TITLE: The Nut Cracker
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)
ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K
TYPE: GCR (what else?)
RATING: R (some sexual themes)
SPOILERS: *shrugs* I guess . . .
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY: Classical dance can be a very competitive sport.
NOTES: I'm not sure where I'm headed . . . so please bear with me.
Cheers!
------------
It was a short trip to the men's changing room, which had been the designated temporary ladies's room for the moment. Gil opened the door and stepped in. "Oh, sorry." He muttered, back-tracking into Catherine, who was forced outside the room. The door closed in front of them.
Catherine hoped she didn't sigh aloud when she came into contact with Gil's back, yet again. It was a feeling that she was trying to prevent her body from getting accustomed to. She desperately fought the urge to wrap her arms around his torso and press herself completely to him, and soak up the warmth of his being. «I could always claim that I lost my balance.» She thought with a smirk and then looked up questioningly at her mentor who was just staring at the now-closed door. She noticed the blush that had crept to his cheeks. Her mouth opened to a silent 'ah' as the reason to his current state finally dawned upon her. "Did you see any naughty parts?" She joked, nudging him in the side.
He swung his head to his side, where she now stood and cast her a look of disapproval.
The look only fuelled Catherine's teasing even more. "Why are you so embarrassed Gil? I mean, it's not like you haven't seen a naked woman before." She shrugged. "You've seen me naked." She referred casually to her days before the life of investigating took over her life, fulfilling a long-time dream to make the World a better place.
Gil quickly snapped his eyes straight ahead, a look of pure panic caressing his boyish looks. Images of a younger Catherine, natural as can be, body gyrating, hips swinging, graced his perverted mind. «Thanks for the mental image of your naked body, Cath.» Looking down, he cursed the sudden tightness in his pants and shook his head. «Catherine Willows *is* my Viagra.» He thought to himself. "Maybe you could . . ." He pointed towards the door.
Catherine rolled her eyes and stepped in. "Miss Samson?" She smiled at the now clothed woman and nodded a welcome to Gil. She watched as Gil struggled to bring himself to look at Krissy in the eyes. She smiled, thinking how adorable he must look after having sex and found herself pondering whether he would have this raw look of desire or a shy, 'cat-ate-the-canary' greeting. She seemed to be inkling towards the latter, almost visualizing a childish grin, mimicking one of perhaps a boy who had just put a worm in a girl hair and waiting for the outcome. She smiled, imagining this boyish pride that would cascade over his features, surely making her knees weak. She slapped her forehead, trying to forbid herself of associating sex with Gil.
"Catherine?" He said her name slowly and deliberately.
Catherine opened her eyes and looked at Krissy who had a look of confusion bestowed upon her face and then at Gil who had an equally confused yet mixed with concerned features aimed at her. "I uh forgot to do something." She muttered lamely, knowing very well that Gil wouldn't buy her feasible attempts to play off a moment of weakness. She also knew that Gil would probably want to discuss the moment later and she desperately hoped that he would ultimately forget after the interview.
Gil pulled his eyes away from Catherine with great difficulty. "So, you were saying?" He asked, glancing briefly at the dark haired woman, and then quickly looking away, pretending to be looking at the environment of the musty changing room.
"I was here yesterday." Krissy said. "I was here with Alice. We talked for awhile, and I congratulated her on cutting the lead." Krissy stretched her leg, her eyes trailing up Gil's body. "After we changed, I left and went home."
Catherine looked with distasteful awe and jealousy as she watched the young girl's eyes roam Gil's body. "Can anyone account for your presence at home?" She asked, hoping to draw the girl's attention away from Gil.
Krissy shook her head and finally looked at Catherine. "Look, the audition finished at 5:30 in the afternoon, and I made it home in time to watch the news."
"Was anyone else there?" Gil asked.
"No, it was just Alice and I." She sighed. "Look, I have to get to the gym - if I'm late, my whole routine is thrown off." Krissy stood up, shouldered her ballet shoes and walked between Gil and Catherine.
The two CSIs watched her leave, then turned and gave each other a look. "So, what do you think?" Gil asked, breaking the silence that had encompassed both.
Catherine looked back towards the door and shrugged. "Right now, we need to know the 'when' and 'what' of this case to decipher the 'who'."
"Shall we pay Robbins a visit?" Gil asked, placing his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the room. He stopped short and glanced towards an open locker.
"What?" Catherine followed Gil's gaze. She smiled, "the locker's open."
