Title: Do It Again For Holly
Author: Special Agent Meg
Rating: PG
Classification: Drama/Supernatural
Spoilers: Heavy spoilers for Pilot and Cool Change
Disclaimers: If I owned them, I probably wouldn't need to write this.
Summary: Warrick gets the chance to go back and undo the biggest mistake of his life. Crossover (CSI/Twice In a Lifetime) Warning: Contains Main Character Death.
A/N: For anyone who isn't familiar with Twice In A Lifetime, the person going back always has a different name when they're interacting with people, and only they and Jones know who they really are. So it's like there's two of them, although they're usually portrayed by two different actors. Because I can't do that (and he would end up looking the same anyway), I'll refer to Present-Day Time Traveling Warrick as simply Warrick, and his past self as CSI Brown, just to keep them straight.
The only reason Warrick Brown knew the sun had come up when he stepped out of CSI headquarters that morning was because it was always up when he left work at that time of year. Otherwise, he never would have believed it. The sky was a dark overcast grey, looking more like London than Las Vegas Nevada.
He was halfway across the parking lot when the rain started – one of those torrents that would come out of nowhere and thoroughly drench everything on the planet. Grimacing he picked up his pace, but was completely soaked by the time he had climbed into the Tahoe.
Warrick turned the key in the ignition and was immediately greeted by the radio newscaster's cheery, "For today, Wednesday, October 6, 2004——" Warrick snapped off the radio dial decisively. He didn't need a reminder of the date. It was burned into his brain, had been for the last four years. The anniversary of the worst mistake of his life.
By now he knew it was impossible to try and stop the memories, so this time he didn't even try as he navigated the Tahoe through the morning traffic; he just let them play like a video in the VCR. Holly Gribbs' apologetic face as he walked towards her from Brass' office. Asking her if she'd be all right at the scene alone. Stopping to place the bet for the judge. Grissom asking him if Holly was all right as they watched the police place a perpetrator under arrest. Brass' words when he entered the break room and the stricken look on Grissom's face. Hearing Sara Sidle tell him Holly had died on the operating table. And the look on Jane Gribbs' face at her daughter's funeral.
Warrick never saw it coming, and the driver of the burgundy minivan never saw him as it careened through the intersection, striking the driver's side of the Tahoe at a perfect right angle.
People started screaming and several rushed towards the two vehicles, trying to reach the occupants. A dark-haired man with a slight build approached Warrick's Tahoe and looked thoughtfully at the CSI, already covered in blood.
"Your job is to search for the truth, my friend," the dark-haired man said softly. "And you're about to find it."
oooooooooooo
Warrick's first reaction when he saw his surroundings was that he had a new submission for the crime lab's lore of 'Weirdest Crime Scenes Visited.' Except, he didn't see any sign of a crime yet – just a pristine tiled floor surrounded by what looked like clouds and a massive wooden door on one side.
Come to think of it, he didn't have his kit with him – a first in his experience. And, if truth were to be told, he didn't even remember getting a call.
Warrick put a hand up to his forehead, wondering if he'd caught the flu bug that had been going around the office. Everyone had complained about the delirium they'd gotten as a result of it and Warrick had secretly taken pleasure in the fact that he'd missed it. At least, until now.
"You're not hallucinating, you know," an amused voice said from his right. Warrick turned to see a slight, dark-haired man smiling at him. If he'd been conscious at the scene of the accident, he would have recognized him as the same man who'd approached his vehicle.
"What on earth is going on?" Warrick said slowly.
"Not on earth," the other man said simply. "Come on, this way."
The other man led him to the door and pushed it open, then motioned for Warrick to step inside. Inside was an almost identical room – down to the clouds and floor tiles – but with the addition of some potted plants and a huge judge's desk at the far end. A smiling elderly man sat behind it, dressed in a dark robe.
"Ah, Mr. Jones," the elderly man said. "I see you've brought your client – right on time, as usual."
"This is the emptiest courtroom I've ever scene," Warrick remarked. "What's the judge's name?"
