The Great Escape

It was torture.

He'd give anything to hold Sara, but this cover had to work. One week after Kelly Simmon's death and here he was in the lab. The workaholic side of him had to show or they would get nowhere. He'd be caught and locked away, and far from Sara. He trembled slightly. He couldn't let that happen. He had to stop. He was compelled to take the bleach from the scene but to stop altogether was too much. He sighed heavily. But he had to, though he seemed heartless for all he did he surely loved Sara with a burning passion. Sure it was fun for awhile, but as he grew closer to her he developed somewhat of a conscious. As small as it was he needed yet dreaded to kill at the same time.

These mixed emotions were getting the best of him. Soon Grissom wasn't sure if he should kill Sara for doing this to him. But, exhausted from the inward fighting, he could never do that. He loved her. He had to stop. No matter how hard.

But every time he countered the decision to stop some where inside him he growled at the mere thought. He was a killer. A serial killer. He couldn't retire at the top of his game.

At least that's what Grissom thought before Sara came in excitedly.

"We got him!"


There was no way.

The man before him had just confessed to being the Miniature Killer.

There was just no fucking way.

Gil Grissom was the miniature killer not this, man. This John Claudine.

"I killed them."

He seemed so sure and Grissom, if it wasn't him, would be convinced. He was handbook material, he believed he was the killer merely because of the obsession of a miniature killer. Grissom assumed that if he believed it enough that his mind had told him that he was the killer. Post-traumatic as Grissom would suspect. Surely he must have seen something that had told him that he was the killer. Or there was a nasty bump on his head that Grissom just wasn't seeing.

Then Grissom took this matter seriously. He could pin the deaths on this poor, delusional man and roam free. Suddenly early retirement wasn't so bad. He would have grinned if he wasn't in the presence of a 'suspect' and Brass.

"Explain."

And Grissom must admit the man did a hell of a job doing so. He could name off the victims and crime scenes. He had Grissom impressed and Brass shocked.

"Still don't believe me?"

Grissom turned to Brass and nodded. Brass smiled and turned to the victim.

"You have the right to remain silent..."


It was too fast and coincidental. Grissom's head was spinning and his heart pounding. What if someone questioned him? What if they all did? What if they don't believe that John Claudine did it? What if he was caught?

It was too much for him and Grissom knew that getting through this would be tough but he had to do it. For his Sara.

Every person he saw on his way to his office gave him a smile. He could hear from the locker room the two excited CSIs laughing in the locker room in relief, and he wished he could join Warrick and Nick on this one. Sara gave him a smirk as she and Brass took care of Claudine, and that was enough to calm Grissom's nerves. He entered his office and there stood Catherine, an 'uh-oh' went through Grissom's mind.

"I don't believe it."

Grissom rose an eyebrow.

"And why is that?" He asked.

"There is no way he would turn himself in Grissom. Not now. We were no where close to him, he was toying with us. He knew we weren't on to him. This John Claudine wasn't even any where close to the victims, they had nothing to do with him. Grissom, this is not our guy." She replied.

Grissom nodded, he feared Catherine would be skeptical.

"Maybe we weren't close to him and I suppose he may not have had anything in common with the victims but what do we have? He gave himself up. It's not uncommon for serial killers to turn themselves in for attention." He tried to explain.

But Catherine wasn't buying any of it.

"This isn't our guy, Gil. And I'm going to found out who is."

Grissom shrugged.

"Go ahead. But until then John Claudine will be held in prison. No matter what you believe, he confessed, and I believe him." His statement was finally, and he was afraid that Catherine would look straight through him. But she didn't.

"Fine, Gil. You win. Put him in prison. But he is not our guy." And with that Catherine was gone. It alarmed Grissom but he wasn't too worried. He just wouldn't do it again.

No matter the urge that wouldn't go away.

No matter how much he wanted to kill.


Okay I know the story line is a bit off. Grissom? Killer? Nawwwww. But it just popped into my head when I was done watching Leaping Lizards and then the movie Taking Lives. It then struck me. Why not make Grissom the Miniature Killer? Believe me I absolutly love Gil Grissom and in no way making this fic out of hatred for him. If he was the killer I'd probably die!

This is merely a story so don't think anything more.

If you don't like it then stop reading it.