Notes: This is what happens when you think about Grissom and Sara's child to end another fic. BTW, the other doesn't exist anymore.I do need a beta, my native language is Portuguese, and I have other stories already written in it, just waiting to find a kind soul who will beta them for me when I translate.
CSI does not belong to me. Reviews, constructive criticism and comments are welcome.
Gil Grissom was sitting outside the principal's office, with little Henry by his side, calmly waiting. The boy was eight years-old, had his mother's brown eyes, his father's mouth and curly brown hair, always a little disheveled. There were two missing teeth in his mouth, and other two were barely there. He wore little round glasses and was entertained by a Rubik's cube.
"Henry, did your teacher say why I was called in to a meeting at your school today?"
"No, dad".
"And is everything ok?"
"Yeah. Look, I finished one side" he showed the toy.
"You did, but to put together the other side, you're gonna have to undo this one, or you won't be able to. But you're doing great" he smiled.
"When is mom coming back?"
"Sunday" Sara now used to get invited to lecture around the country. This time she was in San Diego.
"I miss her".
"Me too" he patted the boy's head. The last years he had been able of giving more displays of affection than he thought he was able to. Maybe it was fatherhood.
"I finished the book uncle Nick gave me: 'Inventors and inventions'".
"And what did you think about it?"
"I liked it a lot, since I love to create things too. I can't wait to tell mom".
He kept watching the boy and thinking how much he resembled Sara.
"Dad, will you take me later to ride a rollercoaster?"
"You know your mother doesn't like it, she thinks you're too small".
"But she's away... and I'll hold on really strong".
He took a breath, couldn't deny his son anything. Besides, he already was the minimum height required for some rides.
"Fine, but you have to promise you won't tell mommy, it will be our little secret, ok?" if she finds out, I'm dead.
"Ok".
The door opened, and a blond overweight lady in her fifties, with her hair tight up, wearing a yellow suit that could have been made thirty years ago, called him:
"Mr. Grissom, good afternoon".
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Tucker" he stood up and shook her hand.
"Come in, please. Henry, would you mind waiting here for a while?"
"No problem, Mrs. Tucker" and he got back to his cube.
Grissom took a seat in front of the principal's table. It was the first time he was called to a meeting at school. He tried to be as involved as possible in his son's activities and couldn't imagine the reason why it'd happened. But he had met the boy's teacher and the school Principal before.
"What's going on?" he asked impatiently.
The woman looked at him for a moment, with the tired face of someone who's been doing that for too long. She opened the file in front of her.
"Mr. Grissom, may I ask you something?"
He just stared at her, a question mark on his forehead. She continued.
"How is Henry's behavior at home?"
"What do you mean? He is great".
"Uh... has his life had any change lately, divorce in the family, death of a relative?"
"No".
"You and your wife work for the police, don't you?"
"We're forensic scientists".
"Right. And do you talk about your jobs with Henry?"
"Of course! Obviously only in general, and only what he can deal with. But he is curious".
She put on a face of dislike for his answer. She had a slight idea of what they dealt with daily. Sure it wasn't appropriate for a third grader.
"And Mrs. Grissom, is she…"
"Sidle. She hasn't changed her name" he corrected.
"Sidle, is she present I his life?"
"We both try to be. She is nightshift supervisor, I'm dayshift supervisor. It's heavy work, but we organize our schedules to give Henry a routine, stability".
"Does he have any friends?"
He made a pause to think.
"Yes. He sometimes plays with a neighbor, about eleven or twelve years old. I can't say for sure about school, because he says he doesn't like the other kids' plays, so he chooses not to participate in most of them" he sounded at ease.
"And do you think it's normal that he only has one friend, who is older, and doesn't like to interact with kids his age?"
"Well, at least he never fought with his colleagues" he answered.
"Actually... about a month ago he argued with a peer, they didn't fight because the teacher separated them". She continued to talk while reading the papers in front of her. "The other boy, whose name is also Henry, said the origin of his name is german, but he replied it had a british background".
"They're both right. The origin is Ancient German, but Sara and I chose it in honor of Henry Faulds, the British man who, with William Herschel published in 1880 an article about the permanence of fingerprints" he couldn't help but clarify the matter. "What's your point? Kids can't disagree?" he thought that Henry got that from his mother.
She made a pause. It was hard to discuss with him. Maybe that's why the boy was so unique.
"His teacher sometimes thinks he loses his focus. He doesn't pay attention to class".
"But he does his homework everyday".
"That's true".
"And gets good grades".
She took a deep breath. "He's smart, no doubt about it, but in my experience the students can't keep these grades if they don't pay attention to classes".
"How is he inattentive? Does he bother his colleagues?"
"I don't think so. And it's not always, but last week he was caught reading 'Cities of Blood' during class".
"Oh, yeah, he loved that one" he remembered the excitement of the boy talking about his reading. He didn't realize it was inappropriate. He remembered how many times, as a kid, he had done the same thing, but didn't have anyone to talk about it.
"Mr. Grissom, this book is recommended for the sixth grade!"
"But he understands! And it's his choice, we don't make him read these books". He still didn't get the reason for the meeting. "Do you have anything else to say about my son?"
"Well, at the classes he pays attention to, he asks too many questions, like he doesn't believe the teacher. It sometimes bothers her".
"I take that as a huge compliment, Mrs. Tucker. We try to teach him to question the world around him. Or are you trying to tell me that you expect every child to accept everything they're told and learn only to repeat the lessons instead of developing their wit and opinions?"
She didn't have an answer. It was exactly what she expected. "He… he is… weird".
"Weird?" he arched his brows, surprised, and his voice came out a little louder.
The expression the woman had turned into panic when she remembered the episode that had been the reason for calling the meeting.
"Yesterday, he brought a... horrible bug to school…" she looked terrified as she remembered. "A huge, hairy, black, dangerous tarantula… and it was ALIVE!" she gestured anxiously. "The kids, and, well, the adults were also scared of it! Mr. Grissom, this boy has some kind of problem!"
He was relieved with that answer. Actually he started to have some fun with the whole thing.
"Oh, it must have been Bill. Grammastola pulchra. First of all, it is not a bug, it's an arachnid. Second of all, it's not dangerous to humans. With Sara away this week, Henry has been spending some time at the Lab. He probably brought it from there".
"The... tarantula is yours?" And it has a name? her eyes were wide open.
"Yes, but he's learning how to take care of it" he answered.
She lost her breath. She couldn't go on with the meeting. The boy wasn't weird. The whole family was. The only thing worse would be to find out his mother listened to the Police scanner on her time off.
"I can't believe this. You, sir, you… I give up. This is not right".
"Look, I'll talk to him about not bringing Bill to school. But don't expect him to change his personality. Was that it?" he said while standing up.
"Yes".
He left, and found Henry at the same place, now with two faces of the Rubik's cube done.
"Let's go".
"What was it, dad?" he took his stuff and started walking beside his father.
"No big deal, she just wanted to tell me what a great student you are, questioning, with ability to create good arguments, critic and interested in reading", he would talk about the tarantula later.
The End