Disclaimer: CSI: isn't mine.

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

Chapter 36

The Price of Ignorance

"No, absolutely not! I won't agree."

Jim was almost pleased to get such a strong reaction from Grissom after watching his friend apparently enveloped in a dense mental fog for so long. It was just unfortunate that it was this particular subject that had caused him to break out of his befuddlement.

"Gil, I promise we'll be careful. If it looks for one second like Lurie is becoming aware of what's happening we'll pull out. The man can't claim he's being harassed just because someone who happens to know you uses the hospital cafeteria. It is open to the public after all. Just remember we want to do this to help you, not to get you into any extra trouble."

"I'm not concerned about me. I don't think anything could make things worse for me, but I don't want to think I've brought anyone else down with me. It's not as though you have much more than a hunch to make you think it's worth going to all this effort to get hold of a sample of Lurie's DNA. I've had enough Jim. I only have a few days of this semi-freedom left; don't make me spend them worrying about my friends."

With that Grissom turned and hurriedly walked away. Jim watched his friend disappear from the living room and waited to hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. He wished he'd had more time to pick a good moment to speak to Gil about their plan, but they were already half way to the day when the trial was due to begin and there wasn't time to waste. So, when Grissom had been up and about after he returned from meeting Sanders and Hodges he'd waited only long enough to find out if Grissom had eaten properly while Catherine was visiting before raising the subject. He knew that once they'd had the discussion his friend might find it difficult to swallow anything. Unfortunately it seemed he'd still made a mistake and now he expected to hear the sound of Grissom's footsteps heading straight toward the bathroom.

Instead there was the slam of the kitchen door. It appeared that Gil's need to get way from the awkward situation had overcome any agoraphobia that might still be affecting him. Jim didn't have to worry that his friend was going to go very far, it was well into Grissom's curfew period and, although it had not been mentioned since the day they'd been at Gil's house, Jim knew that, even after more than a week, Gil was still constantly aware of the tracking device locked around his ankle and would not forget about it for long enough to accidentally wander beyond the limits set by his bail conditions.

Glancing through the window Jim could see the outline of a figure, hands in pockets, face tilted up towards the darkening sky.

Deciding to let his friend calm down in his own way, Brass went about tidying away the remnants of Grissom's 'birthday' meal, grabbing a few titbits of party food for himself as he did so. By the time he was finished rinsing the last of the dishes it was completely dark and Gil was only visible by the light shining through the kitchen window. By now he'd moved to a bench seat that was permanently positioned in the yard, but the way his head hung between hunched shoulders showed that there had been little progress in throwing off his unhappy mood.

Sighing, Jim laid his dish towel aside. Aware of the rapid chill which fell after sunset at this time of year, he made a brief detour to collect jackets for himself and Grissom before heading outside.

Almost exactly replicating his actions on the day Grissom had been released from prison, Jim draped the padded jacket around his friend's shoulders before sitting down beside him.

"Even though I don't accept that you're going back to prison, I don't suppose you want to spend the next week in bed with a chill. You can't rely on that iron constitution of yours at the moment, you know. I reckon it's just about rusted through considering your general health right now." Brass tried to make a joke, but the other man didn't laugh, didn't even look at his friend. The only indication that Gil hadn't relapsed and 'switched off' again was the slight movement as he pulled his jacket more closely around him. Jim resisted filling the silence, not wanting to put Grissom under any pressure.

"If you're so sure I'm not going back, why are you bothering to go after Lurie now? Why take that risk? Surely you can go after him once I'm exonerated?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Jim's smile was almost invisible in the darkness but his voice was wry. Yet, as he continued, it gradually became stronger and angrier.

"But I don't want there to be any suggestion that you only got off on a technicality. I don't want Laura McCain's case to get dropped and to hear the Sheriff tell some press conference they're 'not looking for anyone else', or some other double talk that means they're still claiming you were responsible. I don't want to be warned off going after Lurie or accused of picking on him simply because I'm after revenge. But most of all, Gil, most of all, I don't want you to have to deal with going back to court. I've never seen you act so scared Gil, to be so unlike yourself. You may not want to have to worry about your friends, but we're already worrying about you. I'm worried about you."