"Othniel," Jones answered, not hesitating as he walked forward. Warrick, however, stopped dead in his tracks.
"As in the Old Testament?" Warrick's grandmother had delighted in telling him stories from the book of Judges, where her own namesake, Deborah, was featured. It was one of his favorite memories – or at least, it had been, until this.
"Um, Mr. uh, Jones?" Warrick said hesitantly. "Am I dead?"
"Very perceptive," Othniel answered from the front of the room. "One of the most perceptive clients I've had in my courtroom as a matter of fact. Yes, Mr. Brown, you are dead. Your car was T-Boned on your way home from work and you were killed instantly."
"Your Honor," Jones interjected quickly. "Mr. Brown served the public as a crime scene analyst for eleven years. He helped to bring countless dangerous offenders to justice and give families closure."
"He also had an addiction to gambling, as I recall?" Othniel remarked.
"Yes, which he successfully overcame a few years ago," Jones asserted.
"But not before it cost the life of Holly Gribbs." The older man's voice was quiet. "His coworker, on her first night on the job."
A black-and-white image appeared over Othniel's shoulder and Warrick found himself looking at Holly, turning her back as Jerrod Cooper reached for his gun.
Nausea welled up in Warrick's throat as he remembered what followed and he bolted to the side, making it ten feet before he dropped to his knees and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach on the tiled floor.
It was several seconds after his stomach had finished heaving that Warrick became aware of the hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see the face of Judge Othniel, smiling at him.
"You know, I have a lot of people who come through here and don't realize what the greatest mistake of their lives was. Even when I tell them, they still don't totally understand sometimes. But you..." the old man's voice was thoughtful. "You not only remember it, you've carried it with you every day since, isn't that right?"
Warrick nodded. "Mr. Brown, I am going to offer you the same chance I offer those people," Othniel told him. "A chance to go back and stop yourself from making that same mistake. A life sentence."
Warrick looked at him, stunned. "You mean..."
"You will have three days, and three days only," Othniel said. "You will go back with all your memories intact. No-one will recognize you. You are a free agent in the universe, with the blessing of God Almighty, and His Court."
The next thing Warrick knew he was standing in a corridor inside the criminalistics building, dressed in a lab coat.
"Kimble! Hey, Kimble!" Warrick started at the sound of lab technician Charlotte Meridian coming towards him, an irritated look on her face. He turned, but didn't see anyone else behind him.
"Kimble!" Now she was standing right in front of him. "That's your name, right? You're the new guy?"
"Uh..." Before Warrick could respond, Charlotte had already looked at his nametag. "Oh, man. I thought they were kidding. Your parents really named you 'Rick Kimble?'" Warrick just shrugged and Charlotte shook her head. "Of all the names to have when you work in this business. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."
Warrick snuck a look at his nametag after Charlotte had started down the hallway and sure enough, it read 'Rick Kimble.' "Funny. Really funny," he muttered as he followed the less than enthusiastic lab tech down the hallway.
Charlotte stopped outside a row of offices. "The first office here belongs to Captain Jim Brass. He's the graveyard supervisor. The next one is Gil Grissom's, the senior CSI on graveyards. Warning – his office has a very interesting décor." She knocked on the door, and when there was no response she tried the knob.
An obnoxious singing could be heard as she pushed open the door which Warrick recognized immediately as Grissom's Big Mouthed Billy Bass and he couldn't help but grin. Ahead of him, Charlotte rolled her eyes.
"You do know that one of these days, someone's going to shoot that thing, don't you, Grissom?" Charlotte remarked.
Grissom looked up from the experiment he was conducting and gave her a slight grin. "I've already got his replacement in my closet," he answered. The lab tech groaned.
"I should have known. This is Rick Kimble, our new technician."
Warrick braced himself for Grissom to make a comment about him looking like a CSI on his shift, but his former supervisor appeared not to recognize him. All he said was, "Nice to meet you."
"You too," Warrick managed. Charlotte shut the door behind them and gestured to the last office.
