Implied Connections
Chapter 10 – Subtle Suggestions
By: Braidless Baka
Disclaimer: *insert witty disclaimer here*
A/N: RainbowsnStars ~ I could tell what I have planned, but that wouldn't be very good would it? Who reads a story they know the end of already? ^_~
~~~
The day ended abruptly for Greg as, despite his protests, he was carted off to the hospital to have his arm checked out. And, as he'd predicted, it wasn't as bad as it looked. He did have the stitches though, after which he refused point-blank to wear the band-aid anymore. If his face wasn't bleeding to death, he put simply, there wasn't a reason to keep a band-aid on. Besides, he would add, the band-aid made him look like an extra from Frankenstein. Greg would, the doctor told him, have trouble using his arm for several weeks as the wound healed. He was also advised to take sick leave from work during those weeks, in order to recuperate. The first thing Greg did when he got home was to look up the word "recuperate" in his dictionary. Upon discovering its meaning, he promptly decided against it, getting up earlier than usual and calling a cab to get himself to work. Driving, he discovered, much to his frustration, was going to be a problem.
The first person to find out he was actually in work was Nick who, having cornered Greg in his lab and leaning against one of the benches, said emphatically, "y'know Greg, you really shouldn't be here."
Greg shrugged absently, doing all he had ever seemed to do over the past few days, which was waiting by the printer expectantly for another sheet of paper. "It's not like there's much for me to do at home."
"There's not much for you to be doing here," Nick put in, his voice not condemning but concerned. "Everyone thinks you're crazy."
"Not much of a change then, huh?"
"Listen to me, man. I'm serious. You should go home and sleep or something." Nick then glanced at his watch. "What time are you supposed to start anyhow?"
"Hour."
"So… what're you even doing here?"
"I guess I got bored."
Nick frowned, watching Greg critically. The chemist's right arm was still in the sling, the dressing clumsily changed, probably yesterday when he'd been dropped off at home.
"So," said Nick, pondering through a few seconds' silence. "You're serious about still working?"
"Dead serious."
"How come?"
At this question, Greg turned to face him. He took a breath before trying to answer the question. "I have to do this. There's evidence to process, and I won't feel right unless I know each piece of trace has gone through the system properly, even if I don't get to deal with it myself."
"You being here isn't going to change that. And you know it."
Greg paused for a second. "I guess not."
Nick shook his head pushing himself off the bench he was leaning against. "Come on. I was going for a coffee."
"Coffee? I'm there," said Greg with a smile, standing up with Nick and following him out of the lab, deciding that he'd not had a decent cup of coffee in at least three hours and it was time for another one.
With a smile, Greg noted that his "special" coffee hadn't been moved since yesterday morning. Despite knowing very well that where he had put it had become common knowledge since Sara found it before she left. He took up the bag with his good hand. "You want some?"
"Me? Want some of your coffee?" Nick raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You sure you're not supposed to still be in hospital?"
Greg shrugged. "Fine, if you don't want any of the magical brew, that's your problem, not mine." With that, he reached into the cupboard and took out two mugs, flicking the coffee machine on and leaning against the bench while waiting for it to… make coffee.
"Seeing what it does to you, I'll pass. Pond water's good enough for me."
"Communal pond water," corrected Greg. "Meaning it's nowhere near as good as my coffee. And what do you mean, 'seeing what it does to me'?"
Nick shook his head in amusement as the machine finished making coffee, taking it up and filling the mugs with 'the magical brew', despite his protests, taking a mugful of Greg's coffee anyway. He really couldn't be bothered to make up his own. "Never mind, Greg," he said good-naturedly, handing his companion the coffee. "It's not worth me trying to explain."
"Yeah, I'll bet it's not," Greg grumbled, with just as much good nature, returning the bag of coffee to its 'hiding place' before following Nick and sitting down.
A pause lingered between them, as Nick idly blew on his hot coffee, before he looked up to Greg. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"As long as you don't expect a sensible answer, go right ahead."
Nick watched Greg for a moment, who was deeply drinking his coffee, but looking to Nick at the same time, the combination of both acts at once making it amusing to watch. "Seriously, what do you think of Rachel?"
"What, blonde Rachel?"
Nick nodded, watching Greg lower his coffee, tentatively guiding it with his right hand as much as he was able, to set it down on the table. "I think…" he said slowly. "I think she's blonde. And pretty. With really nice eyes. I also think she's one of the sexiest creatures in this whole building, and that she has a really great butt."
This entirely honest comment had the amusing effect of Nick spraying the coffee from his mouth to land on the floor over the edge of the table. And then he was laughing so hard that for a few seconds he was unable to say anything at all, pouring all his concentration into not dribbling any more coffee down his shirt.
Greg grinned, satisfied with the effect of his honesty. "What? You wanted my opinion!"
