Title: Manufactured Catalyst
Author: FatesFolly
Summary: When a complicated case forces the CSI team to call in a criminalist with a speciality in criminal psychology, this stranger uncovers just as much about the team as the crime and forces them to re-evaluate relationships. (Casefile with eventual romance.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing (aside from Charlie and this plot). I just innocently borrow with good intent to return physically unharmed. (Mentally unharmed I can't guarantee.)
A/N: Since this plot is a bit AU, I'm going to say that it takes place between "What's Eating Gilbert Grissom" and "Formalities", leaving the team still together, Greg still needing to pass his final proficiency and Grissom's "guys who got away but I eventually caught" tally at two for two.
Chapter 2 - Time Consumer
It had been 36 hours . . . no, make that 37 hours and 21 minutes, since Charlie Kennard arrived in the lab. Nick laughed silently to himself as he thought about the woman who was busy pouring over autopsy results and examining a body on the table next to him and Doc Robbins. In that time, she had been a fairly unobtrusive presence. Charlie, her files, laptop and her, as Nick liked to think of it, dead dissected menagerie, had been moved into a small out-of-the-way office that's measurement more closely matched those of a glorified closet. However, she had no complaints about the size, and if she did, they were carefully hidden behind the detached expression on her face and the monotonous yet strangely compelling tone of her voice.
Charlie hadn't said much of anything to anyone to Nick's knowledge. In the first hour, she had familiarized herself with the lab and its layout, negating any need for further inquires on that subject. Occasionally, she would walk up behind one of the team in a disturbingly quiet manner, clearing her throat to announce her presence. Before you even had a chance to turn fully around, she would begin a rapid-fire succession of three or four questions concerning the case, only to respond to the answers with a soft "Mmm-hmm" and a curt nod of her head, seemingly in thanks. Without another word, she would spin on her heels and stride off in the opposite direction.
Snapping back to reality after a comment from Doc Robbins about the body on the table, Nick scanned over the toxicology report. "So it does look like an accidental OD. Damn, I guess we can't get 'em on anything other than criminal negligence." Nick shook his head sadly as he eyed the body of the elderly man on the autopsy table.
Doc Robbins gave a grave nod, sighing heavily. "Sorry Nick, wish I could give you more."
"No problem Doc.", Nick replied, giving the older man a friendly pat on the shoulder. "At least we can get the care-givers on that much." The sound the door to the morgue caused both Nick and the doctor to turn their head, catching the faintest glimpse of a small figure walking out of the room.
"She's a quiet one." Doc commented with a small laugh. "Do you know if she's found anything out yet? She's been in here a few times to retrieve autopsy results and ask me questions about the bodies. Actually, less 'asked' and more 'interrogated' . . . "
Nick chuckled. "Yeah, she has a way of doin' that." He continued to watch the door, "If she's found anything out, I haven't heard about it. Actually, if we're done here, I was gonna go talk to her about the case. I'm gettin' curious about it myself."
"No problem. I don't think this fellow is going to be saying anything else." Doc turned from Nick and proceeded to begin stitching up the corpse.
"Thanks again Doc, I'll give these to Sara.", Nick held up a few papers as he walked out the door to the morgue. Throwing a quick look behind him just to ensure that Charlie wasn't already looking for him, he started for the makeshift office.
Once he reached the small room, Nick noticed that the door was already opened slightly. However, he still politely knocked out of common courtesy. Upon receiving no response, Nick peered though the small opening. Seeing Charlie seated at her desk, writing furiously as she looked between autopsy photos and a yellow legal pad, Nick knocked again, this time harder. This garnered a response, but not the one he expected.
"You see the door is open, but you knock. Then you look into the office, see that I'm present, and proceed to knock again." Charlie looked up from her notes, a slightly annoyed expression on her face. "You want to know what I've found out but you're afraid to ask because you feel that you'll either be overstepping your boundaries since if I had found something out, I would have probably reported it to your superiors already. Or that you'll be pressuring me, causing my work to become inconsistent." Her voice was as edgy and monotonous as usual, but there was a hint of amusement in it. "You can come in by the way. That's why the door was open."
