Slayers: Grissom Sisters
Chapter 2
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Las Vegas Courtroom
"A rock? Excuse me counselor, but this is the first mention of any rock we've had."
Sighing, the man looked over and began again, pointing to the picture on the projector. "It was in CSI Sanders's report."
There was more dialogue explaining how one man, the only suspect who had remained at the scene, as he beat up the person in question. Try to help someone and look what he got, beat up.
A concerned mother wasn't seeing it that way.
"He was my boy. He had a good chance of getting into college, a 3.6 grade point average." She was hysterical.
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"You're going to apologize to a mother of a boy who would have beaten you and someone else to death? It'll just show your culpability."
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He tried to focus on her words, but wasn't having too much luck; he wanted to be able to sleep at night.
"How tough do you feel without your big SUV, huh?"
Shit. His mind began to panic, not look at the big picture and contemplate it like he always thought he would do. Slowly, he turned and stood up, facing the young dark skinned man who could definitely beat him up, despite the two inches Greg had on him.
"I asked you a question, killer." He said this and all Greg could think was, I'm not a murderer, I'm not.
Luck was on his side. A man in a suit, no real face, walked in then and washed his hands and face quickly. By the time Greg looked up, he was gone, the dark skinned man had already walked away.
Greg wonders if it was a figment of his guilty imagination or just
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"We the jury find the death of Demetrius Johnson, is excusable."
Guilt. Happiness. Guilt. He's confused now, not really trusting in his decisions. The guy he saved is smiling in a wheelchair and yet he cannot bring himself to let the guilt go.
Killer.
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It was another miniature replica, this time over a blonde elderly lady who died before the cancer infecting her system painfully could kill her.
Over his shoulder, peering at the house-like form were Sara Sidle and David Hodges. No one really knew that Sara was like an adopted niece to him. Her parents hadn't treated her well and when he came across her years ago, he had her put into child protected services. Though the five years in the system had been hard, he had kept in contact with her and she had lived through it. He had been a mentor for her, and as he switched places, eventually coming back to Las Vegas, she followed.
David Hodges was a somewhat new lab technician. His thoughts were concentrated on the inner plots of crime scenes, taking Greg's place when he got into the physical side of the job. At first, he hadn't been well-liked, almost considered as Conrad's minion. But over time, he had finally adjusted and was now a normality around the lab. He was odd, to be sure, but everyone had their oddities, and his was becoming the usual around the lab. Greg's music wasn't played out of the cars now and sometimes Grissom wondered how he was taking it, having blood on his hands, however unintentional.
From the attack and so on, it seemed Greg was not getting cut a break. But then, with Conrad around, Gil wondered if they would all be forced to split up. He worried over it. He had never had a real team like he seemed to now.
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It was Conrad's office, all dark navy blue covering the walls. There were no pictures, no personal effects except for those that might look good. Loose decorations and a few wonderful newspapers were on the walls, and the lights were dim enough not to be too bright.
Sitting there, Grissom wondered if the vague feeling of interrogation it held was on purpose, or if it was just Conrad's aura that he always held. Waiting for the other man to come back for this next round. The rest of his team had already parted in their own but he hadn't been able to talk to them, having been rushed to the room the boss wasn't even in fairly quickly after the last meeting.
A clock on the wall gave audible ticking sounds and though it might have deeply bothered others, he reveled in his ability to hear. The disease he acquired from his mother had been cured and cut from him fairly early. He was lucky and though he wasn't one for joy, he was glad that he could still hear.
His life was his job. He couldn't not be a CSI.
Finally, the door behind him opened. He bent his head to listen but did not turn around. It was a sign of weakness. If he turned his head to look at him, it would make Conrad react as if he was cornered and show that Grissom was worried or cornered. Either way, Gil hadn't passed military training for nothing. Just because he didn't pursue a carreer in the field didn't mean he did not have avid interest.
He didn't say anything, but by the way Conrad moved around him, he knew the higher standing man had high military training gone awry. He filed the information away for later.
TBC.
I don't know when I will continue this exactly, but I am not abandoning it yet. Got it?
