Title: Dead Men Do Tell Tales
Rating: PG-13 (as a precaution).
Genre: General maybe but any other type is possible to appear (depends on my mood, guys;) so everything is possible). I'd rather call it a "Mixture." As for the (later) romance part: it's G/S oriented (don't worry: Dr. Sarah Greenberg is just a "warm-up exercise").
Summary: Everything starts with a charity bachelor sale. Catherine manages to persuade Grissom to participate. That's when things get more complicated ...
Disclaimer: "CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and (c) by ANTHONY E. ZUIKER, JERRY BRUCKHEIMER Television, CBS Worldwide Inc., Alliance Atlantis Corporation, CSI Productions, CBS Broadcasting, Inc., and CBS Productions. This story is solely for the enjoyment of fans. No money is made.
A.N.: Well, just one thing guys: I'm new in this department of FFNet, which means that I'm (quite) familiar with CSI, but I couldn't say the same about the fics, fans, and writers here. That's what I'd like to change in the future (btw beware! I'm an incurable Grissom addict; obsession level: three).
This story came to mind on a Thursday evening during a commercial break, and I had a little free time so I wrote it down. I thought it up by myself. I swear. I didn't mean to steal it from anybody. Any similarity to already existing stories is completely unintentional.
If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, threats, opinions, or whatever, be sure to let me know.
Well, being a newcomer, I take off my jacket and roll up my sleeve to give you ...
... the first chapter ;)
---------------------------------------------------- Chapter One: L e t t h e b u y e r b e w a r e ----------------------------------------------------
CSI – HALLWAY - DAY
------------------------
Grissom was walking through the hallway. His attention was focused on a sheet of paper in his hand. Catherine had been waiting for him at the doorway of his office but Grissom walked pass the office, its door, and her without a word. He was still reading and headed for the autopsy's direction. She followed him.
"Grissom. Wait."
He didn't answer but slowed down a bit so that she could catch up with him. They were walking down the hallway, side by side, in silence.
"Can I ask something?" – started she to draw his attention.
"Would it really stop you if I said 'No?'"
"Point well taken. ... So, do you have anything planned for tomorrow evening?"
"Why?"
"Do you remember that annual charity ball I told you about? It is organized by the police, you know."
"Oh, yes, I do. I also remember that I told you I wouldn't go."
"Why?"
"Well, why break the habit of a lifetime? Besides, I don't like parties of this type."
"'Which type is that?"
"When you have to wear fancy clothes, eat strange stuff, and have a chat with boring snobs whom you've never met before. Moreover, you are supposed to be funny, nice, and interesting."
"It'd be just one night."
"No, thanks. Ask Nick or Warrick."
"They're working on the Johnson case. Besides, they came last year. Now it's your turn to represent the male members of our team."
"Nope."
"Come on, Gris. I don't want to go alone."
"Then take Sara. I know she's just closed the Thomson case."
"Okay, but I can't put her up for the bachelor sale."
"Bachelor sale? You mean that event when a bunch of rich and crazy women spend hundreds of dollars on total strangers so that they can go out for a dinner?"
"Dinner. Or more. So ... are you interested now?"
"No. And you can't tell me anything for which I would humiliate myself."
"This time money goes for the kids."
Now Grissom stopped walking, lifted his gaze from the paper and looked at Catherine. He eyed her for a beat to make sure she was serious. She was. And she also knew well that after it he wouldn't and couldn't say no.
"She-beast."
Catherine smiled. He broke. She won.
"See you tomorrow. 7:30 pm. At your office. Nice suit and promptness, please." – said Catherine and before he could resist, she turned and walked away in the opposite direction. Grissom turned around and watched her disappear at the corner. Then he shook his head, sighed and continued his way toward the autopsy.
CSI – GRISSOM'S OFFICE – THE CHARITY BALL'S EVENING
-------------------------------------------------------------
Grissom was sitting at his desk buried into at least two weeks' paperwork. He had just finished filling his shift report when Catherine appeared in the doorway. She looked smashing. Nice black dress, perfect make up. Dressed to kill, ready to leave. But she was somewhat shocked to see Grissom sitting there still in his usual clothes and being busy with filling in papers. He sensed someone and glanced up to see Catherine staring at him.
"Cath. ... uh ... you look ... different. ... Going out?"
"Don't tell me you forgot ..."
Grissom held up a wait-just-a-second finger and signed the report. Then he looked up at her again with a suppressed grin on his face.
"Grissom ..." – started she.
