Enmity

By EB

©2004

Chapter Seven

When he got to the lab, he found his office occupied.

"Hi," Gil said, putting his briefcase on the desk.

This Sara didn't smile. "Got a minute?"

"Several, actually." His own smile faded. "What?"

"I was just wondering why I'm being shut out."

Gil sat down slowly, gazing at her. "Shut out?"

"Is it because of the promotion? That didn't happen?"

He formed a little "oh" with his lips, but didn't say it.

Her scowl was colored with hurt. "Nick's my colleague," she said thinly. "And I like to think he's my friend. Only I'm not sure YOU think I'm his friend."

"Sara, what in God's name are you talking about?"

"Give me a break, Grissom," she snapped, shaking her head. "Don't worry, no one's told me a thing. I figured this one out all on my own. Something's going on with Nick, something to do with his mysterious illness. And everyone knows what this something is, but me. Which suggests to me one very important thing. Would you like to know what that is?"

Gil sat back in his chair. "You're not a suspect, Sara," he said quietly. "If you were, you'd know it already."

The hurt in her expression ramped up a few notches; her cheeks were almost as pale as Nick's had been, a week ago. "Suspect? You think -- Jesus."

He drew a breath to say something, he never knew what, and she bolted up out of her chair. "You know what? No." She swallowed convulsively. "I get the picture. Loud and clear."

"Sara –"

But she was walking out, storming out, really, and narrowly missed Greg, who danced to the side and watched her go, eyes wide. "Whoa," he breathed. "Hope she isn't carrying a gun right now."

Gil let out a heavy sigh and lifted his chin. "Yes?"

"So what'd you say to her?" Greg asked, plopping down in Sara's recently vacated chair. "Man, she looked –"

"Greg. The samples?"

"Right." Greg shrugged. "Nada. Nick is not exactly healthy, according to his blood work, but whatever's causing it, it's not an anomalous protein."

Gil gazed at him, and then allowed his eyes to close briefly. "God damn it," he whispered.

"Hey, I thought it'd be good news."

"It is," Gil agreed dully. "But it means we're back to square one."

Greg nodded, mouth turned down in sudden unhappiness. "Yeah, I see what you're saying. Anyway." He held out a thick sheaf of test results. "If you want it."

Gil took the papers, glancing briefly at the top page and nodding. "Thanks. I appreciate your doing this. For Nick."

"Any time, you know it."

After Greg left, he sat tapping his fingers on the papers for a few minutes, staring at nothing. Finally he got up and went to find Sara.

"I suspect he's being poisoned."

It got her attention. She gazed up at him, lingering anger and hurt briefly subsumed by shock. "Poisoned?"

Gil glanced around the small room, and finally leaned against the table, relaxing minutely. "My reasons for leaving you out of the loop have nothing to do with doubts as to your trustworthiness," he said slowly. "And everything to do with concerns for Nick's safety. If I had my druthers, I would still be the only person who knows."

She put down her safety goggles and reached up to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. Her fingers were shaking slightly, and he spared a moment to wonder if she'd eaten anything tonight. Probably not. "Do you have any suspects?"

"No. Not yet."

"Can I help?"

"Probably. But I'd rather not involve you. Before you say anything," he added at her quick look. "Warrick is not involved, either. I'm not playing favorites, Sara. The fewer people who know the specifics, the better. This is one time where teamwork is not necessarily in Nick's best interests. Do you understand?"

She was silent for a moment, and then gave a slight nod. "You think it's someone here. At the lab."

"I haven't ruled that out. I haven't ruled anything out."

"You said I wasn't a suspect."

"No more than anyone else."

"Even yourself?" she asked softly. Her dark eyes were challenging.

He ducked his head a fraction of an inch. "I suppose so."

She held his gaze for another moment, and then looked away. "Okay. If that's the way you want to play it."

"Damn it, Sara, I'm not playing. This isn't a game." He straightened. "Interpret it however you like. My primary concern at the moment is for Nick's safety, not your feelings. I'll save whatever apology you want to hear for such time as I'm convinced Nick is all right. That will have to suffice."

She gave a tiny nod.

He felt her gaze on his back as he walked out. It felt heavy, clingy, like hands touching his shirt. He wanted to shrug, push it away.

After two more days of Ensure and Gatorade, Nick put his increasingly healthy foot down.

"I'm fine," he said crossly, hand going up to flatten his exuberant spikes of morning hair. "And I'm freakin' hungry. All right?"

Doing his best not to smile too openly, Gil gave a slow nod. "Cereal work?"

"Thank GOD."

As he suspected, Nick couldn't eat much. It had been more than a week since his last solid food, and there wasn't much room in his shrunken stomach. But he ate half a bowl of cereal with gusto, and watching him, Gil felt a tremulous surge of relief. No question Nick was very much on the mend. It would take a while for the last of the effects to subside, but he was much, much better. For that Gil was immensely grateful.

