From Fever To Death
By: Anti Darth Ani
Based on the TV series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Author's Note:
I'm already on chapter four!! I'm on a role. I must admit, these are the shortest chapters on a fan-fic I've written so far. Of course, this is going to be only my third finished fan-fic, and I've had an account on fanfiction.net for over two years, so that's pretty sad. Please make sure you tell me what you think about my characters. Do you think that they are portrayed like they are on the television show, or it that an area I need to work on?
Synopsis:
Sara, Nick, and Warrick investigate the death of a ten-year-old girl who suddenly died in her kitchen while her parents were at a dinner party. But with the pressure of the case, Sara can't help having bad memories brought back up about her past. Emotions are heightened and things start to change with a few of the co-workers.
Action/Mystery/Suspense/Romance
PG-13 - For violence, language, and some sexuality.
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CHAPTER FOUR
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"Greg-o, what do you have for me?" Nick asked, pushing the door open and poking his head in. Greg, who was picking up a piece of paper of the printer, turned his head to face Nick. "Oh, I was just going to go find you. I guess you saved me the trip. I've got all your results."
Nick stepped into the warm lab. "All of them?" he asked, a little surprised.
"I told you your case is the only one right now, so I used my special little powers, and here you go," he told Nick, handing him a few papers. Before he even had a chance to read through them, Greg started to explain what was on the papers. "Let's start with the glass piece. There wasn't anything special about it. Simple sand melting at hot temperatures to create our wonderful glass. What is interesting is that I found traces of the substance you also gave me on it. Now, that substance. Care to guess what it?" Greg asked, sitting down at his chair. He spun around in it once and came to face Nick again.
"Not really. Crime investigation isn't a guessing name, Sanders. Why don't you just tell me?" Nick wasn't in the mood to be dealing with little guessing games. He had a crime scene he needed to comb over and people to interview. "What is it?"
"Mercury," Greg simply stated. "Very lethal, as you know. All someone had to do was force the victim drink it and Bam! She's dead."
"Okay, good. It's a start. What can you tell me about the fingerprint I got off the kitchen door? Did you get any hits on it?" Nick asked.
Greg smiled like he was a genius. "Of course I did. But that news isn't so great as the rest. It matches the mother. I'm not sure if that helps any or not."
Nick was already heading to the door, "Thanks, Greg. Don't go anywhere, I'm sure I've have something else for you soon," he told Greg.
Greg rolled his eyes, "Oh goody," he muttered, propping his legs up on the desk and picking up his magazine again. While Nick was gone, he was going to enjoy himself.
Sara woke with a start. Her brown hair was stinking to her forehead with sweat. How long had she slept? It shouldn't have been very long. Her whole body was screaming for sleep, but Sara didn't want to. Not after what she had just dreamed about. She needed to get back to the crime scene and see if she could dig up any new evidence. She wanted this case solved as soon as possible. She wouldn't have even gone home to her apartment if both Nick and Warrick hadn't demanded it.
Sara glanced over at her clock. It was already two in the morning. She had slept for two and a half hours. So she had slept for a while. Sara pushed her hair back off of her forehead. Why had she had the dream again? She couldn't make herself believe that she still wasn't over what had happened. She had been a child and that had occurred years ago. Sara had thought she had buried that long ago. But apparently, she hadn't. She wouldn't be able to handle this case if she didn't find a way to get over the event.
Trying to forget all about the dream, Sara quickly showered and changed. She'd be fine after a cup of coffee, she told herself. She took deep breaths all the way to the McAllister home. The Tahoe was already in the driveway, its black paint blending it in to the dark colors of the night. Sara slid into the driveway next to it with ease. She put the SUV into park and pulled the keys out, closing the door and after she got her field kit out of the back of her car, she walked up to the front door, which was wide open.
Sara walked in as if she had been to the house many times before and it was routine. But it wasn't, and this wasn't just any case. This was the case of the death of a little girl because her parents had neglected her and left her home alone, which Sara believed was actually illegal in Las Vegas, although she couldn't be sure. Warrick looked up from the TV, which he was dusting, "Glad to see you back with us. Did you get any sleep?" he asked her.
Sara smiled, "Enough," she assured him. She looked around the room. It seemed so homily and cheerful, except for the feeling left by having a dead body in the kitchen. Sara walked into the kitchen, where Nick was standing, looking around. When he spotted her, he smiled, "Hey. Are you feeling any better?" he asked her.
