XIV - ACHES
Greg found Sara sitting in his lab, scowling as she sorted the papers in the large manila folder. Leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets, he sighed. She was in a mood alright, and Sara in a mood was not someone to mess with. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he found himself praying that Ecklie would show up and demand he run some tests so he could get out of helping her, at the same time cursing the fact that - for once - he was all caught up.
"So - Sara," he began, as he stepped into the room, "What do you want me to do?"
Sara barely looked at him as she pointed to a stack of papers. "Insurance Numbers, amounts, hidden clauses, beneficiaries. List 'em."
Greg gave her a mock salute and clicked his heels together, "Aye, Aye, Captain!"
Sara grimaced at him, "Sorry, Greg. I'm not angry at you - it's just -"
"Grissom was a dick," Greg grinned, "Yeah - I know. I was there."
"I just can't figure him out sometimes," Sara muttered.
"Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die." Greg slid onto his lab chair and pushed off from the desk towards his CD player. "So - music?"
"As long as it's not country, and not crap. I swear, between you and Nick it's a wonder I even listen to music anymore!" Sara looked at Greg and grinned suddenly, "Something calm."
"Absolutely," Greg responded, grinning slyly at her, "Music soothes the savage beast." Flipping through his stack of CD's he found the one he wanted and turned it on. "Sting - Dream of the Blue Turtles," he smirked. "Can't get much calmer than Sting."
~ Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers in beams of yellow light
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns had been pounding all through the night
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the fields I'd known
I recognized the walls that I once laid
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid
And if I have built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge for I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire ~
* * * * *
Grissom didn't say anything as he pulled out of the parking lot, and he wondered briefly if he could get away with not talking to Nick the entire drive. He sincerely doubted it, but he had remarkably little to say to the younger man beside him. Well, that wasn't actually true - he could think of a lot of things to say to him, but they wouldn't be professional.
Beside him in the Tahoe, Nick was whistling. Whistling! ~Hey, hey baby - I wanna know - if you'll be my girl ~
Scowling, Grissom leaned forward and snapped on the stereo system.
~Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song
I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song
I was born like this, I had no choice ~
"Jeez, Griss. Music to kill yourself by? Who the hell is this?" Nick's voice filled the cab of the Tahoe, momentarily drowning out the music.
"Leonard Cohen," Grissom replied shortly. "He's a great poet."
"Well, thank god he's good at something, 'cause it sure ain't singing," Nick responded wryly. "If Spock sang, this is what he would sound like."
Grissom ignored him.
~ I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never have to lose it again
Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song
Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song ~
Nick smiled at Grissom, shooting a teasing glance at him, "Not as easy to dance to as Bruce Chanel."
Grissom frowned, but didn't respond. Nick leaned forward and flipped off the radio.
"What was all that about back in the lounge room?"
Grissom sighed in irritation, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You were short with Sara. Where you jealous?" Nick purposely kept his tone teasing, noting with interest the way Grissom's hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
"Pardon me?"
"Were you jealous? It's a simple question, Grissom."
Grissom kept his eyes glued to the road. "I don't want to dance with you, Nick." His tone was dry and sarcastic, the quick response shocking a sharp laugh out of the younger man.
"No, I don't suppose you do." The two men sat in silence for a few moments, before Nick started again. "She's a great person. Great CSI; beautiful, sexy - smart. Any man would want her. Don't you agree, Grissom?"
Grissom shrugged, "I really don't want to sit here with you and discuss Sara, Nick. It's none of my business what 'every man' wants."
Nick shrugged, "No. I suppose it isn't. After all, you are her boss. You're not allowed to think of her in any other capacity, are you? But it's gotta be hard. Seeing her everyday, working with her - how could you not be attracted to her?"
Grissom tried not to let the comments rankle. "I'm an adult, Nick. I can control myself."
Nick winced, grinning at Grissom. "So, what you're trying to tell me is I'm not an adult?"
"You were dancing in the break room."
"Yeah. And I don't think the world stop revolving, either. A little spontaneity isn't a bad thing, Grissom." Nick looked at his hands, flexing his fingers against his knees, "Besides which, wasn't it nice to see Sara smiling again?"
Grissom sighed, "I didn't notice she'd stopped smiling."
"And that's where the problem lies," Nick muttered, his heart twisting slightly in his chest. "You better open up your eyes, Grissom, and start seeing the people around you again. Before it's too late."
