It really hadn't been their idea to take the trip. Brass had mentioned to Cavallo that a series of CSI conferences were being held the third week of July in New York, and wouldn't it be nice to give the Graveyard Shift a break? Cavallo had immediately sent for the Grave shift supervisor, and told him to inform his team to pack their bags.
So that was how Gil Grissom found himself standing in the middle of his living room, staring around with one had clutching a rather heavy duffel bag and the other running frustratingly through his short and slightly curly salt-and-pepper hair. He'd spent the last twenty minutes searching all over his Las Vegas townhouse for the troublesome pair of glasses he'd taken off the night before.
Grissom jumped. His cell phone was ringing shrilly from within the pocket of his jacket.
"Grissom."
"I'm outside—what's the hold up?"
"I seem to have lost my glasses."
He heard a laugh from the other end.
"They're in the bathroom."
"Catherine, how on earth would you know that?"
"On the sink, next to the toothpaste. I'll be down here."
Gil stared at the phone for a moment, then toward the bathroom. He'd checked there, hadn't he? Right after he'd checked the linen closet—
"Damn woman," he chuckled, reaching for the glasses in the exact place she had said. He shook his head as he slipped the offending articles on and made his way to the front door. In all his years, Gil had never been able to understand how Catherine Willows knew everything.
He locked the door to the townhouse and picked up his duffel, swinging his carry-on bag over his shoulder and turning to find the source of his amazement waiting with crossed arms against the SUV parked in front.
"Found them, I see." She smiled from behind her dark sunglasses that hid a pair of brilliantly blue eyes that rivalled Grissom's own.
"Yes, actually. This slightly strange red-headed woman helped me."
" 'Slightly' strange? Isn't that just codeword for 'weird'?"
Grissom smirked as he reached the car, stopping to greet her with a swift kiss on the cheek that she returned. They'd fallen into the habit of the greeting long ago.
"You, my dear, are anything but weird."
A loud honk startled them from their banter. Both leaned to glance inside the front of the SUV to find Greg Sanders stretched across two rows of seats and grinning. The back door opened and Nick Stokes' Texan lilt could be heard from the far back.
"Yo, Grissom, let's get a move on here!" He shouted.
"Hello, Nick," Gil said pleasantly, "do me a favour and throw this in the back, will you?" He tossed the duffel into the back. An 'Oof!' could be heard from behind the hellos from Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, and the spiky-haired lab technician still stretched into the front seat.
Grissom slid into the passenger seat while Catherine climbed behind the wheel and roared the engine to life.
"Let's get this show on the road!"
The Las Vegas airport was buzzing with activity as the six CSIs checked in at the front desk and made their way to the gate. Men, women, and children alike were rushing around past security, shouting to one another and waving passports in each other's faces.
"Boy do I love tourist season," Catherine commented dryly.
"C'mon, Cath, it's not so bad." Warrick said from behind.
"It is when they start killing each other over a bunch of poker chips." She reached into her bag for her boarding pass.
"Now, aren't you glad you're getting a break from all the psychos?"
Catherine shot Greg a look from under her lashes, her strawberry blonde hair falling to frame her face. She handed her pass to the gate attendant.
"I can think of at least one that I can't get rid of."
Greg grinned as Nick and Sara laughed. All together, they boarded the plane.
"What time is it?"
"Stop asking me that."
"I will if you tell me."
"Five minutes since you last asked, Greg."
"Yeah, but what time is that?"
"Don't you have a watch?"
"Packed it by mistake. Seriously, Sara, what time is it?"
"Greg—"
"Come on, Sara, just tell him already!"
"Yeah! Listen to Nicky, Sidle."
"It's eleven o'clock. Happy now?"
"Vegas or New York time?"
Sara growled and reached to hit the younger CSI with her rolled up magazine.
"Whoa! Nicky, a little help!"
Grissom sat back in his seat and smiled.
"Aren't you glad we put him on the end?" He asked the woman beside him.