"Easy, Catherine. I didn't forget anything. ... I just needed some extra time to be done with this stuff."
She looked him up and down.
"Where is your suit?"
"Right here." – said he and rose to his feet to draw forth a skeleton by its hand. It was wearing his suit, a tie, and a white shirt. Catherine fought it but she smiled anyway. Most men would have used a simple hanger. But Grissom, of course, wasn't most men. He was Grissom. He looked at the skeleton and drew it closer to him, putting its arm around his neck. Then he put his arm around its shoulder and looked back at Catherine.
"Could you give us a little privacy? This fella is kinda shy, you know."
"Sure." – said she still smiling. She walked out and Grissom started dressing.
LAS VEGAS HOTEL - BALL ROOM – NIGHT
-------------------------------------------
Cars, taxis, limos lined the street of downtown Las Vegas. Among arriving guests, there were Catherine and Gil climbing stairs to the ballroom. They handed their coats to the coat check woman and moved from the outer lobby into a fabulously decorated ballroom where a fashion show was taking place. The room was packed. The sight stopped Grissom for a moment as he scanned the room: the cream of Vegas. The leadership of the LVMPD and the mayor with his upper class friends. A brass was playing in the background; sponsors were mingling in the foreground. Women sat near the runway watching the models. Men talked by the bar. Grissom knew some by sight but most of the people there were total strangers to him. He followed Catherine, his only fix point in the mass of humanity, toward the middle of the party moving through the crowd. Grissom was totally out of his element amid the formal elegance around him. He was handed a glass of champagne, which he promptly set on another waiter's passing tray. Catherine had been sensing his uneasiness for a while and saw his last act out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and turned to face him.
"Okay, Grissom. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine." – said he and looked around. "Nice party."
"Sure. ... What's the matter with YOU?"
He just stared back at her.
"Everybody here is enjoying themselves. Can't you do the same?"
"I ... I don't know. It's just ... maybe this place. Or these people. They are ..."
"What? Alive?"
Grissom didn't answer just threw an offended look at her.
"Gris. It's just one evening out of your life. Will you at least try to be civil?"
He looked at her for a beat cogitating.
"All right, but I refuse to be warm."
Catherine rolled her eyes, sighed, then looked back at him.
"Let's meet at 10 near the runway, okay?"
"Okay, but why?"
"The sale. Remember?"
"Oh, yeah. How could I forget it?"
"Good. See you then. Until it, make friends." – said Catherine and with that, she disappeared in the crowd leaving the slightly confused Grissom behind.
LAS VEGAS HOTEL – BALL ROOM – LATER
--------------------------------------------
Grissom and Catherine were standing behind the curtain, the only thing that divided them from the runway and the noisy female crowd below. The bachelor sale had started almost an hour before and only few single guys remained. Including the increasingly nervous Grissom. He kept shifting from foot to foot and fiddled with his tie. Catherine eyed him until he looked at her.
"What?"
"Nothing. ... Are you nervous?"
"I'm not nervous."
"It's okay to be nervous, Gris. You're going to stand alone on the runway, helplessly, exposed to the mercy of a bunch of crazy and rich women."
"Cath."
"Yes?"
"Is it okay to be okay?"
Before Catherine could respond, the emcee's voice could be heard:
"Last but not least let me introduce you a gentleman, a real specialty of today's sale. He is a rather reserved guy but time's come, ladies, to pull him away from the microscope and shake him up a little. Please, welcome the Michael Jordan of forensic science, Mr. Gil Grissom!"
Wild cheering and loud clapping came from the crowd. Behind the curtain, Grissom didn't move. He had a second to sent a message of panic to Catherine before the curtain started to draw apart. Catherine walked up behind him and placed her hands on his back. Grissom glanced back at her.
"Don't worry, Gris. You're cute when you're nervous. And as for the rest of the night: have fun, don't rush back, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Then, ignoring Grissom's slightly shocked expression, she pushed him out of the room toward the stage. When he faced forward again, he realized that he was standing right across from the still cheering and clapping crowd. Then the spotlights were placed on him blinding Grissom completely. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the bright light. The emcee grabbed his arm and led him to the edge of the runway. Then the sale started. The price was creeping up with each passing second. After a couple of minutes, they got the final number.
"$5500. Going, going, gone! Well, Mr. Grissom, I guess 'congratulations' is the right thing to say. I think you've just set a record. The nice lady in the back row has you now. Have a good time together." – said the emcee and they shook hands. With that, Grissom managed to escape from the runway and compose himself before meeting his "owner." He couldn't have made her out before because of the spotlights so he was quite curious. After a moment of solitude, he collected himself and directed his steps toward the crowd. His eyes were scanning the room. Soon, somebody tapped him on shoulder from behind.