"That one belongs to Conrad Ecklie, the senior CSI on days. Do yourself a favor and avoid him like the plague."
"Oh, I've heard of him," Warrick said truthfully, then mentally kicked himself.
Charlotte, however, didn't look surprised. "I'll bet you have." She showed him around the rest of the lab, meeting up with Catherine, Brass, and Greg on the way. Warrick was stunned to see nobody appeared to recognize him. The last stop she took him to was the Trace Lab.
"Think of this as your holding cell. If you need anything, I'm in Fingerprints across the hall," Charlotte told him.
"One thing before you go," Warrick said quickly. "What's the date today?"
Charlotte laughed. "October 4," she replied, before disappearing out the door.
She'd barely left when a man's voice came from behind him. "Got anything for me?"
Warrick jumped about five feet, and then relaxed as he saw the person asking the question. "Yeah, Jones, I've got some questions for you. Like, whose idea was the name Kimble?"
Jones laughed. "Hey, we try to show a sense of humor when we can. This is a pretty serious job, you know."
"Uh-huh. And today is the fifth. Holly doesn't start till tomorrow."
"You get three days, remember? This gives you time to form a trust with yourself."
Warrick snorted. "Yeah, right. Nobody takes lab tech's advice out in the field."
Jones shrugged. "Well, you're going to have to become the first exception. See you later."
"Hey, wait——" Warrick moved to follow him and found himself instead colliding with himself.
"Hey, where's the fire?" CSI Brown asked with a laugh.
"Sorry, just had a follow-up question for Jones," Warrick replied.
CSI Brown frowned. "Don't think I know him. Guess he's new." He shrugged and held out a hand. "Then again, I understand you are too. Warrick Brown. Welcome to CSI."
Warrick shook his hand, trying to ignore how weird the whole thing felt. "Rick Kimble," he answered.
CSI Brown raised his eyebrows. "You have got to be kidding me."
"I wish I were."
"I just came to see if you had the results for me on the gold substance we found on Mrs. Andrews' body. I know you didn't run it, but the guy who was here yesterday probably left his report."
"Right." Warrick turned to the filing cabinet he'd seen Hodges refer to a dozen times and thumbed through until he found the right file. Opening it, he handed the printout to the CSI in front of him.
"Aerosolized spray paint," CSI Brown read aloud. "This guy was a regular Goldfinger. Thanks."
"Any time. So, you heading back into the field?" Warrick said conversationally.
"With the night we're having, probably in a matter of minutes." CSI Brown rolled his eyes.
"So, what's the Law Enforcement community like here?" Warrick said conversationally. "I mean, at the last lab, I know a lot of the CSIs had trouble getting enough evidence for a judge to issue a warrant."
CSI Brown laughed. "Depends on the judge."
Warrick nodded. "Heard you guys have one judge here. Cohen I think his name was. Apparently he's somebody to be avoided at all costs."
CSI Brown's pager beeped before he could answer. He checked the code and grimaced. "419 – gotta go. Nice meeting you, Kimble."
oooooooooo
It was the next evening, and Warrick had yet to get the chance to talk to his younger self again, although he did see CSI Brown walking down the following night. He also gave some test results to Grissom and Catherine, which felt a lot more awkward. Although he still thought of them as the coworkers he'd worked with over the last several years they considered him the new guy, and treated him accordingly. They were polite, even friendly, but there was no real connection.
Grissom didn't give Warrick much of a chance to talk about more than the test results, but he did get the chance for a short conversation with Catherine, long enough to remark, "Graveyard shift is a lot smaller than I expected. I thought there'd be more of you."
Catherine laughed. "Don't we wish."
"Are they planning on hiring anybody else?" Warrick asked, trying to sound casual.
"We're expecting a new girl in a couple of days, fresh out of training. Don't know much about her though," Catherine had replied. "Anyway, gotta run. Lockwood wants me in Interrogation. See you."
Now it was the sixth, the day Holly worked her one and only shift at the crime lab. Warrick sighed. He didn't need to be a criminalist to know he was running out of time.