Gil nodded and walked towards the locker. Snapping on a latex glove on his right hand, he clicked on his flashlight, holding it steady with his left. He slowly opened the door and stepped back as an object fell to the floor. He cocked his head to the side, "a bayonet." He raised his eyebrow and glanced at his partner. "Would you like to do the honours, my dear?"
Catherine rolled her eyes and placed her kit on the ground. Opening it up, she put on a pair of gloves and took out a swab. She swabbed the skewer-like part of the bayonet and then squirted a small amount of phenolphthalein on the swab. A magenta hue brought smiles to both of the investigators. "Found the 'what'." Catherine stated, putting the swab in a protective case.
"Let's go find the 'when'." Gil said, bagging the bayonet, deciding to fingerprint it back at the lab.
***
Catherine stepped into Gil's office. She waited at the door until he finished dealing with Sara and Nick.
"You guys have a DB at the Elvis-a-Rama Museum." Gil said, handing a folder to Sara.
"You're kidding." She glanced at the folder and handed it to Nick, never taking her eyes off her supervisor.
Nick's brow furrowed, looking over a picture of a fairly large man in rhinestone pants that were way too tight, a fake wig glued on to his head and a bottle of pills in his limp hand. "So, possible suicide?" He looked up from the folder. "Wanted to recreate Elvis's death, perhaps believing that he *was* Elvis?" Nick theorized.
"That's what the police suspect. The area has been secured, and David is already there, waiting to take away the body." Gil told the two CSIs.
"Why do you need both of us on this case, Grissom?" Sara asked, leaning on his desk.
Gil looked at Sara's hands then back at her. "Well, I figured you'd rather want to be out in the field then pushing paper, but," he motioned his cluttered desk, "you're welcome to take some off my hands."
"Couldn't I work the dead-dancer case with you?" She asked, almost childishly.
Gil raised his eyebrow. "It's okay, Catherine and I have it covered." He stated plainly, a secret smile playing on his lips, which Catherine caught.
Catherine shook her head at Sara's blatant lusting over Gil, and though she couldn't blame the younger CSI for having such feelings, Catherine knew that Sara didn't feel for the man - she just wanted him. But Catherine knew that her sentiments towards the supervisor went further than lust, something that developed a long time ago, and still continued to evolve. Lust was present, but it was harmonized with so many other emotions as well - love and devotion coming out on top. "Gil." Catherine tried to get Gil's attention.
In a second, Gil's eyes were on Catherine. "Catherine." He smiled warmly at her, as she made her away behind his desk.
"Got some prints, master." She grinned.
Gil nodded and looked at Sara, who was still standing there, staring at him. He pointed towards the door. "You're going to miss your ride."
She looked back, noticing that Nick had already left the premises. She glanced back at Gil who had a blank expression on his face and then at Catherine who was pretending to look around Gil's office, but adorned a Cheshire grin. Sara sighed and left the room, not willing to understand that her supervisor's infatuation with the strawberry-blond went past her alluring looks and spunky attitude.
"So, prints." Gil said, rubbing his hands together.
"The prints from the prop matched a Julio Goveas. His prints were in CODIS, minor offense for possession." Catherine dangled a paper in front of him. "Brass is questioning him right now." She held out her hand. "Care to join me?"
Gil smiled, placing his hand in hers, and revelled in the feeling of comfort that seemed to surround them. They mutually let go nearing Gil's door and walked towards the interrogation room.
***
Stepping inside, they made their way to the window and observed the suspect. They stood side by side, Catherine slightly in front of Gil, with him looking over her shoulder.
"Definitely a dancer." Catherine commented, throwing her voice towards Gil. Her eyes took in his long, slender legs yet riddled with muscles. His waist was trim and tight and his arms were very well developed. His thin brown hair was loosely tied behind his head and he drummed his fingers on the table.
***
Jim walked up to the table and held up the bagged bayonet. "We found your DNA on this."
Julio shrugged. "My prop. I'm the Nutcracker." He said, his voice dripping with pride.
"So who has access to the props?" Jim asked.
"Everyone." He shrugged. "The props closet isn't under lock-down."
"We found it in your locker, with your prints."
Julio shrugged. "Look, my prints are on it because it's my prop." He stood up. "I don't know who put it in my locker, okay, and I don't know who killed that girl! I never even met her."
"Sit down!" Jim barked.
Julio looked towards the mirror and sat down. "Look, I didn't do anything, okay?" He started chewing on his fingernails.
Warrick stepped in to the interrogation room, nodding towards the mirror. "Found this on one of the towels." He held up a piece of tape. "Fingernail."
Jim looked at Julio expectantly. "Now," he began sweetly, "can you explain to me why your fingernail was found at the scene of the crime; in the ladies's room?"
