SPOILERS: I thought I ought to give you a heads up on spoilers for this one, as it has a brief mention of "No Humans Involved" I was going to put a warning up for "Mea Culpa" with this one too, but then I thought, "...uh, DUH?" So, Everything up to NHI is at liberty to be mentioned in this fic.
A/N: WOW, You guys have blown me away the reviews! I've never gotten such awesome feedback from my first chapter of a WIP. It Inspired me to do another real quick! I've had a couple offers to beta, but have come to realize that my schedule really won't allow me to wait for a beta response, although I may use some of the offers over Xmas Break, so thanks guys. 'Till then, hope you can all forgive my typos and junk. I was so happy with how many of you thought I kept them IC and liked the characters I'm using. Anyway, next installment has arrived, so Read On!
"Ok, Nicky, let me in there, I need a sample of those maggots." Grissom waited for the Texan to move, pulling out another jar.
"Sure, man, be my guest!" Nick put up no protest, his face scrunched in distaste.
"Hey," Warrick spoke up, his eyes on Nick. "Did you see that episode of House, M.D. a few weeks ago?"
Nick frowned, putting the camera equipment back in the black leather case. "I don't watch that, why?"
Warrick shrugged. "You missed a good one, then. Some girl had a tape worm in her brain that was killing her; reproduced a bunch more that were living in her body." He grinned at Nick, who groaned.
"Oh, God, War, that's sick! Why the hell would you tell me that?" He came around the vic to shove Warrick lightly.
"Hey man, don't get mad at me!" The black man held up his hands, smirking. "You're worse about it than Sara."
"Hey you two, we're at work, remember? That being the place where you, uh...work? So get on it," Catherine called to them, from where she was still photographing the oldest body.
"Alright, alright," Nick groused, and crouched down to pull some leaves out of the freshest victim's hair.
They worked in silence for a while as Grissom took the last few insects he needed, and the others finished collecting the rest of the evidence. "So, how are things going with Sofia and Greg?" Catherine asked Grissom a few moments later. She wasn't ready to bring up Sara just yet.
"Sofia is...well, she does her job," Grissom said, hesitating. The truth was, he didn't know much about her, and he didn't care to. "She can be a bit...overzealous," He said, thinking back to his first time working with her, and their recent case where she chased after the suspect to recover the gun.
Warrick grinned. "Sounds like she and Sara will get along fine."
Grissom frowned, wondering first how Sara was doing on her case, and secondly if Sara and Sofia did get along. "She flirts with me," he blurted out, and then blinked, knowing this was not at all what he had planned to say.
Three snorts of laughter replied. "Who, Sofia, or Sara?" Catherine was the only one brave enough to question.
Grissom's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. He didn't want to say both, because Sara really didn't any more, and for some reason, when she had done it, it had been an entirely different sort of thing than Sofia. Maybe because he had welcomed it with Sara? "Sofia," he said blandly, struggling to get his equilibrium back. "So, what about your guys on Swing Shift? Palmer, Coleman and Hall, isn't it? You guys like them?"
They went willingly with the subject change, Catherine's face impassive, and Nick and Warrick looking disgusted. "Not...not particularly Griss. They're more of...uh, Dayshift's breed," Warrick said, scooping some dirt into a manilla pouch.
"You'd think they crawled right out of Ecklie's ass," Nick muttered, loudly enough for them all to hear.
"Nick!" Catherine said sharply, but then she sighed. "Don't say it again, because as Supervisor, I'm not allowed to tell you how much I agree." Nick just nodded.
"Well...I'm sure you'll settle in after a while," Grissom said. In his head, his voice reminded him bitterly that he did not think so at all. He missed his old team.
Finally, Catherine stood up, rolling her shoulders, followed by Grissom, who winced as his knees cracked in protest. "Warrick, go ahead and call in David, he's waiting up on the road to come get them." Warrick nodded at the blonde, and disappeared through the trees.
"So...we've got three vics, all male, and all in various states of decay, and....not much else," Nick said, scratching his head.
Catherine nodded, looking around. "The soil's too loose to keep footprints preserved, and no fingerprints were found anywhere."
"Well, when I get a time line set up, we'll at least have a starting point," Grissom returned, examining a pine-bark beetle scuttling around happily inside a small specimen jar.
