Thanks: I thank everyone who writes fan fics. I love to read them, they
inspire me a lot.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, I don't own its characters, and I don't own any of the countries, states, or city's named in this story. But if I did. . . *evil laugh*
Authors Note: I don't see Nick as a particularly stupid person, but I had to have someone be unique . Sorry all of you Nick lovers out there :) All of the spelling mistakes when Grissom and Sara are talking are intentional. They are lisping on account of the hot coffee that drank :)
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The sun was rising over the horizon, but the CSI's of Las Vegas would not see it. They were inside their lab, their sanctuary. Well, a sanctuary to a select few of them, others had lives outside of work. Even still, they were like rats in a glass maze. Lab rats.
They sat around the break room table. Catherine taking small, almost inconspicuous bites of an apple. Grissom and Sara sit opposite Catherine, both taking sips of steaming coffee, which they must not be able to taste, since it's at steaming temperature. That could be a good thing. Grissom once described the coffee as tasting like "motor oil". How he is able to recognize the taste of motor oil we may never know. Warrick sat at the end of the table, with Nick standing behind him, leaning against the counter top.
Nick had in his hands the newspaper, no doubt trying to look more intelligent that recent tests have shown. Sure, he had his days, of both good and bad. One begins to think that having numerous guns held to his head (not at one time, mind you) has been a blow to his psyche in some way. One would probably be right. But, the newspaper he holds is not the business section, or even sports. He has in his hands the funny pages. Nick, Nick, Nick. . .you silly boy, you.
Catherine is carrying a conversation with Warrick, about Lindseys temper, when Nick chortles. Yes, he chortles, "Oh, Charlie Brown cracks me up. The baseball, and the--" He begins to chuckle.
Warrick lefts his head, almost turning it a full 180 degrees, "What, man?"
"Charlie Brown. The.Best.Comic.Ever."
The comic-book-guy speak gets Sara's attention, "Nick, you weally have pwobwems. You know that, wight?" It's hard to speak when your tongue is stinging.
"You're right, Snoopy is better."
"But I didn-" One look from Grissom and Sara stops dead in her tracks. She knows not to argue with Nick, it's pointless. Besides, she sounds like a little kid, why does the coffee have to be so hot?
In the interest of character development, Catherine singlemother-deadex- formerstripper-labexplodin'-Grissomhuggin'-fatherhatin'-dramamakin' Willows speaks up, "Nick, did you know that Charles Schultz is dead?"
Nicks expression can only be described as utter confusion, "Who?"
Sara jumps in, she always enjoys explaining things when she can, especially if it gives her the chance to question Nick, "He wites thothe peanutth comic thtripth." Grissoms expression is indescribable when he hears this. A mix between sympathy and that tilted-head, eyebrow-raised look only found on Grissom and lost puppies.
"Oh yeah, I knew that. Heard it on the news a few years ago. I was devastated." Nick replies.
"You watth the newth?" This comment is followed by Nicks attempt at a 'what is that supposed to mean?' look.
He counters, "Quiet, Sylvester."
"Thut up!"
Grissom tired of the brother-sister bickering and holds up his hand, "Enough! I have an anounthment to make." Damn coffee.
Warrick, who has seemingly been staring at the wall across the room, finally proves he has not lost his voice, or his mind, "What, Lispy, what is it?"
"Hey, have you had any of thith coffee? You'd be lithping athwell. Anywayth, thewe ith a theminar in thwee dayth."
Catherine decides she has to talk again. She can't be forgotten, you know. "So, how many of us are going?"
"All of uth."
"Whewe ith the theminar?" Sara asks.
"It'th a thurprithe. And thtop making fun of me!"
"I'm not! I dwank the coffee too, thee?" She lifts her mug as evidence.
"Oh, wight. Sowwy."
This sentence is followed by nothing. Grissom and Sara are just sitting, staring at each other. The others are looking around the room with smirks on their faces. Warrick is the first to break the silence, "Uh, yeah, so Griss. How do you expect us to pack if we don't know where we're going?"
Nick adds, "Yeah! It's not going to work too well, man."
"We're going up north." Catherine says, looking at the open folder upside down on the table, "Sara's not the only one who can read upside down in this place." Well, add that to Catherines past. She learned to read upside down. Do we have enough to write a biography yet?
"Idaho?" Sometimes Nick just shouldn't talk. Who am I kidding? They should seal his mouth shut. The uses for duct tape are seemingly endless.
"No, Nick." Grissom replied, looking annoyed that Catherine ruined his fun.
Nick holds up both hands in joy, "We're goin' to Oregon!"
"Nick, man, not Oregon!" Warrick was on the verge of laughter at this point.
"We'we going to Canada, Jethuth Cwitht." Sara's smile broke and laughter filled the room. Warrick was next to give in. Soon, the entire room shook and the groups chuckles echoed out into the hallway. Random extra lab rats stopped in the hallways and looked in at the madness. Our CSI's didn't notice, they were too busy laughing. However, if they hadn't been I'm sure none of the lab rats would look familiar. They seem to have new ones everyday.
