Implied Connections
Chapter 11 – House Rules
By: Braidless Baka
Disclaimer: *insert witty disclaimer here – again*
A/N: Gotta thank my betas too ^_~ Krazykid197, and RainbowsnStars. As you'd expect, all remaining errors are mine, as a result of my horrible inability to articulate (or even write).
~~~
"I can't believe you guys did this to me. I mean come on!"
Grissom shrugged, standing behind Greg who was leaning on the doorframe of the lab door. He'd made a beeline for it after the fateful words: It's a good job you're not processing anyone's results then, isn't it? Grissom was the only one bold enough to follow the chemist out of his office. Amused, Gil followed Greg's gaze to his 'replacement', an Asian youth from the dayshift. He may not be anywhere as near as good at the job as Greg, but he was the best they had for the moment. "I told you I wasn't going to let you work. I'm a man of my word."
"Yeah, but… this is low! You tricked me!"
"I'm not denying it."
The whole situation had the effect of amusing Gil to a spectacular degree. It was 'Greg's' lab. Even the dayshift was aware of how possessive Greg was of the lab, especially the CD player that never left the room, which was currently playing the current pop charts. Pop music for crying out loud! And not blasting either, but just playing. Quite amicably at that.
"This is dumb!" Turning, Greg implored to the supervisor, his face the picture of pleading. "Seriously, just let me work!"
"Greg," Grissom's voice made the young man check himself sharply. This was Grissom's serious voice. "Which part of the word 'shot' don't you understand?"
"But I'm fine." The statement was said with a little less enthusiasm.
"Didn't you take a cab here this morning?"
"So I can't drive, it's no big deal."
"And," demanded Grissom, his tone still sharp, "what if you drop something in there?" He paused for a moment, staring Greg down. "You're good at what you do. I can't deny that. But when you can't do your job, for whatever reason, you just can't do your job. No amount of badgering me can change that."
It was Greg's turn to pause at this. He knew that Grissom was right. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something going on right under his nose. Something he should be seeing. And he wasn't going to get any further with it if he was at home. "You gonna to send me home?"
"If I was going to do that, I would've done it when you first came in." Gil then allowed himself to smile slightly. "Stick around here. You're on paid leave, but I can't help it if you want to stay. Give Nick a hand with the height thing if you like, just don't do anything dangerous."
Greg paused, before nodding a frustrated consent. "Fine. But you still tricked me."
"I know, Greg."
"And you're not the slightest bit sorry, are you?"
A pause. "Nope."
"God, you're mean."
"Honest maybe… but not mean."
"Definitely mean." Greg paused, watching the oriental youth in his lab. This guy couldn't even have finished college… Who the heck were they trying to fool?!
Then, in a sudden flurry of movement that almost caught Gil by surprise, Greg stepped into the lab. "Come on!" he said, the demanding tone of his voice amusing considering his arm was still swinging in the sling. "The CD machine isn't crime lab property! It's Greg Sanders' property! Treat it with respect already! House rules, no pop, no Britney Spears, no country! Country is bad! And most important…!"
Gil turned away with a sense of accomplishment. Finally, something that would keep the infamous Greg Sanders occupied for more than thirty seconds. A success by anyone's standards.
~~~
Warrick was the first one on the job, with his 'target' being the closest.
The receptionist was a woman he knew well, certain in the knowledge that there were only three of them in their whole department. "Yo," he said, walking casually up to the desk. "Helen. How're things?"
Helen, the pretty redhead at the desk, didn't have to look up at his voice. "Hey Warrick. What's up?"
Warrick reflected at that point that he was extremely lucky it was Helen on the front desk this evening. He could probably ask her straight out to see the book and she'd hand it over. But Grissom had said to be discreet. Anyone could've tampered with it, and letting on that he knew would alert them that they at least had a theory. It was something to be avoided. "I'm having disagreements with my boss," he said, leaning on the desk and making like a scolded child.
"How come?" Absently, Helen finally looked up at him from a form she was filling in, scratching behind a curl of hair with the end of her pen.
"Well, you see, it's kind of complicated," he admitted. "About a week ago, I signed out on time after work. Grissom's convinced I signed out early, which just isn't true. Something's wrong with the computers." He glanced up then, his expression earnest. "Is there any way I can get a look at the time sheet?"
"That's kind of strange Warrick." Helen tilted her head in slight suspicion. "If Grissom wanted to see it, he could come down here and get it." She turned slightly in her chair, opening a filing cabinet. "What date?"
"May 10th."
She flicked through for a while, before taking out a piece of paper and scanning down it. "Sure Warrick. You left on time."
He reached casually over the desk. "Show me?" He had to see the paper himself, or he'd never find out what time Sara left.
She looked up, suddenly suspicious. "You don't believe me?"
Hastily, Warrick withdrew. "No, no I believe you." Then he decided to try a shot in the dark. "I remember leaving with Sara, I'm sure she'll vouch for me."
At this, Helen glanced down again, subconsciously looking for Sara's name. "Yeah, 9:00am, just like you."
Warrick leaned back, smiling again. That was all he needed to know. "Thanks, Helen! I owe you."
She watched him turn to leave, with a frown, her expression that of confusion. "That was… abrupt," she murmured, turning to put the paper back in the file, "maybe it's something that comes with the job…"
~~~
"I don't care if Catherine comes to the house," Sara was saying into the phone. Nick sighed. He knew exactly what she was going to say next. "But I won't let her into my house. I don't have to."
Nick leaned back slightly, before hunching up in the chair and fiddling with the telephone cord. "Sara, you do have to let Rachel in. She's part of the team, and she and Cath have a warrant."
"You guys got a warrant for my house?!" Sara's tone down the phone was incensed.
"It makes it more-"
"Let me guess," she cut in sharply, "official?"
"Don't do this Sara."
"And I guess the DA is very impressed with all this legwork you guys are doing."
"Sara." Nick's tone held a warning quality to it.
"And while all this is going on," she continued, the words tumbling out of their own accord, "I suppose Rachel," she spat the name, "she's like a member of the family?!"
Nick took a deep breath to steady himself. "They've got a warrant. There's not a lot you can do without being locked up for it."
He heard her sigh on the other end of the phone, obviously trying to collect herself and convince herself that Nick was right. "That wasn't what you called for though, was it?"
"No, no it wasn't."
The relief in Nick's voice must've been audible, as a similar vein followed though Sara's tone. "Then, what?"
"We want you to come in and help us do some tests with your sneakers."
"Me?"
"Yeah, we want to see if you're the same height as the killer."
"Oh," her tone was suddenly tired, the complete opposite from her flaming self, mere moments ago. "Sure, I can do that."
"And then," he paused. "We could go get that coffee you were talking about yesterday?"
"Sure." This time he could hear the smile on her face. "I need… to talk to someone."
"And I haven't listened to you talk in a while." The statement was accompanied by a grin. "So, that's your incentive to coming in."
"Got it. Just give me an hour or so to let them in."
It was sad, Nick reflected quietly, as he hung up the phone and stood, on the hunt for paint and a large sheet of paper. She couldn't even bare to say Rachel's name aloud without getting angry about it. Why was she so jealous?