"It was the day before yesterday, and they held auditions for the lead, the Nutcracker." He spat out a nail. "I get nervous so one of the girls did me a little . . . favour." He shrugged, embarrassed.
***
"Nice way to relieve stress." Catherine grinned seductively, leaning into Gil. Her mind's eye conjured up a picture of Julio sitting on the bench and an faceless woman on her knees in front of me. She could picture him biting his nails as the unknown woman pleasured him. She wiggled her fingers in front of Gil. "Nervous tick . . ." She looked back at the suspect, her hair caressing Gil's face.
Gil sucked in his breath at the contact, and let it out slowly and, he prayed, silently. He caught a whiff of her shampoo and fought from tipping closer to her, to bury his face in her golden hair.
***
"Who did you a favour?" Jim asked.
"You wouldn't know her." Julio replied quickly.
"Try me."
Julio paused and dropped his head to his chest. "Krissy. Krissy Samson." He looked up. "She must have gotten the lead since Alice . . ." He trailed off.
"So what," Jim ventured, "you and Krissy are close, right." He looked down at the man's crotch. "Obviously." Jim paced around the room. "So, she wants the lead - she does you a favour, you do her one." He offered.
"That's ridiculous!" Julio stood up and headed towards the door. "Look, I came here on my own accord, okay. I denied council because I have nothing to hide. Just for the record, why would I put my career in jeopardy for a girl who only blows so-so." He opened the door and stormed out.
Jim glanced at Warrick, eyebrow raised. "Drama queen." He muttered, off Warrick's amused look.
***
Jim stepped into the room and addressed the senior CSIs. "So, what do you think?"
Gil shrugged. "I think this Krissy isn't telling us everything."
"Maybe she had her mouth full." Catherine replied dryly. "If you excuse me, I have a date with Robbins." She made her way to the door.
Gil looked at Warrick. "How's the fingerprint off the shower-head coming?"
"Well, I ran them through CODIS and came back empty handed. I'm running them through AFIS - " He was cut off by the incessant beeping of his pager. "I'll beep you with the results." He nodded towards Gil and headed out.
"Gil?" Catherine poked her head in. "You coming?"
Gil looked at Jim who tried to conceal his knowing smile. "Yeah." Gil and Catherine made their way to the morgue.
—TBC—
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)
ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K
TYPE: GCR (what else?)
RATING: R (some sexual themes)
SPOILERS: *shrugs* I guess . . .
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY: Classical dance can be a very competitive sport.
NOTES: I'm not sure where I'm headed . . . so please bear with me.
Cheers!
------------
It was a short trip to the men's changing room, which had been the designated temporary ladies's room for the moment. Gil opened the door and stepped in. "Oh, sorry." He muttered, back-tracking into Catherine, who was forced outside the room. The door closed in front of them.
Catherine hoped she didn't sigh aloud when she came into contact with Gil's back, yet again. It was a feeling that she was trying to prevent her body from getting accustomed to. She desperately fought the urge to wrap her arms around his torso and press herself completely to him, and soak up the warmth of his being. «I could always claim that I lost my balance.» She thought with a smirk and then looked up questioningly at her mentor who was just staring at the now-closed door. She noticed the blush that had crept to his cheeks. Her mouth opened to a silent 'ah' as the reason to his current state finally dawned upon her. "Did you see any naughty parts?" She joked, nudging him in the side.
He swung his head to his side, where she now stood and cast her a look of disapproval.
The look only fuelled Catherine's teasing even more. "Why are you so embarrassed Gil? I mean, it's not like you haven't seen a naked woman before." She shrugged. "You've seen me naked." She referred casually to her days before the life of investigating took over her life, fulfilling a long-time dream to make the World a better place.
Gil quickly snapped his eyes straight ahead, a look of pure panic caressing his boyish looks. Images of a younger Catherine, natural as can be, body gyrating, hips swinging, graced his perverted mind. «Thanks for the mental image of your naked body, Cath.» Looking down, he cursed the sudden tightness in his pants and shook his head. «Catherine Willows *is* my Viagra.» He thought to himself. "Maybe you could . . ." He pointed towards the door.
Catherine rolled her eyes and stepped in. "Miss Samson?" She smiled at the now clothed woman and nodded a welcome to Gil. She watched as Gil struggled to bring himself to look at Krissy in the eyes. She smiled, thinking how adorable he must look after having sex and found herself pondering whether he would have this raw look of desire or a shy, 'cat-ate-the-canary' greeting. She seemed to be inkling towards the latter, almost visualizing a childish grin, mimicking one of perhaps a boy who had just put a worm in a girl hair and waiting for the outcome. She smiled, imagining this boyish pride that would cascade over his features, surely making her knees weak. She slapped her forehead, trying to forbid herself of associating sex with Gil.
