XIX - CONVERSATIONS
Warrick was dozing on the sofa, his TV blaring. Katie was still sleeping and Warrick didn't have the heart to wake her up and tell her to look after Nancy. The poor girl was dead on her feet, stressed out from all she'd been through the last 48 hours; the realization of her brothers' murder just sinking in. Warrick remembered what he had felt like after losing Delia, and realized that sleep was the only way for Katie to escape the pain.
So, he had searched through his apartment, finally finding some overhead markers, a glue stick and half a ream of printer paper, and had settled Nancy at his coffee table to create 'masterpieces', and he catnapped on the sofa.
Every once in a while, Nancy would ask him a question, rising him from his stupor, but generally she remained silent, industriously working away. He smiled at the tiny child, and closed his eyes, the voice of Kermit the Frog droning in the background.
* * * * *
"Greg!" Nick's voice through the bedroom doorway was exceedingly loud. "You up, Greg? We gotta leave for Dr. Robbin's in 45 minutes. Greg?"
Greg's muffled grunt through the closed doorway made Nick smile. "That's a physical impossibility, Greg. C'mon man - rise and shine!" Nick laughed as another muffled curse came through from Greg's room, and he strode down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the living room when he saw Sara kneeling on the floor playing with the kitten.
He watched Sara silently for a few moments, only moving when he heard the slam of Greg's bedroom door, followed by the slam of the bathroom door and the sudden rush of running water. Sara looked up startled at the first slam, but quickly smiled at Nick when she saw him.
"He is so not a morning person."
Nick nodded in agreement. "Or afternoon person, for that matter." He moved into the living room, reaching out a casual hand and helping her to her feet. "So, did you sleep well?"
Sara just grinned at him. "What do you think?"
"If your snoring is anything to go by, I'd say you slept like a rock." Nick's tone was teasing, and he quickly twisted away from her when she tried to swat him.
"I do not snore!" she protested good-naturedly, "Do I?"
"Only when you're really tired. And it's not really a snore - it's more like a whisper sigh. Actually, it's very cute." Nick cocked an eyebrow at her, flashing his toothiest grin. "Sexy, even."
Sara smiled. "Only you would find snoring sexy - you're a twisted man, Nick Stokes."
Nick just laughed. "You're only saying that because you love me."
"Yeah. I guess I do."
* * * * *
"Can I come too?" Lyndsey was hopping excitedly from foot to foot, watching Catherine's face anxiously. Grissom, sitting at the kitchen table, smiled behind the newspaper he was reading. "Dr. Robbins has a swimming pool!"
Catherine smiled affectionately at her daughter. "Well - I don't know," she started dramatically, "you don't really like swimming all that much."
"Mo-o-om!" Lyndsey's agonized plea was of the type only little girls could make. "I love swimming! You can drop me of at Stacey's house on your way to work! And then I won't need a babysitter." Stacey was Lyndsey's best friend, and the two girls were planning a sleepover, as tomorrow was a PD day at school. "Please - oh please?"
Catherine laughed. "Okay! Of course Dr. Robbins told us to bring you too - he's had the solar blanket on his pool, and he says the water is great. So go get your bathing suit and get ready."
Lyndsey's excited whoop's as she ran towards her bedroom made Grissom chuckle. "Couldn't you have just told her that right off the bat, instead of making her beg like that?"
Catherine smirked at him. "What? And give her an excuse not to stretch those dramatic muscles of hers? Not a chance!" She poured herself another cup of coffee, and sank into the empty seat across from Grissom. "Greg has his first appointment tomorrow."
Grissom scowled. "I know."
"How do you think he's doing?" Catherine kept her voice deliberately casual, watching intently as Grissom folded his paper and put it on the table, sighing.
"Physically? He's doing better than I expected. Mentally? I just don't know. He's putting on a good show, but that's all I think it is - an act to get us off his back. He's not the same Greg." Grissom studied his fingernails intently. "He's lacking that certain - je ne sais quoi - he possessed. I'm worried about him."
Catherine sighed. "I am too. Maybe you should talk to him, Gil."
Grissom looked up, startled. "Me? I think you should talk to him - you're a mother."
"And you're the closest thing to a dad he's got." Catherine responded, just as quickly. "Besides which, Greg really respects you, and you're the only one that was really able to connect with him at the hospital. I think anything that's said will mean more coming from you than it would coming from anyone else."
"What if I make things worse?" Grissom shot a concerned glance at Catherine. "What if I say the wrong thing to him?"
Catherine smiled gently. "Gil, if it comes from your heart, it's never the wrong thing."
