Assume Nothing

Response to YTDAW Fanfic Challenge by Gibby. How Brass discovered GSR.

Disclaimer: Much as I would love to have Grissom and Brass locked in my cupboard, I do not own them and am simply borrowing them for my own evil delight. Thank you CBS.

Brass sighed. Stake-outs were definitely not his favourite part of the job. Hour upon hour of sitting in a small cramped space, staring at a building, willing something to happen. Or in this case, willing something not to happen. This was one of those pre-emptive stake-outs. A small-time dealer, eager to have his sentence knocked down had offered some information that had sent the department reeling. A top political aide based out of LA who on paper appeared the model citizen, husband, father and downright straight-as-they-come Republican, had a dirty little secret. He had it seemed, a penchant for sticking things into ladies. And not just bodily things; knives, shards of glass, bottles anything in fact that hurt and finally killed. And to cap it all, he came to Vegas to do it. That Brass had grumbled to his team, was the final straw. It was bad enough that he did these things, and they had the photos to prove it, but that he thought it would be OK to do it in Vegas? One step too far.

So now, acting on what they had from their informant, the homicide division were preparing to catch their man in the act, or rather, as his latest victim-in-waiting hoped, catch him before the act. The waiting however was beginning to grate.

"Come on you sick bastard, show your face", Brass growled to himself as he shuffled in his seat, trying to get a little more comfortable. His car was positioned at the back entrance of a small square of stores in an affluent street in an even more affluent neighbourhood of North Vegas. The stores were mainly boutiques selling a variety of stuff you don't need and stuff you couldn't afford. The condos and town houses that surrounded the streets housed the shoppers who obviously purchased a variety of unnecessary items on a regular basis as all the lots were taken and there were none of the give-away signs of a downturn in business.

Brass and three officers were covering the front and back exits, no pun intended, of the prospective target, the owner of an upmarket women's boutique. Inside the store, two undercover female cops were browsing as customers. It would undoubtedly raise a rather large warning flag, the Sherrif had pointed out, with what Brass thought was unnecessary sarcasm, if Brass had placed himself in the role of consumer. He had though, in preparing the operation had a good look at some of the items on offer. Silk, undoubtedly sexy. He guessed the Sherrif was right.

Brass reached over to the back seat of his Chevy to grab the paper. Might as well catch up on the report from last night's game he thought. As he turned his head, a movement caught his eye. A man was approaching the square through the alleyway at the side. Brass simultaneously grabbed his radio and his gun. Right height, right age, he couldn't see the man clearly enough yet.

"Hold off, he spoke into the radio. It may be our man but just give me a min..." He stopped abruptly. The man had walked right past the car and as he turned to enter the boutique door Brass was able to see his face clearly. "

It is NOT OUR MAN he spluttered into the radio. REPEAT it is not our man".

Though in a way it was. For the man who had casually walked into the boutique as if it were a book store was none other than Gil Grissom.

For a couple of seconds Brass froze. Had Grissom been given some information on the case? Had the shop been targeted previously? Were they working overlapping cases without knowing it? He was unsure what to do. If he went into the store he risked blowing the whole operation. If he left Grissom in there he could well be putting him in danger. He was at a loss. Just as the pressure to make a decision was reaching a crescendo in his brain the door of the store opened and Grissom appeared, carrying a large gift box that contained Brass figured, ever the detective, an item of ladies' apparel.

It wasn't until one long stakeout and three full days later that Brass came across Grissom again. The lab was quiet, the Summer had given way to Fall and a spirit of bonhomie seemed to have enveloped Vegas as the crime rate has reached an unprecedented low.

"Just the lull before the storm, Warrick had ventured when Brass had remarked on this positive statistic. "Vegas is Vegas, ain't nothing going to change that."

One affect of the slowdown in the lab was that pulling double shifts was not required and that taking time off was, for once, acceptable. Brass guessed though that Grissom would still be around although lately, he had noted, Grissom wasn't as ever present as he used to be. He ambled towards Grissom's office hoping to catch him alone. The office was empty but Grissom was obviously around as a still warm cup of coffee sat in the middle of his desk. Brass took a seat in the corner, as he did so his eye caught a large box, sitting under the furthest filing cabinet. Now Brass knew he shouldn't. He really did. But the picture of Grissom confidently strolling into a dress shop like it was the most natural thing in the world had burnt itself onto his brain. Carefully he leant under the cabinet and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a black silk dress. Brass lifted the silk to get a closer look embossed into the material were tiny butterflies, visible only when the light caught the dress at a certain angle. Grissom obviously had taste in areas other than bugs. Hearing footsteps in the hallway Brass quickly placed the lid back and took the chair again. Grissom appeared in the doorway, came in and sat down behind his desk.