"Mr. Grissom."
He turned around to face a beautiful woman. Long, dark hair. Matching green eyes. Fancy black dress. No doubt, he was lucky.
"The nice lady in the back row who has me, if I'm not mistaken." – said he with a small smile and extended his hand. She took it and looked him in the eye.
"You're right. My name is Dr. Sarah Greenberg."
"Doctor? What sort of doctor?"
"Originally I'm a psychiatrist treating the employees of the department. But sometimes I also deal with criminal psychology and profiling."
"I see. So you try to figure out the 'Why?' part."
"Yeah. But not tonight."
"Sure. But $5500 for a dinner. With me. Well, I just can't help asking why."
"Well, I can afford it. Money goes to the best place I can imagine ... and because I really wanted this dinner."
"You must be very hungry then."
"I mean a dinner with you."
"Got it. ... um ... then ... um ... shall we go?"
"Do you know a good place?"
"Well, actually yes. Don't mind if I choose?"
"Of course not."
"Good. It's a quiet place. Far from here." – said Grissom as he looked around.
"That's what I thought. Great."
LAS VEGAS – RESTAURANT – NIGHT
--------------------------------------
Grissom and Dr. Greenberg were sitting at their table waiting for their main course to arrive. The silence between them started to become tense so she tried to break the ice.
"Really nice place. You often come here?"
"No."
She smiled as if she fully expected that answer.
"So, how's your appetizer?" – asked Grissom desperately trying to carry on the conversation.
"It's delicious. How's yours?"
"Very good." – answered he but then both of them realized that he hadn't even tried it yet. So Grissom tasted it.
"Yes, I was right. It's very good."
Grissom looked at her, she looked back at him smiling.
"I'm sorry." – said he finally and glanced away looking over at the other guests.
"What for?"
"See, I ... I don't date all that much or all that well and ..."
"Hey." – said she suddenly to prevent Grissom from continuing his thought. "Don't worry. You're doing fine so far. Really."
"Really? I thought I was ... kinda ... boring."
"I think you're a very interesting individual."
"If you say so." – said he but then he had second thoughts. "Is this the psychiatrist's or the woman's opinion?"
"Both."
"Well, it's reassuring ... in a way."
"Give yourself some credit."
"Well, I'll try but ... but, well, I think I'm a little confused. You know, I'm not quite at home sometimes with people. I get busy doing ... doing what I do ... and it seems to take all of my time ... and occasions like this make me realize that I haven't left room for ... for anything else."
"Could I say something?"
"Of course."
"You're too hard on yourself. Relax. You're always thinking. Save something for tomorrow, okay?"
"This is how you see me?"
"Yeah, however, it's just a part of the real Grissom. It's just the surface. Maybe for one second you're there, but then all I get is the shy scientist who keeps everybody at arm's length." – said she with a smile.
"Are you disappointed?"
She had heard his question but, as she studied him, his face particularly, didn't answer. For some minutes, there was silence. Grissom held her stare and tilted his head waiting for an answer. And she continued:
"You know, when you look at somebody, really look at them, you might see fifty percent of who they are. ... I guess, when I look at you I see, I don't know, maybe ten. But that ten percent is ..."
"Is it so bad?"
"No. ... No. Not at all. You're an original, Grissom. A little hard to figure, maybe ... But that's a huge part of your charm. And, as I see it, wanting to know the rest 90, well, that's what might destroy everything."
Now both of them lapsed into silence. However, before the atmosphere could become tenser, she continued:
"Anyway, I was warned against you so that I could prepare for everything."
"You were warned by whom?"
"Catherine."
"You know each other?"
"Yes. We're old friends."
"And what else did she tell you about me behind my back?"
"Oh, just things."
"Well, it's truly alarming."
Then the waiter arrived with their orders and they started eating. There was nothing special there, really. Just two people having dinner. And Grissom started to feel more and more relaxed. No high expectations, no forced conversations. Only simple things. And he almost enjoyed it.