* * * * *
Warrick woke in fits and starts, slowly realizing he was on the sofa. The soft sound of laughter emanating from his kitchen had him confused for a few minutes, and then he remembered - Katie and Nancy. Glancing quickly at his watch, he sat up, muttering under his breath. If he was going to put in an appearance at Dr. Robbins before meeting his Grams for dinner, he better get a move on.
"I hope we didn't wake you, Mr. Brown." Katie's soft voice made intruded into his thoughts. Warrick stopped mid-stretch and turned towards her.
"No, no, you didn't. And please - call me Warrick. It's a little odd for you to be calling Mr. Brown when you're living here." He smiled at Katie's sudden flush. "I have to get going anyway."
"You have to leave already? It's only 2:30 in the afternoon. You've hardly slept at all." Katie frowned softly, a confused expression crossing her face as she realized she shouldn't be questioning him. "I'm sorry. I have no right -"
Warrick interrupted her gently. "No, it's alright. Don't worry about it. Normally, I wouldn't be going anywhere, but a colleague is having a small gathering I promised to attend and I'm having an early dinner tonight with my grandmother. Are you and Nancy going to be all right here?"
Katie nodded her head slowly. "This is really - it's all too much. You don't even know us! How will you feel comfortable leaving perfect strangers in your apartment?" Her voice was shaky and she looked at Warrick, eyes overly bright. "Especially after what I did?"
"What did you do, Katie? What are you talking about?" Warrick looked at the young woman, concern in his eyes. Behind Katie, Nancy stood watching silently.
"I didn't leave. I didn't protect Scotty. And I didn't stop them!" Katie was crying in earnest now, slight shoulders heaving. "I'm so ashamed!"
Warrick walked over to her, gently placing his arms on her shoulders. "Nancy, I need to speak with your sister for a minute in private. Do you want to go and watch TV in the bedroom?" He smiled reassuringly at Nancy over Katie's shoulder, as the little girl headed down the hallway, for once not questioning. When Warrick heard the soft snick of the bedroom door closing, he gently pulled Katie over to the sofa and sat down beside her.
"Katie, what could you have done to stop them?" His voice was amazingly gentle. "If you had tried, they would have killed you - and then what would have happened to Nancy? It's bad enough she lost her brother - what if she lost you too?"
Katie looked up at him, tears staining her face. "But Scotty told me he wanted to leave. He told me - he told me - he thought they killed his friend because he was gay. His friend - his fried Eric - who wrote us the letter. And I think they killed Scotty because they suspected -"
"He was gay, too?"
Nancy nodded miserably. "I think so. I mean, I don't know. It didn't matter to me, I would have loved him anyway! If I had listened to him, he would still be alive! Why did I let us get sucked in?"
Warrick leaned back onto the sofa, drawing Katie back with him, trying to comfort her as she cried. "You can't blame yourself. You were in an emotional place, recovering from the death of your parents. You and Scotty made the decision to go there together. You made the decision to stay together. I think Enoch tricked you - it's almost like he's running a cult out there - so how can you blame yourself? I think you're very brave, all things considered."
"I'm not brave - I'm a coward. I hid from the world on the commune, I hid from what Scotty tried to tell me, and I ran when - when - the murders.." Her voice was suddenly no longer sad, but defeated. "I'm just as bad as they are."
"No, you're not. You called 911 - you tried to help. So you were scared - big deal. You were in a terrible position. I don't know if I would have acted any differently. You didn't kill your brother - they did. And now - look at you. You've left the only home you've had for two years with hardly anything to your name. You're helping the police - providing an eyewitness account of the crime, telling us who was there, giving us information that will be invaluable in stopping them. In my mind, that's brave. I think your brother would be very proud of you." Warrick placed a gentle hand under Katie's chin, forcing her to look at him as he spoke.
Katie looked at him intently, not quiet believing him, but listening anyway. Through her tears, she gave him a wobbly smile, quickly leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. "You're a nice man, Warrick Brown."
Warrick smiled in response. "Listen, I'm going to call my Grams and tell her I'll be bringing you and Nancy for dinner as well. Dr. Robbins won't mind if you come to his place with me, and Grissom is going to want to talk to you, especially about -Eric? - and your theory on why Scotty was killed. Coming back here to pick you up is way out of the way. So come with me."
"But I - we -"
Warrick, without conscious thought, brushed the back of his hand softly against the side of her face, tucking a strand of silky auburn hair behind her ear. "Come with me. It will be okay."
* * * * *
Dr. Robbins had the most annoying doorbell in the world. Greg scowled as he pushed it again, the annoying peels of some classical song he did not know echoing through the house. Behind him, Nick grinned at Sara.
"That would drive me crazy."
The three stood there silently for another moment, and Greg was just getting ready to ring again when he heard someone calling his name.
