Casual Observer
Author—LadyLuminol
Disclaimer—All characters are the property of their respective owners. I just get to play with them.
Warning—Character death; GS shipping
Author Notes—Tell me how you like it—it's my first CSI fic...
By 8 o'clock in the morning, everyone was wearing white at LVPD.
To the casual observer, it looked like someone had accidentally bleached everyone's uniform. Unfortunately, the real reason was far removed from a humorous laundry accident.
The truth was that Gil Grissom, head of the graveyard shift, and his protégé, Sara Sidle, were in the hospital in comas. The white was a tradition peculiar to the LVMPD—to them, it stood for hope, the hope that their co-workers and friends would make it through the day to come back and, as one intrepid detective put it, suffer through the coffee with them again.
Somehow, what should have been a routine investigation had gone wrong all too fast. Grissom and Sara were next on the list to go out, and when an officer called in a double murder, they grabbed their gear and left.
Preoccupied with their thoughts, neither heard the footsteps outside the door they were working at. So when the murderer came back to the scene, neither CSI was prepared for the spray of bullets that issued from the gun, especially the ones that caught both of them in the chest. It was a miracle that Sara stayed conscious long enough to get a phone call out to Catherine, who happened to be the speeddial number she hit.
Twenty-five minutes later, the waiting room was full of what seemed to be the family team that comprised the entire Forensics lab. This most definitely surprised the triage nurse, who knew for a fact that no one person should have eighteen brothers- and sisters-in law, let alone the number of uncles, aunts, and cousins who seemed to pop out of the woodwork. However, upon noticing precisely where this entire 'family' worked, she decided to let it pass.
Grissom's 'brother-in-law' Captain Jim Brass called in to the station, knowing the sheriff would have the speakerphone out in the bullpen so everyone could crowd around. At least Mobley knows something about police unity, Brass thought when he heard the signature fuzz that heralded the horrible acoustics of the bullpen. Passing on his news, he ended the conversation by telling everyone to grab their whites. Not a soul protested, but the casual observer would have been trampled in the mass exodus to the locker rooms where the officers found some sort of white clothing.
A rather large mountain of flowers was mounting outside the door to both Grissom's and Sara's offices. They have all been sent by every conceivable person in the city of Las Vegas, and even some rather inconceivable ones. This caused minor hilarity, mostly as a result of stress, especially when they started reading the cards.
"Get a load of this one!" called a young traffic cop just coming off his shift. "'To a good man and amazing CSI—signed the Mayor.'"
"How about this 'Thank you beary much!' bear! It's from the owner of the Bellagio!"
As the casual observer could tell, stress relief in a police station was not often a logical thing to see in action.
The next update came from Warrick. The speakerphone, yet to be moved from its place in the pen, garnered an instant crowd of people hungry for news about their coworkers.
"Guys," Warrick stopped to wipe an unseen tear, "it's too late. They're gone."
A staccato scream was heard from the vicinity of the phone. Those near another phone grabbed it, trying to find a way to break the news to those still on the streets, hunting for the killer.
"There was nothing anyone could do. They were on life support, and the doctors told us there was nothing that would bring them back. They were taken off it just a few minutes ago. They let Doc Robbins make the call for their time of death, sort of like his final honor." Another unseen tear coursed its way down Warrick's cheek, falling to splash on the unforgiving floor of the waiting room. The only sound was the faint sobbing of some of the fellow officers. "We're on our way back to the station." He hung up the phone without waiting for an answer.
Still silent, each officer came closer together until everyone was in a large circle, their arms encircling the people to either side of them, hanging on as if letting go would mean that they, too, would share the fate of Grissom and Sara. Side by side, each and every one of them began to weep, and then to sob, some even wailing uncontrollably.
That was how they were found by the entirety of the Forensics lab. Without uttering a word, room was made in the circle for the newcomers. Someone had thoughtfully grabbed two single red roses from the burgeoning pile outside their offices, and placed them in the centre of the circle. They were stared at for a few moments, until Nick filled the silence with six simple words that carried a world of meaning.
"Go home, friends. We love you."
Their funeral was held a week later. Held jointly, it was a full regimental funeral, as Grissom and Sara had died on duty. They were held outside, where every officer in Las Vegas, and numerous others from around the continent, could attend.
Seeing as neither CSI had any family, Grissom's mother having passed away years before, and Sara's parents killed in a car accident while she was at university, their friends at the lab had taken care of the details. By common consensus, Catherine had been chosen to give the eulogy.
"Friends, we are here not only to mourn the loss of Gilbert Augustus Grissom and Sara Jessica Sidle, but to celebrate their life as well. They died trying to preserve justice for each and every one of us, and I hope you will remember their loss for what it was—a senseless slaying of two bright minds fighting against the injustice of this world." Overcome, Catherine had to take a moment to compose herself before she could speak again.
"One maxim we all live by is Locarde's Theory of Transfer—'anything you come in contact with will leave evidence on you, just as you leave evidence on it'. Well, whether they knew it or not, they cannot escape the Law of Locarde. They left the evidence of their lives as the love for them we hold in all our hearts, just as we left our mark on them. So, to the two greatest crime scene investigators to ever have lived, may the truth be at your back, and the trail of justice be a straight path for you to follow, just as we follow in your footsteps here on Earth. Go home, friends," she said, echoing Nick's words. "We love you."
The funeral proceeded, ending at precisely when the graveyard shift started. This was an odd sort of honor, but every LVMPD funeral had been held like that. The reasoning behind it was that this way, co-workers could have their chance to carry their memory on in their work. Odd, but fitting.
Soon everyone was gone, leaving the true 'family' of the two slain CSIs—Catherine, Warrick, Nick, Brass, and Greg. None of them said anything for a moment, but just stared at the two holes in the ground, as if to accustom themselves to the fact that there would be no more teasing Grissom about his bugs, no more picking Sara's brain for cheesy ideas to get back at Ecklie. Finally, it was Greg who broke the silence.
"You guys know about that staff meeting that was supposed to be tonight?" They did; Grissom had sent the memo around the graveyard shift. "Well, I kinda know what it was going to be about."
"What?" chorused the disbelieving group.
"Hey, it's not my fault I was in the wrong place at the right time! Anyway, Griss and Sara were going to announce their engagement." Greg sounded both pleased at knowing something everyone else didn't, and dismal that it was he that had to tell them, not the happy couple themselves.
"How did you know? It didn't even look like they were dating!" Nick seemed a touch bewildered, but seemed to be slowly processing the thought. "Wait, that's why Sara always said her car was in the shop! She was already with Griss all day, so she just rode in with him! And it explains the e-mail we all got from that 'G' person to 'S', the one about the groceries! Grissom to Sidle!"
"That wasn't going to be all. Actually, even Griss didn't know this one. Sara was pregnant, and she was going to tell everyone then. I discovered this one when I brought her some tox samples and she threw up all over my shoes because of the blood."
The group looked at each other, and then down to the graves. "You never realize what you've lost until it's gone," murmured Nick. "I just wish I was still oblivious. It wouldn't hurt so much."
And to the casual observer, the tears in their eyes meant nothing but grief.