"It's your second day," came a voice from behind him. Warrick jumped and turned to see Jones, sitting on the counter and smiling at him.
"Yeah, tell me about it. That's why I'm standing here with my eyes glued to these windows," Warrick answered. "Earlier that night, Brass and I got into an argument when he wouldn't issue me a warrant. I got so mad that I went and made the deal with Judge Cohen. But I remember storming by Trace on my way out. I figure, when Warrick – I – come down the hall, maybe I can intercept myself and calm me down."
"Interesting idea. But that's not what you're here for," Jones told him.
Warrick didn't have a chance to ask what he meant by that because he spotted CSI Brown stalking down the corridor. Quickly Warrick rushed out to intercept himself.
"Warrick! Hey, man, where's the fire?"
"Not now, Kimble."
Warrick fell into step beside the CSI. "You look pretty hot under the collar. Let me guess – Brass wouldn't give you a warrant?"
CSI Brown stopped dead in his tracks and looked hard at Warrick. "How did you know that?" he asked suspiciously.
Warrick grimaced inwardly. He hadn't even thought to explain how he knew what was really going on. "Uh, Grissom came by a few minutes ago, said you guys wanted to talk to Brass for a warrant," he said quickly.
"Yeah, well, you're dead on. Brass shot it down."
"You heading back to the evidence room?" Warrick asked.
"Nope." CSI Brown started walking again.
"Well, you can't get your guy without a warrant. How are you doing to do that without evidence?"
"I never said I wasn't going to get a warrant," CSI Brown retorted.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You going to go talk with a judge yourself? Trust me man, you don't want to do something like that."
"Oh, really? And what would you know about that?"
"I know I've worked in enough labs to know what happens when CSIs go over the cops' heads. They go on the cops' hit list." Warrick took a deep breath. "Just stop and think about what you're doing. So you get the warrant. You really think Brass is going to be thrilled with you for going over his head? He'll get you back, because he can. He's your boss."
"Trust me, I can take care of myself," CSI Brown retorted. "Right now I'm worried about putting that lying bastard behind bars."
"But is it worth the hassle? There's no telling how long you'll have to work with this guy," Warrick pointed out.
"Look, what business is it of yours anyway?" CSI Brown fired back. "It's no skin off your rear end."
"It is when I get to deal with tense CSIs and grudge-holding cops in the lab for the next several shifts," Warrick answered.
"Well if you can't take the heat, then get out of the kitchen." CSI Brown brushed past him.
"Come on, man. Don't do anything stupid!" Warrick sighed and entered back into the lab. "Well, that went well."
oooooooooo
Warrick was looking into a microscope when there was a knock on the door and he jumped about six feet. Turning around, he found he found himself looking into Holly's dark eyes.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, no, it's okay," Warrick said hurriedly. "I was just deep in thought."
"I'm, uh, Holly Gribbs. This is my first shift," she said quietly.
"Yeah, I heard you were coming," Warrick replied. "Rick Kimble. Welcome to CSI."
"Thanks. Um, Mr. Grissom asked me to come pick up the test results on the Stuebing case."
"Right, I have them right here." Warrick pulled out the lab report. "That stuff on the guy's shirt was Plaster of Paris."
"You mean like we used to pour into the McDonald's juice containers when I was a kid to make Christmas ornaments?" Holly asked. "What was it doing on his shirt?"
Warrick shrugged. "Got me."
"Well, thanks," Holly replied, taking the sheet.
"So, what do you think of the job so far?" Warrick said quickly, before she could leave.
Holly hesitated. "It's...different than I expected," she said finally. "I don't feel like I know what I'm doing yet."
"I still don't," Warrick joked, and the young CSI smiled. "Gone out into the field yet?"
"Uh, once. Mr. Grissom had me do some fingerprinting at a grocery store," Holly replied.
"How did it go?" Warrick asked.
"Uh, not that well," she admitted. "The proprietor got mad at me for taking too long."
Warrick had heard about that from Catherine, who'd arrived on scene when Holly called for backup. Apparently the store owner had also pulled a gun on her.