"Greg! Greg! Over here!" Off to the side of the house, Alli was waving cheerfully through a wooden gate. "Everyone's in the back. I told Uncle Al I heard the doorbell, but -" she shrugged.
Greg snorted. "How could you miss it?" He stepped away from the front door and headed towards the gate, Nick and Sara trailing after him. "You met Nick and Sara last night, right?"
Alli nodded, quickly greeting the other two CSIs, before turning back to Greg. Sara nudged Nick in the ribs, grinning, but other wise stayed silent. Nick nudged her back.
As Alli had stated, everyone was in the backyard. Dr. Robbins greeted the last arrivals heartily, quickly introducing his wife and their girls, Pam, Jenny and Perrie. They stood there talking companionably for a few moments, before Lyndsey ran up to Greg, shrieking.
"Greg!" She threw herself at him, hugging him tightly around the waist. "You're here! I've been so worried about you!"
Greg smiled faintly as he hugged the young girl, nervously looking at Alli. "Nothing to worry about, Lyns."
"But you were in the hospital! Mommy cried. And Uncle Gil cried too. Uncle Gil never cries, so you must have been re-eal sick."
"But I'm all better now, see?" Greg did a goofy little dance, spinning in a circle and doing 'jazz hands' to the delight of the young girl. "So, no need to worry, 'kay Lyns?"
"Okay. You're heart is all fixed right?"
Greg sighed, shooting another surreptitious glance at Alli. "All fixed. Just like the Tin Man."
Nick, noticing the slump in Greg's shoulders, quickly distracted Lyndsey by grabbing her had lifting her high in the air. "Who's got on a bathing suit? Who wants Nicky to throw her in the pool?"
At Lyndsey's excited squeals of "Me! Me!", Nick carried her away. Her sputtering scream, followed by a loud splash and laughter echoed through the yard. Greg turned blindly from Alli and Dr. Robbins, face stricken and eyes shadowed as he quickly looked at Sara, before walking blindly through the sliding doors into the kitchen.
"What was that all about?" Alli's voice was soft, and she looked at Sara in confusion. "Is Greg sick?"
Sara, watching Greg's retreating form, smiled sadly. "He's had some problems lately." She looked at Alli suddenly, standing a little straighter. "But it's not my story to tell. If you want to know what's wrong with Greg, you'll have to ask him yourself."
* * * * *
Alli found Greg sitting in Uncle Al's favorite chair - a ratty tweed recliner Aunt Judy kept banishing to the garage, only to find it returned to the family room the next day. He was sitting in the room in partial darkness, the drawn shades preventing natural light from filling the room. His eyes were shut, and Alli noticed immediately the tenseness in his shoulders and arms.
"Hey. I found you."
Greg ignored her.
She tried again. "Greg. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" Greg's voice was low and harsh. "You must have heard the story by now."
"I've heard nothing. Nothing except what Lyndsey said to you. Were you sick?" Alli sat on the corner of the large coffee table, immediately in front of Greg. She was looking at him intently, and Greg could feel her gaze burning through him even though his eyes were still closed.
"Was I sick? Still am." His voice was bitter. "Quit looking at me."
"No. Why were you in the hospital?"
Greg sighed, and cracked an eye open to glare at her malevolently. "That's really none of your fucking business, is it Alli?"
Alli stared back at him just as intently, barely flinching at his words. "No. It isn't any of my fucking business at all. But that doesn't mean I don't want to know. So, you can tell me or not as you wish, but I'll find out from someone. I'd rather hear it from you."
"Fine. Long story short - I was working a case, our main suspect thought we were on to him, and he drugged me with an illegal substance that damaged my heart. I had to have surgery, and now walk around with a fucking piece of metal in my chest, attached to wires to kick start my heart if it goes berserk. Wanna see the scar?"
Before Alli could respond, Greg sat up and angrily whipped his T-Shirt up his chest. The livid scar over his heart stood out in stark relief against the whiteness of his skin, the coarse stitches still visible against the red puckers of healing skin. Alli recoiled at his sudden movements, but leaned in to take a better look at the scar. She lifted a gentle hand and lightly traced her hand down the side of the scar, her face sympathetic.
"Greg - I don't know what to say."
Greg drew his t-shirt down and leaned back into the chair, shutting his eyes again. He suddenly felt defeated. "Don't say anything. I'm sorry I yelled at you - it's not your fault."
"How long ago did it happen?"
"Two and a half weeks. I've been out of the hospital since Thursday."
"It's healing nicely."
Greg snorted. "Huh. Great. Healing nicely. Thank you, Florence Nightingale."
Alli leaned forward angrily. "What the hell is your problem?"
"What's my problem? I'm 28 years old and I have batteries in my chest - that's my problem! I'm like the fucking energizer bunny!" Greg was suddenly angry again. "What do you think my problem is?"
