**
Chapter Twelve: On the Open Road
**
Catherine found him in the hallway, holding up a plastic bag. A bullet was nestled into the bottom. "I got it from the hospital. Same white speckles around the edge. Trace kicked out an ID, but it's not very helpful. Just white house-paint, garden variety stuff. What do you have?"
"Melissa Sharpe in custody, and the name of her partner." He didn't feel proud, he just felt tired. After Melissa's questioning, he'd set Nick running the names and locations from the list, and gone home to shower. The hot water had beat some of the frustration out of him, but not all of the weariness. Two more cups of black coffee were all that was holding him up.
Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Looks like you were a bit more productive, then."
"The partner's name is Trey Robertson, her boyfriend. She told him to get out of town after Greg's attack, so we're going to be checking local hotels, friends, family."
"Did she say why?"
She had. It had been Nick's question, not his, and the lawyer had reluctantly let her answer. Grissom didn't know what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been her narrowed eyes and her serpentine hissing as she said:
("I was supposed to get a Level One position. I was the one with the training and the expertise. I was supposed to be working with you, not some lab rat who panicked his first time out in the field.")
Despite all of his warnings to his team, Grissom had almost lost his own temper, then. All of that - - all of the investigation. The dipthalamine that made nightmares real and sleep uneasy. The bullet that had been dug out of Greg's skull. The coma. Nathan's odds and Greg's new haircut. Even his own difficult time, earlier, sitting in the break room and wondering if Greg was going to sleep away years instead of just hours. All of that, because she hadn't been able to stand the wait for a field position. All of that, because Greg wanted out of the lab and Grissom had understood the urge enough to give him a few tries around the crime scenes. All of that, because of her and her selfish reasons.
"Jealousy," he told Catherine, trying to oversimplify it, because he was already drained from his own anger and didn't want to deal with hers. "Greg was taking an open field position that she wanted."
Catherine shook her head. "That - - that bitch. I'm sorry, but - -"
"I know." He jingled the car keys in his hand. "Nick's headed east to check out some of the boyfriend's buddies. I'm taking Robertson's parents. Want to come?"
"God, yes." She snatched the keys away from him.
"Warrick and Sara can manage the lab while we're gone. I've already handed over half the cases to Ecklie, and they can work the spillover."
"I bet they were happy about that."
"Actually, I haven't told them yet. I'm calling from the road."
"Good. You're less likely to die that way. You saw Sara pounce on Nathan Sanders - - I don't want to know what she'd do if she found you were taking her off the case while we went on a road trip." They slid into the clear heat of the parking lot, and chose Catherine's Tahoe. She stole the driver's seat and within minutes, they had pulled out. Grissom found his cell in his jacket pocket and called in.
"Sara?"
"Grissom." She sounded tired. It was probably better for her to stay and get some sleep.
Sara. Sleep. Oxymoron phrase.
"Listen, Melissa coughed up the name of her partner, the one that fired the gun on Greg. Trey Robertson - - her boyfriend - - but he's out of town, so Nick's checking out their friends."
"Where are you?" Suddenly, she sounded alert, and suspicious.
"The car."
"Dammit, Grissom! Where are YOU going?"
"Amble, California. Catherine and I are going to hit the parent's house. I'd call, but they aren't likely to give up their kid over the phone. We have the right to detain Trey for questioning, so there won't be any legal difficulties, but I don't want this one to get away."
"Amble," Sara said. "Amble, California." Her voice rose in pitch. "You're heading to Amble and Warrick and I are just supposed to sit here and do nothing?"
"Actually," Grissom said mildly, "I was hoping you might cover the other cases that we haven't been working on. But, if it makes you happy, you can call the local hotels and check names."
"I'll do that. Thank you."
"Manners, Sara."
She said, smugly, "Warrick's gonna be pissed at you."
"Yeah. I know that." He clicked the phone shut without a goodbye, and Catherine frowned at him. He glared back. "I'm stressed," he said.
"I can understand that."
"God, Catherine," he said, rubbing at his temples.
"Going to talk to me about it?"
"I had to run a rape kit on him," Grissom said softly. "That was the only time I was glad that he was asleep, because I had to do the swabs, and he was just lying there, dead to it. He didn't move, and the whole time, I was praying that he wouldn't wake up during that. And I was thinking about how no case is supposed to be special."
