One Of Us 9/?

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"Look, just shut up about it, wouldya, Sidle? I'll go when I have the time."

"Hey, I understand. We all feel a little sick when we see what they did to him, but..."

Nick turned his most intensely angry gaze on Sara and her words petered out.

"You don't understand. Leave it there, 'cause if you can't... we're gonna have a problem."

"Got it. Officially backing off."

"Good. Now, can we get moving on this? We've had this warrant for an hour and I don't feel like givin' Mrs. Carstairs any more time to think about our visit the other day."

"I'm sure all she's been thinking about is that grin you threw her." Sara tossed out as they moved into the building, followed by three uniformed officers.

"What?"

"Please! You do it every time. Beautiful female suspect, gotta keep her from getting suspicious before we have our evidence together. Bam, out comes the "I'm just a sweet, non-threatening, gorgeous hunk of cowboy" smile and her guard drops faster than a mosquito at a reptile convention."

Nick made a half-turn away from the opening elevator doors, crossed his arms on his chest and confronted Sara face to face.

"I do not do that."

"Hey, whatever you say, Nicky. Next time the situation comes up an' I'm the one with the camera...." she teased as she stepped in. He followed a few seconds later, his expression rapidly darkening.

"I don't flirt with suspects. Not even pretty ones." he insisted.

"Did I say it was flirting? So you've got an incredible smile. It's a tool you use to get the job done. Whatever works...."

"Yeah... maybe." he murmured, his mind suddenly far away.

When they reached the second floor a minute or so later, Sara tried to keep the teasing going, but Nick didn't respond. Silent, he moved directly to the door of the apartment and knocked. When it opened, the shock on the face of Sheila Carstairs was clear.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Ms. Carstairs? Nick Stokes from the Las Vegas crime lab. We met before?"

"Oh... Oh, yes. Well, I don't know what more I can do for you..."

"You can wait in the hall with these officers while we search your apartment."

"I don't think..."

"We have a warrant. If you'll step aside..."

Dumbfounded, the woman sidestepped into the hall, allowing Nick and Sara to enter. Throughout the hour or so it took for the pair to collect all the evidence they needed, the younger woman tried repeatedly to re-establish the easy rapport they usually had with each other, but her partner refused to even speak, remaining distant and close-mouthed. When they'd finished, Nick left first, directing one of the officers to bring Sheila Carstairs to the station for questioning. Sara watched him go with a confused expression, but soon trailed behind, reaching the SUV a few minutes after he did.

"Nick, say something, damn it. I wasn't trying to bust your balls. I was playin', you know... bein' me."

"I know, Sara. It's not really anything you did. Sometimes... I think too much. Let it go, okay?"

"Yeah... okay."

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THIRTY MINUTES LATER: THE STATION

"Whoa. Twenty-three cards already." Warrick commented softly, looking through the pile of envelopes designated for delivery to Greg.

"And at least half that many e-mails. I think my printer ran for forty minutes straight. I may have to replace the cartridge." Grissom replied, neatening the stack of papers and adding them to the cards.

"Still nothing on who might have attacked Greg?"

"No. No leads yet."

"And he doesn't remember anything?"

"I haven't asked him and I'm not letting anyone else do it either."

"We need a starting point at least. I know he's still hurting, but if he can give us that..."

"No. The first move has to be his. He'll let us know when he's ready."

"And if the bastards vanish in the mean-time?"

"I highly doubt they will. This assault feels personal, Warrick. They could have dumped him in the street or chosen not to move him at all. Instead, they left him in the most degrading condition imaginable and made sure he'd be found. That's a grudge. "

"And if they're sick enough to do it that way, they'll wanna stick close to see his pain."

"Advantage to the good guys. Once Greg is able to look at what's left of his memories from that night, if he can give us anything helpful his attackers probably won't be hard to find."

"The only problem will be keepin' half the department from beatin' the perps heads through the floor." Warrick said grimly as he gathered the cards and notes and rose to his feet.