When the laughter finally died down to mere giggles, Sara was lifting herself back onto her chair from were she had fallen during the laugh-fest. She dusted herself off. Her face was bright red, every ones was, but hers was from both lack of air and embarrassment. "You're tho thtupid." She manages to spit out.
Even Grissom is laughing, though he knew he shouldn't degrade his group.
"I knew it was Canada," Nick lies. His response is met with many eye-rolls from his fellow CSI's, "I did!"
"Okay, okay. We believe you." Says a sympathetic Catherine, wiping a tear from her eye. She looks at her watch, "Almost time to head home."
"I've got thome papew wowk to do." Grissom informs the rest as he stands up and gathers his folders. Looking Catherine way as he closes the folder containing the seminar newsletter.
"I need ithe fow my tongue." Sara heads toward the small freezer next to Nick, who is walking over to steal her chair.
"Good idea, Thawa. I could uthe thome too."
As she opens the door to the freezer she crinkles her nose, "Grithom, that'th jutht dithguthting!"
"What ith it?"
"That'th a good quethtion." Sara pulls out a baggy containing what looks like a pig fetus, a frozen pig fetus. A groan is heard from everyone but Griss. She holds the bag between two fingers, like holding a mouse by it's tail. CLUNK she places it on the table. The group looks at it with stunned interest. Nick pokes it with a near by pen.
Grissom defends himself, "Exthpewimentth awe a fowenthic sthientithts betht fwiend."
"I thought evidence was a forensic scientists best friend." Nick said something relevant and intelligent? Stop the presses! Lower the sails! Party like it's 1329!
"But exthpewimentth can help lead uth too the evidenthe. I'm thaving Mith Piggy hewe fow a wainy day."
"Remind me to stay home next time it rains." Warrick states, still staring at the pig, "Now will someone please put that thing back where is came from?"
Sara nods, "I think it may be difficult to find the mothew and wetuwn it, but the fweether will do." She decides to leave the ice and the fetus together. She'll relieve her pain when she gets home, she has her own ice.
Catherine decides now's the time to have fun, "Sara, Grissom. Before you both leave can you do one thing?" Griss and Sara look at each other curiously, "Say 'Suffering Suckatash!'." Sara rolls her eyes and leaves the room, mumbling incoherently. Grissom wears a look of confusion. He obviously doesn't watch Bugs Bunny.
TBC. The next chapters won't have the hard to read lisp talk. Don't worry :) Feel free to R&R. Not too harsh flaming please.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, I don't own its characters, and I don't own any of the countries, states, or city's named in this story. But if I did. . . *evil laugh*
Authors Note: I don't see Nick as a particularly stupid person, but I had to have someone be unique . Sorry all of you Nick lovers out there :) All of the spelling mistakes when Grissom and Sara are talking are intentional. They are lisping on account of the hot coffee that drank :)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
The sun was rising over the horizon, but the CSI's of Las Vegas would not see it. They were inside their lab, their sanctuary. Well, a sanctuary to a select few of them, others had lives outside of work. Even still, they were like rats in a glass maze. Lab rats.
They sat around the break room table. Catherine taking small, almost inconspicuous bites of an apple. Grissom and Sara sit opposite Catherine, both taking sips of steaming coffee, which they must not be able to taste, since it's at steaming temperature. That could be a good thing. Grissom once described the coffee as tasting like "motor oil". How he is able to recognize the taste of motor oil we may never know. Warrick sat at the end of the table, with Nick standing behind him, leaning against the counter top.
Nick had in his hands the newspaper, no doubt trying to look more intelligent that recent tests have shown. Sure, he had his days, of both good and bad. One begins to think that having numerous guns held to his head (not at one time, mind you) has been a blow to his psyche in some way. One would probably be right. But, the newspaper he holds is not the business section, or even sports. He has in his hands the funny pages. Nick, Nick, Nick. . .you silly boy, you.
Catherine is carrying a conversation with Warrick, about Lindseys temper, when Nick chortles. Yes, he chortles, "Oh, Charlie Brown cracks me up. The baseball, and the--" He begins to chuckle.
Warrick lefts his head, almost turning it a full 180 degrees, "What, man?"
"Charlie Brown. The.Best.Comic.Ever."
The comic-book-guy speak gets Sara's attention, "Nick, you weally have pwobwems. You know that, wight?" It's hard to speak when your tongue is stinging.
"You're right, Snoopy is better."
"But I didn-" One look from Grissom and Sara stops dead in her tracks. She knows not to argue with Nick, it's pointless. Besides, she sounds like a little kid, why does the coffee have to be so hot?
In the interest of character development, Catherine singlemother-deadex- formerstripper-labexplodin'-Grissomhuggin'-fatherhatin'-dramamakin' Willows speaks up, "Nick, did you know that Charles Schultz is dead?"
Nicks expression can only be described as utter confusion, "Who?"
