Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.
A *huge* amount of appreciation is for Elyse and her website; I couldn't have done this without it.
Thanks to the graveshiftcsi groupies for the encouragement.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

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Title: A Fairytale Investigation (1/4)

Author: Laeta
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com


Unlike most fairytales, this one does not begin with "Once upon a time" nor "There once was" is an adequate introduction for this is not a typical tale with a happily ever after. Yet like most fairytales, there is a wise king, a fair lady, and a villain who threatens all tranquility. This is a story that foes and friends and lovers alike should endeavor not to forget.

We open this fairytale one night in the summer of our wise king's rule. Despite the revelry occurring in the public Halls of the palace, the atmosphere within the king's private study was dire. The expressions worn upon the countenances of those gathered were a deadly grim. Firelight flickered on the circle of faces and enhanced the fatigue - mental, physical, and emotional - of fighting an undiscoverable enemy.

At the table's head sat our King Grissom with the air of established leadership comfortably wrapped on broad shoulders. Gentle lines of age crossed his face, but his eyes were startlingly sharp. Though weariness shone in his posture, the king was deceptively relaxed; underneath the still boyish face lay a predator's wrath heavily caged, only straining to be released.

To King Grissom's right, in satin and silk, was the Lady Courtesan. Known only by her title, our king was one of precious few who knew her true name, she was formidable in her grace, beauty, and intelligence. Years of experience honed her three assets to sharply pointed daggers; her strengths both complimenting and opposing those of her king. She was the only member of this unusual Inner Circle privy to the king's private thoughts.

Aside her was Lord Warrick. A man of quiet and finesse, he neither spoke an untrue word nor judged a person prematurely or, even, at all. His loyalty to the king was absolute and he lay confident in his knowledge of his usefulness to his king. Such unshakable truths aided his entrustment to this Circle where he forged an unlikely alliance with the man next to him.

Lounging in his chair, Sir Nick presented a charming disposition and an easy smile that made him a favorite companion among the Aristocrat's Circle. He was present here tonight because he held an acknowledged influence over them; he was also one of few who understood the treachery of their undiscoverable enemy.

The next seat around the table was empty; its usual occupant was performing his Spells of Truth and Identity to extract any useful information from the minions and victims the enemy hastily and unknowingly left behind. The Wizard Greg was a young man, energetic and at slight odds with the enormity of his talents. Talents recognized by our wise king who nurtured and focused their growth and relieved the blood lust such skills enticed. Under his king's tutelage, the Wizard Greg found ways to keep his talents for the use of good and away from the reaches of the enemy.

Lady Sara was stiffly ensconced in the next seat. Her influence over the Aristocrat's Circle, though not quite as heavy as Sir Nick's, was not to be dismissed. Rather, she held a limitless power over the working class of the kingdom; the plebeians worshipped her and went to great lengths to please her. Anger and bitterness were strengths channel-able to the task at hand as long as she was aware of appreciation.

Last, on King Grissom's left, was the king's longtime friend, advisor, and constable rolled into one stout man. Constable Brass knew when to plan with and when to push his king; he was also too dangerously aware of the shaky ground they all walked. Should this Circle fail, the enemy would add the king's people to the growing legions encompassing the slaves the Las Vegas. At almost all costs, he knew this must not happen.

All eyes gazed toward our wise king on this fateful night though none attempted to rush his decision. Some of this Inner Circle knew the ruthlessness their king could display when necessary; the rest gained that knowledge only through the stories of history. The stature of King Grissom could only be compared to two other kings of ages past: King Alfred of Wessex and the Great King Alexander who walked during ancient times. King Grissom, like these two unique kings, had the ability of duality; he could fight in wars to defend his land without remorse and yet, during peace, with single-minded intensity, he encouraged the growth of his people and upheld the traditions of culture.

King Grissom was a scholar and a hero, in equal measures. His intelligence ran deep and the deaths of his people and men wore deeply in his heart though their lives were given freely for their king. He was a legend in the making and the enemy was the Strip Strangler who wanted to asphyxiate the king's good name.

Finally, with a sigh, the king acknowledged that it was time to raise the table stakes.

"Lord Warrick, when next they convene, send the alter boys to me. Until then, train them well. Lady Sara, gather who you need and what resources you must; Lady Heather's Box must be completed." He did not need to impress that all their plans depended upon it. "Sir Nick, I leave you to discover and track the movements of The Stalker; he may not be involved but let us contain him. All accounts suggest he is of the aristocracy." With a curt nod, he dismissed the three to their respective employs; they will report the following night.

Setting a weary gaze upon his friend, he said, "I need to know if there are unfriendly skies, my friend. Find out if we are being watched from above."

The Constable clasped his longtime friend on the shoulder in an act of promise and reassurance while saying, "To the best of my ability." If nothing else, Constable Brass possessed an intimidating ability to extract confessions; he would know where to go for any information the king needed.

Alone, aside for the Lady Courtesan, King Grissom pondered on the merits of his plan to end the siege of terror on his people once and for all. The enemy was unknown yet all actions dictated their anonymous adversary was well acquainted with himself. He seemingly chose his battlegrounds carefully, but randomly, and it had taken all the king's skills to understand the choices behind the incidents to formulate the presented chaos theory, which may predict the enemy's next move.

"My Lord, the Wizard Greg is here to report." A soothing, rich voice gave strength to finish out this long night of planning and revising. Sometimes, he wondered how far he would have come if the Lady Courtesan had not been there to protect him in moments like these. That is, he had been so preoccupied and worn down by sleepless nights that he was unaware to guard himself; he had not even heard the knock upon the door.

Taking a moment to bow his respect, the Wizard collapsed unceremoniously into his usual chair; exhausted as he was, he conformed to the chair like liquid takes the shape of its container. His hair was askew giving the young man a look of infinite intensity while closed eyes hid the knowledge of centuries. Murmuring a grateful thank you for the beverage pressed into his hand by the Lady Courtesan, the Wizard fixed his gaze upon his king.

"It was a typical crate and burial, My Lord. All executed were placed blindfolded into the vehicle, transported outside the borders. There lies the organ grinder that took the innocent lives. The remains were interred where Constable Brass's men found them three hours later."

"Were any left to direct us on the location of this instrument?"

The Wizard hesitated; the afterthoughts of the victims unanimously pointed to a monstrous machine. Its imprinted image would linger long in his mind.

With a sip to fortify his conscious, the Wizard bitterly answered his king. "Yes. I've already notified the Constable; my written findings are here." He handed a file to the king and made to escape.

"Wizard." A voice not to be ignored checked his hasty retreat. "A name."

Haunted eyes clouding grief answered him. "Ellie." The Wizard Greg left the chamber without dismissal.

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© RK 08.Jan.2003