LAS VEGAS DESERT HIGHWAY – IN GRISSOM'S CAR – NIGHT ---------------------------------------------------------------
Grissom and Dr. Greenberg were on their way back to the downtown. Both of them were silent enjoying the soft music from the radio. But soon the idyll was over, the quiet music was disturbed by loud sirens. Soon they could see that half of the highway was blocked in front of them. Uniforms cleared the way for two patrol cars. Cop cars were everywhere. Then Grissom could see the Coroner's van too. That was enough for him not to drive off. He pulled over. The car was parked, the brake engaged, the engine turned off. Dr. Greenberg looked at him fully aware of what was on his mind. And she didn't favor the idea at all. That was not what she had planned for the rest of the night.
"Grissom ..."
"I'll just check what's going on here. I'll be right back." – said he and with that, he got out of the car.
"But ..." – started she but the slamming car door stopped her from finishing the sentence.
Grissom headed toward the cops standing by a CSI van. He picked one officer, the one whose grit and manner said he was in charge. On his way toward the officer, he unfastened his tie and pocketed it.
Another officer noticed him and watched Grissom approaching. When Grissom didn't stop at the tape but ducked under it, the younger policeman directed his steps toward him. Grissom noticed him too and started searching for his ID in his pockets.
"Hey!" – shouted the officer at him. He rested his left hand on his belt. Right next to his gun.
"Hey! Don't shoot! I'm Gil Grissom. CSI. LV crime lab." – said he and finally found his ID. He showed it to the officer who took it. He turned his flashlight on and checked the ID. Then the flashlight was directed at Grissom's face.
"Thank you, Mr. Grissom." – said he and gave back the ID. "But we've already had people working on the scene."
Grissom glanced over the officer's shoulder and saw that everybody was standing by the road not exactly knowing what to do. Then he glanced back at the policeman.
"Yes, I can see. I just want to take a look around if you don't mind."
The officer didn't answer. He didn't have to because Jim Brass appeared behind him.
"Gil! ... Whoa, nice suit. ... What are you doing here?"
"Hi, Jim. I was on my way home. Saw the lights. Heard the sirens. Thought you could use some help."
"Well, perfect timing. They sent two guys. One of them is a real tenderfoot. Having seen the body, she immediately threw up. We got paramedics to check her. We also got an entomologist coming but right now he is sitting in the middle of a traffic jam because of your fancy party."
"My fancy party? Jim. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. ... Want me to help?"
"This way, Dr. Schweitzer."
Grissom turned to follow Brass toward the victim. It was lying quite far away from the road. On their way to it, Grissom leaned down to grab a pair of gloves from a field kit on the ground and pocketed it.
"What do we know?" – asked Grissom.
"Well, we have one body. ... I think. Found by a driver who is still being questioned by Officer Anderson."
"Any ID?"
"Not yet. However, I'm sure we'll know more after we manage to put the pieces together."
"What do you mean?"
"Look for yourself." – answered Brass and handled him a flashlight. Grissom glanced at Brass then took the flashlight. He clicked it on and shined its light along the mutilated corpse that was lying on the ground in front of them. As soon as Grissom saw it, he didn't walk any closer. Brass stopped as well.
"So this is it." – said Grissom finally still observing the remains of the body.
"Looks like it. ... Well, we weren't exactly sure what to do. You know, ... each crime scene is different but this ... the guy's pieces are ... um ... everywhere."
They stood quite a far distance away from the corpse and Grissom panned his flashlight around searching for its other parts on the ground. Brass glanced back at Grissom.
"You never get used to it."
"No. ... But at least there's never a dull moment."
"What do you think?"
"Look, I'm not ready to talk to you yet. I need more time here."
"You're the expert. ... But if you have any suggestions on how to proceed ..."
Grissom was silent for a moment, thinking, his eyes slowly swept, scanning the area, taking in the surroundings. Then he spoke:
"When did you arrive?"
"10 maybe 15 minutes ago."
"Did anybody walk over to the vic?"
"Just the driver. ... And the officer who arrived first. ... And your two CSI colleagues."
"All right, Jim. ... First, I want this whole area taped off. Seal it off. As fast as humanly possible. I don't want more unnecessary people to trample through the scene and destroy any valuable evidence or leave any worthless one. Leave two officers by the road. I want them to take the names of all of the people entering or leaving the crime scene in case we need to collect fingerprints, shoes, fibers, blood, saliva or hair from them later. No drinking, eating or smoking from this moment forth. The man who found the body and all the officers who arrived here before us are not allowed to leave the scene. I want to speak to them. ... And tell my CSI colleagues that I'd like to speak to them too."
"All right, boss. This is your thing. I trust you. We'll do all we can."
"Let's hope it's enough."
"And ... what are you going to do?"
"Make friends." – answered Grissom and took out a pair of gloves from his pocket to get to work.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
Rating: PG-13 (as a precaution).
