A week and a half later, Grissom was sitting in his office before shift started. Greg knocked on the frame of the open door and poked his head in. Grissom ushered him in before he could speak. "Greg, sit," Grissom instructed, "close the door behind you."
Greg did what Grissom asked and held up the papers he held in his hand. "I've got all of the DNA results from the conspiracy case," Greg spoke, handing the papers to Grissom.
Grissom leafed through the papers and looked back up at Greg. "Have you looked through all of these already?" Grissom asked.
"Yes, I've got all of the connections written down also," Greg spoke, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.
"Okay, I'll let you present what you have when I gather everyone for assignments."
"Are we done?" Greg asked, not wanting to leave before he was supposed to.
"No," Grissom replied, "we still need to talk about the exchanged evidence."
Greg's face fell, for he knew the talk had been coming, and he knew it wasn't going to be good. "Greg, although you did not lose the evidence per se, it was in your custody when it was taken from the lab," Grissom explained, "it was all apparently done while you were sitting right there. How did that happen?"
"Grissom, I don't really know," Greg admitted, "I'm always very careful to watch everything in the lab. The sheriff, or whoever the guy was, was talking to me while the samples were out. Everything was sitting in test tubes, and I don't remember seeing him touch anything."
"Alright Greg," Grissom spoke, "it doesn't matter now, it's done with. The lab is still restricted to CSI only, no one else belongs in here. However, since you technically lost the evidence while it was in your custody, I have to put a note about it in your file. It's department protocol."
Greg fought to keep his head upright. "It's going to be longer until I can become a CSI, isn't it?" Greg asked, feeling defeated.
"Yes," Grissom answered, "although this didn't happen out in the field, competent CSIs must be able to know where the evidence is at all times. No evidence, no case."
Greg felt Grissom's words hammering into his mind. Greg nodded to prove to Grissom that he had understood. "Take your results and meet me in the lab," Grissom said, handing the papers back to Greg, "I'll be there in a few minutes."
Greg accepted the papers and headed out the door. Grissom watched him leave, and he gathered the assignment slips together. Sometimes I wish this job was just about the cases, not about the discipline and the politics. The joys of being the supervisor.
Grissom frowned when he entered the break room. "Warrick, what are you doing here?" Grissom asked, noting his presence on the couch, "Aren't you supposed to be taking Catherine home?"
Warrick shook his head. "Her sister took her home this morning," Warrick spoke, dropping the subject.
Grissom didn't seem to want any more information. "What are you doing here then?" Grissom questioned.
"I do still work here, right?" Warrick stated, "My week of suspension is up, and I don't have anywhere else to be. I can help with whatever needs to be done in the lab."
Grissom looked at Warrick's ankle and shook his head. "Yes Warrick, you do work here. You're to stay in the lab until that cast comes off. Help out whoever needs it," Grissom instructed.
Warrick nodded, and Grissom turned to address the group. "Sara, take Greg, you've got a 419. Nick, you're solo, a B&E. I've got a convenience store robbery," Grissom stated, "however, before everyone leaves, Greg has the DNA results from the conspiracy case."
Grissom gestured toward Greg, and Greg cleared his throat in slight nervousness. "First of all, I was able to identify the two bodies. They were Ecklie and Atwater, just like we thought," Greg explained, "blood evidence pulled from the freezer shows that both of them were in that freezer at some point."
Greg glanced around the room, and he received a couple of nods. "The hairs that Nick collected from the coffin match the hairs Grissom found in the freezer, and they also match the skin cells Warrick found on Ecklie's shirt. Elias Thompson was in that coffin at some point, and in the freezer at some point, but we couldn't find his body."
"So Elias Thompson, the guy posing as Ecklie, had some kind of contact with Ecklie," Nick stated.
"From statements from the suspects, it would appear that Elias Thompson killed Ecklie," Sara concluded.
"Yes," Grissom spoke, "but we don't have any evidence to prove that. We don't have evidence to prove anything else."
"Case is cold," Warrick stated.
Grissom nodded. "I figured everyone should know where we stand with that case right now. It goes up on the board with every other one," Grissom said.
Grissom looked around the room and started toward the door. "Let's get to our scenes, crime doesn't take nights off," Grissom stated before walking out the door.
The team dispersed and headed for their separate scenes.
On their drive to the 419, Sara thought Greg seemed rather quiet. "Is something wrong Greg?" Sara asked.
"Nah, I'm just kicking myself I guess," Greg stated.
"For what?" Sara asked, puzzled as to what he was referring to.
"Griss talked to me this morning about the swapped evidence," Greg stated.
Sara immediately understood what was bothering him. "You're going to have to wait to become a CSI," Sara spoke.
Greg nodded. "Greg, it won't be that much longer," Sara stated, "just wait until all of the dust clears. It'll happen soon enough."
Although Greg was still thinking about his punishment, he tried to appear to be himself. "I wonder what happened with Cath," Greg spoke, trying to change the subject.
Sara allowed Greg to redirect their conversation. "I think she's having some mixed feelings about things," Sara said, purposely trying not to be too specific.