Nick shook his head. "I never did get how you could put all your faith in bugs, Grissom."
Grissom looked up, eyeing his former CSI thoughtfully. "Bugs don't lie, Nick. People do. People also make mistakes, confusing details and messing up evidence." HE sighed. "Bugs have only facts, and they are the evidence."
"Yeah, and you don't have to interact with them like people," Catherine added, grinning at him. He only shrugged, the side of his mouth quirking up. "Ah, hey David!" She called brightly when the Assistant Coroner came heading towards them, stretchers and body bags in tow with his fellow workers. Warrick loped ahead of them, reaching the CSI's with a beleaguered look on his face that told them all he had an idea in his mind.
"What's up Warrick?" Grissom wondered if he was stepping on Catherine's toes, but a quick glance told him she didn't mind.
"Found something we missed." He held up a slip of paper. "Fell out of the newest vic's pocket." He handed it to Catherine, who read the words on the paper coaster. Sunset Casino.
"Well, now we know something we didn't before, and we've got a starting point," She said, with a small smile of satisfaction. "So, Gil, If you'll go back to the lab and start the time line, The boys and I will go--"
"Hey!" Nicks shout cut her off, and they all looked to find him staring up towards the road at a form plodding steadily towards them. "Hey, you can't come down here, this is a crime scene!"
The figure, a thin man who looked like he was in his mid-thirties, stumbled to a halt about 30 yards from them, heavily dropping the bundle he'd carried over his shoulder with a disappointed expression. As the CSI's gazes caught sight of stiff fingers peeking out from the blue cloth bag the man had dropped on the dirt ground, the stranger's reply perfectly mirrored their thoughts. "Damn."
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"Yeah, Brass, I know the kid was only twelve, but since I'm currently looking down on what could very likely kill us all, I think you'd better call the damn bomb squad anyway!...Yes, Brass, I can confidently say it's not a dud!" Sara didn't bother to coat her anger, trying to still her shaking hands. Greg stood frozen, looking at her from the ground, his eyes wide and glassy. Sara tried to give him a weak smile as Brass's voice attempted to calm her.
"Yeah, Brass, we're fine, for now. Just call the bomb squad and no one comes inside....No, Brass, we can't leave the scene, or risk tripping the bomb." Her eyes followed the thin wire trailing across the ceiling from the lamp and down to the doorjamb. It was a miracle it hadn't blown already, as many times as the door had been open. They couldn't risk trying it again. "...We've just got to...yeah. We've just got to wait. Ok...We'll uh, we'll call you in a few...yeah." Shoving her cell back into her pocket, she peered at Greg again, who still hadn't moved since helping her up onto the table to look inside the light cover.
"You, uh, wanna help me down, Greggo?" He blinked at her, but didn't reply. Swallowing hard, she tried again. "Come on, Greg, give me a hand."
He blinked again, his face twisting into confusion. "H-huh? Oh, oh, Sorry S-Sara." He clumsily thrust an unsteady hand in her direction, and she slid gently back down to the floor, afraid of making to much movement or noise. She guessed it was on a timer, but she hadn't seen one, and she didn't want to take any risks.
"Greg?" She didn't let go of his hand, tugging him gently over to the far wall of the dinning room. "Sit down."
"B-but the evidence-" He muttered, even as he slumped onto the ground. Sara followed him.
"We've collected and recorded everything we can." Greg just shook his head slightly, and leaned it against the wall.
As she looked at him, Sara felt quit a few things. First being fear, followed closely by guilt. She was the Primary on this case, the one responsible for making sure it was safe for other members of the team to do their jobs. And she had messed up. Badly.
And it was worse than that, she decided. She had let Greg down. Failed a friend, who had already been through this deal once, and obviously wasn't doing well with a possible repeat performance. Not that she was cool and collect either, she reminded herself absently, as a shudder of fear trailed down her spine and through her limbs.
"Will Grissom be pissed?" His voice startled her, and she jerked her head around to face him again. Damn! She hadn't even thought about calling Grissom. She'd thought about him, yes, but never about trying to reach him. Oddly enough, she felt no desire to get out her cell.
