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 :( ... *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

11- The Truth

      Wednesday morning Grissom woke the smell of breakfast cooking.  Gillian always cooked when she was upset.  Her second night must not have gone well.  Tuesday she had gone, with Warrick, to talk to the paramedics and find out what the doctor had discovered.  The little boy had gone into cardiac arrest in the middle of the night and died; Gillian had told Grissom that much when she had returned home.  Now the case had evolved into one of vehicular manslaughter.  Warrick had intended to show Gillian how to print and Luminol the car that evening.  From the sounds emanating from the kitchen, Tuesday night had not gone as planned.

      "Morning, sweetheart."

      "Hey."  Gillian set a cup of coffee on the table for him.

      "How was work?"

      She set plates of food in front of him, saying nothing.

      "Did you learn anything?"

      "How to print every conceivable surface in a 1999 Black Land Rover."  Gillian sat down in the chair opposite Grissom, frowning.  "There wasn't a single drop of blood in the entire vehicle.  It's not fair."

      "It never is, but if you get mad, they win."

      "I'm going to stop it from happening."

      "Going to become a lawyer?"

      Gillian gave him a withering look.  "No.  I'm going to develop a way to nail creeps like that."

      "A lawyer with a working knowledge of forensics would be easier."

      Gillian slammed her fork down on the table.  "You, too?  Or are you just tired of having me here?  If you didn't think I was capable than why bother to encourage me?"

      Gillian stormed out of the kitchen.  Grissom could hear slamming doors throughout the house.  His neighbors would not be pleased.  Gillian brushed past the kitchen.

      "I'm going to the library, and then I'm meeting Greg at the lab so he can show me how to work the some of the equipment.  If anyone cares."  Her voice was acerbic.  Grissom had never intended to imply he doubted her abilities; nor that she was anything like Miranda.  He had failed again.

      Gillian was steamed.  Greg could see that as soon as she entered the lab.  She walked straight to his CD player and exchanged Kittie for something classical.

      "Hey!" Greg objected.

      "It will make you work more efficiently."  She shot him a cold glare.  "Or haven't you people heard of Kaizen in the middle of this god-forsaken desert."

      "Yeah. Okay."  Greg sat down at a microscope.  "Let's get started then."

      Ecklie walked into the DNA lab to a pleasant surprise.  Although it was Sanders on shift, instead of the horrible racket that usually destroyed the technician's hearing, there was some more classical sounding music at a tolerable volume.  Ecklie was about to compliment the young man on his change of music when he spied the reason.  A young lady sat at one of the stereo microscopes, studying a slide.  Ecklie frowned.

      "They look close, but they don't..."  She looked up to ask Sanders a question and stopped.  She scowled at Ecklie as if he had interrupted something important.

      He returned her look of unmitigated disdain and motioned Sanders outside the lab.

      "A new technician?"  Ecklie asked.

      "Not exactly."

      "This lab is not here for you to impress some sweet young thing you met on the Strip."

      Greg held up his hands in surrender.  "That's Warrick's intern."

      "Well, no fraternizing; this department cannot afford for you to be distracted."

      Greg shook his head.  "Even if I were to be that unprofessional, I wouldn't dream of trying anything with Gillian.  I like my job; I don't need Grissom breathing down my neck for putting the moves on his daughter.  I've got work to do."

      Greg returned to the lab.

      "Prick." mumbled Gillian through clenched teeth.

      "To put it nicely." agreed Greg.

      "I'd like to kick him in the teeth."

      "I'd pay to see it."

      Gillian smiled and shook her head.

      "You know, you look like...."

      "My dad?"

      "No, well... maybe... if he were blonde and gorgeous... and a girl."

      Gillian giggled.  "Good, I get tired of people comparing me to him."

      "Nah, you're a lot prettier than he is."  Gillian rolled her eyes at him, as Greg continued.  "Even though your dad isn't that bad, I was actually going to say you remind me of Sara.  Well, if she were blonde and still a teenager."