Sara sighed. "I wasn't feeling bad in the first place. But I do feel well rested. Have you guys found anything else?" she asked him. Nick shook his head. "I don't know about this case, Sara. Something feels wrong, you know? Like we've looked over something. I just can't put my finger on it."
"Don't worry, we'll figure this out. We are, after all, the second best crime lab in the country. That counts for something, right?" she asked.
Nick nodded, "But we can't solve all of them," he reminded her.
Sara's jaw set tightly, "Well, we're going to solve this one. I won't rest until we have the perp behind bars."
"So, I found out that the mystery substance, mercury, was found on the piece of glass I found over there," he said, pointing to a spot on the kitchen floor. "The shard of glass, however, was too small to get any type of fingerprint off of. And the fingerprint I lifted off of the kitchen door handle matched the mother, which doesn't help much." Sara nodded, trying to absorb all the information. Did this mean that they were back to square one? Would they have to try to press Mrs. Johnson for more information? She was the only lead on the case currently and Sara needed the case to be solved.
Warrick walked into the kitchen, "Brass is here. He arrived with the parents. I've already cleared the living room. Not one piece of evidence in the whole room, so Brass is going to at least let them into that room. He wants us all to be together when he starts interrogating them. Are you guys ready?" he asked.
Sara and Nick both nodded and then they followed Warrick into the living room. Marge and Fred McAllister were sitting on the couch. Mr. McAllister held his wife's hand in his, squeezing it for reassurance. They weren't comfortable at all and they still had a problem accepting that their only child, Emily, was dead.
"I know this is hard on you," Nick told the couple. "But we need to ask you a few questions about when Emily died."
Marge looked from Nick to her husband, who nodded slowly. "We'll answer your questions. We just want you to find who would do this to a little girl."
Brass started asking them to explain about the events that led to the dinner party. Like most people, they had no idea what this had to do with the case. Fred looked at Brass suspiciously, but he finally started explaining. He declared that they had changed into their dinner clothes, Fred a suit and Marge a sleek dress. Then they discovered that Emily wasn't feeling well and called Mrs. Johnson, asking her to check in on Emily. Then they called Emily's friend's house and told the parents that Emily would have to spend the night another night.
"Why wasn't she feeling well?" Warrick questioned, picking up right where Brass had left off. "What was bothering her?"
Marge smiled, a tear running down her cheek. "She complained that her stomach hurt. Fred joked that it was my meatloaf that Emily had for lunch. So I gave her some children's Motrin and told her to stay in bed. She also had a slight fever, but it wasn't anything serious and she insisted that she didn't have a fever. She's a very stubborn girl sometimes." Marge let a few more tears fall. "I can't believe this could happen. If Mrs. Johnson had just checked up on Emily a little more often, this would have never happened."
Sara tried her best to keep her composer. She was furious that Mrs. McAllister was trying to blame Mrs. Johnson for her daughter's death. They hadn't found any evidence to prove this. It was their own faults for leaving their daughter home alone.
"Marge, Mrs. Johnson loved Emily. She wouldn't want anything to happen to her," Fred told her. "You're just a little upset."
"A little upset?" Marge asked, clearly taken back. "I'm far past a little upset, Fred! Our daughter is dead. Emily is dead. And I bet you anything that Mrs. Johnson killed her! Just because the old hag never had any children of her own. I bet she was just jealous of us and decided to take away our daughter because she never had a daughter of her own!"
"What the hell are you thinking?" Sara snapped, finally losing it. "It's not Mrs. Johnson's fault! If you had just gotten Emily a babysitter like good parents would have, none of this would have happened!"
"Are you telling me, in my own house, that I wasn't a good mother to my only daughter? It that what you are implying?" Marge asked, furious.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you!" Sara snapped. "A true mother would never have left her daughter home alone, sick or not." A picture of Sara's own mother flashed through her head. She forced it away. She wouldn't bring her mother into this.
"Sara," Nick started, but Marge interrupted. "I loved my daughter! Emily was my whole life! I cannot except you coming into my own house and telling me that I didn't do enough to ensure my own daughter's safety! I do not need to be treated as if I am a criminal!"