"Yeah, I've heard you guys get some interesting people out there," Warrick answered. "Listen, a little friendly advice?" She nodded. "Don't be afraid to ask for help. If you don't feel comfortable doing something, or you don't feel ready, it's okay to ask one of other CSIs. That's why they're out there with you, to give you a feel for the job. Catherine, Grissom, Warrick. None of them will mind giving you an extra hand if you feel like you need it and they won't make you feel stupid for asking."
"Thanks." Holly smiled. "Um, I guess I'd better run."
Warrick nodded. "If you get the chance, stop by on your way out at the end of the night, let me know how your shift went," he told her.
"I will."
A few minutes after Holly had left, Warrick headed for the break room to pour himself a cup of coffee. On the way he saw Brass, who'd cornered Grissom next to the filing cabinets.
"If you see Brown, tell him I want him in my office, yesterday," the cop snapped.
"What's going on?" Grissom asked.
"That warrant I said he couldn't have for the home invasion? Turned out Warrick went over to Judge Cohen's house. Talked to him personally."
Warrick didn't wait any longer. He took off running down the hall, desperate to find his younger self before Brass got a hold of him.
oooooooooo
"Looking for someone I know?" Jones asked as Warrick stuck his head in the break room for what felt like the hundredth time. The angel was dressed in a black suit and sitting on the counter, next to the coffee machine.
"Yeah, me." Warrick said tersely. "I just heard Brass say I went for the warrant after all."
"Did you really think you'd listen to yourself, considering how mad you were?" Jones asked.
"Look, Jones. I'm not in the mood. I've made the deal with Judge Cohen. Now I've got to find myself before Brass does. I'll offer to take the bet down for him." Warrick turned to leave the room.
"That's not what you're here for," Jones said sharply.
Warrick stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it. The reason you came back is to stop yourself from leaving Holly alone at that crime scene."
"Which won't happen if I don't place the bet." Warrick sighed. "Look, I know that whole thing with Cohen was a stupid move, but it's too late to undo that. But it's not too late to save Holly's life."
"That's not why you're here either."
Warrick stared at him in shock. "What are you saying? She's going to die no matter what I do?"
"I didn't say that. Warrick, a life sentence is about teaching yourself to make the right choice. To learn something. You can't do that if you simply take the choice away all together."
Warrick sighed. "So what do you suggest I do?"
"For one thing, you might want to keep your voice down. When I wear this suit, nobody can hear me. Which means, you've got a group of very confused lab techs and CSIs eyeing you right now."
Warrick groaned as he noticed Mandy, Greg, and Nick for the first time in the doorway. "Oh, great." He turned back to Jones and saw the angel had now completely disappeared. "Just great."
ooooooooooo
Warrick rounded the corner of the lab and felt his heart sink. CSI Brown was coming from Brass' office and walking towards an apologetic-looking Holly.
His mind raced. This was now about more than saving Holly's life. When he'd started this, it had seemed relatively simple. If worst came to worst, he would call out sick and drive to the crime scene, see what he could do there. It didn't matter if he got fired for it – he was leaving the next day anyway. Even if he later ended up dead in that car accident, Holly would have survived that night, and he'd never do something that stupid again.
Now he realized that his mistake was not that he had gotten Holly killed. Rather, Holly had gotten killed as a result of the mistake he had made, and that was the mistake he had to undo. Deep down, Warrick had always known that, but he'd gotten sidetracked after this started, moving with tunnel vision towards his goal of saving the rookie CSI.
He'd had several opportunities to try and talk to his younger self, times he could have casually brought up the idea of the danger of leaving an inexperienced CSI alone at a crime scene. But he hadn't. And this was his last chance.
"Yo, Warrick, you got a minute?" Warrick said, striding forward quickly.
"What do you want?" CSI Brown said suspiciously.
"To talk to you. Privately."
Clearly CSI Brown could tell the other man wouldn't be taking no for an answer, because he reluctantly nodded. "I'll just be a minute," he said to Holly.
