If you see the characters on TV, then they ain't mine. The song is Goo Goo Doll's "Iris".
Everything I've Known
and i'd give up forever to touch you
'cause i know that you feel me somehow
you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be
and i don't want to go home right now
"Gil Grissom, crime scene analyst."
What is that, some kind of fancy euphemism for a cop? I replied suspiciously.
He tried to hide his immediate shock, but I saw pass it easily. Whether he was surprised about my blunt, accusing remark or the fact that I knew what a euphemism was, I couldn't be sure. My eyes narrowed. Whenever I met someone I didn't know if I could trust, I narrowed my eyes. It was a habit. I've met too many people who've mistreated me in all sorts of ways. Way too many.
"Uh, no. I'm actually a scientist."
Just as bad. You still poke around other people's private business, stirring up more trouble than necessary.
I glanced at the gun on his belt. He noticed, and raised an eyebrow, still watching me. Blue eyes. Deep, soft, blue eyes. They looked reliable, I guess.
You ever pull the gun on anyone before?
"No. And I hope I never have to."
He kept his eyes locked on mine. Strange, despite the way I was dressed, his eyes never wavered, never wandered ten inches south, nor another foot south of that. He looked at me like he actually cared. He saw me as a human being. A person. A woman. I'll admit, it's been a while.
"Do you know who called in the homicide?"
Yes, I do.
"Would you care to fill me in?"
Someone who works here. Her name's Catherine.
"Can you tell me who that might be?"
Uh, yeah, it's me.
He nodded. Was it a mistake to tell him? Well, too late now.
"Were you a friend of the deceased?"
We were just acquaintances, I answered.
"All right, well, this officer here is going to take you down to the station to ask you a few questions."
Am I a suspect or something?
and all i can taste is this moment
and all i can breathe is your life
and sooner or later it's over
i just don't want to miss you tonight
Well, ten minutes later I found out the answer to that question. They sat me in the interrogation room for more than two hours because they discovered my fingerprints in the crime scene, which may I add was the goddamned bathroom. What the hell, people are in there all the time.
"We have reason to believe that you may have wanted Miss London dead."
Oh, really. What reason is that? I asked, completely unenthusiastic.
"She was engaged to your ex-boyfriend."
Yeah, so? I broke up with him nearly eight months ago.
"Well, according to his testimony, he says he broke up with you. Not the other way around."
All right, so he broke up with me. So? That doesn't prove anything.
"It might."
You think I was trying to take revenge on her? Like I said it was months ago.
"Revenge is best served cold." Grissom replied calmly as he got up to leave, heading toward the door.
You got that quote wrong. It's "revenge is a dish best served cold", said by Choderlos de LaClos. Originally written in French.
I responded so fluently that I even surprised myself. He turned around and stared at me. I stared right back. I broke him. He came back and sat down across the table from me. I half smiled and half scowled inside. Smiled because he now he knew I wasn't as senseless as most thought strippers were, but scowled because I had to prove it to him by quoting some old age quote. But I got his full attention now.
He was curious. He was wondering how the hell some stripper like me knew stuff like that. Appearances can be deceiving. He was trying to figure me out, remove my unrelenting disguise. He was attempting to see if I was lying. I knew he would find nothing.
"Do you have an alibi?"
Only about eighty pairs of eyes locked onto me on stage.
"Did you get off the stage at all?"
No. I got off the stage when my number had finished. That's when I went to the restroom and found Rachel.
"Did you see anyone going out?"
I shook my head.
"How did your fingerprints get there?"
Hell, I tried to help her.
He was hesitant to let me go. I could read him like a book. He really tried to hide. I wasn't sure why. That was what I couldn't figure out.
and i don't want the world to see me
'cause i don't think that they'd understand
when everything's made to be broken
i just want you to know who i am
Look, Mr. Grissom ---
"Call me Gil."
All right, look, Gil, you can ask my boss if I ever got off the stage. He'll tell you I didn't. Or ask one of the eighty men out there. I didn't leave the stage.
"Your boss is Rex Heller?"
Yeah.
"Would he have any reason to want Rachel dead?"
Maybe. I mean, they were arguing a lot these past few days. In front of me, the other dancers. Rachel wanted to quit because she was getting married. Rex didn't want to lose her. She attracted almost as many people as I did.
"Do you think he's capable of killing her?"
Well, he can get pretty violent sometimes. He bruised me two weeks ago because I was fifteen minutes late to work.
"All right. You may go."