"You left her home alone! She is only a ten-year-old little girl! She doesn't know how to be careful. She would open the door for a stranger. You set her up to die!" Sara accused. Fred's face was turning red like he was about to brust and Marge was on the verge of tears. Nick stepped toward Sara and quickly pulled on her elbow. Brass and Warrick were staring at Sara in amazement.
"I am not the reason my daughter is dead! If you were good detectives, you would be investigating Mrs. Johnson instead of rubbing my name through dirt in my own house," Marge glared at Sara.
"If you had just seen the situation through in your own eyes. If you had just gotten her a babysitter," Sara started, but Nick dragged her out the front door and slammed the door shut. Sara was surprised that he had pulled her out.
"What the hell are you thinking!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down so the McAllisters wouldn't be able to hear him. "Just tell me what you could possibly be thinking, running off like that to the family of a victim, Sara! God, you know better than that."
Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes as a picture of her own mother popped into her brain. Sara tried to keep her cool, taking deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. She ran her hand over the top of her hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. Her hands were starting to shake and her lower lip was starting to quiver. 'Don't fall apart,' she warned herself. 'This isn't the place or the time for this problem.'
"Sara, come on. You know if Grissom had heard that outburst in there, he would have wrung your neck twice. He might have even suspended you," Nick told her. A tear or two started to fall down her face, running a path down her cheeks. "I can't handle this case," she whispered. "It hits right at home."
"Then why didn't you ask Warrick to take you off the case? You know a CSI is never supposed to stay on a case if it's personal or emotional. You know that," he stressed the last sentence.
Sara nodded and quickly wiped away the few tears on her face that hadn't already fallen. "I just need a second to recollect myself. I'll be fine after that, I promise." She managed a weak smiled that didn't convince Nick one bit. But he decided to let it slide for the time being.
"Well, I guess you'd better be praying to a higher power that Grissom and Catherine aren't here right now. And you'd better pray that they don't find about this from anyone."
Sara gave Nick a scary look. "Well you're not going to tell them, are you?" she asked, a hint of concern raising in her voice.
"Not unless they ask if you broke down and started yelling at the parents of a victim, then no, I'm not going to tell them. But you're treading thin ice here, Sara. You might want to think before you speak until this case is over."
Sara nodded. She quickly smoothed her hair over before walking back into the house.
By: Anti Darth Ani
Based on the TV series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Author's Note:
I'm already on chapter four!! I'm on a role. I must admit, these are the shortest chapters on a fan-fic I've written so far. Of course, this is going to be only my third finished fan-fic, and I've had an account on fanfiction.net for over two years, so that's pretty sad. Please make sure you tell me what you think about my characters. Do you think that they are portrayed like they are on the television show, or it that an area I need to work on?
Synopsis:
Sara, Nick, and Warrick investigate the death of a ten-year-old girl who suddenly died in her kitchen while her parents were at a dinner party. But with the pressure of the case, Sara can't help having bad memories brought back up about her past. Emotions are heightened and things start to change with a few of the co-workers.
Action/Mystery/Suspense/Romance
PG-13 - For violence, language, and some sexuality.
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CHAPTER FOUR
----------
"Greg-o, what do you have for me?" Nick asked, pushing the door open and poking his head in. Greg, who was picking up a piece of paper of the printer, turned his head to face Nick. "Oh, I was just going to go find you. I guess you saved me the trip. I've got all your results."
Nick stepped into the warm lab. "All of them?" he asked, a little surprised.
"I told you your case is the only one right now, so I used my special little powers, and here you go," he told Nick, handing him a few papers. Before he even had a chance to read through them, Greg started to explain what was on the papers. "Let's start with the glass piece. There wasn't anything special about it. Simple sand melting at hot temperatures to create our wonderful glass. What is interesting is that I found traces of the substance you also gave me on it. Now, that substance. Care to guess what it?" Greg asked, sitting down at his chair. He spun around in it once and came to face Nick again.
"Not really. Crime investigation isn't a guessing name, Sanders. Why don't you just tell me?" Nick wasn't in the mood to be dealing with little guessing games. He had a crime scene he needed to comb over and people to interview. "What is it?"
"Mercury," Greg simply stated. "Very lethal, as you know. All someone had to do was force the victim drink it and Bam! She's dead."
"Okay, good. It's a start. What can you tell me about the fingerprint I got off the kitchen door? Did you get any hits on it?" Nick asked.
