Chapter Three: Scared of Eight Legs
"Nick, they would have to be having some pretty rough sex to crack that glass, let alone shatter it," said Sara matter-of-factly.
There was an eyebrow raised in her direction, questioning her knowledge. "State your source, Sidle," challenged a thick southern drawl.
"I don't have one," she replied, glancing over her bare shoulder at the smirking man behind her with his hands on his denim-clad hips.
"It's single-pained. There's a very good chance that two people could break that glass."
A small snort was heard and he took it as her reply. He stepped closer to her so that he was standing directly behind her, leaning over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, "Would you like to prove me wrong?"
"Maybe when we are not on company time, Stokes."
That was definitely not the answer he was anticipating. His ego was a little deflated, if not popped entirely, and he had a slightly disappointed expression on his face when he stepped around the woman in front of him and admired the glass.
"What does that look like to you?" he said, pointing a latex finger at something Sara could not see.
She stepped forward and bent over, squinting her eyes at the shattered glass. "Blood."
"It could be the killer's," offered Nick optimistically.
"Or the victim's."
"I would prefer the former, wouldn't you?"
"Yes. It would make things easier only we don't have anything to compare it to."
"We could compare it to that," suggested Nick.
"Someone had sticky fingers," murmured Sara, observing the smudged fingerprint covered with something her mother never told her to say in public.
"It could be a match."
"You're very optimistic tonight," stated Sara, taking a sample of the blood and of the white substance on a piece of remaining glass above it.
"It's good to be optimistic."
"Yes, sometimes. But you might kick yourself later for being wrong."
"Or you might because I was right," grinned Nick when she straightened up and looked at him. "I'm going to check out the bedroom. See if anything interesting pops up."
"And I'll what? Watch you rifle through the garbage and drawers?"
"You're a big boy, Nick. I think you can find something to do. This isn't your first crime scene after all or do you need supervision?"
"I'll manage," stated Nick, glancing over his shoulder at her leaving.
There was not much stopping him from appreciating how snug her jeans were that night or how pretty she looked with a bit of color swept across her eyelids and lips. He let out a fairly loud sigh as he walked towards the door where he had put down his field kit. He opened it up, grabbing a couple of swabs and brown envelopes before he began to thoroughly examine the bathroom.
"Um, Nick?" He heard the slight quiver in her voice and immediately made his way into the bedroom, looking around for the source of the voice. He found her near the corner, standing still as a board, regarding something with disgust yet fear.
"Sara what is it?"
"Move very slowly," she murmured, enunciating each word precisely.
He moved carefully towards her and was just about to look over her shoulder when something on the floor moved fast. She jumped back, letting out a loud squeak and fell into Nick behind her, taking them both to the floor. There he was flat on his back, the wind slightly knocked out of him, with Sara lying on top of him, burying her face in his chest while she repeated "ew" over and over again.
"Sara, what the hell?"
"Didn't you see it?"
"See what?"
"It was huge, Nick!"
"What was?"
"It was a giant tarantula! It just crawled under the bed."
"Why would there be a tarantula in a bedroom?" he asked, hardly believing what she was blabbering about.
"Nick, I'm serious!" she exclaimed, staring straight into his chestnut eyes. His hands were resting on the small of her back and one had begun to smooth out her shirt in an attempt to comfort her.
"If you wanted to be on top of me, you should have just asked," he teased and then laughed when he saw a soft flush creep from underneath her shirt to settle in her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she stumbled and pushed herself up, using his chest as an aid. He could have easily held her down with his hands on her hips while she was sitting comfortably in his lap, but he allowed her to stand up.
"Trust me, Sidle. I'm not complaining," he stated, pushing himself to his feet. "Now where did that thing go?"
"Under the bed."
"Oh man, Grissom is going to love this."
"Nick, will you get it?"
"Yeah, since you're obviously incapable," he smirked over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. It's just," she swallowed hard, "they creep me out. The hairy legs and the eyes."
She shivered as she watched pull out his flashlight and bend down beside the bed. He flipped up the skirt of the bed and peered under after flicking on the light. He saw the culprit near the foot of the bed and started to wonder how the hell he was going to get it out.