Grissom shot an oblique look at Nick, his face unreadable, "You and Sara seem to be awfully close, all of a sudden."
"She's not seeing Hank anymore," Nick shrugged, "So I'm filling up the empty places in her life."
"Is that what's it called these days?" Grissom's tone was tight.
"What do you want to hear from me, Grissom?" Nick responded, "I like spending time with her. It's nice to have someone to talk to. You should try it sometime."
"I talk to people."
"About cases, sure. But nothing else. Not anymore. And I don't think you should talk to just people - you should talk to Sara."
"Why? You seem to be talking to her enough for both of us."
"And that bothers you." It was a statement of fact, and Nick sighed when he said it. "You don't want her to be happy."
Grissom snapped, "I want her to be happy!"
"Then talk to her," Nick responded calmly. They pulled into the parking lot of the Palms, Grissom jerking the Tahoe to a rough stop before cutting the motor. His movements were jerky as he got out of the Tahoe and pocketed the keys.
"If you want to quit aching in the places you used to play, you gotta do something about it, man." Nick offered this good-naturedly as he moved to Grissom's side, trying not to smile at the older man's obvious agitation. "You need to find a girlfriend."
* * * * *
"So, we meet again!" Catherine's gaze was baleful as she glared at the venting. "It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic."
Warrick grinned at her and reached out to adjust her headset, "At least it should go quicker this time - you can just go straight to the mouth of the vent and get what you need. Just don't get stuck on anything in there, because I won't be able to crawl in after you."
Catherine grinned. "That would be a fun one to explain to Grissom. Okay, I'm ready." Sliding to her knees, she winked at Warrick and slid through the opening of the shaft. "Talk to me!"
Warrick's voice over the crackle of the headset sounded strangely distorted, "What do you want to talk about?"
"Oh - I don't know," Catherine replied, "tell me what attracts you."
"Pardon me?"
"What attracts you? Not a hard question, I think. Personally, I think you're a butt man myself."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Because I've got a great one," Catherine responded. "Am I wrong?"
"Wrong about me being a butt man, or wrong about you having a great one?" Warrick teased. "Personally, I'm attracted to a complete package. Beauty and brains. What about you?"
Catherine grunted softly as she pulled herself through the venting, pushing a small version of her field kit in front of her. "Oh, I don't know. I like confident men - who know how to flirt. I like gentle men, who know how to emote. I like men with blue/green eyes named Warrick." She said this last part softly, smiling when she heard his indrawn breath.
She was about to say something else when she caught sight of the end of the shaft. "Holy shit," she muttered, "You're not going to believe this."
"What?"
"I'm about 20 feet away, and guess what? Someone's replaced the grating."
"What?" Warrick's voice was incredulous.
"Yep," Catherine muttered, "Someone crawled around in the shaft sometime today and replaced the grate."
"Tampered with a crime scene," Warrick responded. Catherine knew from the tone of his voice he was frowning. "Where did they get a replacement grate so quickly?"
Catherine shrugged, "I have no idea. But I'm taking it out and bringing it back to the lab. And we'll need to find out who was in here and get their prints, for comparison purposes. I want to kill that concierge."
"You think he's the one that had the grate replaced?"
"Who else?" Catherine responded, "He wasn't happy to see us when we got here, remember? The first thing he asked was when the penthouse would be available for paying guests again." She had managed to pull herself the rest of the way up the shaft. "Thank God I have a multi-purpose screwdriver in here."
Working quickly, she removed the grating, carefully propping it beside her as she dusted for prints around the edge of the shaft. The wind whipped her hair about, blowing powder back into her face and making her sneeze. Through the headset, Warrick laughed. "You should have heard the echo on that from this end! Sounded like a herd of elephants."
"Thanks," Catherine responded dryly, "Couldn't help it though; powder blew back in my face."
"You having any luck lifting prints?"
"Looks good so far. Of course, they could belong to the maintenance guy that replaced the grate. This is some view!" Catherine muttered, as she applied the tape and lifted the prints. "Okay - done here. I'm coming out."
"Good." Warrick's tone was grim. "We need to talk to Mr. Miles and find out what the hell he thinks he's doing."
________________________
Author's Note: Music by - Sting - Fortress Around Your Heart and by Leonard Cohen - Tower of Song; both fitting in my mind. Next chapter: Mr. Miles, Nick and Grissom talk to van der Brucke and more case facts..