"I'm not going anywhere," she replied.
Warrick motioned for CSI Brown to follow him into the nearby locker room. After they were inside, CSI Brown said, "I suppose you think you're really smart now. Everything turned out the exact way you said it would. Happy?"
"Look, I'm sorry. I was out of line," Warrick said quickly.
"You got that right."
"Can we just forget about that for a minute? I talked to Holly a little while ago – when she came to see me in Trace."
CSI Brown shook his head. "So?"
"So, she's not saying it, but that kid is nervous about going in the field." It wasn't a lie. Warrick remembered the look in her eyes when he'd said goodbye to her in the Tahoe. "I think Brass raked her over the coals a little earlier."
CSI Brown snorted. "I'd believe it."
"Just, go easy on her tonight." Warrick sighed. This was stupid. All he was doing was making himself think he was a paranoid idiot. "Look, at the last lab I worked at, one of the guys left a rookie on the scene. Had to run some kind of stupid errand. When he got back, he found out the guy had returned to the scene and killed her. The guy never got over what he'd done."
Warrick took a deep breath. "The night that happened, I thought the kid seemed nervous. And I considered doing something about it. Maybe saying a word to her supervisor. But I didn't. And all I can think about is if I had done something, maybe that CSI wouldn't have left her alone that night and maybe she wouldn't have gotten killed."
CSI Brown was looking at him and actually seemed to be listening. Warrick closed his eyes for a second and sent a silent prayer before continuing; "Now I'm sure I sound paranoid, and maybe I am. But I promised myself I'd never let something like that happen again if there was anything I could do about it. That's why I'm telling you this now. Okay?"
CSI Brown nodded, slowly. "I get that. Who knows, I'd probably feel the same way if it had happened to me."
You would, Warrick thought silently. Because it did happen to you.
"And hey, I'm sorry I took it out on you earlier in the hall. Sometimes I tend to stick my foot in it."
"Hey, it's okay."
"I'd better get going, or Brass is going to be on my butt again. But you want to maybe grab a beer after shift?"
Warrick smiled. "Sounds good to me."
oooooooooo
CSI Brown pulled the Tahoe up to the site of the apartment complex and radioed to dispatch that they'd arrived, and then turned to Holly. "Okay, go inside. Dust for prints. Make sure you take plenty of photographs...
Holly said the last word in unison with him and continued, "Be thorough. Don't worry. I got the same speech from Mr. Grissom."
"Good. Look, I gotta run an errand. You'll be okay on your own?"
"You kidding? I'm fired up, ready to go. Besides, there's an officer here." She opened the door and climbed out of the car. CSI Brown watched her walk up the stairs, saw her take a deep breath and square her shoulders before continuing. Kimble's words came back to him.
Making a decision, Warrick parked the Tahoe and climbed out as well, then jogged to catch up with Holly. She turned and looked at him in surprise.
"You know what? That errand can wait. I'll go with you and help you out. Then if we have time we can grab a cup of coffee and I'll catch you up on some of the office lore."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
oooooooooo
Warrick paced nervously in the break room, his eyes constantly going towards the clock. The shift was over, and his younger self hadn't come back yet. Warrick had monitored the dispatch and hadn't heard any of the radio calls he remembered himself making. He hoped that meant he'd followed his own advice on this one.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grissom, Nick, and Catherine talking. Warrick remembered they were about to celebrate Nick's promotion to CSI Level 3. He swallowed. He'd been there when that happened, and then afterwards Brass had come in and told them about Holly.
Warrick glanced out the window and spotted Brass coming in their direction. He frowned. He'd taken care of what had happened with Holly. Brass had no reason to come in now. Unless, this was about something else. Or...Warrick remembered Jones' last words to him and felt a pit of nausea forming in his stomach. No.
Brass entered the room and didn't give Warrick a glance, before walking over to the CSIs. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I need grave to pull a double."
No. This wasn't happening. Not again.
"Holly Gribbs and Warrick Brown have been shot. Apparently the suspect returned to the scene. They don't think they're gonna make it."