Genre: General maybe but any other type is possible to appear (depends on my mood, guys;) so everything is possible). I'd rather call it a "Mixture." As for the (later) romance part: it's G/S oriented (don't worry: Dr. Sarah Greenberg is just a "warm-up exercise").
Summary: Everything starts with a charity bachelor sale. Catherine manages to persuade Grissom to participate. That's when things get more complicated ...
Disclaimer: "CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and (c) by ANTHONY E. ZUIKER, JERRY BRUCKHEIMER Television, CBS Worldwide Inc., Alliance Atlantis Corporation, CSI Productions, CBS Broadcasting, Inc., and CBS Productions. This story is solely for the enjoyment of fans. No money is made.
A.N.: Well, just one thing guys: I'm new in this department of FFNet, which means that I'm (quite) familiar with CSI, but I couldn't say the same about the fics, fans, and writers here. That's what I'd like to change in the future (btw beware! I'm an incurable Grissom addict; obsession level: three).
This story came to mind on a Thursday evening during a commercial break, and I had a little free time so I wrote it down. I thought it up by myself. I swear. I didn't mean to steal it from anybody. Any similarity to already existing stories is completely unintentional.
If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, threats, opinions, or whatever, be sure to let me know.
Well, being a newcomer, I take off my jacket and roll up my sleeve to give you ...
... the first chapter ;)
---------------------------------------------------- Chapter One: L e t t h e b u y e r b e w a r e ----------------------------------------------------
CSI – HALLWAY - DAY
------------------------
Grissom was walking through the hallway. His attention was focused on a sheet of paper in his hand. Catherine had been waiting for him at the doorway of his office but Grissom walked pass the office, its door, and her without a word. He was still reading and headed for the autopsy's direction. She followed him.
"Grissom. Wait."
He didn't answer but slowed down a bit so that she could catch up with him. They were walking down the hallway, side by side, in silence.
"Can I ask something?" – started she to draw his attention.
"Would it really stop you if I said 'No?'"
"Point well taken. ... So, do you have anything planned for tomorrow evening?"
"Why?"
"Do you remember that annual charity ball I told you about? It is organized by the police, you know."
"Oh, yes, I do. I also remember that I told you I wouldn't go."
"Why?"
"Well, why break the habit of a lifetime? Besides, I don't like parties of this type."
"'Which type is that?"
"When you have to wear fancy clothes, eat strange stuff, and have a chat with boring snobs whom you've never met before. Moreover, you are supposed to be funny, nice, and interesting."
"It'd be just one night."
"No, thanks. Ask Nick or Warrick."
"They're working on the Johnson case. Besides, they came last year. Now it's your turn to represent the male members of our team."
"Nope."
"Come on, Gris. I don't want to go alone."
"Then take Sara. I know she's just closed the Thomson case."
"Okay, but I can't put her up for the bachelor sale."
"Bachelor sale? You mean that event when a bunch of rich and crazy women spend hundreds of dollars on total strangers so that they can go out for a dinner?"
"Dinner. Or more. So ... are you interested now?"
"No. And you can't tell me anything for which I would humiliate myself."
"This time money goes for the kids."
Now Grissom stopped walking, lifted his gaze from the paper and looked at Catherine. He eyed her for a beat to make sure she was serious. She was. And she also knew well that after it he wouldn't and couldn't say no.
"She-beast."
Catherine smiled. He broke. She won.
"See you tomorrow. 7:30 pm. At your office. Nice suit and promptness, please." – said Catherine and before he could resist, she turned and walked away in the opposite direction. Grissom turned around and watched her disappear at the corner. Then he shook his head, sighed and continued his way toward the autopsy.
CSI – GRISSOM'S OFFICE – THE CHARITY BALL'S EVENING
-------------------------------------------------------------
Grissom was sitting at his desk buried into at least two weeks' paperwork. He had just finished filling his shift report when Catherine appeared in the doorway. She looked smashing. Nice black dress, perfect make up. Dressed to kill, ready to leave. But she was somewhat shocked to see Grissom sitting there still in his usual clothes and being busy with filling in papers. He sensed someone and glanced up to see Catherine staring at him.
"Cath. ... uh ... you look ... different. ... Going out?"
"Don't tell me you forgot ..."
Grissom held up a wait-just-a-second finger and signed the report. Then he looked up at her again with a suppressed grin on his face.
"Grissom ..." – started she.
