Disclaimer: CSI: isn't mine.

For all other disclaimers and warnings please see the Author's Note at the beginning of Chapter 1.

Chapter 29

Price Fixing

It was too quiet for Jim.

Last night he'd managed to get Gil home and safely into his house within minutes of the start of his curfew. Grissom had remained taciturn throughout the evening, but the detective had put at least some of that down to his friend still trying to process everything that had happened over the course of the day.

Jim's suggestion that they celebrate by having some food delivered had been greeted by a shrug and a muttered "whatever you want", but he'd gone ahead anyway, ordering Chinese food, the old lab favourite. He'd selected Grissom's preferred dishes from memory, hoping his friend's tastes hadn't changed and grateful that the task of clearing out Grissom's fridge meant that at least he knew meat remained in Gil's diet. Either that or Hank was even more spoilt than he'd first thought.

While they waited for the meal to arrive Jim had kept Gil busy by giving him a tour of his home, even though his friend had visited the house many times and even spent the odd day sleeping in the guest room. The only reference made to the fact that Gil was forbidden to leave the property for the next several hours had been when Jim had let him know that his small back yard was included in the curfew area although the front was not. Apparently outdoor space was included in such arrangements whenever an enclosed space was available, which explained one of the judge's questions. Jim still found it amazing that the tracker could be so accurate. In fact, according to the technician who had called to check that the actual boundaries of Brass' home matched the information on the map, it would have been possible to track Gil's movements from room to room inside the house if that had been required.

The evening had come to an early end after Grissom had used his prison schedule of eating and going to bed early as an excuse for leaving most of his food and not wanting to sit and watch TV or a movie with Jim. He'd taken his medication in front of Jim and then gone up to bed not much after nine-thirty.

Jim, who normally followed a very different routine, had stayed up a several hours longer before heading for his own room. Because of that he'd been expecting Gil to be up well before him in the morning, but there had been no sign of him.

It was well after Gil's curfew time had ended and, at first, Jim thought that he might have taken a walk. He'd been mildly concerned by that, he'd wanted to be with Gil when he first went out to make sure he could handle things OK. Plus, even if he didn't intend to be over zealous about the whole custody thing, he should have at least a rough idea of where Gil was at any time.

When Jim had gone to see if the spare set of keys he'd given to Grissom were where they'd been left, he'd found that both they and the internal bolts of his front door were still in place. The bolts on the door to the back yard were still locked too, which meant Gil was almost certainly still indoors.

It was 11.30 a.m. now and Jim was standing outside the door of his guest room. Even if Gil had been enjoying the luxury of a lie in on his first morning of (semi) freedom it was fourteen hours since he'd gone up and five since the time he'd have woken up, according to the prison schedule Paul Anderson had given Jim. Surely Gil should be awake and, after managing to eat so little the previous night, hungry, by now.

Jim raised his hand to knock, not wanting to remind Gil of his role as jailor but too concerned to leave it any longer.

As the sound made by his knuckles travelled into the room beyond he heard a scuffling noise. The speed of the response showed that Grissom was already awake, but there was no verbal response.

"Gil, it's me, I'm just wondering how you're doing, pal."

Still no reply and the other noises had stopped too.

"Gil? Look, it's OK if you're not feeling too sociable right now, buddy, but I need to know you're alright. So, unless you say something I'm gonna come in now. OK?"

Still there was nothing.

Carefully, Jim edged the door open. His police instincts wanted him to keep close to the door frame and conceal himself from the person inside the room until he knew better what the situation was, but he knew that Gil was neither armed nor dangerous. If his friend was upset or frightened in any way then the sooner he saw it was just old Jim coming in to talk to him, the better.

"Hey, how're you doin'?" Jim made himself sound as cheerful as possible. "I was wondering if you were feeling hungry yet."

Grissom was standing with his back to the far wall and was holding his hands like a perp. waiting to be arrested.

