Title: Butterfly Kill
Author: Ashika
Summary: Another state appointed lawyer bites the dust and Grissom flays him with the power of logic and…butterflies. Response to Unbound Improv Challenge. Light (LIGHT) GSR.
Disclaimer: You don't really think that I'd be wasting my time on fanfiction if I actually had any say in the actual CSI, do you? Well, I don't. It belongs to a multitude of people who don't include me and I definitely make no profit from this.

"Did you know that there is a butterfly called Sara?" The man had graying hair and beard. He was Gil Grissom. I had heard of him from my colleagues. He was ruthless in his logic and almost always right. I wanted to be the one to beat him at his own game.

At the moment, I was quite definitely losing and had no idea where he was going with this. So I sat there and hoped for the best. Maybe he was going senile or something. As it was, my client was guilty as hell. I wondered why I had chosen to become a state defense lawyer. There was no money in it, and why would anyone become a lawyer if not for the money?

I maintained my composed air as best I could. It wasn't easy. My client was fidgeting and Grissom was staring at me, accusingly, with cool blue eyes. He narrowed his eyes at me and my jaw clenched in response.

Grissom shuffled files in a folder and pulled out a picture of a butterfly. I grabbed it and squinted, hoping to find something of importance in the picture. My client merely fidgeted some more. I wanted to hit him.

"This butterfly was found in your client's house." His tone was almost smug. My eyes darted to my client and I cursed my rookie status. Why hadn't I known about this? Had my client? Crap, crap, crap.

I swallowed and forced a smirk. "I fail to see the bearing this has on my client. Does it really matter if he collects butterflies?"

He raised an eyebrow, he knew he had me. "In fact, we only found one butterfly specimen in your client's house." He turned to my client. "Would you care to explain that the one butterfly missing from the victim's collection was the one found in your house?"

My client shrugged. "I just started collecting. It was the first one I got." Okay, that was a decent explanation. Well, not really. But we'd really have to take it and run. My client was horrible at crime. Why the hell did he go into it anyway?

Grissom nodded at my client's explanation. "I see. So then why was blood found on the glass of the casing?" Crappity, crap. "We also found your fingerprints all over it."

I internally groaned. I sat corrected. My client wasn't just horrible at crime. He was disgustingly disastrous. I didn't enjoy trying to defend a scumbag, but this was my career! I had to start somewhere.

My client sneered. I sensed a proverbial bloodbath coming on. I leaned over to him, hoping to defuse the situation. "Calm down and answer the question."

He growled in response and hit me across the face with his cuffed hands. Well there went my career. I was being made a fool of by my idiot client, who had also just hit me.

"The bitch deserved everything she got! She fucking led me on for weeks, teasing me and then shooting me down when I asked for a fucking date. Well, fuck her! She was just a goddamned whore anyways."

I winced, feeling my face. The guards held my client by the shoulders, restraining him as Detective Brass shouted orders to take him back to his cell.

My client had just confessed. And couldn't speak proper English if his life depended on it. My life was over. I wondered if I could become a prosecuting attorney.

I looked up and saw Gil Grissom squatting before me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded.

"You should get some ice. You're going to have a nice bruise." I nodded again.

"Thanks," I murmured. I stood, hoping to maintain as much dignity as possible. It really was no wonder that my colleagues were always so depressed after coming back from an interrogation.

Grissom walked from the room without a backward glance, nearly running into a pretty brunette. I followed him out the door, not really paying attention to his apology. Then he mentioned butterflies and I found myself eavesdropping.

"…several forms of the Anthocaris Sara." The girl looked interested. She nodded in response.

"I've heard of it. I've never actually seen it."

Grissom, I could hear the smile in his tone, replied, "Do you want to see my collection?"

AN: I was always really curious about the poor lawyers. I mean, their careers can't be doing all that well seeing as every time we see them in the show their client is almost invariably found guilty. So I brought in some new blood, only to have him shot down by good ol' Grissom. Poor guy. This is intended to be a one-shot, but may turn into a series. Who knows? In any case, I didn't really give out any names (except, of course, for Grissom) because it was, quite frankly, not important. And if you have to ask who Grissom was talking to at the end of this fic, you haven't watched enough CSI. Please review!