"Mmmm. One reason I'll be keeping strictly out of the way when they're brought in." Grissom mumbled, head down as he focused on paperwork.

"Yeah.... if there was any situation I can see you givin' somebody a beat down, it'd be this one."

Gil looked up with a small smile.

"Don't spread it around. I have a reputation to think about."

"Icewater in the veins. Gotcha." he confirmed, turning to leave and halting to listen to the end of an argument.

"Brass an' I can handle Carstairs. Take the time an' go see him before you get another assignment. If it gets busy, you might not get a chance."

"Grissom'll kick my ass if he finds out."

"If you were playin' miniature golf or goin' for ice cream, yeah, but not for this. He'll understand an' you know it."

"Nick's right, girl. Take lunch a little early. Trust me, seein' his face when you give him these... it'll be worth it." Warrick urged, handing her the collection of support and good wishes he carried. "Tell him more are comin' in every day."

"Wow. Maybe..."

Looking at her watch, Sara realized how close to lunch it actually was and that decided her. Smiling at the men, she stepped around them and addressed her boss.

"Grissom? If it's okay, I'm gonna head out for lunch a few minutes early. I thought I'd go see how Greg's feeling... deliver his cards and stuff."

"How are you and Nick coming on the Carstairs case?"

"Evidence is being processed, the wife's in a room waiting on Brass and Nicky to talk to her."

"Look solid?"

"Rock of Gibraltar."

"Okay. Go ahead. No more than two hours, though."

Sara's eyes widened at the doubling of her normal lunch period.

"Thanks. I'll make it up at the end of shift." she responded, grinning.

"That's fine. Tell him we miss him."

The further shock of the stoic Grissom making such a statement threatened to knock Sara over backwards, but she recovered quickly.

"Yeah... I will. Thanks again." she said as she backed away.

"No problem."

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THE HOSPITAL

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Greg answered, a weary grin lighting up his face.

"Cheese"

"Cheese who?" he bantered back as Sara moved to his side.

"Cheese, aren't you outta the hospital yet?"

Greg squeezed his eyes shut and laughed quietly until tears of joy rolled down his face.

"Man.... that's gotta be the worst one I've ever heard." he finally replied, looking at her through a squint and swiping at his cheeks with his hands.

"Hey I made it up on the spot. Gimme a little credit for comin' up with anything at all."

"True. Hey, it's really good to see you. What's all that stuff?"

"Yours is what it is. Get-well cards, notes, e-mails... you'll be busy for a while." she warned, carefully depositing the pile on his bedside table. He pulled one or two out and examined them briefly then stared at the rest.

"Wow. This many people care if I kicked the bucket or not? Cool..."

"Greg!"

"I didn't mean... that came out wrong. I was just surprised, that's all. I guess you never know how many lives you touch until something like this happens, huh?"

"No... I guess you don't. Grissom sent a personal message of his own, by the way."

"He did not."

"I know, hard to believe, but he said to tell you that we miss you."

Greg paused then repeated himself.

"He did not. Wait, he really did?"

"Yeah, God's honest truth."

For a long moment, Sara was silent, privately examining her thoughts and pondering whether she had the courage, or foolishness, to speak them out loud. Eventually, she breathed deeply and shoved her usual reticence aside, sensing that Greg needed to hear what she was thinking, even if her instinct was to keep it to herself. "What you said about touching people... it's true. You may feel invisible, or.... or two inches tall sometimes... and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way, but... you're not. You're one of the best I've ever seen in the lab and what you do... it makes a difference. There've been cases where DNA was all we had, and you... you kicked ass and gave peace to a lotta victim's families. A bunch of the cards and stuff are from them. I guess they saw in the paper.... wanted to tell you how they felt. So don't ever think nobody gives a damn, okay? You got all the proof you need." she finished, slapping the stack of paper.

"Sara..."

"Anyway, I've only got about another hour. Let's open some a'these up, huh? See what people have to say."