"And Sara, how do you purpose I capture it?"
"With your southern charm?" she replied meekly, offering a soft grin at the man on his hands and knees at her feet, staring up at her.
"Just because they're from the South, Sar, doesn't mean they listen to a Texan."
"Oh come on. I'm sure as a kid you handled them all the time."
"I did, actually. But there was a difference back then. Back then, I killed them."
"So?"
"I have only ever captured one."
"Has one ever bitten you?"
"Yeah but they're harmless, just kind of painful. What is it even doing here? I mean, they live in burrows and under sticks and rocks. Unless the vic had it as a pet."
"Unlikely."
"Why is that?"
"I don't ever remember seeing a terrarium anywhere."
"Do we have to catch it? Couldn't we just leave it here?"
"It's in an unnatural environment, Nick."
"But they don't harm humans. They're not like blowflies or anything."
"Yeah, since tarantulas don't look for moist areas on a corpse to lay their eggs."
"Find me a container or something."
"Where's your kit?"
"Near the bathroom door."
Before he even noticed that she had left him alone with the tarantula hiding expertly under the bed, she was back again with a plastic container and a lid. She handed it to him and he took it gratefully.
"You're going to want to move."
"Why?"
"I can't crawl under the bed, Sara. But you could."
"Oh no! I'll move."
"Okay."
"Where is it?"
"Near the foot of the bed."
Sara backed up behind Nick who was knelt beside the bed, beginning to crawl around towards the foot. He looked hilarious in the light of the moon that seeped in from the open windows, crawling on the carpet with a container in one hand. She watched as he made a quick movement and laughed victoriously before letting out a stream of curses and then a yelp.
"Nick?"
"It bit me! That hairy little bastard bit me! I don't believe it," he cried out.
"I thought you got it?"
"I did but then when I tried to slip the lid under it got up and crawled onto my arm."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know. Oh wait. Sar, don't move," he warned, on his knees, looking at her over the bed.
"Where is it?" she squeaked out.
"I think it's just around the corner."
If it was at all possible, she sank back further into the corner and searched with frantic eyes for the spider that was causing so much hassle.
"If that thing comes near me –"
"Ah ha!" he shouted triumphantly, holding the container upside down, firmly pressing it into the carpet as if the spider would knock it over or something. He slid the lid under and successfully put it on. "Oh shit."
"What is it, Nick?"
"I think I broke its leg. Damn. Grissom is not going to be pleased."
"Jesus, Nick," whined Sara.
"Hey. I didn't see you making an effort to catch it," he remarked, standing up and then disappearing into the bathroom to put the container beside his kit.
"What do you say we head back to the lab for a while?"
"As long as there's no tarantulas or anything," she murmured, walking away from the wall towards him.
Sara relaxed slightly when he wrapped his arm loosely around her back as he walked beside her, kit in hand. She picked up her own and the two of them made their way out of the bathroom and down the hall.
"Well, if I were you I would stay out of Grissom's office then. You never know if the insects in there are alive or dead."
A/N: I would like to point out my complete and utter stupidity as I too am not extremely fond of creep crawlies (anyone remember those molds where you make bugs out of whatever it was? No?). I had to look up tarantulas and spiders in these old encyclopedias that I own (1975 baby). Sure, the picture of the tarantula was not real and the coloring was horrible but I got shivers that I could not suppress every time I read something like "the bird-eating tarantulas" or looked at the picture. By the way, they don't really eat birds. But some tarantulas do eat small animals such as frogs, toads, and mice, as well as other insects. Shudder. I feel like Grissom only he likes spiders.
Also, I would like to thank meg-bing, Fiian, tristansmom, love N/S, PamIrL, missiemeghan, A Christy, Hips, and forensicsfan. By the way, forensicsfan, I will gladly accept that chocolate bunny. Yum.
Oh look, Mother wants me to go under the house in the crawl space after I have just written about spiders and tarantulas. Sure, I may not live in the States, let alone the southern ones where tarantulas are commonalities, but it's the concept. And ew. What a concept.