"I think you're feeling sorry for yourself." Alli's response was calm. Greg's eyes snapped open, and he stared at her in disbelief.
"Pardon me?"
"You heard me. Self-pity - that's you're problem."
"Don't you think I have the right to feel sorry for myself?" Greg felt his voice raise, and knew his heart was pounding. He willed himself to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down before the defibrillator kicked in and made things even worse. "Don't you think I have the right to feel sorry for myself?" he asked again.
"Maybe a little. But listen - you're not dead. You still have full mobility of all your limbs - and you have friends that really seem to care about you. It's not like you're going through this all by yourself."
Greg didn't respond at first, instead focusing his gaze on a spot on the wall over Alli's left shoulder. Eventually, he spoke. "I thought you were an artist, not a psychiatrist. Don't pull some psych-babble on me - you're not trained for it, and it won't work. And you don't know anything about me."
Alli sighed. "I know you're hurting. But you're right - I can't help you. Only you can do that." The two sat silently for a few minutes, before Alli braced her hands on her knees and stood. "No use sitting here in the dark. Uncle Al should be finishing the BBQ soon - before we head back out, want to see some of my work?"
Greg blinked at the sudden change in the conversation, and smiled weakly at Alli. "Nice segue."
She grinned back. "I'm known for my abilities to derail a perfectly fine angst session. C'mon - I have the feeling you'll give me an honest opinion of my stuff. Not like my family," she grimaced good-naturedly, "who think I'm better than Van Gogh and Rodin combined."
* * * * *
Warrick was speaking with Grissom quietly in the corner of Dr. Robbins deck. Nancy had been drawn into a conversation with Sara and Catherine, although she wasn't really participating, and Lindsey had immediately snagged Nancy into an impromptu game of tag.
Katie's anxious gaze kept jumping from her little sister, running exuberantly through the yard after Lindsey, Nick in hot pursuit, to Warrick. His face was intent as he spoke with Mr. Grissom, hands gesturing every once in a while in her direction, as if making a point. Grissom looked at her a couple of times; his expression closed, and continued his conversation with Warrick.
Catherine and Sara both noticed Katie's preoccupation with their friend, and looked at each other dubiously. Both recognized the signs of a burgeoning crush, and neither knew what - if anything - they should do about it. Sara studied Katie much as she studied trace elements under a microscope - with an intensity of single-minded purpose that was scary. She determined Katie was about 5' 6", and really needed to gain some weight - she was so skinny she looked like the slightest puff of wind would snap her twig-like frame in half. She had shoulder length auburn hair, slightly wavy, and really beautiful - though pale - skin. Her eyes were a deep set hazel, and her features were finely drawn. If her face wasn't etched with pain, she'd probably be very pretty. Sara frowned.
"How was Warrick's place? Did you get some rest?" Catherine's voice broke into Sara's thoughts, and she waited with interest to see what Katie's response would be. Katie merely nodded, shooting another glance at Warrick.
"He's a very nice person," she replied softly.
"Very nice." Sara agreed. "Some would say - too nice." She knew her comment was biting, but she didn't really care.
Katie looked at her sadly, her eyes suddenly clouded. "I know I don't deserve it. You don't need to tell me."
Catherine shot Sara a dirty look, before reaching out a hand and squeezing Katie's arm gently. "That's not what Sara meant. Is it, Sara?"
Sara flushed guiltily. "No. I'm sorry - that didn't come out the way I meant. Warrick's a great guy. I didn't mean to imply -"
"Yes, you did." Katie interrupted her. "I'd say the same thing too, if one of my friends was helping a - a- murderer, like me."
"You didn't murder anyone, Katie." Catherine's response was genuine.
"No - but I watched. That's just as bad. I don't know why he wants to help me."
"Maybe because he knows you were stuck in a situation you didn't know how to get out of." Sara's smile was genuine this time, and she reached out tentatively and squeezed Katie's other arm. "I'm sorry I said what I said. Sometimes my bark is worse than my bite - ask anyone."
Katie smiled at her shyly, before letting her gaze drift over to Warrick again. Nancy had run up to him, and he had scooped her up easily, laughing into her smiling face as he finished his conversation with Grissom. Turning towards the three ladies he caught them looking at him, and smiled, winking in exaggeration at them. Catherine smiled when she noticed his gaze rest a moment longer than absolutely necessary on Katie, grinning in amusement when Katie blushed. Well - well - well. Things were getting interesting.
_____
Author's note: Hoowy - long chapter. So many characters, so little time! For those of you asking for more Nick and Sara, I'm working on it - same thing for Grissom and Catherine. Next chapter - dinner with Grams, an interesting discovery, Alli finds an apartment and back to the case!