Greg smiled and allowed her to slide out of the way of any more emotional conversation.

"Yeah. Okay..."

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NICK:

"You do know why you're here, Mrs. Carstairs?" Brass intoned as he leaned against a wall just behind Sheila Carstairs. The positioning was intentional; she would be forced her to turn if she wanted to look at him, but he could study her without moving an inch. The gambit placed him in power, if only by a slim margin. With Nick's help he would soon widen that gap, however.

"It's not Mrs. I told you..."

Nick spoke next, turning her attention back to him.

"We know the truth. We looked at the landlord's records. You might as well give it up."

"Give what up? I don't know what you're talking about."

"We found these under the edge of the baseboard near your balcony." Nick said, tossing a small evidence bag on the table between him and his suspect. "Colored handblown glass... just like the candleholders in your apartment."

Sheila Carstairs glanced down at the bag and then back up at Nick.

"So I dropped a candle. What about it?"

"One, I could see that being an accident, but three? That adds up to pissed off." Brass questioned, slowly walking up behind her, now. She began to feel hemmed in and glanced rapidly back and forth from one man to the other.

"What are you trying to say..."

"You tell us." Nick continued. "We know what to make of what we see.... I mean, we can put two and two together and get four just like anybody else. But it'd really be better for you if you tell the story."

The woman in front of him stared at him blankly for almost a minute, then her face dissolved into a mask of fury and regret.

"You don't understand...."

"Talk to me then. Explain what happened."

"Matt... he was an asshole. He liked to think he was such a macho man.... He brushed my violet candle holder onto the floor and cracked it. Do you know how hard it is for even a master to create violet?! And it wasn't a mistake... he did it deliberately because he hated having so many candles in the house. Passive aggressive son of a..."

"We get the point. Go on."

"He walked out on the balcony afterwards like nothing had happened.... the holder was already ruined and I was furious... I picked it up and threw it right at his head. He must have heard me move or seen me or something... he turned and it smashed into his side... he yelled something obscene... I was seeing red by then so I picked up another candle and another... the third one came a lot closer to the target and he ducked... the damn railings are too low, I keep telling the landlord... Matt just stumbled and... lost his balance..."

Nick glanced at Brass, silently asking him to handle the arrest procedure alone. His friend complied readily and Nick walked out. For several minutes he rambled, not caring where he was going. When he looked up again, he found himself in front of the lab. It was momentarily empty, a rare occurrence, so he stepped through the open doorway, looking around, but not entirely sure what he was seeking. He walked somberly around the space, the fingers of his good hand sliding over tables, stools and counters, his mind locked into an image of a bleak hospital room and a frail, damaged young man. He knew the picture wasn't the truth, but he hadn't yet found the strength to go and see for himself, so his imagination was all he had.

The corner of a black box sticking out from under a computer station suddenly caught his eye. Moving to check it out, he found it was Greg's workplace music stash; a small inexpensive CD player and a few disks nestled into a padded plastic case. Looking over his shoulder, sure he was about to get caught, Nick rapidly flipped through the music, stopping when a certain band name and album title showed up. He had been dying to hear a particular song ever since Greg had been attacked, and the conversation he'd had with Sara earlier had only made the craving worse. Of course, he possessed nothing by the group in his own collection and the radio seemed to be intentionally trying to frustrate him by also refusing to play the song, even when he'd requested it.

Though it was a bit of a struggle with only one hand, he managed to pop the CD in. Replacing the rest he grabbed the player and swiftly left the lab, headed for the men's room. Once there, he locked himself in a stall, dropped to the floor, slipped the headphones over his ears and closed his eyes. By the time anyone missed him, he thought he might be able to play the song through at least three times, possibly more. He hoped it was more. As the soft acoustic guitar notes filtered into his ears, he leaned his head back against the cool porcelain, willing the rest of the world away, just for a while.

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes....

No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through....

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool....

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TBC.........