Sky & Microscope

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to someone else entirely.

A/N I may have been a little imaginative when it comes to geography/geology in this story, please forgive me.

A big thank you to everyone who wrote reviews of the prologue, they were much appreciated. I think I've managed to reply to you all individually but considering the large percentage of you who asked about Sara/GSR I've decided to put a comment here as well. As I said in my previous note, this story is set in Season 3 just after the episode A Little Murder, at that point Sara was dating Hank Peddigrew and, while GSR was there, it was very much a background note. It will be in this story too. Sara will be here, as will most of the other regulars of that time, but the story will be centred on Grissom, the investigation, his impending deafness and his relationship with his mother. I think that's more than enough to try and fit in, isn't it?

Finally, happy birthday to SylvieT, I hope your busy week is going well.

Chapter 1

"OK," said Grissom slowly, part of his brain still scrambling around for a get out clause, "apart from that there's a DB involved, what else do we know about this 'party'?"

"Actually, that's about it at this point apart from that the 911 caller gave an approximate location in the desert north-west of Vegas, but a party and a DB were definitely both mentioned." Brass attempted to fill his friend in as Grissom heaved himself upright and began to gather his gear. "Going by the location though it's probably some kids who had some moderately illegal party activities in mind and chose to do it in the no-man's land where city cops rarely visit but outside the area of the State Parks' law enforcement. Of course with this call it sounds as if 'moderately' illegal just got a whole lot more serious."

Grissom grunted a vague acknowledgement, in his experience 'moderate' drink and drugs abuse almost inevitably did lead to something more serious, although that might have been because when he got to hear about those things he was usually there to help deal with the unpleasant after-effects.

"Anyway," Brass continued, as the two men began to walk together towards the parking lot, "a couple of uniforms are headed there to check things out and secure the scene, if there is one, but considering the distance we may as well start rolling, we can always turn around if the call was really a false alarm."

"OK," Grissom acknowledged the sense in that suggestion, "but how come you came directly to me instead of requesting CSI through despatch as normal? And don't say it's because you specifically wanted my scintillating company," he added quickly when he saw Brass' mouth opened ready to offer one of his usual glib replies, "considering you just described me as 'morose and miserable', I won't believe you."

Brass shrugged his sport coat covered shoulders; he'd hoped to have his victim secured without an easy escape route before admitting to an ulterior motive.

"I'd called in at lab reception with some paperwork when the call came in. I could see from the whiteboard there that you were the only CSI not listed as out and I figured that the two of us on a road trip might be fun."

Grissom raised an expressive eyebrow in response.

"OK, maybe not fun, but a chance to catch up, I really have been hearing that kind of stuff about you recently and you were never so closed off when I was your boss. You've changed and I intend to figure out why."

Grissom mentally swore to himself, this was the last thing he needed right now.

"You're sure you don't want to travel in your own vehicle?" he asked, hopefully.

"Nope, like I said, scene's out in the desert, it would play hell with my sedan's suspension, your SUV will cope so much better." Brass grinned, knowing he'd just out logicked the master.

Grissom grimaced and stomped on towards the CSI vehicles, now that he knew Brass' intentions his hope that one of his team would call in allowing him to pass the case on was dashed, Jim would know for sure he was trying to avoid the upcoming conversation.

"We'll need to make sure we have plenty of water, it may be night now, but who knows how long we could be stuck out there," was his way of acknowledging that the detective had won and that the two of them would be travelling together.

When Grissom was finally satisfied that there were sufficient supplies of food, water and forensics gear to be sure they wouldn't be stuck out in the desert missing something vital to life or the investigation, the pair finally set off, Grissom at the wheel and Brass in the shotgun position. As soon as they were on the road and heading north Grissom switched on the radio. He normally preferred shotgun himself, so that he could listen with his eyes as well as his ears, but Brass had pleaded unfamiliarity with the large vehicle. Reluctantly he tuned to a station playing unobtrusive background music and dropped the volume to a level which would allow conversation. Having some kind of continuous background sound would make it easier for him to notice if his hearing faded again, but if Brass thought he was using the noise to avoid talking to him, Grissom knew that the detective would simply turn the radio off altogether.

It was fortunate that Grissom did know that his hearing wasn't at fault, because they travelled for what felt like a very long time without Brass speaking at all. Maybe Jim was hoping that Gil would choose to cover the long silence with his own admission to what his problem was, or maybe he was just considering which of his interrogation techniques he could successfully use on his notoriously unforthcoming friend and still maintain an amicable relationship afterwards. Grissom was frustrated that this should be happening at all, since the wonderful team feeling that he'd felt after they'd successfully out argued his former mentor at Tom Haviland's pre-trial hearing he'd made a real effort to take Catherine's lecture on leadership to heart and be a fully participating team member again, only to have to withdraw in the last couple of days because his hearing was going through a particularly erratic patch and he wasn't sure he could cover the problem successfully in the field.