Warrick was dozing on the sofa, his TV blaring. Katie was still sleeping and Warrick didn't have the heart to wake her up and tell her to look after Nancy. The poor girl was dead on her feet, stressed out from all she'd been through the last 48 hours; the realization of her brothers' murder just sinking in. Warrick remembered what he had felt like after losing Delia, and realized that sleep was the only way for Katie to escape the pain.
So, he had searched through his apartment, finally finding some overhead markers, a glue stick and half a ream of printer paper, and had settled Nancy at his coffee table to create 'masterpieces', and he catnapped on the sofa.
Every once in a while, Nancy would ask him a question, rising him from his stupor, but generally she remained silent, industriously working away. He smiled at the tiny child, and closed his eyes, the voice of Kermit the Frog droning in the background.
* * * * *
"Greg!" Nick's voice through the bedroom doorway was exceedingly loud. "You up, Greg? We gotta leave for Dr. Robbin's in 45 minutes. Greg?"
Greg's muffled grunt through the closed doorway made Nick smile. "That's a physical impossibility, Greg. C'mon man - rise and shine!" Nick laughed as another muffled curse came through from Greg's room, and he strode down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the living room when he saw Sara kneeling on the floor playing with the kitten.
He watched Sara silently for a few moments, only moving when he heard the slam of Greg's bedroom door, followed by the slam of the bathroom door and the sudden rush of running water. Sara looked up startled at the first slam, but quickly smiled at Nick when she saw him.
"He is so not a morning person."
Nick nodded in agreement. "Or afternoon person, for that matter." He moved into the living room, reaching out a casual hand and helping her to her feet. "So, did you sleep well?"
Sara just grinned at him. "What do you think?"
"If your snoring is anything to go by, I'd say you slept like a rock." Nick's tone was teasing, and he quickly twisted away from her when she tried to swat him.
"I do not snore!" she protested good-naturedly, "Do I?"
"Only when you're really tired. And it's not really a snore - it's more like a whisper sigh. Actually, it's very cute." Nick cocked an eyebrow at her, flashing his toothiest grin. "Sexy, even."
Sara smiled. "Only you would find snoring sexy - you're a twisted man, Nick Stokes."
Nick just laughed. "You're only saying that because you love me."
"Yeah. I guess I do."
* * * * *
"Can I come too?" Lyndsey was hopping excitedly from foot to foot, watching Catherine's face anxiously. Grissom, sitting at the kitchen table, smiled behind the newspaper he was reading. "Dr. Robbins has a swimming pool!"
Catherine smiled affectionately at her daughter. "Well - I don't know," she started dramatically, "you don't really like swimming all that much."
"Mo-o-om!" Lyndsey's agonized plea was of the type only little girls could make. "I love swimming! You can drop me of at Stacey's house on your way to work! And then I won't need a babysitter." Stacey was Lyndsey's best friend, and the two girls were planning a sleepover, as tomorrow was a PD day at school. "Please - oh please?"
Catherine laughed. "Okay! Of course Dr. Robbins told us to bring you too - he's had the solar blanket on his pool, and he says the water is great. So go get your bathing suit and get ready."
Lyndsey's excited whoop's as she ran towards her bedroom made Grissom chuckle. "Couldn't you have just told her that right off the bat, instead of making her beg like that?"
Catherine smirked at him. "What? And give her an excuse not to stretch those dramatic muscles of hers? Not a chance!" She poured herself another cup of coffee, and sank into the empty seat across from Grissom. "Greg has his first appointment tomorrow."
Grissom scowled. "I know."
"How do you think he's doing?" Catherine kept her voice deliberately casual, watching intently as Grissom folded his paper and put it on the table, sighing.
"Physically? He's doing better than I expected. Mentally? I just don't know. He's putting on a good show, but that's all I think it is - an act to get us off his back. He's not the same Greg." Grissom studied his fingernails intently. "He's lacking that certain - je ne sais quoi - he possessed. I'm worried about him."
Catherine sighed. "I am too. Maybe you should talk to him, Gil."
Grissom looked up, startled. "Me? I think you should talk to him - you're a mother."
"And you're the closest thing to a dad he's got." Catherine responded, just as quickly. "Besides which, Greg really respects you, and you're the only one that was really able to connect with him at the hospital. I think anything that's said will mean more coming from you than it would coming from anyone else."
"What if I make things worse?" Grissom shot a concerned glance at Catherine. "What if I say the wrong thing to him?"
Catherine smiled gently. "Gil, if it comes from your heart, it's never the wrong thing."