Warrick didn't hear any more of the horrific recital. He'd heard enough of them the first time. Instead, he bolted for the Tahoe, intent on driving to the hospital. And if he happened to see Jones on the way, then he had a few things to say to him.
oooooooooo
"It's time to go."
Jones stood in front of Warrick's chair in the ER Waiting room. It was the first time Warrick had seen the angel since their conversation in the break room. At least this time, he wasn't wearing the black suit.
"What do you mean, go?" Warrick asked tiredly.
"It's your third day," Jones said quietly. Warrick just shook his head.
"So this is how it ends, huh? I go back and make the right choice, and it costs both of our lives." Tears streamed down Warrick's cheeks. "All I can think about is what Grissom said to me the day he hired me back." His voice shook as he repeated, "'I lost one good person today. I don't want to lose another.' So as if I hadn't screwed things up enough the first time, I go back to try and make things right, and I wound up just making everything at worse."
Warrick looked Jones in the eye. "I don't mind dying. I've known for the last four years that should have been me in there, not Holly. But why...why couldn't I at least have saved her?"
Jones didn't answer, just held out his hand. "It's time." Reluctantly Warrick stood up and followed the angel out of the waiting room.
"So what happens now?" Warrick asked. "I mean, to everyone at CSI."
Jones just smiled. "I can't answer that for you, Warrick," he replied. "But you're going to know for yourself very soon."
Warrick just sighed, frustrated, and turned the corner of the hospital corridor.
And found himself in the parking lot of CSI headquarters. The sky was dark and he was standing next to his Tahoe. A look at his watch showed it was about an hour before the start of shift.Shaking his head and half wondering if he'd been hallucinating, Warrick started walking across the empty stall adjacent to his vehicle.
BEEP! The sight of another Tahoe, screeching to a halt a few feet away from him caused him to jump and stop still in his tracks. Quickly he gave an apologetic wave and moved out of the stall and to the other side, watching the driver carefully pull in and park.
"Do you have a death wish, Warrick?" The driver had jumped out now and was bolting towards him, a terrified look on her face. A face with dark brown eyes and framed by auburn, shoulder-length curls...
"Holly!" Warrick grabbed her and twirled her around in ecstatic hug.
"Hey! Cut it out!" Holly pushed against his shoulder, forcing him to let her go. "Let me go."
"Sorry." He took a couple of steps back and stood back, smiling in disbelief.
"I almost killed you just now, don't you get that?"
"No, no, I get that," he assured her as tears welled up in his eyes.
"Then why are you grinning at me like that?"
"I just...I'm just really glad to see you," Warrick said sincerely. At the suspicious look she shot him he said, "I just had one of those cases – you know, the ones that really make you appreciate the people close to you?"
"Uh, Warrick, I worked your last case with you, remember?" Holly sounded confused, and a little worried. "The old lady who thought she heard a domestic disturbance and ended up just hearing a church youth group having a drama rehearsal? You know, your basic cut-and-dried false alarm? No-one got hurt."
"Well...it was more like a nightmare about an old case," Warrick said quickly.
"Okay." Warrick could tell by the look on her face that she still didn't believe him, but that she'd given up pushing it. "Come on. I want to see why on earth Grissom insisted it was so important we show up for shift an hour early."
"I'm right behind you," Warrick answered. They entered the building and made their way down the hallway and past the briefing room.
"There they are!" Catherine called from inside. Grissom rushed to the doorway.
"Come on, you two. We've been waiting for you."
"Uh...I still need to put my purse in my locker," Holly answered. Grissom shook his head impatiently.
"Forget it, you can do it later. Come on." Grissom motioned for Warrick to enter and waited until he saw him sit down before ushering Holly in, his hand on her back. "Okay, everyone, our guest of honor has arrived."
"What?" Holly looked at him in confusion as Catherine got to her feet and came forward, carrying a circular cake which she set on the table, then handed Holly the knife.