Greg found Sara sitting in his lab, scowling as she sorted the papers in the large manila folder. Leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets, he sighed. She was in a mood alright, and Sara in a mood was not someone to mess with. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he found himself praying that Ecklie would show up and demand he run some tests so he could get out of helping her, at the same time cursing the fact that - for once - he was all caught up.
"So - Sara," he began, as he stepped into the room, "What do you want me to do?"
Sara barely looked at him as she pointed to a stack of papers. "Insurance Numbers, amounts, hidden clauses, beneficiaries. List 'em."
Greg gave her a mock salute and clicked his heels together, "Aye, Aye, Captain!"
Sara grimaced at him, "Sorry, Greg. I'm not angry at you - it's just -"
"Grissom was a dick," Greg grinned, "Yeah - I know. I was there."
"I just can't figure him out sometimes," Sara muttered.
"Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die." Greg slid onto his lab chair and pushed off from the desk towards his CD player. "So - music?"
"As long as it's not country, and not crap. I swear, between you and Nick it's a wonder I even listen to music anymore!" Sara looked at Greg and grinned suddenly, "Something calm."
"Absolutely," Greg responded, grinning slyly at her, "Music soothes the savage beast." Flipping through his stack of CD's he found the one he wanted and turned it on. "Sting - Dream of the Blue Turtles," he smirked. "Can't get much calmer than Sting."
~ Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers in beams of yellow light
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns had been pounding all through the night
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the fields I'd known
I recognized the walls that I once laid
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid
And if I have built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge for I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire ~
* * * * *
Grissom didn't say anything as he pulled out of the parking lot, and he wondered briefly if he could get away with not talking to Nick the entire drive. He sincerely doubted it, but he had remarkably little to say to the younger man beside him. Well, that wasn't actually true - he could think of a lot of things to say to him, but they wouldn't be professional.
Beside him in the Tahoe, Nick was whistling. Whistling! ~Hey, hey baby - I wanna know - if you'll be my girl ~
Scowling, Grissom leaned forward and snapped on the stereo system.
~Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song
I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song
I was born like this, I had no choice ~
"Jeez, Griss. Music to kill yourself by? Who the hell is this?" Nick's voice filled the cab of the Tahoe, momentarily drowning out the music.
"Leonard Cohen," Grissom replied shortly. "He's a great poet."
"Well, thank god he's good at something, 'cause it sure ain't singing," Nick responded wryly. "If Spock sang, this is what he would sound like."
Grissom ignored him.
~ I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never have to lose it again
Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song
Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song ~
Nick smiled at Grissom, shooting a teasing glance at him, "Not as easy to dance to as Bruce Chanel."
Grissom frowned, but didn't respond. Nick leaned forward and flipped off the radio.
"What was all that about back in the lounge room?"
Grissom sighed in irritation, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You were short with Sara. Where you jealous?" Nick purposely kept his tone teasing, noting with interest the way Grissom's hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
"Pardon me?"
"Were you jealous? It's a simple question, Grissom."
Grissom kept his eyes glued to the road. "I don't want to dance with you, Nick." His tone was dry and sarcastic, the quick response shocking a sharp laugh out of the younger man.
"No, I don't suppose you do." The two men sat in silence for a few moments, before Nick started again. "She's a great person. Great CSI; beautiful, sexy - smart. Any man would want her. Don't you agree, Grissom?"
Grissom shrugged, "I really don't want to sit here with you and discuss Sara, Nick. It's none of my business what 'every man' wants."
Nick shrugged, "No. I suppose it isn't. After all, you are her boss. You're not allowed to think of her in any other capacity, are you? But it's gotta be hard. Seeing her everyday, working with her - how could you not be attracted to her?"
Grissom tried not to let the comments rankle. "I'm an adult, Nick. I can control myself."
Nick winced, grinning at Grissom. "So, what you're trying to tell me is I'm not an adult?"
"You were dancing in the break room."
"Yeah. And I don't think the world stop revolving, either. A little spontaneity isn't a bad thing, Grissom." Nick looked at his hands, flexing his fingers against his knees, "Besides which, wasn't it nice to see Sara smiling again?"
Grissom sighed, "I didn't notice she'd stopped smiling."
"And that's where the problem lies," Nick muttered, his heart twisting slightly in his chest. "You better open up your eyes, Grissom, and start seeing the people around you again. Before it's too late."