"Easy, Catherine. I didn't forget anything. ... I just needed some extra time to be done with this stuff."
She looked him up and down.
"Where is your suit?"
"Right here." – said he and rose to his feet to draw forth a skeleton by its hand. It was wearing his suit, a tie, and a white shirt. Catherine fought it but she smiled anyway. Most men would have used a simple hanger. But Grissom, of course, wasn't most men. He was Grissom. He looked at the skeleton and drew it closer to him, putting its arm around his neck. Then he put his arm around its shoulder and looked back at Catherine.
"Could you give us a little privacy? This fella is kinda shy, you know."
"Sure." – said she still smiling. She walked out and Grissom started dressing.
LAS VEGAS HOTEL - BALL ROOM – NIGHT
-------------------------------------------
Cars, taxis, limos lined the street of downtown Las Vegas. Among arriving guests, there were Catherine and Gil climbing stairs to the ballroom. They handed their coats to the coat check woman and moved from the outer lobby into a fabulously decorated ballroom where a fashion show was taking place. The room was packed. The sight stopped Grissom for a moment as he scanned the room: the cream of Vegas. The leadership of the LVMPD and the mayor with his upper class friends. A brass was playing in the background; sponsors were mingling in the foreground. Women sat near the runway watching the models. Men talked by the bar. Grissom knew some by sight but most of the people there were total strangers to him. He followed Catherine, his only fix point in the mass of humanity, toward the middle of the party moving through the crowd. Grissom was totally out of his element amid the formal elegance around him. He was handed a glass of champagne, which he promptly set on another waiter's passing tray. Catherine had been sensing his uneasiness for a while and saw his last act out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and turned to face him.
"Okay, Grissom. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine." – said he and looked around. "Nice party."
"Sure. ... What's the matter with YOU?"
He just stared back at her.
"Everybody here is enjoying themselves. Can't you do the same?"
"I ... I don't know. It's just ... maybe this place. Or these people. They are ..."
"What? Alive?"
Grissom didn't answer just threw an offended look at her.
"Gris. It's just one evening out of your life. Will you at least try to be civil?"
He looked at her for a beat cogitating.
"All right, but I refuse to be warm."
Catherine rolled her eyes, sighed, then looked back at him.
"Let's meet at 10 near the runway, okay?"
"Okay, but why?"
"The sale. Remember?"
"Oh, yeah. How could I forget it?"
"Good. See you then. Until it, make friends." – said Catherine and with that, she disappeared in the crowd leaving the slightly confused Grissom behind.
LAS VEGAS HOTEL – BALL ROOM – LATER
--------------------------------------------
Grissom and Catherine were standing behind the curtain, the only thing that divided them from the runway and the noisy female crowd below. The bachelor sale had started almost an hour before and only few single guys remained. Including the increasingly nervous Grissom. He kept shifting from foot to foot and fiddled with his tie. Catherine eyed him until he looked at her.
"What?"
"Nothing. ... Are you nervous?"
"I'm not nervous."
"It's okay to be nervous, Gris. You're going to stand alone on the runway, helplessly, exposed to the mercy of a bunch of crazy and rich women."
"Cath."
"Yes?"
"Is it okay to be okay?"
Before Catherine could respond, the emcee's voice could be heard:
"Last but not least let me introduce you a gentleman, a real specialty of today's sale. He is a rather reserved guy but time's come, ladies, to pull him away from the microscope and shake him up a little. Please, welcome the Michael Jordan of forensic science, Mr. Gil Grissom!"
Wild cheering and loud clapping came from the crowd. Behind the curtain, Grissom didn't move. He had a second to sent a message of panic to Catherine before the curtain started to draw apart. Catherine walked up behind him and placed her hands on his back. Grissom glanced back at her.
"Don't worry, Gris. You're cute when you're nervous. And as for the rest of the night: have fun, don't rush back, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Then, ignoring Grissom's slightly shocked expression, she pushed him out of the room toward the stage. When he faced forward again, he realized that he was standing right across from the still cheering and clapping crowd. Then the spotlights were placed on him blinding Grissom completely. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the bright light. The emcee grabbed his arm and led him to the edge of the runway. Then the sale started. The price was creeping up with each passing second. After a couple of minutes, they got the final number.
"$5500. Going, going, gone! Well, Mr. Grissom, I guess 'congratulations' is the right thing to say. I think you've just set a record. The nice lady in the back row has you now. Have a good time together." – said the emcee and they shook hands. With that, Grissom managed to escape from the runway and compose himself before meeting his "owner." He couldn't have made her out before because of the spotlights so he was quite curious. After a moment of solitude, he collected himself and directed his steps toward the crowd. His eyes were scanning the room. Soon, somebody tapped him on shoulder from behind.