* * * * *
Warrick woke in fits and starts, slowly realizing he was on the sofa. The soft sound of laughter emanating from his kitchen had him confused for a few minutes, and then he remembered - Katie and Nancy. Glancing quickly at his watch, he sat up, muttering under his breath. If he was going to put in an appearance at Dr. Robbins before meeting his Grams for dinner, he better get a move on.
"I hope we didn't wake you, Mr. Brown." Katie's soft voice made intruded into his thoughts. Warrick stopped mid-stretch and turned towards her.
"No, no, you didn't. And please - call me Warrick. It's a little odd for you to be calling Mr. Brown when you're living here." He smiled at Katie's sudden flush. "I have to get going anyway."
"You have to leave already? It's only 2:30 in the afternoon. You've hardly slept at all." Katie frowned softly, a confused expression crossing her face as she realized she shouldn't be questioning him. "I'm sorry. I have no right -"
Warrick interrupted her gently. "No, it's alright. Don't worry about it. Normally, I wouldn't be going anywhere, but a colleague is having a small gathering I promised to attend and I'm having an early dinner tonight with my grandmother. Are you and Nancy going to be all right here?"
Katie nodded her head slowly. "This is really - it's all too much. You don't even know us! How will you feel comfortable leaving perfect strangers in your apartment?" Her voice was shaky and she looked at Warrick, eyes overly bright. "Especially after what I did?"
"What did you do, Katie? What are you talking about?" Warrick looked at the young woman, concern in his eyes. Behind Katie, Nancy stood watching silently.
"I didn't leave. I didn't protect Scotty. And I didn't stop them!" Katie was crying in earnest now, slight shoulders heaving. "I'm so ashamed!"
Warrick walked over to her, gently placing his arms on her shoulders. "Nancy, I need to speak with your sister for a minute in private. Do you want to go and watch TV in the bedroom?" He smiled reassuringly at Nancy over Katie's shoulder, as the little girl headed down the hallway, for once not questioning. When Warrick heard the soft snick of the bedroom door closing, he gently pulled Katie over to the sofa and sat down beside her.
"Katie, what could you have done to stop them?" His voice was amazingly gentle. "If you had tried, they would have killed you - and then what would have happened to Nancy? It's bad enough she lost her brother - what if she lost you too?"
Katie looked up at him, tears staining her face. "But Scotty told me he wanted to leave. He told me - he told me - he thought they killed his friend because he was gay. His friend - his fried Eric - who wrote us the letter. And I think they killed Scotty because they suspected -"
"He was gay, too?"
Nancy nodded miserably. "I think so. I mean, I don't know. It didn't matter to me, I would have loved him anyway! If I had listened to him, he would still be alive! Why did I let us get sucked in?"
Warrick leaned back onto the sofa, drawing Katie back with him, trying to comfort her as she cried. "You can't blame yourself. You were in an emotional place, recovering from the death of your parents. You and Scotty made the decision to go there together. You made the decision to stay together. I think Enoch tricked you - it's almost like he's running a cult out there - so how can you blame yourself? I think you're very brave, all things considered."
"I'm not brave - I'm a coward. I hid from the world on the commune, I hid from what Scotty tried to tell me, and I ran when - when - the murders.." Her voice was suddenly no longer sad, but defeated. "I'm just as bad as they are."
"No, you're not. You called 911 - you tried to help. So you were scared - big deal. You were in a terrible position. I don't know if I would have acted any differently. You didn't kill your brother - they did. And now - look at you. You've left the only home you've had for two years with hardly anything to your name. You're helping the police - providing an eyewitness account of the crime, telling us who was there, giving us information that will be invaluable in stopping them. In my mind, that's brave. I think your brother would be very proud of you." Warrick placed a gentle hand under Katie's chin, forcing her to look at him as he spoke.
Katie looked at him intently, not quiet believing him, but listening anyway. Through her tears, she gave him a wobbly smile, quickly leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. "You're a nice man, Warrick Brown."
Warrick smiled in response. "Listen, I'm going to call my Grams and tell her I'll be bringing you and Nancy for dinner as well. Dr. Robbins won't mind if you come to his place with me, and Grissom is going to want to talk to you, especially about -Eric? - and your theory on why Scotty was killed. Coming back here to pick you up is way out of the way. So come with me."
"But I - we -"
Warrick, without conscious thought, brushed the back of his hand softly against the side of her face, tucking a strand of silky auburn hair behind her ear. "Come with me. It will be okay."
* * * * *
Dr. Robbins had the most annoying doorbell in the world. Greg scowled as he pushed it again, the annoying peels of some classical song he did not know echoing through the house. Behind him, Nick grinned at Sara.
"That would drive me crazy."
The three stood there silently for another moment, and Greg was just getting ready to ring again when he heard someone calling his name.