"Gil, I think you might be taking the 'Captain Brass' custody' thing a bit too seriously. As far as I'm concerned as long as you stick to your curfew, attend your appointments and put up with my company the first few times you leave the house then you can pretty much do as you please. I certainly don't expect you to wait in your room until I come and fetch you."

Grissom just looked confused.

"This isn't a prison, Gil, and I'm no prison guard. See, I'm not even carrying my cuffs!"

It was meant to be a light hearted quip, but Gil actually dropped his gaze to Jim's belt.

Brass did a slow turn that showed neither his handcuffs nor his gun holster were currently attached and, once he was facing Grissom again, was pleased to see that the man's hands had dropped to his sides. The scientist then walked gradually forwards until Brass stepped out of his way to show him that he was free to go through the door without hindrance. Then, suddenly, his pace quickened and, by the time he dived into the bathroom, Gil was almost running.

The sound of the flush a few minutes later made Brass even more aware of how much he was going to have to deal with. His home was small and there was no separate bath attached to the guest room, yet Grissom had been too caught up in his prison mind set to leave the bedroom and make the short trip down the hall to attend to his needs, even though it seemed they'd become quite urgent. It seemed that the psychologist hadn't been joking when she'd mentioned institutionalization and that made Jim worry about how true the other things she'd mentioned might be too.

"I'm going to get some fresh coffee going. Join me in the kitchen when you're ready and we'll see about putting some brunch together." Jim called through the bathroom door and got an almost inaudible agreement from inside.

As he headed down the stairs Brass was relieved that he'd avoided putting jeans or any other clothing in grey or blue when he'd packed an overnight bag for his friend. 'James Price' would be haunting Gil for a while and Jim didn't want to give him any more help than necessary by giving his friend the option of recreating his own version of the prison uniform.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

At least Grissom's self imposed incarceration that morning had one positive effect, thought Jim. He was watching his friend polish off a large plate of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon before reaching for his third slice of wholemeal toast. Grissom's second tall glass of orange juice stood beside his plate.

"So, Gil, normally you're going to have to see the psychiatrist Monday, Wednesday and Friday but it was too short notice for them to fit you in today and you've been excused. That means we can pretty much do what we want until Monday.

"I thought that maybe we should just take it easy for today." Brass continued when Grissom didn't seem to want to make any suggestions. "We could just get you out for a little while, maybe go to your place and collect more clothes and toiletries for you and anything you want to help you pass the time while you're staying here. After that perhaps you'd like to go visit Hank?"

Grissom hastily put down his toast and stared at his friend.

"Visit Hank? No. No, Jim, I can't, I couldn't handle seeing him with his new owners. It wouldn't be fair on Hank either, or the new people. I remember what he was like when Sara first left, if he's been the same since I've been gone then they might just be getting him to settle down. It wouldn't be fair to throw all that away just so I could see him for a little while. He's just a dog; you can't explain to him that I'm only there to check on him before I disappear again, probably for good. I'm amazed that the new family would even consider the idea and I'm even more surprised that you know where they are. I asked you to take him to a re-homing charity for a reason, Jim, I wanted him well away from here so he wouldn't be reminded so much of his old life and he could forget me and be happy."

Jim was making placating gestures as Grissom seemed to be getting more and more upset.

"Gil, Gil, calm down, it's OK. If you think it's a bad idea to see Hank right now you don't have to. But there is something you need to know. Hank doesn't have new owners; he's still your dog. I didn't put him up for re-homing."

"So, w-what d-did you d-do with him?" Gil seemed to have been intending to say more but stopped, maybe because he'd started to stutter. Jim noticed the stammer too and remembered that Anderson had told him it was a 'tell' that Gil was starting to become over anxious. Quickly, he began to explain what he'd decided to do about the dog.