Sara jumps in, she always enjoys explaining things when she can, especially if it gives her the chance to question Nick, "He wites thothe peanutth comic thtripth." Grissoms expression is indescribable when he hears this. A mix between sympathy and that tilted-head, eyebrow-raised look only found on Grissom and lost puppies.
"Oh yeah, I knew that. Heard it on the news a few years ago. I was devastated." Nick replies.
"You watth the newth?" This comment is followed by Nicks attempt at a 'what is that supposed to mean?' look.
He counters, "Quiet, Sylvester."
"Thut up!"
Grissom tired of the brother-sister bickering and holds up his hand, "Enough! I have an anounthment to make." Damn coffee.
Warrick, who has seemingly been staring at the wall across the room, finally proves he has not lost his voice, or his mind, "What, Lispy, what is it?"
"Hey, have you had any of thith coffee? You'd be lithping athwell. Anywayth, thewe ith a theminar in thwee dayth."
Catherine decides she has to talk again. She can't be forgotten, you know. "So, how many of us are going?"
"All of uth."
"Whewe ith the theminar?" Sara asks.
"It'th a thurprithe. And thtop making fun of me!"
"I'm not! I dwank the coffee too, thee?" She lifts her mug as evidence.
"Oh, wight. Sowwy."
This sentence is followed by nothing. Grissom and Sara are just sitting, staring at each other. The others are looking around the room with smirks on their faces. Warrick is the first to break the silence, "Uh, yeah, so Griss. How do you expect us to pack if we don't know where we're going?"
Nick adds, "Yeah! It's not going to work too well, man."
"We're going up north." Catherine says, looking at the open folder upside down on the table, "Sara's not the only one who can read upside down in this place." Well, add that to Catherines past. She learned to read upside down. Do we have enough to write a biography yet?
"Idaho?" Sometimes Nick just shouldn't talk. Who am I kidding? They should seal his mouth shut. The uses for duct tape are seemingly endless.
"No, Nick." Grissom replied, looking annoyed that Catherine ruined his fun.
Nick holds up both hands in joy, "We're goin' to Oregon!"
"Nick, man, not Oregon!" Warrick was on the verge of laughter at this point.
"We'we going to Canada, Jethuth Cwitht." Sara's smile broke and laughter filled the room. Warrick was next to give in. Soon, the entire room shook and the groups chuckles echoed out into the hallway. Random extra lab rats stopped in the hallways and looked in at the madness. Our CSI's didn't notice, they were too busy laughing. However, if they hadn't been I'm sure none of the lab rats would look familiar. They seem to have new ones everyday.
When the laughter finally died down to mere giggles, Sara was lifting herself back onto her chair from were she had fallen during the laugh-fest. She dusted herself off. Her face was bright red, every ones was, but hers was from both lack of air and embarrassment. "You're tho thtupid." She manages to spit out.
Even Grissom is laughing, though he knew he shouldn't degrade his group.
"I knew it was Canada," Nick lies. His response is met with many eye-rolls from his fellow CSI's, "I did!"
"Okay, okay. We believe you." Says a sympathetic Catherine, wiping a tear from her eye. She looks at her watch, "Almost time to head home."
"I've got thome papew wowk to do." Grissom informs the rest as he stands up and gathers his folders. Looking Catherine way as he closes the folder containing the seminar newsletter.
"I need ithe fow my tongue." Sara heads toward the small freezer next to Nick, who is walking over to steal her chair.
"Good idea, Thawa. I could uthe thome too."
As she opens the door to the freezer she crinkles her nose, "Grithom, that'th jutht dithguthting!"
"What ith it?"
"That'th a good quethtion." Sara pulls out a baggy containing what looks like a pig fetus, a frozen pig fetus. A groan is heard from everyone but Griss. She holds the bag between two fingers, like holding a mouse by it's tail. CLUNK she places it on the table. The group looks at it with stunned interest. Nick pokes it with a near by pen.
Grissom defends himself, "Exthpewimentth awe a fowenthic sthientithts betht fwiend."
"I thought evidence was a forensic scientists best friend." Nick said something relevant and intelligent? Stop the presses! Lower the sails! Party like it's 1329!
"But exthpewimentth can help lead uth too the evidenthe. I'm thaving Mith Piggy hewe fow a wainy day."
"Remind me to stay home next time it rains." Warrick states, still staring at the pig, "Now will someone please put that thing back where is came from?"
Sara nods, "I think it may be difficult to find the mothew and wetuwn it, but the fweether will do." She decides to leave the ice and the fetus together. She'll relieve her pain when she gets home, she has her own ice.
Catherine decides now's the time to have fun, "Sara, Grissom. Before you both leave can you do one thing?" Griss and Sara look at each other curiously, "Say 'Suffering Suckatash!'." Sara rolls her eyes and leaves the room, mumbling incoherently. Grissom wears a look of confusion. He obviously doesn't watch Bugs Bunny.
TBC. The next chapters won't have the hard to read lisp talk. Don't worry :) Feel free to R&R. Not too harsh flaming please.