Summary: New story, new idea, new writing perspective…hopefully. Grissom is attacked at a crime scene, and he can't really remember what happened. Who is going to help him? A little friendship, a little secret sharing and a fair amount of GSR. This is going to be a long one so enjoy :D
Spoilers: There aren't really going to be any just small references to a few scenes in past episodes.
Disclaimer: As I said before, It's Christmas soon and if good ol' Saint Nick will come through for me then I shall recruit some writers and we'll make CSI become the best EVER! Okay so I'm going over the top, I like it as it is :P Anyways no copyright infringement intended. No beta so all mistakes are mine.
Monsieur Cauchemar
xProloguex
For once, Las Vegas wasn't suffering a heat wave; instead it was very much the opposite. For the time of evening, it was a lot darker than usual. Rain clouds had flooded the skies and clearly decided to flood the streets as well. The wind donned more force than normal and it sent winter-like chills through your spine.
Grissom was sat in his office, taking some time to catch up on paperwork whilst the others were on their own cases. The shrill call of his cell rang through the calming sound of the wind outside and he picked it up without looking away from the graveyard shift evaluations.
"Grissom." A blank comment that every caller received when he flipped open his cell, no one ever thought much of it. It was plain and simply, just Grissom.
"Hey it's Brass, grab your kit, we've got a 419 out in Henderson."
After sharing the details, Grissom headed out taking Sara with him. Pulling her off the shared B and E she was working with Catherine. They headed out the crime scene where Brass, David and a few of the regular police officers greeted them.
"So what we got?" Sara asked just before stopping in front of the yellow tape.
"Male DB, no ID found. Looks like a gun shot wound to the back of the skull, execution style if I do say so." Brass responded, clearly coming to terms with the fact that it was going to be a long night. He personally hated them but it kept his mind off going home, downing a bottle of Jack Daniel's and sleeping the alcohol off ready for work the next day.
Grissom pulled out his small torch and clasped it in his right hand, making the bright beam shine through the darkness that waited before them. Getting closer to the body he examined the external appearance before wondering what Doc Robbins could come up with in the internal examination. The man looked around his mid thirties, dressed in a fairly expensive looking suit, Grissom took a quick look at the buttons of the suit and glanced up to find Sara staring intently at him.
"What?" He asked calmly.
"Look's like a re-dress." She said with little enthusiasm, only fairly happy that she had pointed something out that no one else had.
"You read my mind again Miss Sidle." They both smiled and continued to look around the body until they found the fight time to call David over and take the body.
David lifted his head and traced the gunshot wound with his finger then felt around the front. "It wasn't a through and through so hopefully the bullet will give you some answers. That's if it didn't ricochet around his skull and mutilate it."
"Thanks David, call me when Al gets something probative. I'm going to go take a look around the perimeter, Sara you continue with the scene."
"Yeah sure."
Grissom stood and picked up his kit, using his torch he wondered around the outside soon out of sight to Sara. He'd found an alley, taking it as a possible weapon dump and escape route, Grissom started to look through the trash cans and dumpsters. Finding nothing of extreme relevance to the case but continued to take a more in depth look around.
He found a small drain hidden underneath a few damp boxes, moving them aside he shone the light through the metal grate only to find rubbish and soggy paper inside. Grissom stood back up, without any time to react he was pushed face forward into the wall only a few inches away, a supposed arm was pressed into the back of his neck casing him to turn his face. Once he calmed down and tried to move from the grip, he felt something unusual dig into the back of his head.
"Don't say a word."
TBC
A/n: Prologue, fairly short. To the point, I'll put it out there now that this may not be the story you expect, it does focus of this incident but much more becomes of it. At least that's what I plan. I've written a few chapters of this already because usually I write things as I go, so I'll post chapter one and start writing again straight after, this time however, I'm posting this when I still have a fair few other chapters already completed.
Depending on how many people decide they like this and if they want me to continue, review, alerts, favourites whatever then the updates might come quicker but they'll be posted every weekend.
A/n2: And for those who are wondering, "Monsieur Cauchemar" roughly translates to "Mr Nightmare."