"We don't live in a vacuum, Gil," she said. Her eyes didn't leave the road, but he could see them glistening with tears. "Not even you. I guess - - he was there - - and we never thought that he wouldn't be there anymore." She laughed, and it was small and choked-up. "At least this wasn't your fault. You never blew him up."
"Cath."
"He didn't BLAME me for it," she said incredulously. "Can you believe that? He wasn't mad."
"I believe it."
"I told him it was my fault, and he just said, 'Oh. That's a relief. Usually, it's mine.'" She laughed again, and a tear drifted down her cheek. Grissom fumbled in the dash and came up with a handful of napkins. She took them from him with a mumbled word of thanks and wiped at her face. "And his father - - he's a nightmare. Greg is NOT half of that man, I don't care what the DNA results would say, either."
"Ecklie said it must have been the mailman."
She snorted into the napkins. "See, that's when you know it's bad; when Ecklie notices."
"Eyes on the road, Catherine," he said. They were drifting towards the curb.
"Sorry." She tossed the napkins into the cup-holder and corrected her alignment. A firmer press to the pedal, and they picked up speed, zooming over the hot asphalt. "How did he grow up like that?"
"I can't understand it anymore than you can." And he didn't. Playing word association with Greg conjured up spontaneous, buoyant, playful. Even from his other side, the words were still positive: Greg was respectful. Devoted. Loyal. Brilliant, even, in his own way. Certainly, Grissom had never had a better tech.
Grissom couldn't call a single positive word to describe Nathan, unless "poised" counted.
"It makes me want to take him home," Catherine said.
"I never figured you for younger men."
"Funny, Gil."
The highways weren't bad that day. It would just be a couple of hours until Amble. Until then, they had the case for conversation - - and their memories.
**
A/N: For the record, in case the italics don't work in the next chapter, that last line is your cunning segue into the next chapter, which is going to be composed of flashbacks. It's supposed to impress you. No, I'm just kidding about that last part, this is just a note so you can understand why the next chapter is Grissom and Catherine talking flashbacks of Greg.
Chapter Twelve: On the Open Road
**
Catherine found him in the hallway, holding up a plastic bag. A bullet was nestled into the bottom. "I got it from the hospital. Same white speckles around the edge. Trace kicked out an ID, but it's not very helpful. Just white house-paint, garden variety stuff. What do you have?"
"Melissa Sharpe in custody, and the name of her partner." He didn't feel proud, he just felt tired. After Melissa's questioning, he'd set Nick running the names and locations from the list, and gone home to shower. The hot water had beat some of the frustration out of him, but not all of the weariness. Two more cups of black coffee were all that was holding him up.
Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Looks like you were a bit more productive, then."
"The partner's name is Trey Robertson, her boyfriend. She told him to get out of town after Greg's attack, so we're going to be checking local hotels, friends, family."
"Did she say why?"
She had. It had been Nick's question, not his, and the lawyer had reluctantly let her answer. Grissom didn't know what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been her narrowed eyes and her serpentine hissing as she said:
("I was supposed to get a Level One position. I was the one with the training and the expertise. I was supposed to be working with you, not some lab rat who panicked his first time out in the field.")
Despite all of his warnings to his team, Grissom had almost lost his own temper, then. All of that - - all of the investigation. The dipthalamine that made nightmares real and sleep uneasy. The bullet that had been dug out of Greg's skull. The coma. Nathan's odds and Greg's new haircut. Even his own difficult time, earlier, sitting in the break room and wondering if Greg was going to sleep away years instead of just hours. All of that, because she hadn't been able to stand the wait for a field position. All of that, because Greg wanted out of the lab and Grissom had understood the urge enough to give him a few tries around the crime scenes. All of that, because of her and her selfish reasons.
"Jealousy," he told Catherine, trying to oversimplify it, because he was already drained from his own anger and didn't want to deal with hers. "Greg was taking an open field position that she wanted."
Catherine shook her head. "That - - that bitch. I'm sorry, but - -"
"I know." He jingled the car keys in his hand. "Nick's headed east to check out some of the boyfriend's buddies. I'm taking Robertson's parents. Want to come?"
"God, yes." She snatched the keys away from him.