"Mr. Grissom."
He turned around to face a beautiful woman. Long, dark hair. Matching green eyes. Fancy black dress. No doubt, he was lucky.
"The nice lady in the back row who has me, if I'm not mistaken." – said he with a small smile and extended his hand. She took it and looked him in the eye.
"You're right. My name is Dr. Sarah Greenberg."
"Doctor? What sort of doctor?"
"Originally I'm a psychiatrist treating the employees of the department. But sometimes I also deal with criminal psychology and profiling."
"I see. So you try to figure out the 'Why?' part."
"Yeah. But not tonight."
"Sure. But $5500 for a dinner. With me. Well, I just can't help asking why."
"Well, I can afford it. Money goes to the best place I can imagine ... and because I really wanted this dinner."
"You must be very hungry then."
"I mean a dinner with you."
"Got it. ... um ... then ... um ... shall we go?"
"Do you know a good place?"
"Well, actually yes. Don't mind if I choose?"
"Of course not."
"Good. It's a quiet place. Far from here." – said Grissom as he looked around.
"That's what I thought. Great."
LAS VEGAS – RESTAURANT – NIGHT
--------------------------------------
Grissom and Dr. Greenberg were sitting at their table waiting for their main course to arrive. The silence between them started to become tense so she tried to break the ice.
"Really nice place. You often come here?"
"No."
She smiled as if she fully expected that answer.
"So, how's your appetizer?" – asked Grissom desperately trying to carry on the conversation.
"It's delicious. How's yours?"
"Very good." – answered he but then both of them realized that he hadn't even tried it yet. So Grissom tasted it.
"Yes, I was right. It's very good."
Grissom looked at her, she looked back at him smiling.
"I'm sorry." – said he finally and glanced away looking over at the other guests.
"What for?"
"See, I ... I don't date all that much or all that well and ..."
"Hey." – said she suddenly to prevent Grissom from continuing his thought. "Don't worry. You're doing fine so far. Really."
"Really? I thought I was ... kinda ... boring."
"I think you're a very interesting individual."
"If you say so." – said he but then he had second thoughts. "Is this the psychiatrist's or the woman's opinion?"
"Both."
"Well, it's reassuring ... in a way."
"Give yourself some credit."
"Well, I'll try but ... but, well, I think I'm a little confused. You know, I'm not quite at home sometimes with people. I get busy doing ... doing what I do ... and it seems to take all of my time ... and occasions like this make me realize that I haven't left room for ... for anything else."
"Could I say something?"
"Of course."
"You're too hard on yourself. Relax. You're always thinking. Save something for tomorrow, okay?"
"This is how you see me?"
"Yeah, however, it's just a part of the real Grissom. It's just the surface. Maybe for one second you're there, but then all I get is the shy scientist who keeps everybody at arm's length." – said she with a smile.
"Are you disappointed?"
She had heard his question but, as she studied him, his face particularly, didn't answer. For some minutes, there was silence. Grissom held her stare and tilted his head waiting for an answer. And she continued:
"You know, when you look at somebody, really look at them, you might see fifty percent of who they are. ... I guess, when I look at you I see, I don't know, maybe ten. But that ten percent is ..."
"Is it so bad?"
"No. ... No. Not at all. You're an original, Grissom. A little hard to figure, maybe ... But that's a huge part of your charm. And, as I see it, wanting to know the rest 90, well, that's what might destroy everything."
Now both of them lapsed into silence. However, before the atmosphere could become tenser, she continued:
"Anyway, I was warned against you so that I could prepare for everything."
"You were warned by whom?"
"Catherine."
"You know each other?"
"Yes. We're old friends."
"And what else did she tell you about me behind my back?"
"Oh, just things."
"Well, it's truly alarming."
Then the waiter arrived with their orders and they started eating. There was nothing special there, really. Just two people having dinner. And Grissom started to feel more and more relaxed. No high expectations, no forced conversations. Only simple things. And he almost enjoyed it.