"Ya caught me." Nick said sheepishly as he walked into the office, making sure to return the door back to its original position behind him. "Oh, and, uh, about the other day ... sorry. I didn't realize who you were. Anyway, welcome to Las Vegas." Throwing Charlie his usual charming grin, Nick maneuvered his way around the cramped room so that he wasn't blocking the door.
"Why were you the first to greet me? Catherine was closer to the door, but you were the first to approach me." Looking back down at her notes, Charlie began to write again, turning to a clean page.
"Southern hospitality I guess. My parents always taught me..."
"Would your reaction have been different if I were male?" Never looking up from her paper, Charlie's expression was unreadable as she cut Nick off mid sentence.
Nick flinched inwardly, sensing a lecture about gender discrimination about to be unfurled. But when Charlie remained silent, Nick tentatively spoke again, "Honestly, I dunno." He looked the woman up and down, noting that her clothing was still a strange mixture of professional office-worker and concert-going teenager. Today it was a grey dress-shirt with a tan and olive plaid tie, a somewhat-matching knee-length plaid skirt and of course, the staple red chucks, purple watch and lime-green glasses. He hadn't though it possible, but there actually was someone who could give Greg a run for his money when it came to clothing. A chuckle escaped him at the thought, causing Charlie to look up once more.
"I remind you of Greg, don't I?" She raised an eyebrow slightly, staring intently at Nick. For a moment, he wondered if "psychologist" was really polite slang for "psychic", but before he could comment, Charlie continued. "One of the Day-Shift members pointed out the similarities in dress already. Although it wasn't with the same fondness that you seem to hold."
Nick gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Ah, don't worry 'bout the Day-Shift. They don't understand Greggo all that well."
"Mmm hmm." Charlie tapped the top of her pen against her chin, nodding slowly. Her eyes continued to study Nick, and he felt like he had suddenly turned into some type of specimen under a microscope. "And, of course, you do. Understand Greg that is."
"Well, we are coworkers and..."
"You know, I bet that you like the whole 'Good Ol' Boy from Texas' appearance." Charlie pointed the pen at Nick now, waving it in his direction to emphasize certain words. She apparently had no qualms about interrupting people. " You probably work very hard to maintain it for your coworkers. First to help a female, warm smile, friendly banter. Classic." The almost fanatical glimmer that had begun to shin in her eyes made Nick squirm slightly. He suddenly felt very sympathetic towards any suspect who might have the misfortune of being interrogated by her.
"Hey, I'm jus' me." Nick shrugged innocently, "I don't think I could be someone else if I tried."
"Mmm Hmm." Nick was beginning to hate that sound. "I'd wager money that your last significant relationship, or, at least, the last significant relationship that you made public, was with a female who portrayed sexuality to a high degree. A model maybe. More likely a stripper or someone else in that field of employment." Without another word, Charlie turned back to her notepad, jotting down a few more notes.
Thinking of Kristy Hopkins brought back slight pangs of guilt as Nick remembered how that had ended. At the same time, curiosity overcame him. He shifted his position slightly, raising a brow in amusement. "So, what would make ya think that?"
"Then you don't deny it. Like I said...classic." Charlie's voice sounded almost bored now as she began to shuffle around photos.
"Now wait jus' a minute! What's that supposeta mean?" Nick crossed his arms over his chest, frowning as he awaited a response.
"Just what I said." Charlie glanced up at Nick, sighing softly, her expression clearly indicating that Nick was somehow missing the obvious.
"But ya didn't say ... Oh never mind." Leaning his head down slightly, Nick pinched the bridge of his nose between his right thumb and index finger and silently replayed the entire conversation back to himself. "So, what makes ya think thatcha know so much about me Charlie? We never even had a proper introduction."