Pushing the bowl a few inches away, Nick leaned his chin on his hand and sighed. "Man, I never thought Cheerios could taste that good."

"How do they feel?"

"Like I died and went to heaven."

Gil's smile slipped, and Nick made a face. "Sorry."

"You feel up to visiting the lab today? Going through those files?"

"Sure." Nick sipped his orange juice. "You really think that might be it?"

"It's worth a shot." He didn't dare say what he really thought. Those dire imaginings were best left unspoken.

"I need to be there anyway," Nick continued, in a more careful tone. "I mean, I do still work there. Right?"

Gil nodded. "There's no rush," he said carefully. "You know that."

"Yeah, I also know things aren't so good on the money front. Don't want you guys forgetting I'm still on the payroll. This month, at least."

"Nick, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not that out of the loop," Nick told him quietly. "I heard a few things. Like maybe there's some layoffs coming."

Under the circumstances, there was no way to lie gracefully. Gil inclined his head. "You have good sources."

"Christ. Guess I better work on my resume, then, huh?" A spasm of misery clouded Nick's face. "I've barely been there for two months."

"I would never penalize you for something so utterly beyond your control, Nick," Gil said. "That's not the way I work. You should know that by now."

"Okay," Nick said dully.

"Come on," Gil added in a gruff voice. "Why don't you wash up, and we'll go have a look at those files."

"Don't you gotta sleep sometime?"

"I'm off tonight." Gil met Nick's look with a smile. "I do occasionally take nights off, you know."

"Yeah. Okay."

It was well into their normal shift time before Nick finally finished poring over most of his old case files. His list of possibles was short, but Gil was acutely relieved to find there actually was a list.

"Three." Nick laid several scribbled-on pages of yellow ruled paper in front of him. "One's really pushing it, though."

"Which?"

"Martin Abrams. The guy we suspected of poisoning his three kids. Goes way back, I think I'd been here about six months then."

Gil nodded, eyes narrowing. "As I recall it – correct me if I'm wrong – Abrams was later exonerated."

"It was the stepbrother. Used Dad's lab to mix up some really nasty shit."

"Right. What about the stepbrother?"

"Lethal injection five months ago. I went to the execution."

"And Abrams?"

Nick shrugged. "Moved to Egypt. New Hampshire," he added, at Gil's quizzical look. "Like I said. Major long shot."

"Who else?"

Nick shifted the papers. "Marjorie Lewis. She was the chemistry grad student who was suspected of murdering her professor lover back in '02."

"But also exonerated?"

"Charges were dropped. He was a suicide. But she never believed our findings. Remember? She's the one who kept coming by, months later."

Gil winced. "Right. Can't believe I'd forgotten about that."

"Well, it was me and Cath she really hated. Our case." Nick made a face, shook his head. "She had all kinds of conspiracy theories. The major one was that forensics was in cahoots with the DA's office, covering up the guy's murder because of political pressure. She never made any death threats, nothing like that. But I got valentines from her for a while."

"Valentines?"

"Just shit. Letters. She found out where I lived, used to dog me sometimes at home. Tell me about how it was murder, and I knew it, and she'd make sure I never forgot, that I'd keep it on my conscience the rest of my life. Blah blah."

Gil goggled. "Never mind me forgetting that – how did you forget it?"

"I didn't. Just -- She didn't seem the type." Nick sighed. "Maybe I was wrong."

"We'll come back to her. Who's the third?"

"Another long shot. Bobby Michael. Remember him? That wasn't that long ago."

"Family member, right? Tony Michael's brother?"

"That's him. Meth lab explosion. Bobby was the good brother, Tony was the bad seed. Only we thought in the long run it was Bobby doing the chemistry, Tony just had the rotten luck to be home when the place blew."

"You think he had the expertise to do this?"

"Meth wasn't all they were cooking up. Bobby was smarter than shit. Genius."

Gil nodded. "I remember. And he's still around?"

"Still being investigated. Arrested twice, no convictions. He's weaseled out of everything so far."

"Any reason he'd pinpoint you, specifically?"

Nick slumped a little. "Not really, no. I mean, that I know of."

"So Marjorie Lewis is our primary here?"

"If you can call her that."

Gil reached out to pick up the phone. While he waited for Brass to pick up, he said, "You haven't eaten or drunk anything here tonight, have you?"

Nick shook his head. "Water fountain."

"Don't even do that. I mean it, Nick. Nothing whasoev -- Jim? Gil. Listen, swing by here when you get the chance, would you? I need to talk to you about something. No, not over the phone. It's important. Right. Yeah, I'll be here."

As he hung up, Nick said, "Water fountain?"

"Not even that."

Nick looked down. "You sure you want to involve the cops? We don't even know what whoever it is was giving me."

"Let's see what Jim has to say about that."

TBC. EB