He paused as Grissom finally lifted his head and turned it to look at him. Even in the dim light the deep etched lines across his forehead and around his eyes showed clearly, revealing a hangdog expression. This time Brass decided not to let him wallow.

"Don't ever tell me you're not worth all this, Gil Grissom, because, of all the people that really know you, you're the only one with that idea. I know you've never had a particularly high opinion of your own value, not even before all this started, but you're going to have to accept that the rest of us feel differently." Brass' voice grew quieter now as his anger at Grissom's obstinacy began to fade. "Please, Gil, I know you've never felt the need to conform, but for once in your life try and accept the view of the majority? Please?"

Jim put all the emphasis he could into the repetition of that last word without resorting to actually begging, but it was followed by a long pause. Grissom stared back up at the night sky, trying to find some of the peace that he'd gained from gazing at the silent stars in the past, but all he found was an angry kind of resignation.

"You know what, Jim," began his eventual answer, "I'm too tired to argue any more. Even if I wasn't I couldn't even attempt make a balanced decision, so why try? Do what you think is right, OK Jim? The judge placed me under your authority after all, she decided you would be better at knowing what I should or shouldn't do than I would be myself.

"Now, I'm going up to bed and when I get up again, can we please forget all this? I accept it's something you want to do and I won't throw your good intentions back in your face, but I already have more than I can easily carry on my shoulders. I really can't deal with anything more right now. Do what you have to do, but do it without me."

So much for David's insistence that they talk to Gil before putting their plan into action, Jim thought. Still, at least he had managed to move Grissom from outright refusal to grudging acceptance. It would have to be enough.

"OK, if that's how you need it to be, then I understand. You go on up, I'll see you in a few hours and we'll start afresh. OK?"

"OK." Grissom quickly returned to the warmth of the house. Jim remained where he was, to allow his friend the time to get out of the way so there wouldn't be any awkwardness between them before his friend had some rest. He hoped Gil would calm down enough to get to sleep quickly. They were trying a new experiment to help adjust the scientist's sleep patterns. Gil would just try to sleep for four hours at this point rather than for the whole night, then get up for a while before going back for another four hours at around six a.m. Over the years he'd spent on the graveyard shift Grissom had found that the best way to cope had involved sleeping for four hours in the morning after work and then getting another four hours in in the evening before going back to the lab. After doing that for most of his adult life it was no wonder he couldn't manage to remain asleep for a full eight hours over night, so the plan was to go back to the four hour pattern but gradually reduce the time Gil was awake at night between the two sessions until Grissom finally managed to stay in bed all night. In the meantime, with Jim still on a night shift schedule, the two were able to keep each other company during the early hours, at least when Brass didn't have to go in to work. Between juggling his rota days, fetching what work he could home and the occasional use of his rapidly dwindling vacation time, Jim was only working two or three whole shifts a week, although, like tonight, he occasionally had to call in for more paperwork and to check on progress with the cases he was overseeing.

Eventually Jim rose, feeling his joints complain that they had become stiff in the cold, then headed back indoors. Time for a coffee he thought. Once he was pretty certain Gil was asleep he'd make a few calls and get the ball rolling. For now though he'd have to earn his keep and bury himself in some very tedious time sheets and expenses claims.

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

Three days later, after some rapid, but hopefully subtle, research into Vincent Lurie's regular habits, David Hodges sat at a slightly sticky table in the hospital cafeteria, trying not to let his disgust at his surroundings show. It was bad enough that he was expected to swipe someone's trash and couldn't use gloves when touching it to avoid suspicion, without having to sit here at a poorly cleaned table surrounded by sick people. Hodges suppressed a shiver and hunched his shoulders more as he wrapped himself a now cold cup of coffee. It was his misfortune that, while the surgeon's presence had been predicted successfully, none of their investigations had revealed that he would be eating a full meal and Hodges had been forced to make his single cup of watery instant last for nearly an hour now.