"Catherine?" He said her name slowly and deliberately.
Catherine opened her eyes and looked at Krissy who had a look of confusion bestowed upon her face and then at Gil who had an equally confused yet mixed with concerned features aimed at her. "I uh forgot to do something." She muttered lamely, knowing very well that Gil wouldn't buy her feasible attempts to play off a moment of weakness. She also knew that Gil would probably want to discuss the moment later and she desperately hoped that he would ultimately forget after the interview.
Gil pulled his eyes away from Catherine with great difficulty. "So, you were saying?" He asked, glancing briefly at the dark haired woman, and then quickly looking away, pretending to be looking at the environment of the musty changing room.
"I was here yesterday." Krissy said. "I was here with Alice. We talked for awhile, and I congratulated her on cutting the lead." Krissy stretched her leg, her eyes trailing up Gil's body. "After we changed, I left and went home."
Catherine looked with distasteful awe and jealousy as she watched the young girl's eyes roam Gil's body. "Can anyone account for your presence at home?" She asked, hoping to draw the girl's attention away from Gil.
Krissy shook her head and finally looked at Catherine. "Look, the audition finished at 5:30 in the afternoon, and I made it home in time to watch the news."
"Was anyone else there?" Gil asked.
"No, it was just Alice and I." She sighed. "Look, I have to get to the gym - if I'm late, my whole routine is thrown off." Krissy stood up, shouldered her ballet shoes and walked between Gil and Catherine.
The two CSIs watched her leave, then turned and gave each other a look. "So, what do you think?" Gil asked, breaking the silence that had encompassed both.
Catherine looked back towards the door and shrugged. "Right now, we need to know the 'when' and 'what' of this case to decipher the 'who'."
"Shall we pay Robbins a visit?" Gil asked, placing his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the room. He stopped short and glanced towards an open locker.
"What?" Catherine followed Gil's gaze. She smiled, "the locker's open."
Gil nodded and walked towards the locker. Snapping on a latex glove on his right hand, he clicked on his flashlight, holding it steady with his left. He slowly opened the door and stepped back as an object fell to the floor. He cocked his head to the side, "a bayonet." He raised his eyebrow and glanced at his partner. "Would you like to do the honours, my dear?"
Catherine rolled her eyes and placed her kit on the ground. Opening it up, she put on a pair of gloves and took out a swab. She swabbed the skewer-like part of the bayonet and then squirted a small amount of phenolphthalein on the swab. A magenta hue brought smiles to both of the investigators. "Found the 'what'." Catherine stated, putting the swab in a protective case.
"Let's go find the 'when'." Gil said, bagging the bayonet, deciding to fingerprint it back at the lab.
***
Catherine stepped into Gil's office. She waited at the door until he finished dealing with Sara and Nick.
"You guys have a DB at the Elvis-a-Rama Museum." Gil said, handing a folder to Sara.
"You're kidding." She glanced at the folder and handed it to Nick, never taking her eyes off her supervisor.
Nick's brow furrowed, looking over a picture of a fairly large man in rhinestone pants that were way too tight, a fake wig glued on to his head and a bottle of pills in his limp hand. "So, possible suicide?" He looked up from the folder. "Wanted to recreate Elvis's death, perhaps believing that he *was* Elvis?" Nick theorized.
"That's what the police suspect. The area has been secured, and David is already there, waiting to take away the body." Gil told the two CSIs.
"Why do you need both of us on this case, Grissom?" Sara asked, leaning on his desk.
Gil looked at Sara's hands then back at her. "Well, I figured you'd rather want to be out in the field then pushing paper, but," he motioned his cluttered desk, "you're welcome to take some off my hands."
"Couldn't I work the dead-dancer case with you?" She asked, almost childishly.
Gil raised his eyebrow. "It's okay, Catherine and I have it covered." He stated plainly, a secret smile playing on his lips, which Catherine caught.
Catherine shook her head at Sara's blatant lusting over Gil, and though she couldn't blame the younger CSI for having such feelings, Catherine knew that Sara didn't feel for the man - she just wanted him. But Catherine knew that her sentiments towards the supervisor went further than lust, something that developed a long time ago, and still continued to evolve. Lust was present, but it was harmonized with so many other emotions as well - love and devotion coming out on top. "Gil." Catherine tried to get Gil's attention.