"Hey buddy, Brass greeted him, do you want to get a beer, catch up? It's been a while since we had even an hour without a dead body between us."

"Em, sorry. Can't do it, Grissom shrugged apologetically. I just need to go home, relax. I have a couple of papers to finish for a conference in Philly. And laundry, I have a ton of laundry. Another time?"

As he was speaking, he was very slowly and very quietly using the tip of his shoe to gradually nudge the rather distinctive box further under the cabinet behind him. Brass, ever the detective, noted both the ill-concealed movement and the somewhat lame set of excuses.

Brass smiled, "Sure, rain check? Don't you stay here too long then. You don't want that laundry to go stale now..." and with that he left.

With his curiosity piqued though he did not go very far. He should have felt bad, he should have considered for a moment that his actions were not "ethical" but he was a detective. And that is what detectives did. They discovered. And he was dammed if he wasn't going to discover what, or should he say who, Grissom was up to.

Within 10 minutes Grissom left the building. Brass was sitting in his car, in an almost identical position to his stake-out slump of three days past, watching his target. Grissom headed for his SUV almost jauntily and drove off, taking a left off the strip, heading Brass noted with satisfaction, away from his home. And in his hand, Brass grinned to himself, had been the box from the dress store.

Brass followed, easily able to track Grissom with no real danger of being spotted. Most people don't ever think they are being tailed and law enforcement people...well Brass smirked wryly, they were the easiest to follow.

Grissom's SUV slowed and took a sharp right then pulled up in a space between a Ford Explorer and a Dodge. Brass drove past, realising that Grissom had taken the last space on the street. He slowed down and tried to spot where Grissom was headed as his friend crossed the street purposefully. Just then a truck, impatient and loud , blasted its horn and Brass was forced to drive off. A second circuit two minutes later secured him a spot and he quickly got out of his car. Grissom's vehicle was still there though. Brass scanned the street. Mostly condos, apartments, a couple of café's closed for the night, and across the street, one bar. The Pear Tree. Brass shook his head in amazement. Of all the... The Pear Tree was one of Las Vegas' many cross-dressing establishments. A place where men who felt more comfortable in women's clothing could hang out and meet similarly inclined friends. It all made sense now thought Brass. The Grissom of late had been well groomed, unquestionably cheerful and the dark cloud that seemed to beset the man on many occasions had all but vanished. No wonder he was so uptight for all those years, Brass thought. Repression of desire, whatever that desire maybe, can lead a man to some pretty dark places. He went across the road to the bar. Peering through the window he tried to see if he could spot Grissom but the crowded bar gave up no clue. Not wishing to look like a voyeur any longer than was necessary, Brass gave up on his mission and drove off, leaving Grissom, in his mind at least, proudly sporting a dark purple bodice with matching cami-knickers, under a black silk dress.

It was two days later when Brass returned to the lab. Vegas, as Warrick had predicted, had returned to being Vegas. A spree of shootings had drawn the team back in and Brass had come to collect the results he hoped Greg had produced that would nail the latest in a seemingly never-ending line of scumbags. As he walked towards the break room Sara appeared.

"Hey Jim, she called. How you doing?"

Brass stared at her, his mouth opened but words failed him. Sara was wearing a black silk dress with tiny butterflies embossed on it.

"I know, she laughed. This is probably the first time you have seen me not wearing pants. Ever. I was out..a date. It's our...um..anniversary. My boyfriend bought the dress. Then wouldn't you know, I get called in to the lab and everyone sees me."

Brass, still reeling, stammered,

"Jeez Sara, you kept that quiet, I didn't even know you had a boyfriend, never mind that you have had one long enough to get to an anniversary?"

"I like to keep work and private life separate, she smiled, with what Brass detected , was a slight smirk.

"So...how does he feel about you leaving halfway through your date to come and process dead bodies?," Brass asked, recovering his composure slightly.

"He is very understanding, said a voice behind him. Brass swivelled round to see Grissom standing in the doorway of the break room. "In fact, he encourages her, or so she tells me."

Brass felt himself begin to redden. Whether it was the subtle exchanges between Grissom and Sara or the rather painful knowledge that he had imagined Grissom, wearing this dress, he couldn't tell.

"Well, it would be nice to meet him one of these days, Brass tried to regain the upper hand.

"Sure said Sara, we should all have a beer, maybe after shift. Where should we meet? Somewhere near home would be good. There's a bar opposite my apartment but...then again, probably not the right ambience. Though..I am sure I saw you hanging there one day Jim.

"What bar, asked Brass?

"It's called The Pear Tree," Sara replied, her voice steady but with a definite glint in her eye.

With that she turned and strolled to the locker room to get changed.

Grissom looked at Brass...and winked.

FIN