"You're Nick Stokes, level three CSI, speciality hair and fiber trace. That's all the introduction that I need." Tilting her head to the side causing some of the hair in her messy ponytail came loose, Charlie shrugged nonchalantly. "Besides, knowing someone without an introduction is my job." Opening a file and retrieving another set of photographs, she studied them carefully, eyes darting from side to side behind her glasses. Glancing down at her watch, she added casually, "This has been a most enlightening three minutes and eleven seconds."
"Okay then." Nick blinked a few times trying to clear his head. "Glad that I could be of service." Holding up the papers that he had received from Doc, he added, "Anyway, I need to get these to Sara." As he headed for the door, he turn partially around, a bemused expression on his face. "Hey Charlie, humor me."
"Yes?" Charlie continued to work, not even bothering to glance upwards.
"Can ya repeat after me? 'Silk, silk, silk'." Nick tried to hide his grin, but the little mind-trick that Grissom had pulled on him years before was still something that he'd use on strangers. They always feel for it.
"Silk, silk, silk." Charlie punctuated each word with a stroke of her pen on the tablet.
"Good, now, what do cows drink?" Nick paid close attention to his tone, keeping it smooth and level.
Charlie's response came without hesitation, her tone monotonous as she continued to write. "What species of cow, what's it's diet, and what area is it being reared in?"
"Huh, dunno." Nick knew that the surprise in his voice was thinly veiled, but he couldn't help it.
"Then why would you ask? Why would you ask me a question without having all of the facts ready to present to me?" Charlie stopped writing for a moment to flip to a new page from the file and run over her notes with a florescent pink highlighter. "And that would be the reason why I haven't told anybody anything about this case yet."
"Gottcha." Flashing the woman a warm, although somewhat confused grin, Nick made his way out of the cramped office and into the hallway once more. Shaking his head as he strode through the corridor, he almost walked into Sara in his daze.
"Woah, hey Nick. Something wrong?" Sara gave her colleague a curious glance, what passed as a look of concern for her most of the time.
"No ... Not that I know of anyway. Although Charlie might." Nick forced out a chuckle, looking back to the half-opened office door.
"Something with the case? Did she figure out who our guy is yet?" Sara's eyes lit up, her voice raising an octave in excitement.
"Nah, I was jus' havin' a friendly chat with her. Although I got the vague sensation that I was talkin' and she was profilin'." Nick turned back to Sara, "Anyway, I'd say to enter at your own risk unless you're lookin' ta have your brain autopsied while it's still in your skull."
Sara's face visibly dropped in disappointment. "Geeze, I would have though that Charlie would have something by now, what with all of her credentials." She glanced at the door over her shoulder for a moment before shifting her focus back to Nick. Noticing the papers he was holding, she gestured towards them. "Oh, hey, are those the results that we were waiting for?"
"Yeah. Toxicology and autopsy results support the claims that it was accidental." Mind focusing once more on the case at hand, Nick handed the papers to Sara.
"Dammit! I thought that we'd be able to get them on more than just criminal negligence." Sara frowned heavily, gritting her teeth. "Maybe we can still find something in the evidence that Greg helped bag."
Grinning fondly at the sound of the former lab-tech's name, Nick nodded. "Yeah, at least we have enough to hold them for 24 hours. How did G do bagging it anyway?"
"Fine. If anything, he's more determined since Grissom failed him." Sara began to walk down the hall, Nick falling into step beside her. As they discussed information on the case, she made a small mental note to talk to the new criminologist.
Just then, two pagers went off. Nick and Sara exchanged glances when they saw the message, silently mouthing the word to each other, "Ripper."
A/N: A quick glimpse into Charlie's mind, and a little bit of a cliffhanger. Sorry that this didn't push the plot much further, but I needed it to set the mood. Thanks to everyone who has left a comment, they're wonderful encouragement. The next chapter should advance the plot much better.