In a second, Gil's eyes were on Catherine. "Catherine." He smiled warmly at her, as she made her away behind his desk.
"Got some prints, master." She grinned.
Gil nodded and looked at Sara, who was still standing there, staring at him. He pointed towards the door. "You're going to miss your ride."
She looked back, noticing that Nick had already left the premises. She glanced back at Gil who had a blank expression on his face and then at Catherine who was pretending to look around Gil's office, but adorned a Cheshire grin. Sara sighed and left the room, not willing to understand that her supervisor's infatuation with the strawberry-blond went past her alluring looks and spunky attitude.
"So, prints." Gil said, rubbing his hands together.
"The prints from the prop matched a Julio Goveas. His prints were in CODIS, minor offense for possession." Catherine dangled a paper in front of him. "Brass is questioning him right now." She held out her hand. "Care to join me?"
Gil smiled, placing his hand in hers, and revelled in the feeling of comfort that seemed to surround them. They mutually let go nearing Gil's door and walked towards the interrogation room.
***
Stepping inside, they made their way to the window and observed the suspect. They stood side by side, Catherine slightly in front of Gil, with him looking over her shoulder.
"Definitely a dancer." Catherine commented, throwing her voice towards Gil. Her eyes took in his long, slender legs yet riddled with muscles. His waist was trim and tight and his arms were very well developed. His thin brown hair was loosely tied behind his head and he drummed his fingers on the table.
***
Jim walked up to the table and held up the bagged bayonet. "We found your DNA on this."
Julio shrugged. "My prop. I'm the Nutcracker." He said, his voice dripping with pride.
"So who has access to the props?" Jim asked.
"Everyone." He shrugged. "The props closet isn't under lock-down."
"We found it in your locker, with your prints."
Julio shrugged. "Look, my prints are on it because it's my prop." He stood up. "I don't know who put it in my locker, okay, and I don't know who killed that girl! I never even met her."
"Sit down!" Jim barked.
Julio looked towards the mirror and sat down. "Look, I didn't do anything, okay?" He started chewing on his fingernails.
Warrick stepped in to the interrogation room, nodding towards the mirror. "Found this on one of the towels." He held up a piece of tape. "Fingernail."
Jim looked at Julio expectantly. "Now," he began sweetly, "can you explain to me why your fingernail was found at the scene of the crime; in the ladies's room?"
"It was the day before yesterday, and they held auditions for the lead, the Nutcracker." He spat out a nail. "I get nervous so one of the girls did me a little . . . favour." He shrugged, embarrassed.
***
"Nice way to relieve stress." Catherine grinned seductively, leaning into Gil. Her mind's eye conjured up a picture of Julio sitting on the bench and an faceless woman on her knees in front of me. She could picture him biting his nails as the unknown woman pleasured him. She wiggled her fingers in front of Gil. "Nervous tick . . ." She looked back at the suspect, her hair caressing Gil's face.
Gil sucked in his breath at the contact, and let it out slowly and, he prayed, silently. He caught a whiff of her shampoo and fought from tipping closer to her, to bury his face in her golden hair.
***
"Who did you a favour?" Jim asked.
"You wouldn't know her." Julio replied quickly.
"Try me."
Julio paused and dropped his head to his chest. "Krissy. Krissy Samson." He looked up. "She must have gotten the lead since Alice . . ." He trailed off.
"So what," Jim ventured, "you and Krissy are close, right." He looked down at the man's crotch. "Obviously." Jim paced around the room. "So, she wants the lead - she does you a favour, you do her one." He offered.
"That's ridiculous!" Julio stood up and headed towards the door. "Look, I came here on my own accord, okay. I denied council because I have nothing to hide. Just for the record, why would I put my career in jeopardy for a girl who only blows so-so." He opened the door and stormed out.
Jim glanced at Warrick, eyebrow raised. "Drama queen." He muttered, off Warrick's amused look.
***
Jim stepped into the room and addressed the senior CSIs. "So, what do you think?"
Gil shrugged. "I think this Krissy isn't telling us everything."
"Maybe she had her mouth full." Catherine replied dryly. "If you excuse me, I have a date with Robbins." She made her way to the door.
Gil looked at Warrick. "How's the fingerprint off the shower-head coming?"
"Well, I ran them through CODIS and came back empty handed. I'm running them through AFIS - " He was cut off by the incessant beeping of his pager. "I'll beep you with the results." He nodded towards Gil and headed out.
"Gil?" Catherine poked her head in. "You coming?"
Gil looked at Jim who tried to conceal his knowing smile. "Yeah." Gil and Catherine made their way to the morgue.
—TBC—