"Man, I didn't mean like that!" For a few seconds Nick wrestled for control of his features, and still grinning, spoke again. "I meant, like as a person. What do you think?"
"Ahh, I see. It's supposed to be a serious question." Greg laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, I'm outta practise with those." He watched as Nick waited for his answer, making Greg consider it carefully. "I guess, she freaks me out a little," he admitted eventually. "She's too smiley. She doesn't even come across as a 'person' to me. More like a reaction."
"Seriously?"
"For once, yeah."
Nick leaned back a little at that. He could tell Greg wasn't out to antagonise him, such a thing extremely rare from the tech. But he was saying the exact same thing Warrick had said earlier. He took a deep gulp from his coffee as he reflected that Greg just had a much delicate way of saying it.
"Why'd you ask?"
"It's just something Warrick said before." He stopped, realising what he'd just said, and trying to cover his tracks quickly. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
"It's always a red-flag when someone says 'don't worry' to me."
Nick shrugged apologetically. "Seriously, Greg, don't worry."
"There you go waving that red flag again," the other joked, a slight smile on his face. "Just lemme finish my coffee damnnit."
It was at that point that Grissom, one of the only people Greg knew who just couldn't have a late morning to save his life, poked his head around the door. He looked mildly surprised to see Greg, but either suppressed it, or wasn't really surprised at all. Instead he said, "You're a little early, aren't you?"
Greg shrugged, staring intently into his coffee. "Bored I guess."
"Bored enough to come in an hour early?" The question was asked in a mild manner, as Grissom stepped fully into the room to survey the meeting. He leaned against the wall slightly, letting the quiet hang for a moment before speaking. Then, pushing off from the wall and leaving, he said, "Come on, we're having a pow-wow."
Greg watched as Grissom made his retreat, before turning to Nick in disbelief. "Does he mean me too?"
Nick, laughing quietly, stood. "Yeah, come on Greggo. You come in early, you've gotta start early. You should know that by now."
~~~
When they walked into the room – not far behind Gil – Catherine, Warrick and Rachel were already there, Catherine making conversation with Rachel, while Warrick tried to stay out of it entirely.
"Okay," said Grissom as he walked in, "what've we got? Theories would be welcome."
"We've got a homicide and a drive-by," said Warrick, already thinking aloud by the look on his face. "Possible connection."
"Possible being the main word," Grissom interjected as he took a seat. "We don't know that yet."
"You've got to be kidding!" The exclamation came, this time, from Catherine. "He was gunning for us, going over the crime scene a second time! He was afraid of what we might find."
Greg nodded his agreement, "It so wasn't random."
"Can you back that up?"
Greg paused for a second. "We were going over a crime scene. We were both standing directly in front of the window, perfect placement. That's gotta count for something, right?"
"Nope," put in Nick, watching the exchange. "Not unless you can prove it. A jury'd never buy it."
"Okay," put in Gil, sensing a disagreement in the wings. "Let's concentrate on what we have from the Hodgeson case. Our crime scene's shot to hell, so we need to start processing evidence." He turned to Catherine. "What did you get?"
Catherine counted the items off as she spoke. "Blonde hair caught in a cupboard door, partial footprint on the front door, full handprint and some dirt. We've also IDed the killer as possibly being shorter than Greg."
"And Sara's shorter than Greg…" Gil paused for a moment in thought before focusing on the task at hand. "Okay," the acknowledgement was curt. "And your evidence is getting processed now?"
"Should be."
"Then, this is what we're doing today." Gil glanced around at everyone. "I need someone to have a look around Sara's apartment. Someone took her sneakers and we need to know who and why. That'll be your job Catherine, take Rachel with you."
Greg noted Catherine's split-second expression of malcontent.
"Warrick, you're going to nose around administration for me. Be discrete. Find out what you can without getting anyone's backs up. Jim tells me we might have some clock tampering going on. If she says she left at 9, we need to prove or disprove."
Warrick nodded in acknowledgement. "Gotcha."
"I don't even want Brass to know we did it."
"Loud and clear."
"Nick, I need you to find out if Sara made those footprints. Again, prove or disprove. I don't care how you do it. Be creative."
It was Nick's turn to nod, wondering why he was getting all the 'deal with Sara' jobs lately. "Creative? Right, how hard could it be?"
"Who's staying behind for the evidence?" Rachel, who hadn't spoken since Greg had entered the room, now spoke up. The response was a layer of silence. It wasn't essential to have someone stick around, but it was always a good idea – if just to let the others know if something came back to show that they were off track.
Grissom shrugged, glancing around the room. "How about we just let Greg do it?"
"Oh no." Greg was shaking his head enthusiastically. "I can't run after your results and process everyone else's at the same time."
Grissom looked up, a clearly amused look on his face. "It's a good job you're not processing anyone's results then, isn't it?"