The younger CSI accepted it and looked down at the cake, a grin forming on her face. "Okay, whoever decorated this needs serious help," she joked. The top of the cake had been decorated to look like a crime scene – complete with a yellow 'tape' outline, a white body figure, and even a nice patch of red icing for blood splatter.
"Just be glad they talked me out of adding a plastic insect," Grissom told her. "Go on, cut it."
Cautiously, Holly made an incision and edged the first slice out, only to notice a flat object tucked inside. "What the..." Carefully she tugged it out and looked down at a copy of the ID badge she was currently wearing, only with one small difference.
"CSI Level 2?" Holly looked up in disbelief at Grissom, Catherine, and Nick, all of whom were grinning.
"Uh-huh," Grissom replied, giving her a gentle hug. "Congratulations."
"Thanks." Holly accepted hugs from Nick and Catherine as well, before finding herself looking into Warrick's smile. "So this is why you were going so crazy in the parking lot tonight."
It wasn't, but Warrick shrugged anyway and wrapped her in a hug, which she didn't pull away from this time.
"What, you gave it away?" Nick asked, giving his friend a mock glare.
"Not exactly," Holly admitted. "But I almost hit him because he wasn't watching where he was going." She couldn't resist giving him a playful punch on the arm. "And when I tried to ask him what he was doing he hugged me and started grinning like a lunatic."
Just then Warrick caught sight of Jones, standing across the hall in a police uniform. "Uh, will you guys excuse me for just one second?" he said quickly, and slipped outside before anyone could say anything.
"I thought Holly was shot."
"She was," the angel said with a smile. "But because she wasn't left by herself, Cooper was only able to shoot her once, and that ended up making the difference.
"I don't understand," Warrick said in confusion. "How?"
"You moved in front of Holly when he fired the first time, so Cooper actually shot you first," Jones told him. "Then Holly. But when you fell you landed near your weapon, and you were able to shoot him before he was able to get off any more shots. And by that time a neighbor had heard the gunfire, and called 911. The police and ambulance arrived and the two of you were taken to hospital. It was touch-and-go for both of you for a while, but..." Jones' eyes glistened as he nodded towards the briefing room, where Holly was laughing with the other CSIs. "You can see for yourself."
"What happened with Judge Cohen?" Warrick asked.
"Well, obviously he didn't get his bet placed," Jones said, unable to keep an entirely straight face. "He did come to see you while you were in hospital and threaten to tell Brass and the Sheriff about your agreement if you didn't find some way to get him his money. You did what he said then, but when he came after you again to compromise evidence, you did the same thing as the last time around. So he's still in his cell."
"And Brass and Sara?"
"Brass was still demoted as a result of everything that had happened and is back in Homicide. You guys still have the same working relationship. Sara came out for the investigation only and to help out while you and Holly were on medical leave and then headed back to San Francisco, but transferred to Florida about a year later. You and Catherine got the chance to see her again when you went out to work the Rittle case. She's engaged to Horatio Cane, and there's plans for you guys to fly out for the wedding next May."
Warrick just shook his head in amazement. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I'll remember this for the rest of my life."
"I'm not the one for you to thank," Jones told him. "And actually, you won't remember this. After I leave, all you'll remember is your new life."
Warrick smiled slightly. "And the fact that some weird lab guy named Kimble got on my butt to never leave my partner alone."
Jones laughed. "And that."
"Hey, Warrick, are you coming back in any time tonight?" Holly called from across the hall. "Or do you just want me to eat your slice of cake?"
"Oh, nothin' doin', I'm coming," Warrick retorted. He exchanged one last smile with Jones and walked back into the greeting room, where Holly handed him his slice of cake on a napkin.
"So, since you're in such a chummy mood tonight, any chance I can get you to do me a favor?" Holly asked him, her eyes twinkling.
"What kind?" Warrick said suspiciously.
"Introduce me to that cop you were just talking to? He's kind of cute."
Warrick laughed heartily and wrapped his arm around Holly's shoulders. "Trust me, Holly. You don't want to be caught dead with that guy."
THE END