TITLE: Value
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)
ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K
TYPE: GCR (what else?)
RATING: R (just on the safe side)
SPOILERS: *shrugs* I guess . . .
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY: Catherine worries over a rather distracted Grissom.
NOTES: Thanks for the feedback guys - it fuels my desire to write.
----------Value - Part Three----------
Catherine stepped into Gil's office. He smiled a hello, not even bothering to look up at her.
"Any idea where I can claim my luggage?" Catherine asked sarcastically, plopping down on his couch. It radiated of body warmth and she suspected that her temperamental leader must have become acquainted with it for an hour or so when he had arrived back at the lab. "I would have kept tabs on them, but my flight left without me."
"Something came up." Gil shrugged. "Urgent." He finally looked up at Catherine, noticing her face flush with anger. He couldn't blame her being upset - hell, he was upset with himself. «But sometimes, a player must strike out to win the game.» He thought sagely to himself. "I have already sent the evidence to Greg at the lab. He's quite busy, so I'd advise you not to disturb him."
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. She glanced down, near his desk and noticed the two evidence suitcases: his and hers. "May I take my bag?" She asked, sweetly.
Gil nodded. "Be my guest."
She smiled, and casually picked up a suitcase. "I'll be in the break room if you need me." She said politely and walked out of Gil's office. Catherine passed by Greg's lab and stopped short. "Busy - my ass." She pushed the glass doors open and turned down the racket he called music. "Greggy, what do you have for me on the samples that Grissom gave you?"
Greg looked at her blankly. "What samples?" He suddenly looked down sheepishly when he realized that Catherine was observing the two testing tubes in his hand. He had been drumming to a beat with them. "My mom always told me I had a great sense of rhythm . . ." he offered lamely.
"Greg, enough goofing off." Catherine said sternly, as if she was addressing Lindsey. "Now, I want you to give me the results of the blood and skin tissue sample that Grissom gave you." She said slowly.
Greg once again dawned a blank look. "Gris didn't give me any samples." He said, matching Catherine's tone and speed.
Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a disappointed sigh. "Thanks Greg." She threw over her shoulder as she exited the lab; the suitcase still gripped in her left hand. «What are you up to, Gil?» She asked herself, as she made her way to the break room. She quickly closed the door behind her and put the suitcase on the table. Glancing quickly at the suitcase owner's name, she opened Gil's bag. There lay two empty vials. "Dammit!" She slammed the lid shut. She paused and opened the suitcase again. «I might not have the skin sample, but . . . » She held up the vial of blood, noting that there was still a small amount lagging on the bottom. She rushed to the lab and handed Greg the sample. "Here. Work your magic."
Greg nodded and took the sample from Catherine. "In exchange for a date?" He asked, hopeful.
Catherine shot him an amused "over-my-dead-body" look. "Keep wishing, Greggy." She ruffled up his hair.
"Hey, my 'coif'."
Catherine let out a chuckle. "Call me when you have the results. Run it through AFIS or whatever . . . I want to know who that blood belongs to. Right now, it's our only lead."
Greg nodded and went about his analysis. Catherine backed out, giving the youngun room to explore. She headed back to the break room to discover Gil sitting in the chair at the head of the table. He had a crossword puzzle in his hand and looked deep in thought. Catherine decided to leave him be and head back to the lab.
"You took the wrong bag." Gil said, looking at her over the rim of his glasses. "Didn't trust me?"
"It was an honest mistake." Catherine offered, leaning against the door post.
"You went to see Greg."
"You said you had already given him the samples."
Gil paused. "I did."
"Bullshit, Gil. And you know it." Catherine entered the room and stood before him. "What is going on?" Her anger began to fade as she sat down. "This isn't like you, Gil. It's almost as if some other force is controlling your body. So don't shut me out - tell me what's going on." She began to plead.
Jim walked in to the break room. "Cath, Gil." He motioned them to follow.
Catherine sighed as she watched Gil get up and leave the break-room. "Only get one chance. . . thanks Jim." She muttered to herself.
The trio walked to the interrogation room. "Truth is, there was a witness. I just finished talking to him, and it led to this guy."
Catherine looked through the one way mirror. "Okay, do you want me to go in there with you?" She asked, observing the suspect. He was a relatively thin man, aged thirty-five - no more. Jet black hair - dyed no doubt, from observing the colour of his light brown eyebrows - rested shaggily over his head. He had hazel eyes that seemed rather unfocused. A sharp nose led the way to a thin pair of lips. He was pale and didn't appeared the least bit fazed by the ordeal.
"I'll go." Gil stepped in front of her.
Jim shrugged. "Fine, you're the people person." He grunted sarcastically.
Catherine looked at him quizzically. "I'll wait out here." She barely found her voice. «Who is this man?» She asked herself as she watched Grissom enter the interrogation room and lean against the wall.