"Listen, Gil, I had every intention of doing what you asked, although I didn't like it. I understood your concerns about having someone from the lab take him, although there were offers. I knew how high the sitter's bill was for the few weeks she'd been taking care of him before you made your bargain with the DA and I realised you couldn't afford that or a stay in kennels for very long, so I did start researching re-homing charities. I wanted to make sure I found a good place that made a real effort and doesn't put the animals to sleep if they don't find a place for them quickly. While I was doing that I came across an alternative. It's an organization that arranges fostering instead of adoption. They work mainly with animals whose owners are suddenly hospitalized or have to leave the country at short notice. They'll take care of cats or dogs for up to a year so that their owner can take them back whenever they're able to and all they ask is a donation of whatever the owner can afford. Hank's waiting for you when you're ready Gil and, in the mean time he's in a family home not a draughty kennel."

Gil seemed to be trying to find the energy to get angry. "Jim, that would have been a great idea, except I wasn't going to be out in a year's time, was I? In fact I probably still won't be. In case you've forgotten I'm standing trial for murder in just three weeks time, they don't sentence you to a year or less for that you know. You should have done what I asked. All you've really done is make Hank have to deal with two new homes when he could have just have had one."

Gil drew in a shuddering breath and dropped his head into his hands. On this occasion Jim managed to spot his friend's distress in time to bite back and control his own angry response to Grissom's negativity.

"Gil, I know you're concerned about your dog and frightened about the future, but you need to calm down and listen, I had good reasons for my decision and you need to hear them. I always found it hard to believe you could commit the crime you were accused of even if the tough guy cop in me had to at least allow for some kind of major break down on your part. The more I saw and heard the more sure I became of your innocence. When I found out about the fostering option for Hank I jumped at it. It gave me a year to do whatever I could think of to prove that innocence and get you freed from jail, and in just three months I have you here, sitting in my kitchen. Yes, I know it's not over yet," he added hurriedly before Gil could interrupt, "but we're well down the road. I know you're trying not to let your hopes rise too much but don't convince yourself there's no hope at all. I wanted to make sure that Hank would still be around when you got out, because I could see how he kept you going when Sara left. Having him to take care of meant that at least you had to go home from work occasionally."

Jim didn't mention the arrangement he'd made with the dog sitter so that she came up with plenty of reasons why she couldn't keep Hank for days on end. He'd had to pay her something towards the lost work, of course, but it had been worth it.

"I did consider the worst case scenario too, in case you were wondering. Even if I didn't get you out of there I thought it only fair to both the dog and Sara that she should have the option of taking Hank if you couldn't keep him. The year was to give her time to get in touch with us as well. OK?"

"OK, Jim." Grissom fell silent again and Brass tried to bring him out of his thoughts by bringing the topic back to their plans for the day.

"Well, how about we just start by visiting your place and decide about anything else afterwards."

Grissom quietly assented with a sigh.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Half an hour later they were in Brass' car again; waiting to pull out of an intersection.

At least it's a start, thought, Jim as he looked across at the man who was sitting in the passenger seat beside him. There was a strange combination of fear and fascination on Gil's face as he observed the traffic around him.

Jim had been relieved not to have to physically escort his friend to the car like he'd needed to the night before, although Gil had made his way from the porch to the vehicle in a peculiar hunched run which might have been normal in the middle of a rainstorm or possibly a fire fight, but had seemed quite odd on a quiet, cloudless, day.

Until Grissom saw the court psychiatrist and Jim spoke to him about his suggestions on how to help his friend, the best therapy Jim could think of was to try and bury the convict that was James Price and bring back as much of the old Gil Grissom as he possibly could. Taking Gil to the familiar surroundings of his home was the main strategy and Hank had been intended to follow up by reminding his 'Dad' who he used to be in that unique way only a dog could.

Still, Jim could understand Grissom's reasoning that it was probably best for the hound if he didn't see his master until the two could be together permanently again, so he'd abandoned that plan and was now seeking another one. Getting another glimpse of his friend's profile as he checked for traffic coming from the right it came to him. The beard had been grown to differentiate between Grissom and Price, therefore the follow up plan became the demise of one goatee beard ASAP. Now Jim just needed to work out how.

A/N Just a quick mention of the fact that the release of the final nominations list for the CSI FanFic awards 2008 has now been postponed until the 2nd September. Voting will start then too.