Of course if he'd only been left to his own devices, he would have been a position or two behind Lurie in the self-service queue and could have allowed the doctor's choices to inform his own. Unfortunately, as usual no-one else had really appreciated his abilities or trusted him to decide on his own modus operandi. Instead Brass had insisted that Lurie would be less likely to notice him if he was already seated in the cafeteria when his prey arrived. So, once Greg had given him a nudge in the hospital corridor as Lurie walked past he'd hurried along to get himself settled while the surgeon made slower progress thanks to a number of chats with staff and patients. Not wanting to be stuck in the cafeteria for too long if Lurie changed his mind about going in there that day, David had just grabbed the coffee and decided it would be enough. With a virtual monopoly over those forced to seek sustenance while they were at Desert Palm, the cafeteria's prices were extortionate for such an inferior product.

Hodges scowled at his disposable cup and plastic 'stirrer'. Then, realising he was attracting the attention of one of the clean-up staff, he rapidly attempted to look like the distraught relative of a patient and ducked his head. He really hoped Lurie would finish eating soon.

Meanwhile, Greg was waiting outside the room. After pointing Lurie out to Hodges his initial amusement from noting that the doctor had clearly lost his battle with male pattern baldness over the years since he'd last seen him had now faded enough to be replaced by a certain amount of edginess. Hodges had never struck him as the perfect candidate for 'under cover' work, but that wasn't actually Sander's biggest concern. The problem with having to do this in a hospital was the ban on using cell 'phones. Greg knew that it wasn't just done to inconvenience people, there was a genuine concern that life saving machinery might be affected, but, right now, if things started to go wrong for Hodges he would have to make a quick decision about whether to go in and attempt to help on his own, or rush outside in order to try and reach Brass.

Going for the latter option was not guaranteed to be successful, because Brass was taking advantage of Lurie's temporary absence from the surgical clinic at the hospital and he and Warrick Brown were trying to find out if any of the regular staff recognised Laura McCain's photograph and, if so, whether there was an explanation of why there was no record of her being operated on at Desert Palm. So, until they were done, Jim and Warrick's cells would be turned off too.

Greg chewed on a finger nail, his brown eyes dark with concern as he occasionally glanced through the glass panels of the cafeteria doors, through which Hodges, but not Lurie, was visible. It was a pity they weren't the doors to the maternity unit, he would have seemed far less out of place if they had been.

Suddenly hurried footsteps could be heard coming towards him. Turning, Greg saw Jim Brass approaching at the fastest speed he could manage without being stopped for running in the hospital's corridors.

"We need to pull him out." The middle aged detective spoke in between his efforts to regain his breath. "Some stuffs come up - should be enough to get Lurie's DNA by warrant - there's no point risking ourselves further on this."

"You sure?" Greg checked, knowing that going into the cafeteria to fetch Hodges could be risky in itself because of the attention it might draw to them.

"Absolutely." Brass was adamant.

Nodding his acceptance Greg turned and headed through the doors into the cafeteria.

Jim sank onto a nearby chair, keeping an ear open for any sound that might indicate a problem inside the restaurant. His efforts with Warrick at Lurie's clinic had been pretty successful, particularly when they'd shown the image to a couple of people who worked specifically for Lurie rather than the hospital. The two had recognised Laura McCain and indicated that she had been seen by Lurie at one of his more exclusive clinics, which was particularly interesting because, as far as Jim knew, Ms McCain only had a basic health insurance package.

However, that wasn't what had caused Jim to rush halfway across the hospital site to reach David and Greg's location. As soon as he'd finished his part of the investigation Jim had stepped outside and turned his 'phone back on to check for any messages from Greg, or Grissom who he'd had to leave 'home alone', although Gil, in accordance with their earlier agreement, didn't know precisely why Jim had gone out. Instead there had been a missed call from Grissom's attorney, John Morgan. After listening to the associated message on his voice mail, Brass had sent Warrick to bring his vehicle around to the hospital's main entrance for a quick departure and rushed to call off 'Operation Coffee Cup' as Greg had imaginatively insisted on calling it.

Now, while Greg extricated his partner in crime, James Brass pondered how best to deal with the new information he now had.