TITLE: In the Quiet
AUTHOR: CSI-Sleuth
RATING: G
CATEGORY: G&S UST (or maybe it's AST, I'm not really sure)
SUMMARY: a very quiet morning at CSI
ARCHIVE: sure, just tell me where so I can visit
FEEDBACK: always appreciated
DISCLAIMER: the standard disclaimers apply for the standard reasons. If I made any money off of this, would I be spending my weekends working? I think not.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chalk this up to what happens when I spend a weekend alone in an office building crunching numbers with nothing but a William Petersen movie in the DVD tray to keep me company. At this point, I'm not sure if I need more sleep or more caffeine. Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday, 4:00 am
It was quiet, almost too quiet. Grissom walked through the halls of the CSI lab peering through each door and window on the way to his office, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. No one, absolutely no one was around. Even the lights and noise had retreated for the night. He smiled. He loved the quiet. Every week at this time, it was the same. The crimes of weekend past long since investigated. The crimes of weekend future not yet committed. This was the present, the quiet time in between. The night his team had it easy, when at least one of them had the night off. Tonight had been particularly slow so he'd sent them all home, all except Sara. A local con artist had tried to run another scam at one of the casinos and a CSI was needed to collect the counterfeit money and the cards. The guy was in custody, caught on camera. It was a simple case and Sara was due back at the lab any minute. He leaned back in his chair, propped his legs across the open desk drawer and opened one of the many journals that had been gathering dust in his in box.
Wednesday, 4:05 am
The sound of footsteps gradually neared Grissom's office. As much as he loved the quiet, he loved the approaching sound even more. He knew the gait, could picture her stride. He smiled again. Any second her frame would move through the door with news of another crime solved. He looked up over his reading glasses in anticipation. She leaned on the doorframe and smiled. She didn't say a word, just smiled. Grissom's eyes changed from anticipation to confusion as she just stood there.
"So, how'd it go?" he finally asked.
"Criminals can be so stupid," she replied.
He grinned, "Just makes our job that much easier. Why don't you lock up the evidence and head home? Finish up tomorrow."
Sara shook her head, "No. I think I'll stay. What are you doing?"
Grissom held up the magazine in his hands, "Latest issue of the M.E. Journal. Did you know Jenna had an article published? Decomposition Anomalies in Sub-Zero Conditions."
"Sounds fascinating," Sara said half-heartedly, "I'm going to the lab to finish up. Enjoy your anomalies." Sara turned and Grissom heard only the sound of her retreating footsteps.
Wednesday, 4:10 am
The footsteps were coming closer again. He looked up in time to see her reappear in his doorway. "Something wrong?"
"It's too quiet. You wanna come to the lab? Keep me company?" she asked.
"Sure." Grissom lifted his feet out of the desk drawer and stood up. He joined Sara at the door and walked with her to the lab. Her evidence was spread out on the table, a single stool in front of it. Grissom pulled a second stool from across the room and placed it next to Sara's. She sat down and resumed cataloging the serial numbers of the counterfeit money. Grissom sat down on the stool beside her, his thigh casually brushing hers. He opened the journal he'd brought with him and resumed his reading. Together that sat in the comfortable silence, in the quiet, but no longer alone.
AUTHOR: CSI-Sleuth
RATING: G
CATEGORY: G&S UST (or maybe it's AST, I'm not really sure)
SUMMARY: a very quiet morning at CSI
ARCHIVE: sure, just tell me where so I can visit
FEEDBACK: always appreciated
DISCLAIMER: the standard disclaimers apply for the standard reasons. If I made any money off of this, would I be spending my weekends working? I think not.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chalk this up to what happens when I spend a weekend alone in an office building crunching numbers with nothing but a William Petersen movie in the DVD tray to keep me company. At this point, I'm not sure if I need more sleep or more caffeine. Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday, 4:00 am
It was quiet, almost too quiet. Grissom walked through the halls of the CSI lab peering through each door and window on the way to his office, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. No one, absolutely no one was around. Even the lights and noise had retreated for the night. He smiled. He loved the quiet. Every week at this time, it was the same. The crimes of weekend past long since investigated. The crimes of weekend future not yet committed. This was the present, the quiet time in between. The night his team had it easy, when at least one of them had the night off. Tonight had been particularly slow so he'd sent them all home, all except Sara. A local con artist had tried to run another scam at one of the casinos and a CSI was needed to collect the counterfeit money and the cards. The guy was in custody, caught on camera. It was a simple case and Sara was due back at the lab any minute. He leaned back in his chair, propped his legs across the open desk drawer and opened one of the many journals that had been gathering dust in his in box.
Wednesday, 4:05 am
The sound of footsteps gradually neared Grissom's office. As much as he loved the quiet, he loved the approaching sound even more. He knew the gait, could picture her stride. He smiled again. Any second her frame would move through the door with news of another crime solved. He looked up over his reading glasses in anticipation. She leaned on the doorframe and smiled. She didn't say a word, just smiled. Grissom's eyes changed from anticipation to confusion as she just stood there.
"So, how'd it go?" he finally asked.
"Criminals can be so stupid," she replied.
He grinned, "Just makes our job that much easier. Why don't you lock up the evidence and head home? Finish up tomorrow."
Sara shook her head, "No. I think I'll stay. What are you doing?"
Grissom held up the magazine in his hands, "Latest issue of the M.E. Journal. Did you know Jenna had an article published? Decomposition Anomalies in Sub-Zero Conditions."
"Sounds fascinating," Sara said half-heartedly, "I'm going to the lab to finish up. Enjoy your anomalies." Sara turned and Grissom heard only the sound of her retreating footsteps.
Wednesday, 4:10 am
The footsteps were coming closer again. He looked up in time to see her reappear in his doorway. "Something wrong?"
"It's too quiet. You wanna come to the lab? Keep me company?" she asked.
"Sure." Grissom lifted his feet out of the desk drawer and stood up. He joined Sara at the door and walked with her to the lab. Her evidence was spread out on the table, a single stool in front of it. Grissom pulled a second stool from across the room and placed it next to Sara's. She sat down and resumed cataloging the serial numbers of the counterfeit money. Grissom sat down on the stool beside her, his thigh casually brushing hers. He opened the journal he'd brought with him and resumed his reading. Together that sat in the comfortable silence, in the quiet, but no longer alone.