"Yeah, probably," She muttered back, dropping her eyes to stare blankly at the fading scar in her palm. Hearing Greg's sigh, she spoke again. "But not at you. Greg, believe me. You've done good today." She closed her eyes. "Today was your last proficiency, you know. Your last chance, actually."
"Oh? How'd I do?"
"You passed with flying colors, Greggo."
"I missed the bomb." He sounded dejected and...scared.
Sara's snort surprised him. "Greg, I'm the damn Primary. If I didn't notice the bomb, I can hardly dock off points from you for not noticing."
He managed a grin. "If we get out of this alive, I'm going to buy you breakfast, Sara. No meat, even!" She smiled back at him, but it faded as the reality of his words hit them both. If we get out alive.
"Sara?" His voice was small and young sounding.
"Yeah Greg."
He swallowed. "What do we do now?"
A flash of images burst in her brain. I don't know what to do about... 'this.' She almost laughed at how well it fit. She was just as lost anyone right now. "We wait, Greg. We wait."
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Brass swore as he hung up the phone. The squad couldn't get there for fifteen minutes, and since Sara had said it looked unstable....he swore again. He had no way of knowing how much time they'd have.
Glancing over at Billy, he gritted his teeth. What the hell was going on? A twelve year old built a bomb with help of his toddler brother, that was now about to take out 2 of the best CSI's in the state?
"Hell Bells," He muttered, curling and uncurling his now sweaty hands. He needed to clear the scene, get everyone away. Sara was in there. Sara. He'd come to think of her like a niece, she was just getting her life together, Grissom still hadn't gotten his head out of his ass...Shit, Grissom!
He yanked his phone out of his pocket, nearly dropping it in shock when it began to ring. Glancing at the Caller ID, he took a calming breath before answering. "You OK, Kiddo?" Sara's voice still sounded slightly detached, but it was more natural than it had been 10 minutes ago. "...Yeah, yeah, their ETA is 15 minutes. How's Greg?" The 'fine' he got was laced with enough sarcasm to let him know how the Rookie really was. Greg had always irritated him, but if Brass was honest with himself, it was because he had chosen cop instead of Lab Tech. Not that he had the brains, but...
Pulling himself out of his internal rambling, he responded, "Hang in there, OK, Sar? Just sit tight and we'll get you both out...Yeah, I was just about to call him, but are you sure you don't want to do it?" He knew the answer already, and knew there were so many reasons she didn't want to. "...Ok, yeah, I'll call him. You'll be alright, Sara, OK? Call me back if you need me. I'm waiting right outside..." She hung up without a 'goodbye' for which he was grateful, already disgusted with the way this was playing out.
He punched in the first two numbers of Grissom's cell, and then really dropped his phone this time, when a car came screaming down the street, careening over the curb and cutting into the lawn, howling to a burning halt half a foot from Brass's kneecap. When air returned to his lungs, he swore again, just for good measure. Definitely getting to old for this.
The woman who staggered out of the car, still in her Casino uniform, was nothing short of hysterical. "Where are they?" Her scream was choked and she collapsed onto Brass, clinging to his shoulder as she sobbed. "Oh God! Where are my babies?"
Prying the distraught mother off of him, he slid a hand under her arm, and helped her over to the ambulance. "Billy is right here, Mrs..." He searched his mind. "...Mrs. Nieman. He's right here."
Malory Nieman pulled her son off the back off the ambulance and into a tight hug as the little boy started to cry. "Mommy, Mommy! I'm sowwy! Awex fell, Mommy, he fell."
The woman began to cry harder, though Brass had not thought it was possible. "I know, baby, I know, but you're OK, and that's all that matters right now, OK? That's..." She broke off with another sob.
Brass waited a respectful moment before approaching her. "Mrs. Nieman?" She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. "Mrs. Nieman, I'm Jim Brass, a detective with the LVPD. I'm really very sorry for you loss. I know this must be difficult for you, but, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions."
She nodded, pulling back her light brown hair from her face, where it had slipped some time ago. "Of...of course, Det. Brass."
"First..." Brass glanced anxiously at the house. HE really needed to clear the scene before the bomb squad got here. And Grissom...He bit his lip. "First, you need to be made aware of some things, Mrs. Nieman. It...It looks as though Alex simply fell. We thought at first there was some foul-play involved, but, according to the scene examiners, it seems that I was just an accident."