      Gillian laughed.  "You'd better stop while you're ahead."

      "Hey, Grego, my results in yet?"  Nick Stokes sauntered into the lab, cocky as a prize fighter.

      "In about thirty seconds."  replied Greg.

      Gillian stood up and mumbled something about needing a soda.

      "You're either really brave or really stupid, Grego."

      Greg looked up from his microscope, frowning at Nick.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

      "Flirting with the boss' daughter, man."  Nick shook his head.  "Sounds dangerous to me."

      The computer beeped and Greg took the paper out of the printer tray.  "There are your results."  Greg's brow furrowed.  "And I'm not flirting with Grissom's daughter.  If you've never noticed, I'm usually at the receiving end of Grissom's lectures.  I certainly don't need to give him a reason to jump all over my case.

      "Also, maybe you've forgotten that she is only 16 and that's way too young for me.  It'd be like dating my sister."

      "So what's with telling her she reminds you of Sara?"

      Greg shrugged.  "If they're both going to work here I might as well try to be on the good side of one Grissom."

      "I'm not sure she's the one I'd be worried about." chuckled Nick.

      "You'd be surprised.  Did you know she's testing for her black belt in a year?"  Greg shook his head before returning to his microscope.  "I already irritate Grissom enough.  I'd much rather be lectured than piss off Gillian and take my chances."

      "Grego, you need to get out of the lab more." laughed Nick as he left.

      Gillian reentered the lab and glanced around.

      "Is he gone?"

      "Nick?"  asked Greg, not looking up.  "Yes, why?"

      Gillian let out an adolescent sigh of frustration.  "I'm not in the mood to deal with him tonight."

      "Nick?"  Greg looked up at her perplexed.  "Why?  He's a nice guy."

      "Yeah, and one in a long list of people who see me as nothing more than....  how did he put it... a 'Grissom clone.'  I am not simply a smaller copy of my father and I wish people would stop saying that."

      Greg chuckled.

      "What?!" snapped Gillian.

      "Do you know how many people here would love to be labeled a 'Grissom clone'?"

      "No," asserted Gillian holding up a finger in objection.  "They would love to be as knowledgeable and talented as my father, but they don't want to be Gil Grissom.

      "In my experience people have one of two opinions of him.  Either he's an amazingly exceptional investigator or a conceited know-it-all who refuses to play 'the game'.

      "They're right though.  He knows a great deal.  Of course he does, he's brilliant.  And why should he play 'the game'?  After all, this job isn't about politics and making people happy.  It's about solving the mystery; the solution to the puzzle.  That's where he gets himself into trouble, every time; he lives the adage about the truth setting you free.  He just doesn't realize that not everyone wants to be free."

      Gillian entered the house as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake her father.  She had let her emotions get the best of her and after cooling off, had realized she had over-reacted.  She sighed, wondering how she could apologize for making the same assumptions her mother had always made.  He was right, she was turning into her mother, it was time she faced the truth and change her destiny.  Her stomach growled and she headed towards the kitchen.  At once, her nose made her aware of the savory scent of soy sauce and fish. 

      Gillian stood in the doorway her arms crossed in annoyance.  She scowled at her father.  Grissom looked at her unperturbed.

      "Hungry?"  he asked.

      "Pop, you are supposed to be in bed."

      "I was hungry." Grissom shrugged.

      Gillian surveyed the food with great doubt.  "So you were hungry and decided to make a little snack of sushi and fugu?  Somehow I doubt that."

      "Actually, I made the sushi and ordered out for the blowfish."  Grissom replied.  "There's a great 24 hour Japanese place not far from here."

      Gillian put her arms around her father.  "I'm sorry, pop.  I over reacted.  I guess I'm not as well-adjusted and together as I thought.  You just pointed out the most efficient means to the end.  It was just something I didn't want to hear."

      "Me, too."