"She took the safe route and had her sister take her home," Greg stated, "she didn't have to see Warrick that way."
"True."
"Catherine never takes the safe route," Greg emphasized.
"Greg, I don't read minds," Sara stated, "and I don't want to end up in the middle of this. Catherine needs to heal, and all that matters is that she got home."
"Should Warrick even be driving?" Greg asked.
"Probably not," Sara spoke, "his right foot is fine, but it's still not a great idea. With everything else, I don't think anyone is going to call him on it though."
Greg accepted Sara's statement and dropped the subject. They both stayed silent the rest of the drive.
After shift, Warrick drove to Catherine's house and knocked on the door. A minute later, Lindsey appeared. "How's your mom?" Warrick asked.
"She's tired, but she's okay. Come on in, she's in the living room," Lindsey spoke, opening the door wider to allow him to pass.
Warrick made his way into the living room and found Catherine in her pajamas, sitting stiffly on the couch. "Hey," Catherine spoke, watching as Warrick crossed the room and sat on the coffee table in front of her.
Warrick set his crutches off to the side and turned his attention back to Catherine. "How do you feel?" Warrick asked, carefully avoiding the subject of how she had gotten home, for he realized that she was just anxious about riding with him, especially since he had a broken ankle.
"Stiff and tired," Catherine replied.
"Have you gotten any sleep since you came home yesterday?"
"Some. My neck is just bothering me so much that I can't find a way to be comfortable. The special pillow I'm supposed to sleep on isn't helping anything either."
Warrick was about to speak when Lindsey entered the living room. "Mom, my ride's here, I need to go to school," Lindsey spoke.
"Come over here," Catherine stated.
Lindsey walked over and gave her mother a careful hug when Catherine reached her arms out. "Mom, I'll be fine, I'm just going to school," Lindsey tried to reassure Catherine.
"I know, just be careful. I'll see you later," Catherine spoke, allowing Lindsey to leave.
Once Catherine and Warrick were alone again, Warrick rested his hand on her knee. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Warrick asked.
"Make the pain stop," Catherine said, giving him a small smile.
"Have you taken medication?"
"Yes, but it just dulls the pain, it doesn't get rid of it."
"When is the last time you had ice on your neck?"
"A while ago."
"Well, how about I go get an icepack and treat you to a massage."
"It's not necessary."
"But you'd like it," Warrick smiled.
"Alright, I give in, you better be good at massages," Catherine warned.
"I believe you'll find my services more than satisfactory," Warrick joked.
Catherine lightly slapped Warrick's hand and allowed him to retrieve an icepack from the kitchen.
When Warrick returned from the kitchen, he placed the dishtowel wrapped icepack across Catherine's neck and shoulders. He then sat across from her once again. "How's that?" Warrick asked.
"I thought you said you were giving me a massage?" Catherine groaned.
"I will, the ice might help you to feel a little better first."
Warrick slid the coffee table back some and picked up one of Catherine's bare feet. He started to massage the soft sole of her foot. "How's that for a massage?" Warrick questioned.
Catherine gave him a small smile. "Feels good. I have myself a personal masseuse."
Warrick returned the smile, and after a few minutes, he turned his attention to her other foot. When he was certain that the ice had been on her neck for fifteen minutes, he made his way behind the couch and removed the ice pack. While keeping all of his weight on his right foot, Warrick rested his hands on Catherine's shoulders. "I'll go really slow and try to work out some of the kinks," Warrick spoke, "you've got to tell me if I'm hurting you."
"Okay," Catherine replied.
"How's your nose?" Warrick asked, looking at the temporary cast encasing it while massaging her shoulders.
"I have to go back to the doctor in a week so he can reevaluate his work. Until then, it's a pain to have to keep my head up all of the time."
"Can't let the blood rush to your head."
"Believe me, I've gotten a long enough lecture from my doctor."
Warrick smiled and carefully started to massage Catherine's neck. He abruptly stopped when Catherine moaned. "Cath?" Warrick said, worried he had hurt her.
"I think that's enough for today," Catherine spoke, wincing.
"Where does it hurt?" Warrick asked.
"The back of my head and down my neck," Catherine replied, "I think I'd like to go lay down."
Warrick limped back to the other side of the couch and noticed that Catherine had gotten much paler. "Are you okay?" Warrick asked.
"Yeah," Catherine replied, "it just hurts a lot. Once I relax the pain should subside a little."
Warrick nodded and carefully helped Catherine up off of the couch. "Are you okay to walk?"
"Yeah, it's not like you're going to walk anywhere anyway. Why don't you just go on home and get some rest? You have to work later."
"If you don't mind, I'm going to make sure you get into bed okay first," Warrick stated, "I can't have you collapsing on the floor and ending up back in the hospital."
"Okay," Catherine stated, walking toward her bedroom.
With his crutches, Warrick followed close behind. Once Warrick was sure that Catherine was safe in bed, he quietly let himself out of the house, locking the door behind him. Well, at least she's in a good mood. She doesn't seem to resent me, and she's surely not pushing me away. What the future may bring.