–TBC–
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)
ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K
TYPE: GCR (what else?)
RATING: R (just on the safe side)
SPOILERS: *shrugs* I guess . . .
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY: Catherine worries over a rather distracted Grissom.
NOTES: Thanks for the feedback guys - it fuels my desire to write.
----------Value - Part Three----------
Catherine stepped into Gil's office. He smiled a hello, not even bothering to look up at her.
"Any idea where I can claim my luggage?" Catherine asked sarcastically, plopping down on his couch. It radiated of body warmth and she suspected that her temperamental leader must have become acquainted with it for an hour or so when he had arrived back at the lab. "I would have kept tabs on them, but my flight left without me."
"Something came up." Gil shrugged. "Urgent." He finally looked up at Catherine, noticing her face flush with anger. He couldn't blame her being upset - hell, he was upset with himself. «But sometimes, a player must strike out to win the game.» He thought sagely to himself. "I have already sent the evidence to Greg at the lab. He's quite busy, so I'd advise you not to disturb him."
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. She glanced down, near his desk and noticed the two evidence suitcases: his and hers. "May I take my bag?" She asked, sweetly.
Gil nodded. "Be my guest."
She smiled, and casually picked up a suitcase. "I'll be in the break room if you need me." She said politely and walked out of Gil's office. Catherine passed by Greg's lab and stopped short. "Busy - my ass." She pushed the glass doors open and turned down the racket he called music. "Greggy, what do you have for me on the samples that Grissom gave you?"
Greg looked at her blankly. "What samples?" He suddenly looked down sheepishly when he realized that Catherine was observing the two testing tubes in his hand. He had been drumming to a beat with them. "My mom always told me I had a great sense of rhythm . . ." he offered lamely.
"Greg, enough goofing off." Catherine said sternly, as if she was addressing Lindsey. "Now, I want you to give me the results of the blood and skin tissue sample that Grissom gave you." She said slowly.
Greg once again dawned a blank look. "Gris didn't give me any samples." He said, matching Catherine's tone and speed.
Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a disappointed sigh. "Thanks Greg." She threw over her shoulder as she exited the lab; the suitcase still gripped in her left hand. «What are you up to, Gil?» She asked herself, as she made her way to the break room. She quickly closed the door behind her and put the suitcase on the table. Glancing quickly at the suitcase owner's name, she opened Gil's bag. There lay two empty vials. "Dammit!" She slammed the lid shut. She paused and opened the suitcase again. «I might not have the skin sample, but . . . » She held up the vial of blood, noting that there was still a small amount lagging on the bottom. She rushed to the lab and handed Greg the sample. "Here. Work your magic."
Greg nodded and took the sample from Catherine. "In exchange for a date?" He asked, hopeful.
Catherine shot him an amused "over-my-dead-body" look. "Keep wishing, Greggy." She ruffled up his hair.
"Hey, my 'coif'."
Catherine let out a chuckle. "Call me when you have the results. Run it through AFIS or whatever . . . I want to know who that blood belongs to. Right now, it's our only lead."
Greg nodded and went about his analysis. Catherine backed out, giving the youngun room to explore. She headed back to the break room to discover Gil sitting in the chair at the head of the table. He had a crossword puzzle in his hand and looked deep in thought. Catherine decided to leave him be and head back to the lab.
"You took the wrong bag." Gil said, looking at her over the rim of his glasses. "Didn't trust me?"
"It was an honest mistake." Catherine offered, leaning against the door post.
"You went to see Greg."
"You said you had already given him the samples."
Gil paused. "I did."
"Bullshit, Gil. And you know it." Catherine entered the room and stood before him. "What is going on?" Her anger began to fade as she sat down. "This isn't like you, Gil. It's almost as if some other force is controlling your body. So don't shut me out - tell me what's going on." She began to plead.
Jim walked in to the break room. "Cath, Gil." He motioned them to follow.
Catherine sighed as she watched Gil get up and leave the break-room. "Only get one chance. . . thanks Jim." She muttered to herself.
The trio walked to the interrogation room. "Truth is, there was a witness. I just finished talking to him, and it led to this guy."
Catherine looked through the one way mirror. "Okay, do you want me to go in there with you?" She asked, observing the suspect. He was a relatively thin man, aged thirty-five - no more. Jet black hair - dyed no doubt, from observing the colour of his light brown eyebrows - rested shaggily over his head. He had hazel eyes that seemed rather unfocused. A sharp nose led the way to a thin pair of lips. He was pale and didn't appeared the least bit fazed by the ordeal.
"I'll go." Gil stepped in front of her.
Jim shrugged. "Fine, you're the people person." He grunted sarcastically.
Catherine looked at him quizzically. "I'll wait out here." She barely found her voice. «Who is this man?» She asked herself as she watched Grissom enter the interrogation room and lean against the wall.
–TBC–