Greg smiled like he was a genius. "Of course I did. But that news isn't so great as the rest. It matches the mother. I'm not sure if that helps any or not."
Nick was already heading to the door, "Thanks, Greg. Don't go anywhere, I'm sure I've have something else for you soon," he told Greg.
Greg rolled his eyes, "Oh goody," he muttered, propping his legs up on the desk and picking up his magazine again. While Nick was gone, he was going to enjoy himself.
Sara woke with a start. Her brown hair was stinking to her forehead with sweat. How long had she slept? It shouldn't have been very long. Her whole body was screaming for sleep, but Sara didn't want to. Not after what she had just dreamed about. She needed to get back to the crime scene and see if she could dig up any new evidence. She wanted this case solved as soon as possible. She wouldn't have even gone home to her apartment if both Nick and Warrick hadn't demanded it.
Sara glanced over at her clock. It was already two in the morning. She had slept for two and a half hours. So she had slept for a while. Sara pushed her hair back off of her forehead. Why had she had the dream again? She couldn't make herself believe that she still wasn't over what had happened. She had been a child and that had occurred years ago. Sara had thought she had buried that long ago. But apparently, she hadn't. She wouldn't be able to handle this case if she didn't find a way to get over the event.
Trying to forget all about the dream, Sara quickly showered and changed. She'd be fine after a cup of coffee, she told herself. She took deep breaths all the way to the McAllister home. The Tahoe was already in the driveway, its black paint blending it in to the dark colors of the night. Sara slid into the driveway next to it with ease. She put the SUV into park and pulled the keys out, closing the door and after she got her field kit out of the back of her car, she walked up to the front door, which was wide open.
Sara walked in as if she had been to the house many times before and it was routine. But it wasn't, and this wasn't just any case. This was the case of the death of a little girl because her parents had neglected her and left her home alone, which Sara believed was actually illegal in Las Vegas, although she couldn't be sure. Warrick looked up from the TV, which he was dusting, "Glad to see you back with us. Did you get any sleep?" he asked her.
Sara smiled, "Enough," she assured him. She looked around the room. It seemed so homily and cheerful, except for the feeling left by having a dead body in the kitchen. Sara walked into the kitchen, where Nick was standing, looking around. When he spotted her, he smiled, "Hey. Are you feeling any better?" he asked her.
Sara sighed. "I wasn't feeling bad in the first place. But I do feel well rested. Have you guys found anything else?" she asked him. Nick shook his head. "I don't know about this case, Sara. Something feels wrong, you know? Like we've looked over something. I just can't put my finger on it."
"Don't worry, we'll figure this out. We are, after all, the second best crime lab in the country. That counts for something, right?" she asked.
Nick nodded, "But we can't solve all of them," he reminded her.
Sara's jaw set tightly, "Well, we're going to solve this one. I won't rest until we have the perp behind bars."
"So, I found out that the mystery substance, mercury, was found on the piece of glass I found over there," he said, pointing to a spot on the kitchen floor. "The shard of glass, however, was too small to get any type of fingerprint off of. And the fingerprint I lifted off of the kitchen door handle matched the mother, which doesn't help much." Sara nodded, trying to absorb all the information. Did this mean that they were back to square one? Would they have to try to press Mrs. Johnson for more information? She was the only lead on the case currently and Sara needed the case to be solved.
Warrick walked into the kitchen, "Brass is here. He arrived with the parents. I've already cleared the living room. Not one piece of evidence in the whole room, so Brass is going to at least let them into that room. He wants us all to be together when he starts interrogating them. Are you guys ready?" he asked.
Sara and Nick both nodded and then they followed Warrick into the living room. Marge and Fred McAllister were sitting on the couch. Mr. McAllister held his wife's hand in his, squeezing it for reassurance. They weren't comfortable at all and they still had a problem accepting that their only child, Emily, was dead.
"I know this is hard on you," Nick told the couple. "But we need to ask you a few questions about when Emily died."
Marge looked from Nick to her husband, who nodded slowly. "We'll answer your questions. We just want you to find who would do this to a little girl."
Brass started asking them to explain about the events that led to the dinner party. Like most people, they had no idea what this had to do with the case. Fred looked at Brass suspiciously, but he finally started explaining. He declared that they had changed into their dinner clothes, Fred a suit and Marge a sleek dress. Then they discovered that Emily wasn't feeling well and called Mrs. Johnson, asking her to check in on Emily. Then they called Emily's friend's house and told the parents that Emily would have to spend the night another night.