Grissom's annoyance at the unfairness of it all meant that, if Jim was waiting for him to relax at the wheel before starting to speak, the long wait actually had the opposite effect, so when the detective actually did begin to edge gently into the difficult conversation it wasn't long before his friend snapped.

"Come on, Jim, give me a break, you know what this job can get like sometimes. You had your fair share of bad days too, plenty of times when I had team members come to me saying you were full of something - and it wasn't the joys of spring."

"Yeah, sure, I was a real grouch, I still can be, it's part of my 'hard-nosed cop' persona. You, on the other hand, have always been a pretty laid back kind of guy, except when it comes to the stuff you're really passionate about; and what you're passionate about is forensics and using it to find the truth. So when I hear you've suddenly started leading your team from the rear I worry, OK? And you snapping my head off for asking about it isn't making me feel any less concerned."

"Yeah, sorry about that Jim," Grissom concentrated on the road ahead, driving with both hands firmly on the wheel, hoping he could disguise any tells that the detective might be looking for. After a moment to compose himself a little and think out a more reasonable response he decided that he needed to give Jim something or face being pressed all the way to the crime scene and probably home afterwards as well.

"Look, Jim, you know I like to keep my private life to myself and I admit that it's personal stuff that's been affecting my work, I know I shouldn't let it, but it has this time, but I'm sure you understand why I haven't wanted to give that excuse to everyone who asks." Grissom mentally crossed his fingers, he was relying on the pact between men of his and Jim's generation that the word 'personal' was a big red 'don't go there' sign to protect him.

Brass remained silent; Grissom could tell he was thinking, deciding whether or not to press for more details, so he decided to keep the initiative by offering some information which he wouldn't normally have shared, hoping it would be enough to hide the thing he didn't dare disclose.

"My Mother's coming to stay for a few days," he said , hoping that Brass' informant hadn't told him quite how long he'd been off his game, "once that's over I'll really make an effort to get back on track." Once that's over I may not have much left to worry about as far as my job's concerned, was what he was thinking.

"And what about the case we're heading to now?"

"Paperwork may not have been getting my full attention recently, but the evidence always does." When I let myself get anywhere near it, that is.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Brass nodding.

"And Jim, tell Catherine I appreciate that she went to my former boss on this one, not my current one"

"Actually Catherine didn't just speak to your former boss," Jim acknowledged the correctness of Grissom's educated guess but also gave him a chill of worry before continuing, "she spoke to me as your friend as well. I guess she figured a man to man talk might solve the situation. Look, Gil, I know you're a private man, so I won't pry any further, but anytime you feel the need call me and we'll get together, drink a few beers, grouch about life, Mom's and anything else and, like proper gentlemen, in the morning we'll pretend it never happened. Deal?"

"Deal."

Silence fell; they were beyond the city limits now and heading up towards the mountains. The soft sounds of the radio and the hum of the SUV's engine combined with the uninteresting view of the road ahead to produce a calming atmosphere allowing the two men to resume their usual quietly stable relationship.

Several minutes passed and Grissom was getting to the point where he needed to know more about his destination than simply north-west of Vegas when the police radio on the dash finally came to life, the regular radio automatically fading out in deference to its importance.

Listening just long enough to hear the 419 confirmed and get a more accurate fix on where he was supposed to be headed, Grissom concentrated on driving and left it to Brass as to make notes and make a couple of his own radio calls for extra uniforms and detective support based on the report of the officer at the scene. He'd make his own decision on CSI back-up when he'd seen the location for himself, just because Brass had plenty of living humans to cope with didn't mean that the actual crime scene would be more than one man could cope with. Even if it was, the specific situation would dictate not only how many CSIs would be needed, but also who it would be most useful to call upon for help.

"Did you catch all that?" Jim asked, once he was done with the radio.

"Enough. We're pretty much there now anyway."

Jim peered into the darkness ahead, archetypal red rock formations were just visible ahead as Grissom slowed and changed to four wheel drive as he left the road at a point marked by a solitary LVPD traffic cone, clearly with only one patrol car on scene so far, there was no one yet available to personally direct them towards what was now probably a very sombre party.

"Pretty bleak, weird place to pick for something they decided to call a 'star party'," Brass commented, referring to what had been reported over the police radio, "can't see many 'stars' bothering to come all the way out here."

"The greatest stars in Las Vegas can't be seen on the strip," said Grissom, who actually found the landscape rather majestic. Catching Jim's blank look from the corner of his eye he gestured upwards. "A Star Party is a gathering of amateur astronomers so they can observe and socialise together, sometimes they're just a local group out for a night but they can get as big as some of the conventions we get in town with stuff for sale and talks from various experts. From what we've heard so far this one's on the small side of medium."

