A Fairytale Investigation Chapter 2: 2 of 4, a csi fanfic

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.
A *huge* amount of appreciation is for Elyse and her website; I couldn't have done this without it.
Thanks to the graveshiftcsi groupies for the encouragement.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

***** ***** *****

Title: A Fairytale Investigation (2/4)

Author: Laeta
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

An hour later, inside the privacy of his rooms, our wise king sipped brandy and contemplated the Wizard Greg's news. The fire before which he sat could not throw off enough heat to warm the coldness of the information nor was the brandy anywhere near sufficient to thaw the grimness of it.

Yet, the light perfume that drifted toward him and lingered long after her presence left comforted him in small measures. Soft, strong, and gentle hands fell cautiously on his shoulders.

"My Lord, you are not responsible for her death. You are not responsible for the choices she made; she knew the danger and accepted it. All she wanted was to be useful and now, she is. My Lord, find solace in that she now aids the prevention of innumerable more deaths along that route."

"Yes, Lady, I concede you that. Yet what of the other I-15 Murders?"

She paused before answering the king's loaded question. "Tis unlike you to be unsure like this, My Lord." She side stepped answering nicely.

Shoulders sagging, he had always been honest with her. "I feel the high and low of the situation. I cannot reconcile myself with the number of souls already lost and to be in order to contain one individual bent solely on my demise."

Shifted her hands, she ran them through his hair. "At times like this, Ellie would say, 'To resolve an identity crisis such as this, you must forget all the in-betweens and determine the extremities. Then the path is clear.'"

"Wise words from a wise woman, indeed."

"Take heed, then, My Lord."

King Grissom raised his hands and captured the Lady Courtesan's hands. They fell into the sounds of silence comfortably while grief washed in gentle waves over them.

You see, Ellie was also a courtesan with a known loyalty only to the Lady and the King. She was once a prostitute whose strong potential was seen by the Lady who brought her to live as a courtesan. This was an honor since the position of courtesan is far different that what we may perceive it to be. In King Grissom's Court, a courtesan is an honored historian, the preserver of legends, myths, songs, and poetry. The written word is powerful yet nothing can replace the intonations of speech and herein lies the need for the courtesan. They are beautiful and intelligent by nature, graceful and dangerous by education. They carry the ability to protect their benefactor's physical being coupled with the knowledge of times past.

"My Lord, grieve not for my fallen friend, she has achieved her destiny and served you well. Sleep." The Lady Courtesan eased away from the overloaded man and left him to decide if sleep would be long in coming.

He knew he dreamed when he saw the finger beckoning him to journey amongst the clouds. Then he saw his Lady waiting for him and his heart ached for her. While the usual obstacles settled in his path. "Look but cannot touch" was the hateful litany they drummed out.

"My Lady."

He watched her face lift gracefully out of the shadows and trembled at the hopelessness lost there.

Her rich, luscious voice haunted his ears as she broke his heart with every word she spoke. "What would you do when the execution of Catherine Willows comes to pass?"

Confused, he gaped. Did they not already stumble through a similar discourse?

Those sad eyes froze his position. That cherished voice drifted toward him again. "An answer is not necessary, My Lord, at the moment. Soon the time will come when a price will be exacted for the execution's prevention. Will you be able to pay the price for my love?"

Throat dry, King Grissom's dream counterpart answered quietly. "$35K O.B.O. can hardly be thought of as a price, My Lady. I would rather consider your love worthy of achieving priceless-ness."

"And would you sacrifice for me?" Piercing blue eyes demanded the honest truth but he would never lie to her, neither voluntarily nor under command.

"For you, I will give and answer any price for the assurance you are safe and happy. For you, I would pilot myself to my own death."

"High words and lofty assurances, My Lord. Yet will you follow through, that is the real question to be answered." Hurtful words, she lapsed into silence.

He waited beyond the obstacles like he always did - awake and dreaming. It pained him that he and his Lady could be so close yet divided forever by the "Primum non nocere". Reality stabbed him by reminding that love is hurtful, in so many ways.

Yet he longed for memories like this, where fate and destiny would peel away the struggles of man and allow simple moments of pure pleasure. They shared all their thoughts and misgivings, hopes and fears on this cloud. With the kingdom's current situation, he knew his Lady would share her thoughts on it with him; thoughts that could never be confessed to awake.

Knowing her as he did, he knew what this would cost her. "My Lady, what pains you?"

A sigh, low and harried. "I see blood drops that foretell my death and a shadow that strikes your ire. I see revenge is best served cold and nothing more. Then I received a taste of what could be between you and me." The beautiful face twisted in agony. "I could accept all but the glimpse of the last. For we know, too intimately well, how that could never be."

The wise king lay alert for the rest of the night. The reason, no one will ever know save for, perhaps, a felonious monk with his far-seeing inner eye. All we know is that our king was never the same again. His temperature reached Fahrenheit 932 and he brought his enemy down with swift strikes.

Yet, we digress in our tale. There will be time enough later to tell the story of King Grissom wooing his Lady. For now, let us continue our current tale where it would be wise to recall "Beware of still waters ahead".