"Greg! Greg! Over here!" Off to the side of the house, Alli was waving cheerfully through a wooden gate. "Everyone's in the back. I told Uncle Al I heard the doorbell, but -" she shrugged.
Greg snorted. "How could you miss it?" He stepped away from the front door and headed towards the gate, Nick and Sara trailing after him. "You met Nick and Sara last night, right?"
Alli nodded, quickly greeting the other two CSIs, before turning back to Greg. Sara nudged Nick in the ribs, grinning, but other wise stayed silent. Nick nudged her back.
As Alli had stated, everyone was in the backyard. Dr. Robbins greeted the last arrivals heartily, quickly introducing his wife and their girls, Pam, Jenny and Perrie. They stood there talking companionably for a few moments, before Lyndsey ran up to Greg, shrieking.
"Greg!" She threw herself at him, hugging him tightly around the waist. "You're here! I've been so worried about you!"
Greg smiled faintly as he hugged the young girl, nervously looking at Alli. "Nothing to worry about, Lyns."
"But you were in the hospital! Mommy cried. And Uncle Gil cried too. Uncle Gil never cries, so you must have been re-eal sick."
"But I'm all better now, see?" Greg did a goofy little dance, spinning in a circle and doing 'jazz hands' to the delight of the young girl. "So, no need to worry, 'kay Lyns?"
"Okay. You're heart is all fixed right?"
Greg sighed, shooting another surreptitious glance at Alli. "All fixed. Just like the Tin Man."
Nick, noticing the slump in Greg's shoulders, quickly distracted Lyndsey by grabbing her had lifting her high in the air. "Who's got on a bathing suit? Who wants Nicky to throw her in the pool?"
At Lyndsey's excited squeals of "Me! Me!", Nick carried her away. Her sputtering scream, followed by a loud splash and laughter echoed through the yard. Greg turned blindly from Alli and Dr. Robbins, face stricken and eyes shadowed as he quickly looked at Sara, before walking blindly through the sliding doors into the kitchen.
"What was that all about?" Alli's voice was soft, and she looked at Sara in confusion. "Is Greg sick?"
Sara, watching Greg's retreating form, smiled sadly. "He's had some problems lately." She looked at Alli suddenly, standing a little straighter. "But it's not my story to tell. If you want to know what's wrong with Greg, you'll have to ask him yourself."
* * * * *
Alli found Greg sitting in Uncle Al's favorite chair - a ratty tweed recliner Aunt Judy kept banishing to the garage, only to find it returned to the family room the next day. He was sitting in the room in partial darkness, the drawn shades preventing natural light from filling the room. His eyes were shut, and Alli noticed immediately the tenseness in his shoulders and arms.
"Hey. I found you."
Greg ignored her.
She tried again. "Greg. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" Greg's voice was low and harsh. "You must have heard the story by now."
"I've heard nothing. Nothing except what Lyndsey said to you. Were you sick?" Alli sat on the corner of the large coffee table, immediately in front of Greg. She was looking at him intently, and Greg could feel her gaze burning through him even though his eyes were still closed.
"Was I sick? Still am." His voice was bitter. "Quit looking at me."
"No. Why were you in the hospital?"
Greg sighed, and cracked an eye open to glare at her malevolently. "That's really none of your fucking business, is it Alli?"
Alli stared back at him just as intently, barely flinching at his words. "No. It isn't any of my fucking business at all. But that doesn't mean I don't want to know. So, you can tell me or not as you wish, but I'll find out from someone. I'd rather hear it from you."
"Fine. Long story short - I was working a case, our main suspect thought we were on to him, and he drugged me with an illegal substance that damaged my heart. I had to have surgery, and now walk around with a fucking piece of metal in my chest, attached to wires to kick start my heart if it goes berserk. Wanna see the scar?"
Before Alli could respond, Greg sat up and angrily whipped his T-Shirt up his chest. The livid scar over his heart stood out in stark relief against the whiteness of his skin, the coarse stitches still visible against the red puckers of healing skin. Alli recoiled at his sudden movements, but leaned in to take a better look at the scar. She lifted a gentle hand and lightly traced her hand down the side of the scar, her face sympathetic.
"Greg - I don't know what to say."
Greg drew his t-shirt down and leaned back into the chair, shutting his eyes again. He suddenly felt defeated. "Don't say anything. I'm sorry I yelled at you - it's not your fault."
"How long ago did it happen?"
"Two and a half weeks. I've been out of the hospital since Thursday."
"It's healing nicely."
Greg snorted. "Huh. Great. Healing nicely. Thank you, Florence Nightingale."
Alli leaned forward angrily. "What the hell is your problem?"
"What's my problem? I'm 28 years old and I have batteries in my chest - that's my problem! I'm like the fucking energizer bunny!" Greg was suddenly angry again. "What do you think my problem is?"