"So, it turns out I was right," Brass smiled triumphantly as Grissom manoeuvred the truck to a stop beside a patrol car. "This is exactly your kind of party."

"God, no." Grissom's response was abrupt and definite. "For me astronomy is about the open spaces, just me, insignificant under all that sky, in the middle of all that silence." Silence. Grissom put the vehicle in park, yanked the handbrake into position and was out of the vehicle headed towards the doors at the rear almost before Jim could react. The detective shrugged, putting down the rapid exit to Gil's discomfort at revealing something so personal; perhaps the involuntary revelation had been a side effect of their previous conversation. The detective opened the passenger side door and left the SUV at his own, more leisurely, pace.

"Captain Brass, Supervisor Grissom?" A uniformed officer in his mid twenties approached the two men as they rejoined each other in front of the CSI van. Wells, as his name badge declared him to be was tall and looked like he still had some filling out to do and had an anxious air about him although Grissom suspected that the latter was down to this being the first major crime scene that he'd had to play such a significant role in. It probably didn't help that he was clearly very aware of the seniority of the men in front of him and maybe a bit intimidated by them.

"OK, son, the cavalry's here now and more are on the way. You and your partner are still the first guys on scene though, so make sure you keep up the good work and set up a formal check in point as soon as you can, OK." Brass smiled reassuringly at the young man, making sure he was aware of his duties and that he was no longer expected to hold the fort on his own.

"The boy over there discovered the body; I've tried to keep him apart from the others and asked the friends who were with him not to discuss what they saw."

"And who is this guy?" Jim asked, indicating a studious looking man of about forty who was rapidly approaching them.

"The organiser, apparently he's also deputy chair of Summerlin Astronomy Circle. He was the one who hiked out of here to get cell phone reception and call 911. He tells me he's very keen to help, but wants to talk with someone 'in charge' as soon as possible."

"Well, that would be me. Let's see what he has to say and then give him something 'useful' to do."

Grissom waited while Wells introduced the man to them to Richard Bryson, nodding politely while he took in the man's black wire framed glasses and black 'Astronomers Do It In The Dark' t-shirt worn under a padded jacket to protect against the cold of an October night in the desert, before looking at Wells hopefully, slightly raising his metal forensics toolbox and asking, "Crime Scene?"

"Oh sorry, Sir, I wasn't sure if you'd want to hear what the witnesses have to say first. It's just up there a ways," Wells said, pointing. "The coroner's team have gone on to meet my partner there already, his van's narrower than yours so I suggested he drive a little closer, although things close in pretty fast. Just wait to you see where the body is."

The officer's last words trailed off, as if he'd been trying to make a joke but had suddenly realised that joking about a body's location might be frowned upon by the senior CSI. It didn't matter though because Grissom, apparently no longer listening, was already heading in the direction indicated and trying to work out if the tyre tracks of the coroner's department vehicle would have done more or less damage to his crime scene than having the team and a gurney go through on foot.

Wells had been right about things getting narrower. Grissom was barely a hundred yards round the bend of the track when he came across the black van which had stopped while there were still a few feet of clearance for people to walk around it. Two men in coroner's department jackets and baseball caps were leaning against the vehicle waiting while, illuminated by the van's headlamps in what was rapidly becoming a narrow ravine, David Phillips could be seen looking worried and fiddling with his cell phone.

"Problem, David?"

"Oh, Grissom, hi. No signal," David told him lifting his hand with the phone in it, "I was hoping I might be able to get a call through to Doc Robbins, I think I'm going to need his advice on this one."

"Really?" Grissom knew David was sometimes lacking in confidence; he looked around to try and see what the problem might be, between his years as a CSI and in a coroner's office before that he had plenty of the experience that David still lacked, maybe he could find an answer to whatever the coroner's assistant was concerned about.

No sign of a body, but then Grissom spotted Wells' partner, leaning against the sandstone rock of the valley wall. The rock around the man appeared almost blood red in the low light, except for a gash of black not much wider than the officer himself, just to the man's left. Now Gil was beginning to understand the problem.

"I take it she's in there."

Wells' partner pushed himself away from the wall. Older, wider and presumably more experienced than his partner he'd somehow decided he would be of more use guarding the one member of the group who wasn't going anywhere instead of putting his skills to use managing the large group of possible witnesses. Grissom wasn't into judging people, but he had a fair idea he wasn't going to like this guy.

"Liam Thomas." The man offered his hand. Grissom shook it politely. "Jane Doe's in there all right, about six feet in and three or four up. Lord knows how she wound up dead in that position, and I'm guessing He's the only one who knows how you guys are going to get her out of there too."