You sure?
"Yeah. Go ahead."
I stood up from the table hesitantly, and left.
I didn't hear from him again. I only heard about the investigation on the news. It turned out Rex really did kill Rachel. Son of a bitch. I trusted him. Well, he just proved my theory right. All men are just bastards, taking advantage of women, and all that load of crap.
That Grissom guy proved me right too. He never came back. He promised he would come back and let me know what was going on. Lying bastard. I didn't see him for a week. I hate it when men lie, especially to a woman. That was the one kind of guy I hated. A thousand broken promises. Just one more to add to the already extravagantly long list. And I actually liked that guy. I thought I could actually trust him. Believe him. I thought he was different. But now I can just see it plain as day, he was just another ---
and you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
or the moment of truth in your lies
when everything feels like the movies
yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive
"Hey, Catherine."
I whirled around, stunned. I knew it was him. My god, it really was him. He kept his promise. He was late, but hell, he was here in front of me.
Gil Grissom. I never thought you'd come back in a million years.
"A promise is a promise. I know I'm late about a week and all, but I decided to drop by anyway. You know, to see how you were doing."
I'm all right, Gil. How've you been?
"Busy. I've been busy, but I have a few days off."
Then, should I be flattered you're spending your precious seconds here with me?
He smiled. We ended up going out for a couple drinks, and I found I actually truly enjoyed his company. I was wrong about him. And I don't mind admitting that. He was intelligent, sophisticated, gentle, and best of all, he respected me. He didn't see me just as a piece of flesh. I was more than that.
He told me about the case he had just finished that night. A woman was found dead on the highway. The only clue he had were some plant spores found on her shirt.
"By identifying the plant the spores came from, you can trace where she was just before she was killed."
Palynology, the study of spores and pollen.
"Yeah. How'd you know that?"
I graduated UNLV with a degree in medical technology. It was a follow up report.
"This year?"
Last year.
"Wow. That's really great. You should be proud."
Thanks. I am.
and i don't want the world to see me
'cause i don't think that they'd understand
when everything's made to be broken
i just want you to know who i am
and i don't want the world to see me
'cause i don't think that they'd understand
when everything's made to be broken
i just want you to know who i am
i just want you to know who i am
i just want you to know who i am
i just want you to know who i am
Everything I've Known
and i'd give up forever to touch you
'cause i know that you feel me somehow
you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be
and i don't want to go home right now
"Gil Grissom, crime scene analyst."
What is that, some kind of fancy euphemism for a cop? I replied suspiciously.
He tried to hide his immediate shock, but I saw pass it easily. Whether he was surprised about my blunt, accusing remark or the fact that I knew what a euphemism was, I couldn't be sure. My eyes narrowed. Whenever I met someone I didn't know if I could trust, I narrowed my eyes. It was a habit. I've met too many people who've mistreated me in all sorts of ways. Way too many.
"Uh, no. I'm actually a scientist."
Just as bad. You still poke around other people's private business, stirring up more trouble than necessary.
I glanced at the gun on his belt. He noticed, and raised an eyebrow, still watching me. Blue eyes. Deep, soft, blue eyes. They looked reliable, I guess.
You ever pull the gun on anyone before?
"No. And I hope I never have to."
He kept his eyes locked on mine. Strange, despite the way I was dressed, his eyes never wavered, never wandered ten inches south, nor another foot south of that. He looked at me like he actually cared. He saw me as a human being. A person. A woman. I'll admit, it's been a while.
"Do you know who called in the homicide?"
Yes, I do.
"Would you care to fill me in?"
Someone who works here. Her name's Catherine.
"Can you tell me who that might be?"
Uh, yeah, it's me.
He nodded. Was it a mistake to tell him? Well, too late now.
"Were you a friend of the deceased?"
We were just acquaintances, I answered.
"All right, well, this officer here is going to take you down to the station to ask you a few questions."
Am I a suspect or something?
and all i can taste is this moment
and all i can breathe is your life
and sooner or later it's over
i just don't want to miss you tonight
Well, ten minutes later I found out the answer to that question. They sat me in the interrogation room for more than two hours because they discovered my fingerprints in the crime scene, which may I add was the goddamned bathroom. What the hell, people are in there all the time.
"We have reason to believe that you may have wanted Miss London dead."
Oh, really. What reason is that? I asked, completely unenthusiastic.
"She was engaged to your ex-boyfriend."
Yeah, so? I broke up with him nearly eight months ago.
