fine."

"And Grissom?" I inquired.

"He has a girlfriend."

Nick appeared out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of glasses and I smiled. 'Already got him trained,' I laughed silently and he sat them down on the table. "Yeah, from what Warrick said, she's a hell of a lacrosse player," he replied, red button down shirt matching Sara's dress. "He can't stop raving about the play she made."

"That's because you didn't see it," the darker man said, shaking his head. He reached for a remote and turned on ESPN2 which was showing highlights from the game. "Look." The light from the TV bounced off of the form fitting grey t-shirt he wore, giving it a metallic hue as the announcer continued to drone on.

"The 'Raging Russian', number 24 Natasha Steward strikes with less than 10 seconds on the clock," one of the anchormen said as the smaller girl flew threw mid air and flipped, scoring over the opposite team. "Have you ever seen anything like that?!"

Crossing his arms, Nick leaned against the wall, frowning. "Never saw Grissom as the athletic type," he mused and Doc Robbinson snorted, looking casual in a light blue polo shirt and black slacks, leaning on his brace. "What do we know about Grissom period?" he said outloud.

Sara smiled sadly as the TV was clicked off. "Not enough," she reasoned and I peered at her. "Are you going to be ok with this set up?" I asked and she nodded. "Yeah, Cath, I'll be fine with it," Sara said, waving her hand. "Just thinking. I've met Natasha before; she's a nice girl."

'Any woman hates to be bested,' I thought sadly and I put a hand on her shoulder before turning at hearing a knock at the door. Nick walked over and opened it, revealing Grissom and Natasha. "I hope we're not late," Grissom said and Nick ushered them in. "Not at all. Hello Ms. Steward. Glad you could make it," he replied and she shook his hand, smiling. "I don't miss an excuse to party Mr. Stokes, Ms. Sidle, Ms. Willows, Doctor Robbinson, Warrick," she said, the slightest hint of an accent in her voice.

"Uh-uh," Nick tisked, waving a finger. "If you call Q-tip head by his first name, that goes for all of us." Warrick tossed a pillow at his head while Sara and I laughed. "Ditto," I inputed and Sara nodded. "We're not that special."

Stitches adorned her cheek, giving a hint that her tiny body held more strength than she might let on. "On LVU's campus, you're celebrities," Natasha said coyly and Doc laughed. "College students..." he remarked.

"We are an odd bunch," she said, chuckling and Nick reached over, turning on the music and pointed to the floor. "Hey, this is a party you know!" he called out and started to dance to Warrick's amusement. "What do you call that?" he asked.

"Dancin'!" Nick replied and stalked over to Sara, taking her hand. "Hey!" The brunette rolled her eyes but followed her beau onto the dancefloor as more people began to arrive. One of them engaged Grissom in conversation and Natasha gave him a kiss on the cheek, seperating from him, finding her way to the bar where I was. "Hello Catherine," she said softly, sitting down but with the tilt to her voice, it sounded more like 'Katerina'. 'Russian, most definatly,' I thought and I smiled back. "Hi, having fun?"

A smile. "As much as I'm able," Natasha answered. "I don't do good at parties."

"Really?" I said, still drinking and I guestured at the bar which Doc Robbinson was working. "Doc makes a mean martini." Tossing back her head and laughing one of those laughs that made men turn their heads in bars. 'She's lively...' "You forget that I'm not old enough to drink," she grinned slyly. "However...Doc, you have any vodka back there?"

The bearded coroner turned bartender raised an eyebrow. "Nothing but 100 proof," he said and Natasha raised a shoulder. "Child's play, I'll take it." When I looked at her, she tucked her hair behind her ears. "My father used to put vodka in my bottles as a baby, even when I was child, he'd put it in my soda so it wouldn't be 'too Americanized'," she grinned, accepting the drink.

I shook my head. "He gave you alcohol as a kid?" I inquired and she nodded. "East Berlin in the mid 80's was radically different than America. I used to say my father was more Russian than human; he morned the assisination of the Czars even though he wasn't even born and he was determined to make me proud of what I was." The glass was held easily between her fingers as she took small swallows, looking out at the party. 'Not your typical woman, Gris,' I thought and smiled. "It seems like you are," I said and she nodded. "Natasha, do you have any other family?"

The younger girl nodded. "A cousin; she's 8 but she lives in Moscow. And my grandmother and my aunt who live here," she replied. "What about you?"

"A daughter, 7," I said and she smiled. "Kids are great aren't they?"

"Oh yeah...ever thought of having any?"

Natasha grinned. "One day. I'd like to adopt," she said softly. "Some child that everyone else gave up on. Everybody deserves a chance." I grinned back at her, finishing my drink and sitting it back on the counter. "That's true...what about you and Grissom?"

Blinking, she sat her half finished vodka on the tile. "We're...ok," she mused outloud. "He wants me to move in with him."

"Really?" I said, shocked. "But you don't seem too thrilled about it."

Her brown eyes had a glint in them. "Are you sure you're not a physicologist in your spare time?" she asked and I smirked. "I'm a woman; I'm just as good. And I don't charge as much."

Natasha smirked. "True...I just like the way things are," she said, sighing. "I told him I was keeping my apartment..."

"So then what's the problem?"

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