"I think you're feeling sorry for yourself." Alli's response was calm. Greg's eyes snapped open, and he stared at her in disbelief.
"Pardon me?"
"You heard me. Self-pity - that's you're problem."
"Don't you think I have the right to feel sorry for myself?" Greg felt his voice raise, and knew his heart was pounding. He willed himself to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down before the defibrillator kicked in and made things even worse. "Don't you think I have the right to feel sorry for myself?" he asked again.
"Maybe a little. But listen - you're not dead. You still have full mobility of all your limbs - and you have friends that really seem to care about you. It's not like you're going through this all by yourself."
Greg didn't respond at first, instead focusing his gaze on a spot on the wall over Alli's left shoulder. Eventually, he spoke. "I thought you were an artist, not a psychiatrist. Don't pull some psych-babble on me - you're not trained for it, and it won't work. And you don't know anything about me."
Alli sighed. "I know you're hurting. But you're right - I can't help you. Only you can do that." The two sat silently for a few minutes, before Alli braced her hands on her knees and stood. "No use sitting here in the dark. Uncle Al should be finishing the BBQ soon - before we head back out, want to see some of my work?"
Greg blinked at the sudden change in the conversation, and smiled weakly at Alli. "Nice segue."
She grinned back. "I'm known for my abilities to derail a perfectly fine angst session. C'mon - I have the feeling you'll give me an honest opinion of my stuff. Not like my family," she grimaced good-naturedly, "who think I'm better than Van Gogh and Rodin combined."
* * * * *
Warrick was speaking with Grissom quietly in the corner of Dr. Robbins deck. Nancy had been drawn into a conversation with Sara and Catherine, although she wasn't really participating, and Lindsey had immediately snagged Nancy into an impromptu game of tag.
Katie's anxious gaze kept jumping from her little sister, running exuberantly through the yard after Lindsey, Nick in hot pursuit, to Warrick. His face was intent as he spoke with Mr. Grissom, hands gesturing every once in a while in her direction, as if making a point. Grissom looked at her a couple of times; his expression closed, and continued his conversation with Warrick.
Catherine and Sara both noticed Katie's preoccupation with their friend, and looked at each other dubiously. Both recognized the signs of a burgeoning crush, and neither knew what - if anything - they should do about it. Sara studied Katie much as she studied trace elements under a microscope - with an intensity of single-minded purpose that was scary. She determined Katie was about 5' 6", and really needed to gain some weight - she was so skinny she looked like the slightest puff of wind would snap her twig-like frame in half. She had shoulder length auburn hair, slightly wavy, and really beautiful - though pale - skin. Her eyes were a deep set hazel, and her features were finely drawn. If her face wasn't etched with pain, she'd probably be very pretty. Sara frowned.
"How was Warrick's place? Did you get some rest?" Catherine's voice broke into Sara's thoughts, and she waited with interest to see what Katie's response would be. Katie merely nodded, shooting another glance at Warrick.
"He's a very nice person," she replied softly.
"Very nice." Sara agreed. "Some would say - too nice." She knew her comment was biting, but she didn't really care.
Katie looked at her sadly, her eyes suddenly clouded. "I know I don't deserve it. You don't need to tell me."
Catherine shot Sara a dirty look, before reaching out a hand and squeezing Katie's arm gently. "That's not what Sara meant. Is it, Sara?"
Sara flushed guiltily. "No. I'm sorry - that didn't come out the way I meant. Warrick's a great guy. I didn't mean to imply -"
"Yes, you did." Katie interrupted her. "I'd say the same thing too, if one of my friends was helping a - a- murderer, like me."
"You didn't murder anyone, Katie." Catherine's response was genuine.
"No - but I watched. That's just as bad. I don't know why he wants to help me."
"Maybe because he knows you were stuck in a situation you didn't know how to get out of." Sara's smile was genuine this time, and she reached out tentatively and squeezed Katie's other arm. "I'm sorry I said what I said. Sometimes my bark is worse than my bite - ask anyone."
Katie smiled at her shyly, before letting her gaze drift over to Warrick again. Nancy had run up to him, and he had scooped her up easily, laughing into her smiling face as he finished his conversation with Grissom. Turning towards the three ladies he caught them looking at him, and smiled, winking in exaggeration at them. Catherine smiled when she noticed his gaze rest a moment longer than absolutely necessary on Katie, grinning in amusement when Katie blushed. Well - well - well. Things were getting interesting.
_____
Author's note: Hoowy - long chapter. So many characters, so little time! For those of you asking for more Nick and Sara, I'm working on it - same thing for Grissom and Catherine. Next chapter - dinner with Grams, an interesting discovery, Alli finds an apartment and back to the case!