"Well, according to his testimony, he says he broke up with you. Not the other way around."
All right, so he broke up with me. So? That doesn't prove anything.
"It might."
You think I was trying to take revenge on her? Like I said it was months ago.
"Revenge is best served cold." Grissom replied calmly as he got up to leave, heading toward the door.
You got that quote wrong. It's "revenge is a dish best served cold", said by Choderlos de LaClos. Originally written in French.
I responded so fluently that I even surprised myself. He turned around and stared at me. I stared right back. I broke him. He came back and sat down across the table from me. I half smiled and half scowled inside. Smiled because he now he knew I wasn't as senseless as most thought strippers were, but scowled because I had to prove it to him by quoting some old age quote. But I got his full attention now.
He was curious. He was wondering how the hell some stripper like me knew stuff like that. Appearances can be deceiving. He was trying to figure me out, remove my unrelenting disguise. He was attempting to see if I was lying. I knew he would find nothing.
"Do you have an alibi?"
Only about eighty pairs of eyes locked onto me on stage.
"Did you get off the stage at all?"
No. I got off the stage when my number had finished. That's when I went to the restroom and found Rachel.
"Did you see anyone going out?"
I shook my head.
"How did your fingerprints get there?"
Hell, I tried to help her.
He was hesitant to let me go. I could read him like a book. He really tried to hide. I wasn't sure why. That was what I couldn't figure out.
and i don't want the world to see me
'cause i don't think that they'd understand
when everything's made to be broken
i just want you to know who i am
Look, Mr. Grissom ---
"Call me Gil."
All right, look, Gil, you can ask my boss if I ever got off the stage. He'll tell you I didn't. Or ask one of the eighty men out there. I didn't leave the stage.
"Your boss is Rex Heller?"
Yeah.
"Would he have any reason to want Rachel dead?"
Maybe. I mean, they were arguing a lot these past few days. In front of me, the other dancers. Rachel wanted to quit because she was getting married. Rex didn't want to lose her. She attracted almost as many people as I did.
"Do you think he's capable of killing her?"
Well, he can get pretty violent sometimes. He bruised me two weeks ago because I was fifteen minutes late to work.
"All right. You may go."
You sure?
"Yeah. Go ahead."
I stood up from the table hesitantly, and left.
I didn't hear from him again. I only heard about the investigation on the news. It turned out Rex really did kill Rachel. Son of a bitch. I trusted him. Well, he just proved my theory right. All men are just bastards, taking advantage of women, and all that load of crap.
That Grissom guy proved me right too. He never came back. He promised he would come back and let me know what was going on. Lying bastard. I didn't see him for a week. I hate it when men lie, especially to a woman. That was the one kind of guy I hated. A thousand broken promises. Just one more to add to the already extravagantly long list. And I actually liked that guy. I thought I could actually trust him. Believe him. I thought he was different. But now I can just see it plain as day, he was just another ---
and you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
or the moment of truth in your lies
when everything feels like the movies
yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive
"Hey, Catherine."
I whirled around, stunned. I knew it was him. My god, it really was him. He kept his promise. He was late, but hell, he was here in front of me.
Gil Grissom. I never thought you'd come back in a million years.
"A promise is a promise. I know I'm late about a week and all, but I decided to drop by anyway. You know, to see how you were doing."
I'm all right, Gil. How've you been?
"Busy. I've been busy, but I have a few days off."
Then, should I be flattered you're spending your precious seconds here with me?
He smiled. We ended up going out for a couple drinks, and I found I actually truly enjoyed his company. I was wrong about him. And I don't mind admitting that. He was intelligent, sophisticated, gentle, and best of all, he respected me. He didn't see me just as a piece of flesh. I was more than that.
He told me about the case he had just finished that night. A woman was found dead on the highway. The only clue he had were some plant spores found on her shirt.
"By identifying the plant the spores came from, you can trace where she was just before she was killed."
Palynology, the study of spores and pollen.
"Yeah. How'd you know that?"
I graduated UNLV with a degree in medical technology. It was a follow up report.
"This year?"
Last year.
"Wow. That's really great. You should be proud."
Thanks. I am.
and i don't want the world to see me
'cause i don't think that they'd understand
when everything's made to be broken
i just want you to know who i am
and i don't want the world to see me
'cause i don't think that they'd understand
when everything's made to be broken
i just want you to know who i am
i just want you to know who i am
i just want you to know who i am
i just want you to know who i am