Thanks for all your great comments! All of you are really making writing
this worthwhile - - I would have done it anyway, of course, but it's great
to be appreciated.
And . . . introducing . . .
(drum roll, please)
Greg's father.
**
Chapter Six: Father's Day
**
His first impression was the Sara looked harried. It was an easy assumption to reach, since he was more familiar with it than he was with her actual expression - - loathing. Her face was wired tight underneath her skin, jaw clenched, eyes almost black, and absent of any color. Nathan Sanders was holding her arm with one long, elegantly-manicured hand, wrist covered with an expensive watch. He, on the other hand, looked hale and hearty, talking animatedly to an unresponsive Sara. Granted, Grissom didn't have a set opinion of how a man whose only child had just been nearly killed should look, but he never would have interpreted it as Nathan's good cheer and tennis whites.
He looked like he's stepped straight out of a country club.
"Grissom," Sara said through her teeth when she spotted him. "Meet Nathan Sanders, Greg's . . . father."
Nathan offered his hand and Grissom hesitantly shook. "Dr. Grissom. Sara told me all about you on the drive over."
"Sara told you about me," he said, puzzling out the implication that Greg had never mentioned him. He remembered what Sara had said at the scene - - about the address and phone number on Greg's monthly files being six months out-of-date.
"I'll just be going now," Sara said. "Leave you two to have a private conversation." Safely behind Nathan, she glared daggers into his back, chin set forward and eyes fierce. Once she had disappeared around the corner, Nathan gave Grissom an exaggerated wink.
"Nice girl. Completely infatuated with you, I believe."
Grissom frowned. Whether or not Sara had ever entertained - - whether or not she would ever - - that was beyond him. His personal feelings on the matter were unimportant. What was important was that Nathan had yet to mention Greg, and had just made an extremely inappropriate comment. Grissom started to rebut him, but remembered the weight of the coffee bag in his hands and let the remarks slide. This was Greg's father, after all, and grief and shock had strange ways of working on people. Charitably, he decided that Nathan was maintaining a bluff attitude to try and keep things somehow normal.
"My lab's running the results on the evidence we collected on Greg's case," he said. "The results should be ready in an hour - - we have time to visit your son at the hospital. If it won't bother you, I'd like to take the rest of my team with us. They haven't had a chance to go yet."
"Certainly, if you want." Nathan's smile had faded. "Which hospital is taking care of Gregory?"
"West Palms," Grissom said. It took him an extra second to wrap his mind around the "Gregory." He rarely heard anyone use Greg's full name. "We can take my car." Trying to be of some comfort, maybe provide a happy memory, he chuckled before saying, "Once, on Nick Stokes's birthday - - you'll meet him soon, he's a close friend of Greg's - - I took everyone to breakfast. We ate the cake on the way over, and Greg ended up crashing his second piece into the back of Catherine's seat. It took an hour of scrubbing to get it out of the fabric."
Nathan's smile returned, but it had a cheap, artificial look, almost plastic. "He was clumsy as a child. Always spilling juice or cola everywhere. Some of the stains never came out."
His voice sounded edgy, almost frustrated. Somehow, it didn't have the same fond, reminiscent quality of Grissom's story.
"Mr. Sanders - -"
"Nathan."
"Nathan. I want you to know that everyone here is working as hard as possible to find who hurt Greg. We all care about him very much. He's part of the team. And I promise that we'll get you some answers."
Nathan said briskly, "Well, I'm sure once I talk to Greg, I can get this all straightened out. He may invent some elaborate tales every now and then, but I can always get the truth out of him."
Grissom blinked back surprise. "You won't be able to talk to him, Nathan. He's in a coma. I'm sure that Sara must have told you."
"Oh, yes. I apologize. It slipped my mind." Nathan recovered well, refreshing his smile like a clean coat of paint. "I was hoping that we could take a tour of the lab before I leave, though. I must admit, I've never seen a forensics building before."
"Greg never showed you his work before?"
Nathan shook his head. "I haven't seen Greg since he graduated."
"From college?"
"From high school."
Grissom found himself staring. "You haven't seen your son since he was eighteen?" It sounded unbelievable, like the set-up of a humorless joke. Greg was . . . twenty-seven. Yes, that was right, Grissom could still remember that last office birthday party, complete with bobbing multi- colored balloons, ice-cream cake, and a pile of brightly-wrapped presents. He had seen Greg nearly every single day for the last few years. It had become part of his instinct to look for Greg when he walked by the lab - - had become imperative to look out for Greg on his excursions into the field.
All of that, without a single biological connection; and Greg's father was just now arriving after nine years.
"We were never particularly close," Nathan said. "When he received the Stanford scholarship, it was a relief to everyone. He caught his flight shortly after the ceremony."
Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Grissom had never had a child. He tried to keep himself calm. The situation, after all, was not irredeemable. Greg was estranged from his family, but his father had, nonetheless, come at their call. Separations were always messy but rarely permanent. In the world of happy endings that he couldn't quite believe in, this would be what was needed to bring father and son back together.
But Grissom wasn't sure he believed in happy endings.
He did, however, believe in change, and kindness, so he didn't press the matter then. Still, it was easy to see why Sara had been so eager to leave Nathan in other hands. Understandable or not, Nathan's hail-fellow-well- met attitude, mixed with his apparent apathy towards his son, was grating.
"Let me just gather everyone up," Grissom said. He led Nathan to the break room and gave him a brief, cursory introduction to Ecklie, who was lounging bitterly behind his newspaper. He was abruptly glad that the rest of Greg's coffee-gift was safely hidden in his office.
He found his team in the garage. Clear of evidence, the space looked hauntingly bare.
"Any reason why you couldn't wait in the break room?"
"We have evidence," Catherine said.
"Then is there any reason why I wasn't paged?"
Sara's smile was cloying. "We didn't want to tear you away from what I'm sure was fascinating company. How was he, by the way?"
"Greg's dad." Nick sighed. "Sara's been talking. Greg never mentioned him to me."
"Not to me, either," Warrick added. "And with Greg, what he thinks of usually comes out of his mouth eventually." He frowned. "Even if you hadn't seen your family in six months, you'd have to think of them every once in a while. . . so he purposely didn't mention them."
"It hasn't been six months."
Sara raised her eyebrows. "You mean they have been talking? Greg would've known about the move, then, so why wasn't it in his file? He isn't usually sloppy with paperwork."
"It's been nine years." Off their shocked faces, he sketched in his conversation with Nathan, making sure to include his uncertain theory about estrangement. "What's important is that he doesn't mind us visiting with him. Anyone want to visit Greg?"
It was a unanimous yes.
Trooping back to the break room, Grissom nearly collided with Ecklie, who was leaving, newspaper folded under his arm, with a disgusted scowl. He beckoned Grissom into the corner, and, unwilling to fight, Grissom followed.
Ecklie gestured at the room he'd just left. "That - - man in there. He's the father of your DNA tech? Sanders, right?"
"Yes, Conrad. He flew in from San Francisco."
"And I thought the younger one was frustrating. This one's just repulsive." Ecklie's scowl wrinkled his features even deeper. "I'm not trying to push you out of this case, but I do have a suggestion. If Sanders wakes up," he said sarcastically, "have him check his own DNA, and see if his real father isn't the mailman."
And . . . introducing . . .
(drum roll, please)
Greg's father.
**
Chapter Six: Father's Day
**
His first impression was the Sara looked harried. It was an easy assumption to reach, since he was more familiar with it than he was with her actual expression - - loathing. Her face was wired tight underneath her skin, jaw clenched, eyes almost black, and absent of any color. Nathan Sanders was holding her arm with one long, elegantly-manicured hand, wrist covered with an expensive watch. He, on the other hand, looked hale and hearty, talking animatedly to an unresponsive Sara. Granted, Grissom didn't have a set opinion of how a man whose only child had just been nearly killed should look, but he never would have interpreted it as Nathan's good cheer and tennis whites.
He looked like he's stepped straight out of a country club.
"Grissom," Sara said through her teeth when she spotted him. "Meet Nathan Sanders, Greg's . . . father."
Nathan offered his hand and Grissom hesitantly shook. "Dr. Grissom. Sara told me all about you on the drive over."
"Sara told you about me," he said, puzzling out the implication that Greg had never mentioned him. He remembered what Sara had said at the scene - - about the address and phone number on Greg's monthly files being six months out-of-date.
"I'll just be going now," Sara said. "Leave you two to have a private conversation." Safely behind Nathan, she glared daggers into his back, chin set forward and eyes fierce. Once she had disappeared around the corner, Nathan gave Grissom an exaggerated wink.
"Nice girl. Completely infatuated with you, I believe."
Grissom frowned. Whether or not Sara had ever entertained - - whether or not she would ever - - that was beyond him. His personal feelings on the matter were unimportant. What was important was that Nathan had yet to mention Greg, and had just made an extremely inappropriate comment. Grissom started to rebut him, but remembered the weight of the coffee bag in his hands and let the remarks slide. This was Greg's father, after all, and grief and shock had strange ways of working on people. Charitably, he decided that Nathan was maintaining a bluff attitude to try and keep things somehow normal.
"My lab's running the results on the evidence we collected on Greg's case," he said. "The results should be ready in an hour - - we have time to visit your son at the hospital. If it won't bother you, I'd like to take the rest of my team with us. They haven't had a chance to go yet."
"Certainly, if you want." Nathan's smile had faded. "Which hospital is taking care of Gregory?"
