Rating: a very suggestive T
Spoilers: To the end of Season 5, but before Season 6.
Disclaimers: If any of the actual owners of these characters want to give them to me, I'm all for that!
Author's Note: Written in response to the Unbound Challenge from 17 Oct 2005.
Desperate Measures
by Lapsus Stili
Grissom struggled with his emotions as he watched the ambulance pull away.
Conrad Ecklie was now on his way to the hospital, and it was all Grissom could do to keep his feelings from pouring out right there in public. The nightshift supervisor spun and headed back into the lab. With a backwards flick of a hand, he scattered the masses of gawkers back to their stations as he passed.
Stepping into his office, he was not surprised to find a small congregation there. Nick and Warrick filled his couch, as Greg hovered nearby. Catherine and Brass occupied the two guest chairs. Sara looked right at home leaning back in his office chair with her long legs propped on the corner of his desk.
When they locked gazes, she quickly plunked her feet to the ground and sat up. The others turned, too, to gauge his reaction to the situation. At the brief twinkle in his eyes and subtle quirk of his lip they all broke out in hysterics. Their colleague quickly shut the door behind him to keep their laughter, and his, from escaping.
>>> Thirty-two minutes earlier…
It seems Sophia was trying everything to get back into Ecklie's good books again, hoping for the pending swing shift supervisor job. Hordes of rumours had been spreading that the nightshift team would soon be reunited. This meant that Catherine's current job would be up for grabs, and the young blond with the unplaceable accent had no intention of missing this opportunity.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, which is how Miss Curtis wound up kneeling behind the assistant director's desk this morning. Sickened as she was to be drawing her boss's meager parts into her mouth, the closed office door ensured that no one would ever know. The knowledge that a large bottle of mouthwash waited in her locker only thirty paces down the hall gave her the encouragement to literally take one for the team.
Soon Conrad's hands moved to grasp her head, but the daggers that shot from her eyes, coupled with the warning pressure of her teeth, caused him to swiftly rethink that move. Instead, he plotted a new course up his torso to tweak his own nipples through his shirt.
The man's breathing quickened, and Sophia silently cheered, anticipating an end to this torture. Catherine chose that very second to barge through the closed, but sadly unlocked, door with a file in hand, regretting the action instantly. In a freeze-frame moment, a look of sheer horror affixed itself to the three faces and all breathing was temporarily suspended. No fireworks for Conrad today.
Sophia spat out the jewels, albeit a little late to save face, and staggered clumsily to her feet. After an absurd moment of doing his best gasping fish-out-of-water impression, Ecklie finally became conscious of his exposed state and spun away to repack things. In his panic he teetered back too far and the aging armchair tipped, then dumped him over.
A humiliated Sophia bolted from the room, leaving the accidental intruder to assess the damage. The dazed man lay on the floor, his legs pinwheeling overhead as he tried unsuccessfully to untangle himself from the remains of the chair. Catherine whipped the pretty scarf from around her neck and pressed it to the profusely bleeding gash on the side of Ecklie's noggin. His mutterings about the pain in his back gave way to complaints of her hurting his head, then peetered out to nothing as he lost consciousness.
She was certain that stitches were in order, and with her suspicion of a possible concussion, Catherine hastily dug out her cellphone. With her free hand she called for an ambulance, and after disconnecting from that, she paged Grissom to come and give her a hand. There was no possible way that she was handling Ecklie's merchandise!
His friend's vague request to meet her in Ecklie's office did nothing to prepare Gil for what he was about to see. He passed through the doorway to find Cath crouched down beside the heavy wood desk. Coming closer, he peered over the edge to see what was up. Regret seemed to be the reaction of the day today, as he promptly averted his eyes from the nastiness there.
The first question out of his mouth was how Catherine could be so hard up as to end up in such a compromising position with Ecklie. After punching her dense friend in the thigh, the closest thing to her at the moment, she filled him in on the real play-by-play. Relief now graced Grissom's features when he realized that she hadn't gone off the deep end after all.
Next she directed him to glove up. When he looked blankly at her, she rolled her eyes, explaining it would be best if their boss's wares weren't out on display when the paramedics arrived. After several tense moments of cajolings and refusals, she finally convinced him by pointing out that this would qualify as lifelong leverage to use against the pain-in-the-ass to get anything he wanted in the future.
The unpleasant deed was done not a minute too soon. The EMT's waltzed in just as Grissom tucked his vinyl-gloved right hand into his lab coat pocket. Both CSI's followed the entourage into the hallway, but only Grissom accompanied the gurney out to the waiting ambulance. As they were lifting the stretcher into the cab, Ecklie's eyes fluttered open, then widened to see Gil looking down on him with a smirk before the doors slammed shut.
>>> Back to the present…
The laughter continued to filter through Grissom's door and tears now streamed down most of their faces. Suddenly Grissom fell quiet and disgust registered on his face. Everyone noticed and looked at him questioningly as he quickly stripped the white cover from his right hand and heaved it out the door. Only Catherine made the immediate connection, exploding into giggles once again as the rubber glove flew through the lab.