"Warrick and Sara can manage the lab while we're gone. I've already handed over half the cases to Ecklie, and they can work the spillover."
"I bet they were happy about that."
"Actually, I haven't told them yet. I'm calling from the road."
"Good. You're less likely to die that way. You saw Sara pounce on Nathan Sanders - - I don't want to know what she'd do if she found you were taking her off the case while we went on a road trip." They slid into the clear heat of the parking lot, and chose Catherine's Tahoe. She stole the driver's seat and within minutes, they had pulled out. Grissom found his cell in his jacket pocket and called in.
"Sara?"
"Grissom." She sounded tired. It was probably better for her to stay and get some sleep.
Sara. Sleep. Oxymoron phrase.
"Listen, Melissa coughed up the name of her partner, the one that fired the gun on Greg. Trey Robertson - - her boyfriend - - but he's out of town, so Nick's checking out their friends."
"Where are you?" Suddenly, she sounded alert, and suspicious.
"The car."
"Dammit, Grissom! Where are YOU going?"
"Amble, California. Catherine and I are going to hit the parent's house. I'd call, but they aren't likely to give up their kid over the phone. We have the right to detain Trey for questioning, so there won't be any legal difficulties, but I don't want this one to get away."
"Amble," Sara said. "Amble, California." Her voice rose in pitch. "You're heading to Amble and Warrick and I are just supposed to sit here and do nothing?"
"Actually," Grissom said mildly, "I was hoping you might cover the other cases that we haven't been working on. But, if it makes you happy, you can call the local hotels and check names."
"I'll do that. Thank you."
"Manners, Sara."
She said, smugly, "Warrick's gonna be pissed at you."
"Yeah. I know that." He clicked the phone shut without a goodbye, and Catherine frowned at him. He glared back. "I'm stressed," he said.
"I can understand that."
"God, Catherine," he said, rubbing at his temples.
"Going to talk to me about it?"
"I had to run a rape kit on him," Grissom said softly. "That was the only time I was glad that he was asleep, because I had to do the swabs, and he was just lying there, dead to it. He didn't move, and the whole time, I was praying that he wouldn't wake up during that. And I was thinking about how no case is supposed to be special."
"We don't live in a vacuum, Gil," she said. Her eyes didn't leave the road, but he could see them glistening with tears. "Not even you. I guess - - he was there - - and we never thought that he wouldn't be there anymore." She laughed, and it was small and choked-up. "At least this wasn't your fault. You never blew him up."
"Cath."
"He didn't BLAME me for it," she said incredulously. "Can you believe that? He wasn't mad."
"I believe it."
"I told him it was my fault, and he just said, 'Oh. That's a relief. Usually, it's mine.'" She laughed again, and a tear drifted down her cheek. Grissom fumbled in the dash and came up with a handful of napkins. She took them from him with a mumbled word of thanks and wiped at her face. "And his father - - he's a nightmare. Greg is NOT half of that man, I don't care what the DNA results would say, either."
"Ecklie said it must have been the mailman."
She snorted into the napkins. "See, that's when you know it's bad; when Ecklie notices."
"Eyes on the road, Catherine," he said. They were drifting towards the curb.
"Sorry." She tossed the napkins into the cup-holder and corrected her alignment. A firmer press to the pedal, and they picked up speed, zooming over the hot asphalt. "How did he grow up like that?"
"I can't understand it anymore than you can." And he didn't. Playing word association with Greg conjured up spontaneous, buoyant, playful. Even from his other side, the words were still positive: Greg was respectful. Devoted. Loyal. Brilliant, even, in his own way. Certainly, Grissom had never had a better tech.
Grissom couldn't call a single positive word to describe Nathan, unless "poised" counted.
"It makes me want to take him home," Catherine said.
"I never figured you for younger men."
"Funny, Gil."
The highways weren't bad that day. It would just be a couple of hours until Amble. Until then, they had the case for conversation - - and their memories.
**
A/N: For the record, in case the italics don't work in the next chapter, that last line is your cunning segue into the next chapter, which is going to be composed of flashbacks. It's supposed to impress you. No, I'm just kidding about that last part, this is just a note so you can understand why the next chapter is Grissom and Catherine talking flashbacks of Greg.