"He fell, Mommy," Billy intoned softly, from his spot nestled against his mother.
She ran a hand through her son's hair. "Shh...it's ok, Baby." She looked back at Brass. "Is there something else?"
Brass swallowed, not sure how to proceed. Suddenly, something Billy had said flashed in his mind. "What did Billy's dad do for living, Mrs. Nieman."
A look of confusion crossed her features. "He was a scientist. He uh, worked in the FBI on, on bomb dismantling. He..he died last year in a bad bomb search..." Her face crumpled and another tear slipped down her cheek. "Why?"
Brass felt a cold wave of fear wash over him, his subconscious hope that the bomb was a dud having just been shot down. "Mrs. Nieman...It...it looks as though Alex may have been....building a bomb. We think he might have fallen when he was trying to place the bomb in a light in the dinning room, but, it was fully operational. Two Crime Scene Analysts are..." He swallowed. "...are stuck inside, Mrs. Nieman. And the bomb squad is on its way." He let out a slow breath as her face froze in horror. "Could...was Alex capable of making a bomb, Mrs. Nieman?" He prayed the answer was no.
Very slowly, Malory nodded. "Oh yes," she said faintly. "Yes, he was."
Reality slammed into him with the weight of a pickup truck. Gasping, Brass whirled around, running over with a speed he didn't know he had to one of the cops still trying to keep back the viewers who were staring at him with wide eyes. Grabbing the seasoned-looking officer, he said, "Williams, get on that bullhorn, and get these people away. We've got a bomb."
Acting without hesitation, the cop nodded. Grabbing the horn he bellowed into it, "PLEASE CLEAR THE SCENE! GET BACK! THERE'S A POSSIBLE BOMB ON THE PREMISES. ALL CIVILIANS ARE ASKED TO LEAVE THE SCENE IMMEDIATELY!"
Watching with detached interest, Brass noticed that he had never scene lookie-lous clear the scene as fast as they arrived, until now.
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Sara had almost finished the periodic table when Greg drew in a sharp breath. "Oh shit." Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at his now pale face quickly.
"Greg?" He didn't answer, staring at something across the room, his wide eyes dark with horror. "Greg!"
He turned to her slowly. "Sara," his whisper was dry and rough. "Sara, the light is on a timer. I've got one like that at my house. It turns the light on and off every 40 minutes."
Sara's stomach twisted slowly in on itself.
"He's used the light as the power source, Sara. That's why the bomb is up in the light, because it's fused with the wiring. And since the light is on a timer..." the bomb was too. "And," a shudder wracked his frame, and her hand shot out to grip his arm without knowing it. "We've been in here..." She already knew it was too long. "...We've been in here l-long enough. The light is gonna go off any second. And so is the bomb. It...the door doesn't matter."
Neither of them moved, their minds lethargic with terror and shock. Something inside them told them they couldn't get out in time anyway. As the seconds ticked away, all Sara could think was that she had no idea who would water the plant Grissom had given her.
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Once the crowd dispersed, Brass shook his head numbly and returned to the Ambulance where Billy and Mrs. Nieman still stood. An armored van rolled into the driveway at that moment, breaking the yellow police tape carelessly. Giving Mrs. Nieman what he hoped was a reassuring look, Brass turned to await as the armored crew hopped out of the van, shouting orders and getting equipment ready. He felt some muscles in his neck relax a little at the thought that this would all be over soon, and Greg and Sara would get out of there unharmed.
But as he stood watching, a peculiar sensation crept over him, a feeling of dread tingling in the pit of his stomach like nothing he'd ever felt before. Frozen, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rising up. Brass's eyes clampedshut and heswore a final time as a shattering explosion threw everything into brilliant chaos.
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Across town, as the sun began to rise over Las Vegas, Gil Grissom's cell phone rang.
Ok, wow, this is crazy. Another cliffy, I know, and I'm...NOT SORRY! MUAHAHAHA ::chokes:: Uh, yeah, anyway, when I finished this, I started to laugh, because...well, here's a secret. This was originally supposed to be a three chapter piece that was just GSR fluff all the way. Well, so much for that. This thing has seriously taken on a life of its own, and I really hope you guys are liking it. Thanks for Reading!