"Why wasn't she feeling well?" Warrick questioned, picking up right where Brass had left off. "What was bothering her?"
Marge smiled, a tear running down her cheek. "She complained that her stomach hurt. Fred joked that it was my meatloaf that Emily had for lunch. So I gave her some children's Motrin and told her to stay in bed. She also had a slight fever, but it wasn't anything serious and she insisted that she didn't have a fever. She's a very stubborn girl sometimes." Marge let a few more tears fall. "I can't believe this could happen. If Mrs. Johnson had just checked up on Emily a little more often, this would have never happened."
Sara tried her best to keep her composer. She was furious that Mrs. McAllister was trying to blame Mrs. Johnson for her daughter's death. They hadn't found any evidence to prove this. It was their own faults for leaving their daughter home alone.
"Marge, Mrs. Johnson loved Emily. She wouldn't want anything to happen to her," Fred told her. "You're just a little upset."
"A little upset?" Marge asked, clearly taken back. "I'm far past a little upset, Fred! Our daughter is dead. Emily is dead. And I bet you anything that Mrs. Johnson killed her! Just because the old hag never had any children of her own. I bet she was just jealous of us and decided to take away our daughter because she never had a daughter of her own!"
"What the hell are you thinking?" Sara snapped, finally losing it. "It's not Mrs. Johnson's fault! If you had just gotten Emily a babysitter like good parents would have, none of this would have happened!"
"Are you telling me, in my own house, that I wasn't a good mother to my only daughter? It that what you are implying?" Marge asked, furious.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you!" Sara snapped. "A true mother would never have left her daughter home alone, sick or not." A picture of Sara's own mother flashed through her head. She forced it away. She wouldn't bring her mother into this.
"Sara," Nick started, but Marge interrupted. "I loved my daughter! Emily was my whole life! I cannot except you coming into my own house and telling me that I didn't do enough to ensure my own daughter's safety! I do not need to be treated as if I am a criminal!"
"You left her home alone! She is only a ten-year-old little girl! She doesn't know how to be careful. She would open the door for a stranger. You set her up to die!" Sara accused. Fred's face was turning red like he was about to brust and Marge was on the verge of tears. Nick stepped toward Sara and quickly pulled on her elbow. Brass and Warrick were staring at Sara in amazement.
"I am not the reason my daughter is dead! If you were good detectives, you would be investigating Mrs. Johnson instead of rubbing my name through dirt in my own house," Marge glared at Sara.
"If you had just seen the situation through in your own eyes. If you had just gotten her a babysitter," Sara started, but Nick dragged her out the front door and slammed the door shut. Sara was surprised that he had pulled her out.
"What the hell are you thinking!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down so the McAllisters wouldn't be able to hear him. "Just tell me what you could possibly be thinking, running off like that to the family of a victim, Sara! God, you know better than that."
Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes as a picture of her own mother popped into her brain. Sara tried to keep her cool, taking deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. She ran her hand over the top of her hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. Her hands were starting to shake and her lower lip was starting to quiver. 'Don't fall apart,' she warned herself. 'This isn't the place or the time for this problem.'
"Sara, come on. You know if Grissom had heard that outburst in there, he would have wrung your neck twice. He might have even suspended you," Nick told her. A tear or two started to fall down her face, running a path down her cheeks. "I can't handle this case," she whispered. "It hits right at home."
"Then why didn't you ask Warrick to take you off the case? You know a CSI is never supposed to stay on a case if it's personal or emotional. You know that," he stressed the last sentence.
Sara nodded and quickly wiped away the few tears on her face that hadn't already fallen. "I just need a second to recollect myself. I'll be fine after that, I promise." She managed a weak smiled that didn't convince Nick one bit. But he decided to let it slide for the time being.
"Well, I guess you'd better be praying to a higher power that Grissom and Catherine aren't here right now. And you'd better pray that they don't find about this from anyone."
Sara gave Nick a scary look. "Well you're not going to tell them, are you?" she asked, a hint of concern raising in her voice.
"Not unless they ask if you broke down and started yelling at the parents of a victim, then no, I'm not going to tell them. But you're treading thin ice here, Sara. You might want to think before you speak until this case is over."
Sara nodded. She quickly smoothed her hair over before walking back into the house.