Disclaimer: Still no CSI, dagnabbit.
Author's Note:
Thank you all so much for the positive reviews! I really appreciate them all, even the ones that aren't too long. I hope you like this next chapter… Also, I have a few things to say to a specific few of you, but I'll put them at the end.
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Chapter Three
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Grissom walked down the hallway, having just come from the DNA lab. He shook his head as the thoughts that filled it were of his quirkiest employee. Sometimes he wondered where that boy would be if not working with forensics.
Even when strolling back into his office, Gil's thoughts were still on Sanders. After his discovery of the salt on the victim's bodies, the case had become much easier to read.They had even managed tosuccessfully arrest Toby, with whom they had found a bag of the victims' clothes- every piece covered in blood. Though he could be a troublemaker at times, Grissom felt lucky to have Sanders for a lab tech. He was young, just under thirty, but his thirst and enthusiasm for learning made him one of the most knowledgeable people of his age, and Grissom admired that.
Gil knew that he wasn't the most modern of men. He knew that his emotions weren't the strongest. It was perhaps because of his social handicaps that he didn't understand Sanders, but no matter what the cause was, there was no denying that something about Sanders that bothered him. He listened to loud and annoying music, hardly ever stopped talking, was almost always in a good or bouncy mood, and flirted on the phone with girlfriends while on the job. And yet he always got things done without error.
A sigh escaped the elder's lips. After dropping his folders dealing with the serial killer murders on his desk, he looked over to what sat next to them:a recently perchased cockroach, sitting peacefully in his cage.
"Lucky little creature,"Gil said to it, crouching down slightly to get a better view of the insect. "I envy you. No employment, no close friends or family, no feelings, and no acquaintances like Greg Sanders."
Grissom then straightened and walked over to the coat rack in the corner of the room where he pulled down his jacket and slipped it on. Then, with one last glance back at his crawling friends that were located in various places around the room, he turned off the lights and exited his office.
While he walked down the hallway, he listened to conversations in various rooms. The simple man felt somewhat heartened, being able to hear what others were saying. Not so long ago, he had difficulties listening to people who were speaking directly to him while they stood naught three feet away. Yet now he was eavesdropping on the mere murmurs that were being uttered ten feet from his own. He would have smiled, expect that smiling made him uncomfortable. It was something that happened so rarely that the muscles used to make such a gesture were rather weak, and when moved, they felt as though they didn't belong in such a position. This gave an excuse to Grissom's short smiles, if there was a smile at all.
He passed the locker room as he strode toward the building's main exit. Being so observant, Grissom naturally glanced into the room, giving it a once-over. He saw Sanders. But he saw Sanders struggling to remove his lab coat. When was the last time that happened? Well, that was an easy one, but it deeply bewildered Grissom.
A single glass door that belonged to a pair was pushed open, and Gil was caught with a rush of fresh air. Summer had been over for some time now, and fall's cooler nature was beginning to effect the desert's scorching norm. The sky was cloudless, and a very slight breeze could be felt if one were to stand completely still. A car pulled into the parking lot and occupied a spot not far from Grissom's own. The extremely faint pink tinge of the distantly rising sun was reflected off the smooth, black paint of the Volks Wagon, though quite a few of the strongest stars could also be seen on the frame. The man who stepped out from the driver's seat a moment after the engine could be heard being put to rest was a stranger to Gil, but the older of the two gave him a slight wave anyway as their paths crossed. The younger man gave the other a funny sort of eyebrow raise and attempted grin as he struggled to keep back a yawn. But Grissom did not know the man and the man did not know Grissom. The man was inside before the older man could give him any sort of good morning.
Then Gil was in his own car, pulling out of the parking lot, and thinking. Sanders had been shaking after the explosion in the lab, but that day was long gone. And he hadn't been shaking earlier while telling the crew about the evidence he had collected. It wasn't as if Sanders had gotten into any other trouble in the few hours they had been apart. Though, Grissom thought amusedly, you never really knew with that boy.
And then he thought of that roach that sat in the cage on his desk. He wondered if roaches could ever develop such diverse personalities as humans were capable of forming. And then he wondered if the roach might behave differently if he was fed some other type of food than what his diet currently consisted of. And then he wondered if some sort of meat would cause the roach to act unusually. And then he wondered what meat might be able to make the roach stronger as well as different. And then he was off.
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Author's Note:
Still short, I know. I warned you earlier that it would be this way for a while. I'm currently working on the sixth chapter, however, and it's longer. So simply be patient, and things will get longer and better as I go along.
Specific Replies:
Doggies45- Indeed, I do believe the new layout it pretty bad. Though it may just be my opinion… Also, thank you for that comments on my lines and connecting with the characters. I never really thought that I was doing cool things like that, so thank you for boosting my ego/confidence/mood. )
JoonSanders- Plot will come soon enough… Trust me. Also, thank you for the transition words. I doubt that they'll always work for the things that I try to say, but they may help on occasion. Thanks very much.