LAS VEGAS DESERT HIGHWAY – IN GRISSOM'S CAR – NIGHT ---------------------------------------------------------------
Grissom and Dr. Greenberg were on their way back to the downtown. Both of them were silent enjoying the soft music from the radio. But soon the idyll was over, the quiet music was disturbed by loud sirens. Soon they could see that half of the highway was blocked in front of them. Uniforms cleared the way for two patrol cars. Cop cars were everywhere. Then Grissom could see the Coroner's van too. That was enough for him not to drive off. He pulled over. The car was parked, the brake engaged, the engine turned off. Dr. Greenberg looked at him fully aware of what was on his mind. And she didn't favor the idea at all. That was not what she had planned for the rest of the night.
"Grissom ..."
"I'll just check what's going on here. I'll be right back." – said he and with that, he got out of the car.
"But ..." – started she but the slamming car door stopped her from finishing the sentence.
Grissom headed toward the cops standing by a CSI van. He picked one officer, the one whose grit and manner said he was in charge. On his way toward the officer, he unfastened his tie and pocketed it.
Another officer noticed him and watched Grissom approaching. When Grissom didn't stop at the tape but ducked under it, the younger policeman directed his steps toward him. Grissom noticed him too and started searching for his ID in his pockets.
"Hey!" – shouted the officer at him. He rested his left hand on his belt. Right next to his gun.
"Hey! Don't shoot! I'm Gil Grissom. CSI. LV crime lab." – said he and finally found his ID. He showed it to the officer who took it. He turned his flashlight on and checked the ID. Then the flashlight was directed at Grissom's face.
"Thank you, Mr. Grissom." – said he and gave back the ID. "But we've already had people working on the scene."
Grissom glanced over the officer's shoulder and saw that everybody was standing by the road not exactly knowing what to do. Then he glanced back at the policeman.
"Yes, I can see. I just want to take a look around if you don't mind."
The officer didn't answer. He didn't have to because Jim Brass appeared behind him.
"Gil! ... Whoa, nice suit. ... What are you doing here?"
"Hi, Jim. I was on my way home. Saw the lights. Heard the sirens. Thought you could use some help."
"Well, perfect timing. They sent two guys. One of them is a real tenderfoot. Having seen the body, she immediately threw up. We got paramedics to check her. We also got an entomologist coming but right now he is sitting in the middle of a traffic jam because of your fancy party."
"My fancy party? Jim. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. ... Want me to help?"
"This way, Dr. Schweitzer."
Grissom turned to follow Brass toward the victim. It was lying quite far away from the road. On their way to it, Grissom leaned down to grab a pair of gloves from a field kit on the ground and pocketed it.
"What do we know?" – asked Grissom.
"Well, we have one body. ... I think. Found by a driver who is still being questioned by Officer Anderson."
"Any ID?"
"Not yet. However, I'm sure we'll know more after we manage to put the pieces together."
"What do you mean?"
"Look for yourself." – answered Brass and handled him a flashlight. Grissom glanced at Brass then took the flashlight. He clicked it on and shined its light along the mutilated corpse that was lying on the ground in front of them. As soon as Grissom saw it, he didn't walk any closer. Brass stopped as well.
"So this is it." – said Grissom finally still observing the remains of the body.
"Looks like it. ... Well, we weren't exactly sure what to do. You know, ... each crime scene is different but this ... the guy's pieces are ... um ... everywhere."
They stood quite a far distance away from the corpse and Grissom panned his flashlight around searching for its other parts on the ground. Brass glanced back at Grissom.
"You never get used to it."
"No. ... But at least there's never a dull moment."
"What do you think?"
"Look, I'm not ready to talk to you yet. I need more time here."
"You're the expert. ... But if you have any suggestions on how to proceed ..."
Grissom was silent for a moment, thinking, his eyes slowly swept, scanning the area, taking in the surroundings. Then he spoke:
"When did you arrive?"
"10 maybe 15 minutes ago."
"Did anybody walk over to the vic?"
"Just the driver. ... And the officer who arrived first. ... And your two CSI colleagues."
"All right, Jim. ... First, I want this whole area taped off. Seal it off. As fast as humanly possible. I don't want more unnecessary people to trample through the scene and destroy any valuable evidence or leave any worthless one. Leave two officers by the road. I want them to take the names of all of the people entering or leaving the crime scene in case we need to collect fingerprints, shoes, fibers, blood, saliva or hair from them later. No drinking, eating or smoking from this moment forth. The man who found the body and all the officers who arrived here before us are not allowed to leave the scene. I want to speak to them. ... And tell my CSI colleagues that I'd like to speak to them too."
"All right, boss. This is your thing. I trust you. We'll do all we can."
"Let's hope it's enough."
"And ... what are you going to do?"
"Make friends." – answered Grissom and took out a pair of gloves from his pocket to get to work.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------