The Apple and the Tree
Rated PG
Disclaimer: This is based on CSI, which is owned by CBS, A. Zuiker, and Atlantic/Alliance, et al. I don't make any profit or make any money from this. No infringement is intended. This is just for fun.
Synopsis: An 'alternative' view of one of Grissom's interpersonal relationships. It's getting stranger by the minute.....
Notes: Thanks to Trap and Escher for continually putting up with me, to Disempi and Eric for pointing out serious flaws in my plot and Dawn for listening to me rehearse it all over sandwiches.
MUCH THANKS TO ALL WHO R/R*** Those that don't :( ... *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
10- Praxis
Gillian stood back watching Catherine and Warrick process the scene. The paramedics were still working on the kid, the distraught father watching anxiously. Gillian watched them for a moment. Something just didn't seem right. The facts didn't add up. The paramedics had arrived on scene first and removed the boy from the rear passenger seat behind the driver. The father had been disoriented and groggy. The child had gone into respiratory arrest, and then his heart had stopped. The paramedics worked calmly, but without wasted motion. Gillian studied them with clinical interest. She thought about the injuries the man and his son had sustained and tried to picture what had happened. The man had a large knot on his forehead and his face was slightly burnt. He had hit his head on something, probably the window, and burns were common with air bags. If the air bag had inflated, the car had been going at least 30 mph. Gillian looked at the boy. There was a bruise that looked like a strap of some kind on his right shoulder and she had heard the paramedics tell the father the boy had some internal bleeding. The child's face had some odd scratches, probably unrelated to the crash, and a huge knot in the middle of the forehead. He'd have some serious raccoon eyes in a day or two.
"You okay?"
Warrick's voice broke her train of thought.
"Yes, but the evidence doesn't support the father's account of what happened." Gillian frowned at the scene and screwed her face up in serious thought.
Warrick shook his head. That was definitely 'the look'. The Grissom look. The thousand yard stare; the intent expression, but where Grissom had glasses to play with Gillian had none. Her tongue stuck out just a bit and she bit the tip in a manner Warrick would have thought painful. Sara often had a similar expression, but it never came quite this close to resembling the boss. He walked away to collect evidence leaving his intern lost in thought and, hopefully, learning something.
"So have you figured it out?" Gillian set the heavy case down on the floor of the Tahoe. She shook her head at Warrick.
"Look at the evidence." said Catherine. "We have a car with a drunk driver, sustaining heavy front impact damage, and a second car with a deflated air bag and serious damage. The paint transfers match. What evidence doesn't support the father's story?"
"I have skid marks and broken headlights at the impact site." added Warrick. "What have we missed?"
"What do the injuries to the bodies tell us?"
Warrick laughed and Gillian gave him a dark scowl.
"What?"
"You sound like your father."
"At least one of us does."
"So you think the bodies will tell a different story?"
"I don't know, but something about the kid's injuries doesn't line up and I can't figure out why."
The steady whirring and soft grunts had been getting faster over the last hour. Grissom looked at the clock by the bed. It was 3 am, he couldn't sleep and apparently, neither could Gillian. Gillian had come home around midnight thoroughly frustrated by her first night at the lab. Although she had only been on one case, since she was only there for half a shift, something about it bothered her. She refused to tell her father, insisting that he wasn't working and he needed his rest. Grissom sighed. His body was so used to being up at this hour it was difficult to sleep. Having Gillian in the house only complicated matters. Grissom hadn't ever been much of a father to her, seeing her only occasionally and not more that a consecutive week, so their relationship was different than most. He stressed to his associates the importance of having a diversion and not getting to emotionally involved in a case, but how often had he done just that. Some example. Maybe her mother was right and this really wasn't the place for Gillian.
"Ow!"
Gillian's cry startled Grissom. He found her in the kitchen, an ice pack slung over her right shoulder. She frowned at him.
"You should be in bed. You need your rest."
Grissom sat down in a chair and stared at her for a moment.
"So should you." His voice was quiet and sounded tired to his own ears. The doubts and fears that had plagued his life as an ersatz father chased their collective tails around in his head. Suddenly the daunting task that had been given to him was crystal clear and he wasn't entirely sure he was suited for it, let alone equipped to accomplish the impossible.
"I know, I just can't get this case out of my head. How do you do it?" Gillian lifted the ice from her shoulder wincing at the red mark clearly visible. "I guess that's what I get for practicing with out complete focus. Mom would probably accuse you of child abuse if she saw it."
"That's not funny, Gillian."
"I know, but it's... that's it!" Gillian stood up in sudden rapt attention. "That's what's wrong with the injuries. I've got to talk to the paramedics, maybe the doctors."
She turned to leave the kitchen. Grissom caught her wrist. "It can wait. You need some sleep. It will wait until daylight."