"A stroke of genius, Gil. Though, I don't think Sara's too happy with the arrangement."
"Ah, but there's the privilege of being the boss," he said wisely, tapping his nose, "certain tasks can be conveniently delegated to another party."
Catherine smirked as she read her magazine.
"Babysitting Greg isn't a task, Gil. It's a foreign legion."
Gil chuckled and sat back to watch Sara attempt to reach across the aisle to throttle the bubbly lab rat. Nick attempted to restrain her, while Warrick sat safely in the window seat next to Nick, laughing as Sara managed to whack Greg with the magazine.
"Ow!"
"This is going to be one of those trips," Warrick muttered, turning to flip through the On-Board directory.
A few seats over, Greg gave a howl.
"Sara! That's sensitive, that is!"
A blast of cold air greeted the group the moment they set foot in LaGuardia airport. In the cool breezeway of the small airport, Gil led the way down to the escalators and the main arrivals area.
He stopped. Behind him, the rest of the team halted into one another and shot him nasty glances from behind their sunglasses.
"Problem, boss?" Nick remarked. Ignoring him, Grissom turned to Catherine.
"Cath?"
"Don't worry, I've got the transportation covered. You guys grab the luggage, I'll grab the car."
Greg, Warrick, Nick, and Sara turned and made their way to the carousel to collect their bags. Catherine pushed her sunglasses up onto her head.
"Could you get my stuff for me?" She asked, searching for the car reservation slip she'd put in there earlier.
"Sure. You'll be outside?"
She grinned.
"As always."
Inside the rented SUV now parked in front of the terminal, Catherine irritably drummed her fingers on the hot steering wheel. What on earth was taking them so long? She'd left Gil and the others over half an hour ago to retrieve the rental car from the lot, with the promise that they would be along soon.
"Damn man," she muttered. Deciding to mull over her best friend for a while, Catherine did not hear the tapping on her window.
"Cath!"
Gil raised an eyebrow as his friend snapped out of her reverie and unrolled the window.
"What's going on? Where is everyone?"
Gil sighed.
"It seems we've run into a few roadblocks," he said, leaning his elbow on the window frame and resting his cheek in his hand.
"What 'roadblocks'?"
"Luggage roadblocks." Grissom removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.
"Luggage—"
Catherine's sentence was cut short as the back door of the SUV opened and Greg climbed inside, followed by Warrick, Nick, and Sara. Warrick and Greg situated themselves in the far back as Sara fumed.
"I can't believe they lost our luggage!"
Catherine's jaw dropped, and she turned to look at Gil, hoping that Sara was telling a rather bad joke.
"Lost?" she said.
"Lost. Still in Vegas, actually—or so they say. I believe our luggage may have caught the nine-fifteen to Alabama, however."
Grissom moved away from the window and slid into the passenger seat.
"Alabama!"
"Yes, Alabama. And by the time they can get the luggage back to us, we'll have flown home. So I had them send our stuff back to Las Vegas."
Catherine stared incredulously at the man sitting across from her, then to the backseat where Sara sat drumming her fingers on the window panel, and Greg, Nick, and Warrick sat rather dejectedly.
"So…let me get this straight—we're in New York, with nothing but our passports and the clothing on our backs, and we're supposed to do—what?"
"I called Brass and told him the situation," Warrick said, running a hand through his hair, "he's having the DA wire us over some money so we can replace what we lost."
"Perfect," Catherine sighed. Why did stuff like that always happen to her? She had the worst luck in the world.
"Uh, since we really can't do anything just sitting here, who says we try to find our hotel?"
And, at the present moment, Catherine had to whole-heartedly agree it was the best idea she'd heard all day.
A/N: So…is this worth pursuing? There's loads of the story written (I went a little stir-crazy in New York with only Spike reruns to keep me company), so I have the content, just not the feedback I love more than chocolate!
Okay, not seriously, because, of course, chocolate is just amazing, but that's beside the point. The real point to this is for me to ask shamelessly for reviews!
Click the purple button!