The Game

By Gale Force

THIS STORY TAKES PLACE AFTER SARA LEAVES CSI,

BUT BEFORE WARRICK GETS SHOT.

Chapter 1: At the baseball game

Gil Grissom, night shift supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Scene Investigation division, currently on a week-long trip to Minneapolis, Minnesota to attend a conference on forensic entomology, walked out of the Radisson Suites Hotel, where he was staying for the duration, and joined the throng of people walking down South 5th Street towards the Metrodome.

The Minnesota Twins were about to match up against the Boston Red Sox in a 1 pm matinee game, and he had a ticket in the front row, right along the third baseline.

As he walked, Grissom paid little attention to the people around him…he was wondering if his ex-colleague…and ex-fiance, Sara Sidle, would come visit him in Minneapolis as he'd requested, the last time they'd talked on the phone. She hadn't turned him down flat out…but she hadn't said yes, either. She'd "think" about it.

Grissom was used to people making decisions one way or the other, and he didn't like this new side of Sara…but he had to give her time. She'd been through a lot in the last year…and apparently finding comfort and strength through him hadn't been an option...

Don't think like that, Grisom told himself, sharply. When someone was undergoing a tremendous amount of psychological stress, their normal behavior patterns were disturbed, and they needed professional assistance - it was as simple as that. He mustn't let his hurt ego gnaw at him.

Grissom set the emotion aside..compartmentalized it...forgot about it.

Then he started paying attention to his surroundings.

He was back in his old stomping grounds… he'd been a CSI for Hennepin County for a couple of years, until the cold and snowy winters got to be too much for him and he'd requested a transfer…and got Las Vegas instead.

The streams of people were thicker now…clumps of teenagers, fathers with their sons, and occasionally their daughters, parents with the whole family, women…only occasionally a single person such as himself.

Most of them were wearing Twins caps, some carried foam fingers, others, more practical, carried baseball gloves, intent on bringing home a free souvenir if they possibly could.

Grissom passed by the crowds of people in front of the ticket kiosks, marveling as usual that so many people didn't plan ahead and pick up their tickets ahead of time to avoid such congestion. He'd had the concierge at his hotel order his ticket for him.

He came to the ticket takers and the turnstyles. Grissom handed over his ticket and walked into the Dome.

The Hubert H. Humphry Metrodome. A vast white marshmallow of a stadium, in the heart of Minneapolis, just blocks away from downtown. The Minnesota Vikings played here as well as the Twins…but baseball was Grissom's passion.

Grissom checked his watch…the game was scheduled to start in 15 minutes. Rather than wait in line at one of the many concession stands lining the concourse to buy a hotdog and a coke – one had to buy a hotdog and a coke at a baseball game – he decided to grab his seat and get his food the old-fashioned way, from the men and women vendors whose job it was to run up and down the rows of seats, calling out their wares.

Grissom found his seat and settled down. It was perfect - a perfect sight line to home plate, and the third baseman and third base coach were so close it was like they were practically on top of him.

The seats all around him were filled also, the seat right beside him in particular was filled…woman in her late twenties, he judged, dressed in a crisp, new-looking Twins jersey and black jeans, wearing a crisp new Twins cap, and a battered and much-used baseball glove in her lap. She had a perfect profile, a clear eye, a long, straight nose, and lips that were not too thin or too full. She was looking around as if she had the same idea in mind as he had - a red hot and a beer.

Turned out she wanted a hot dog and a coke instead.

After the tradition of foil-wrapped food being handed one way from person to person, and money being handed the other way had been completed, Grissom settled down to watch the game.

The woman beside him finished her hotdog, wiped her face and fingers tidily with a napkin, then pulled the glove onto her right hand, and held it in her lap as she sipped coke and concentrated on the game.

It happened in the third inning.

Jacoby Ellsbury, the lead-off hitter for the Red Sox, came up to bat. He'd bunted for a base hit in the first, promptly stole second and third, and trotted home on a sac fly.

He was left-handed…and typically it was when a left-handed hitter was at the plate that foul balls would come screaming into the stands on the third base line.

Grissom enjoyed watching the batters and their little rituals as they made themselves comfortable in the box, awaiting each pitch. He liked trying to estimate from their body language whether they were going to get a hit in that at-bat or not.

So his attention was all on Ellsbury when the pitcher went into his wind-up. There was a white blur going toward the plate, Jacoby swung, and suddenly there was a white blur in his direction.

In just a split second, Grissom had judged its trajectory. It was on a line drive, and it was going to hit the woman beside him right in the face.

Simultaneously, while Grissom lunged upward and sideways, the woman brought up her glove with the calmness of someone who'd played the game and had great reflexes as well.

The ball bounced off Grissom's left arm and the woman's glove, and upward into the stands, while the woman's coke cup bounced off his right arm and into her lap.

"Hey, watch it!" she cried, turning to look upward as the ball ricocheted from hand to hand and row to row above her. "I would've had that!"

Grissom dropped back into his seat. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you had such good reflexes."

"Yeah, well, now you know," she grumbled, brushing ice off her lap with her free hand. Fortunately she'd drunk all the pop and had been merely saving the ice to crunch on. But some of it had melted and there was a wet stain on the dark fabric.

"Got a handkerchief?" she asked, calmly.

He handed his to her. "I'm sorry…" he started again but she waved her gloved hand negligently as she dabbed at her lap with the handkerchief. "Don't worry about it. The perils of sitting on the third-base line. I got a whole beer down my back at Coors Field. But at least there I also got the ball!"

Grissom laughed and relaxed. She was a true fan.

"I haven't been to a live game in years. I live in Nevada."

"I'm lucky, she replied, handing him back his handkerchief. "I travel around the States a lot. I've seen a game at every single major league stadium there is."

"I envy you," Grissom said with a smile. "That was one of my dreams as a boy." He extended a hand. "My name's Gil."

She took his hand in hers, shook it firmly. "Morgan. Morgan Fane."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Morgan Fane the actress?"

Her face lit up as if someone had just handed her that foul ball. "Yes! Don't tell me you've heard of me!"

"I read about your show in the paper this morning. The Minotaur. Opening tonight at the Actor's Theatre. I'm hoping to get to see it."

"I'd love for you to see it!" she said. "I'll even give you a couple of tickets for tonight if you like."

Grissom thought fast. The conference started tomorrow, and he'd intended to get in some reading beforehand…but…

"I'll only need one ticket," he said with a smile. "I'm here alone."

"One ticket it is then. It'll be for Gil, at the box office."

"Thank you."

His head jerked round at the crack of the bat. While they'd been talking, Ellsbury had singled, Pedroia had struck out, and David Ortiz had just hit a home run.

"Augh." said Grissom.

They spent the rest of the game talking baseball. He was a Twins fan, she was more a fan of individual players...they talked games and plays and players.

It was 4 o'clock when the game ended, and they walked out into the sunshine together.

"Would you like to go somewhere for a snack?" Grissom asked.

"No, thanks. It's time I was getting to the theatre. I shouldn't have even been here at all on opening night, but I'm glad I was."

Gil smiled. "Me, too."

"Well," she smiled, stuck out a hand. "See you later."

Grissom watched her stride briskly down the sidewalk and out of sight, then he turned and headed back toward his hotel.

He was looking forward to tonight.