Fragments
Author: Teenwitch
Disclaimer: CSI is the property of CBS, Anthony Zuicker, and Alliance Atlantis. No infringement intended whatsoever.
Rating: PG-13 - Contains character death
Summary: A routine crime investigation turns horribly wrong, and graveshift are forced to deal with the loss of one of their own. Some of them will handle it less destructively than others...

-

Grissom

Grissom left the sanctity of his office for the DNA lab with a certain level of reluctance, knowing that sooner or later, he would have to face Greg to retrieve the samples he had left with him earlier.

Shift was unusually slow these last few days, and he was enjoying the simple, methodical process of cataloguing his bug collection in the privacy of his office. The case he had was hardly pressing, and the DNA match would only solidify the concrete evidence they already had against the robbery suspect.

Catherine was on her day-off, and unlike him, needed little persuasion to spend some quality time at home. But then, unlike him, she had someone to spend it with.

Sara, Warrick and Nick were investigating a murder out in the Las Vegas National Park, which sounded like a shooting accident and nothing elaborate enough to require his three on duty CSIs. But he thought the three of them might explode if they were forced to remain cooped up in the office much longer, and he sacrificed the mildly interesting diversion of the field to their younger, nimble minds, attempting some paperwork instead.

His pager went off as he reached the door to his office, and he frowned as he read a '911' message from Catherine. He pulled out his cell phone, realising he had turned it off earlier when he had been concentrating on his work, and dialled her number, turning back from the lab and striding towards the break room.

"Gil?" Her voice was breathless and far away; she sounded like she was driving.

He frowned. "Where are you?"

"Why haven't you got your phone turned on?" she grilled, ignoring the question. "I've been trying to call you!"

"Catherine-"

"Brass called", she cut him off impatiently. "I'll meet you at the lab, so don't leave. He wouldn't give away any details, but he said to get to the National Park ASAP".

Grissom furrowed his brow, stopping in the doorway to the breakroom. A feeling of apprehension crept into his gut. "I thought the others had a handle on it?"

"I know... Gil, I'm worried. I think something's happened. Jim sounded... off. Look, I'm five minutes away, so sit tight, okay?"

She hung up, leaving Grissom to stare at the dead phone uneasily. He then checked his voicemail, and felt a cold chill as Brass's flat tone met his ears.

"Grissom, I don't know what you're doing, but we need you at the crime scene now. Atwater's already here... this place is a mess, Gil. I'm calling Cath... maybe she can get through to you. Look, I can't explain it now. Just... just get here, okay?"

The call cut out, and Grissom closed his cell, swallowing unsteadily. If both Brass and Catherine wanted him at the crime scene, something serious must be going on. Especially if the Sheriff needed to be involved. He clenched his fists unconsciously, drawing in a slow breath. And tried to tell himself it couldn't be nearly as terrible as it seemed.

-

Catherine was no cautious driver at the best of times, but Grissom was quite sure she broke several speed laws in her haste across town, and he was too plagued by anxiety to fear to his life as he usually might have.

The National Park was on the outer edges of Las Vegas, and even at Cath's frightful speed, they didn't reach it for a good forty minutes.

Flashing lights indicated a buzz of activity at what should have been a reasonably routine crime scene, and Catherine swerved to the side of the road, pulling up just short of hitting the bumper of a police car.

Yellow crime scene tape shielded the scene, and Grissom and Catherine ducked underneath, struggling to make out the darkened scene in the blinking blue and red emergency lights, and the frenzy of activity. Several paramedics strode by, and Catherine clutched his upper arm fiercely.

"Gil..."

He followed her gaze, ad instantly spotted Sara and Warrick huddled together against the back of an ambulance. EMTs seemed to be taking little notice of them, so he had to assume they were okay.

As they drew near, he realised Warrick, standing against the rear door, expression impassive, had his arm suspended in a white sling. Sara sat on the back on the ambulance tray with her knees to her chin, and a deep, nasty gash stood out on her forehead, hastily stitched closed by an EMT obviously in dire need elsewhere.

Grissom and Catherine hurried over, dodging between officers and detectives scouring the area, and both were so dazed it took Grissom's voice to snap them to attention.

"Guys?"

Warrick blinked, meeting his gaze. Sara barely looked up, concentrating intently at something on the ground.

Grissom was at a loss. He wanted to relieve the iron fist that had taken hold of his heart, but some instinct within did not yet allow him that release.

"Guys, what happened here?"

"Are you okay?" Catherine added abruptly, as though his first thought had not been their safety.

She moved over to Warrick. "Oh my God, your arm!"

Warrick shrugged her off, smiling in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's nothing. Just a scratch".

Sara didn't say anything. Catherine glanced at her uneasily. "Sara? You okay? Your head..."

"I'm fine", she said hollowly, still looking at the ground.

Grissom stared at her, unwilling to comprehend the thoughts slowly making themselves known in his head. He felt a sinking in his gut that had everything to do with her expression.

"Where's Nick?"

Sara jumped off the ambulance blindly, shoving past him before reaching the edge of the nature walk, and the sounds of her emptying her stomach somehow reached his ears of the unnatural hubbub around them.

Warrick's gaze darted away, studiously avoiding any contact with Grissom or Catherine's probing stares, and unconsciously landed on a vehicle behind them.

With excruciating slowness, Grissom found his way around the ambulance, and all sound dropped away completely, which could no longer be accounted to his hearing loss, as his attention fixated on that one, simple place.

The coroner's van was open at the back, and a white swathed figure slowly slid up onto it, moving with a fluid grace, like a dove fluttering into darkness.

Brass appeared in his view, and his lips moved, but Grissom heard no sound. He spoke again, and this time is words bore some sort of meaning, as his grim eyes met his with a weathered sort of wisdom that had seen too much, but that never got easier.

"I'm sorry, Gil".

Behind him, he was distinctly aware of Catherine sinking to her knees on the ground, sobbing unlike he had ever heard her.

Brass lowered his head, struggling to offer... something. Some measure of comfort. "There was nothing... nothing they could do".

Warrick knelt beside Catherine, trying to comfort her himself. Grissom started to move past Brass.

"Gil... I don't think you want to..."

Grissom stared at him with a deep intensity, and Brass quickly moved out of his way.

The coroner was a familiar face to him, but David only met his eyes briefly before ducking his head, not met with the wise, occasionally caustic supervisor of the graveyard shift, but with a grieving friend.

"Dr. Grissom I'm... I'm sorry. I h-have to take the body".

"Just a minute, David".

Without waiting for a response, Grissom knelt forward, and slid his fingers under the soft, white fabric. He could only look for a second at the unrecognisable figure beneath, before turning away, covering his face with his hand. David subtly covered up the body again, closing the doors with a bang of adverse finality.

"I'm sorry", he repeated sincerely and climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine.

Grissom barely heard him, only questioning to himself how something so simple had been so effectively and swiftly taken out of his control.

-

TBC