"West Palms," Grissom said. It took him an extra second to wrap his mind around the "Gregory." He rarely heard anyone use Greg's full name. "We can take my car." Trying to be of some comfort, maybe provide a happy memory, he chuckled before saying, "Once, on Nick Stokes's birthday - - you'll meet him soon, he's a close friend of Greg's - - I took everyone to breakfast. We ate the cake on the way over, and Greg ended up crashing his second piece into the back of Catherine's seat. It took an hour of scrubbing to get it out of the fabric."
Nathan's smile returned, but it had a cheap, artificial look, almost plastic. "He was clumsy as a child. Always spilling juice or cola everywhere. Some of the stains never came out."
His voice sounded edgy, almost frustrated. Somehow, it didn't have the same fond, reminiscent quality of Grissom's story.
"Mr. Sanders - -"
"Nathan."
"Nathan. I want you to know that everyone here is working as hard as possible to find who hurt Greg. We all care about him very much. He's part of the team. And I promise that we'll get you some answers."
Nathan said briskly, "Well, I'm sure once I talk to Greg, I can get this all straightened out. He may invent some elaborate tales every now and then, but I can always get the truth out of him."
Grissom blinked back surprise. "You won't be able to talk to him, Nathan. He's in a coma. I'm sure that Sara must have told you."
"Oh, yes. I apologize. It slipped my mind." Nathan recovered well, refreshing his smile like a clean coat of paint. "I was hoping that we could take a tour of the lab before I leave, though. I must admit, I've never seen a forensics building before."
"Greg never showed you his work before?"
Nathan shook his head. "I haven't seen Greg since he graduated."
"From college?"
"From high school."
Grissom found himself staring. "You haven't seen your son since he was eighteen?" It sounded unbelievable, like the set-up of a humorless joke. Greg was . . . twenty-seven. Yes, that was right, Grissom could still remember that last office birthday party, complete with bobbing multi- colored balloons, ice-cream cake, and a pile of brightly-wrapped presents. He had seen Greg nearly every single day for the last few years. It had become part of his instinct to look for Greg when he walked by the lab - - had become imperative to look out for Greg on his excursions into the field.
All of that, without a single biological connection; and Greg's father was just now arriving after nine years.
"We were never particularly close," Nathan said. "When he received the Stanford scholarship, it was a relief to everyone. He caught his flight shortly after the ceremony."
Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Grissom had never had a child. He tried to keep himself calm. The situation, after all, was not irredeemable. Greg was estranged from his family, but his father had, nonetheless, come at their call. Separations were always messy but rarely permanent. In the world of happy endings that he couldn't quite believe in, this would be what was needed to bring father and son back together.
But Grissom wasn't sure he believed in happy endings.
He did, however, believe in change, and kindness, so he didn't press the matter then. Still, it was easy to see why Sara had been so eager to leave Nathan in other hands. Understandable or not, Nathan's hail-fellow-well- met attitude, mixed with his apparent apathy towards his son, was grating.
"Let me just gather everyone up," Grissom said. He led Nathan to the break room and gave him a brief, cursory introduction to Ecklie, who was lounging bitterly behind his newspaper. He was abruptly glad that the rest of Greg's coffee-gift was safely hidden in his office.
He found his team in the garage. Clear of evidence, the space looked hauntingly bare.
"Any reason why you couldn't wait in the break room?"
"We have evidence," Catherine said.
"Then is there any reason why I wasn't paged?"
Sara's smile was cloying. "We didn't want to tear you away from what I'm sure was fascinating company. How was he, by the way?"
"Greg's dad." Nick sighed. "Sara's been talking. Greg never mentioned him to me."
"Not to me, either," Warrick added. "And with Greg, what he thinks of usually comes out of his mouth eventually." He frowned. "Even if you hadn't seen your family in six months, you'd have to think of them every once in a while. . . so he purposely didn't mention them."
"It hasn't been six months."
Sara raised her eyebrows. "You mean they have been talking? Greg would've known about the move, then, so why wasn't it in his file? He isn't usually sloppy with paperwork."
"It's been nine years." Off their shocked faces, he sketched in his conversation with Nathan, making sure to include his uncertain theory about estrangement. "What's important is that he doesn't mind us visiting with him. Anyone want to visit Greg?"
It was a unanimous yes.
Trooping back to the break room, Grissom nearly collided with Ecklie, who was leaving, newspaper folded under his arm, with a disgusted scowl. He beckoned Grissom into the corner, and, unwilling to fight, Grissom followed.
Ecklie gestured at the room he'd just left. "That - - man in there. He's the father of your DNA tech? Sanders, right?"
"Yes, Conrad. He flew in from San Francisco."
"And I thought the younger one was frustrating. This one's just repulsive." Ecklie's scowl wrinkled his features even deeper. "I'm not trying to push you out of this case, but I do have a suggestion. If Sanders wakes up," he said sarcastically, "have him check his own DNA, and see if his real father isn't the mailman."