Grissom shot an oblique look at Nick, his face unreadable, "You and Sara seem to be awfully close, all of a sudden."
"She's not seeing Hank anymore," Nick shrugged, "So I'm filling up the empty places in her life."
"Is that what's it called these days?" Grissom's tone was tight.
"What do you want to hear from me, Grissom?" Nick responded, "I like spending time with her. It's nice to have someone to talk to. You should try it sometime."
"I talk to people."
"About cases, sure. But nothing else. Not anymore. And I don't think you should talk to just people - you should talk to Sara."
"Why? You seem to be talking to her enough for both of us."
"And that bothers you." It was a statement of fact, and Nick sighed when he said it. "You don't want her to be happy."
Grissom snapped, "I want her to be happy!"
"Then talk to her," Nick responded calmly. They pulled into the parking lot of the Palms, Grissom jerking the Tahoe to a rough stop before cutting the motor. His movements were jerky as he got out of the Tahoe and pocketed the keys.
"If you want to quit aching in the places you used to play, you gotta do something about it, man." Nick offered this good-naturedly as he moved to Grissom's side, trying not to smile at the older man's obvious agitation. "You need to find a girlfriend."
* * * * *
"So, we meet again!" Catherine's gaze was baleful as she glared at the venting. "It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic."
Warrick grinned at her and reached out to adjust her headset, "At least it should go quicker this time - you can just go straight to the mouth of the vent and get what you need. Just don't get stuck on anything in there, because I won't be able to crawl in after you."
Catherine grinned. "That would be a fun one to explain to Grissom. Okay, I'm ready." Sliding to her knees, she winked at Warrick and slid through the opening of the shaft. "Talk to me!"
Warrick's voice over the crackle of the headset sounded strangely distorted, "What do you want to talk about?"
"Oh - I don't know," Catherine replied, "tell me what attracts you."
"Pardon me?"
"What attracts you? Not a hard question, I think. Personally, I think you're a butt man myself."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Because I've got a great one," Catherine responded. "Am I wrong?"
"Wrong about me being a butt man, or wrong about you having a great one?" Warrick teased. "Personally, I'm attracted to a complete package. Beauty and brains. What about you?"
Catherine grunted softly as she pulled herself through the venting, pushing a small version of her field kit in front of her. "Oh, I don't know. I like confident men - who know how to flirt. I like gentle men, who know how to emote. I like men with blue/green eyes named Warrick." She said this last part softly, smiling when she heard his indrawn breath.
She was about to say something else when she caught sight of the end of the shaft. "Holy shit," she muttered, "You're not going to believe this."
"What?"
"I'm about 20 feet away, and guess what? Someone's replaced the grating."
"What?" Warrick's voice was incredulous.
"Yep," Catherine muttered, "Someone crawled around in the shaft sometime today and replaced the grate."
"Tampered with a crime scene," Warrick responded. Catherine knew from the tone of his voice he was frowning. "Where did they get a replacement grate so quickly?"
Catherine shrugged, "I have no idea. But I'm taking it out and bringing it back to the lab. And we'll need to find out who was in here and get their prints, for comparison purposes. I want to kill that concierge."
"You think he's the one that had the grate replaced?"
"Who else?" Catherine responded, "He wasn't happy to see us when we got here, remember? The first thing he asked was when the penthouse would be available for paying guests again." She had managed to pull herself the rest of the way up the shaft. "Thank God I have a multi-purpose screwdriver in here."
Working quickly, she removed the grating, carefully propping it beside her as she dusted for prints around the edge of the shaft. The wind whipped her hair about, blowing powder back into her face and making her sneeze. Through the headset, Warrick laughed. "You should have heard the echo on that from this end! Sounded like a herd of elephants."
"Thanks," Catherine responded dryly, "Couldn't help it though; powder blew back in my face."
"You having any luck lifting prints?"
"Looks good so far. Of course, they could belong to the maintenance guy that replaced the grate. This is some view!" Catherine muttered, as she applied the tape and lifted the prints. "Okay - done here. I'm coming out."
"Good." Warrick's tone was grim. "We need to talk to Mr. Miles and find out what the hell he thinks he's doing."
________________________
Author's Note: Music by - Sting - Fortress Around Your Heart and by Leonard Cohen - Tower of Song; both fitting in my mind. Next chapter: Mr. Miles, Nick and Grissom talk to van der Brucke and more case facts..