Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Spoilers: None as far as I am aware
Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.
Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.
You reviewers are just really great, aren't ya? Thanks very much! That's to hot-punk, Sw33tangelgrl (twice – ha!), D.M.A.S (you're writing for what? I think ff net cut out a link or something...), Danni, Gail (epic-long review! Thanks!), P/CG/Cfan, Lissa88, Ladybug07, Stephanie, September and cherishedcrush. It was more than I expected so thank you all very much. And keep reviewing! In fact, just keep reading. It's nice to know you're enjoying it. There's still plenty more to come. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
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Perpetuity. Chapter Six. Across A Crowded Room
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Gil Grissom made his way through the seething mass of people on the ground floor of The French Palace, sent by his supervisor on overtime to find and question the bartender who'd served yet another tourist found dead in his hotel room following a gambling victory. It happened all the time in Vegas though Gil very much doubted that the city put it in their tourism leaflets.
"Coming through – hey, watch it, buddy." A waiter snapped at him, balancing carefully a tray of cocktails as he waded through the crowd.
"Sorry," Grissom mumbled inaudibly. He hated these situations: the people, the noise, the confusion – it was almost too much to take.
"As promised, gentlemen, I've got a treat for you," a drawling voice on The French Palace's audio system interrupted the throbbing music as curtains drew back on the stage. "A hot favourite in Vegas with everyone who comes – and I mean hot – our very own French Palace dancers! Don't forget to tip your waitresses, gentlemen, cos I can tell you these beautiful ladies don't come cheap!"
That was when he saw her. Under a sudden flood of bright swirling lights, as the music came back on, that was when he saw her. Ironically, it was her face that caught his attention; the way she flashed a smile that never reached her eyes at every guy who offered up dollar bills to her and the way her eyes so clearly said she was thinking about something completely different as she moved with ease across the stage. She looked so spectacularly bored with everything she was doing, seemingly oblivious to the hollers and whistles of the onlookers; Gil had never been more captivated by anything in his life before.
"Hey buddy, seriously – you gonna stand there all night?" the waiter grumbled, returning. "You paid yet?" Gil shook himself and flashed his ID at the guy distractedly.
"I'm from the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he explained, pulling himself together. "I came to question your bartender here. Richard Carlisle." The waiter raised an eyebrow.
"Well no offence, man, but you ain't gonna find Rich up there in our girls' cleavage, ya know." the waiter smirked curtly before weaving off through the crowds again. Gil flushed slightly, glad for the cover of darkness in the packed room and went to find Rich Carlisle.
By the time he'd finished questioning Rich, in between Rich still taking orders, the dancers had long since left the stage and he had gotten no further with the case. At any rate, he'd been working solidly for 18 hours and relented, ordering a drink.
"Can I get a beer, Richie?" a breezy voice called beside him. He turned to see the blonde woman, having changed and taken off most of her make-up, leaning over the bar and calling down to Rich down the other end. Rich looked up and grinned.
"For you, Catherine, anything," he replied smoothly, sauntering back up to uncap a bottle and handing it to her. "Want a glass?" Catherine fixed him with a cynical look.
"Do I look like a woman of refinement?" she asked him wryly and smiled when he didn't reply. "No thanks." Rich chuckled and shook his head as he was hailed down to the other end of the bar again. Grissom looked across at Catherine who perched on the edge of her bar stool and picked absent-mindedly at the silver label of the beer bottle.
"You were good," Grissom found himself saying, shyly. Catherine looked up, surprised.
"Huh?"
"Up there," Gil nodded towards the stage. "You were good." Catherine smiled politely at him and avoided his eyes. Great, she thought, another pervert. She'd always hoped she looked different enough up on stage to real life so that she'd be unrecognisable when she was off-duty but there was always one or two who watched too closely.
"Thanks." she answered shortly. Grissom chewed on his lip, wondering what else he could say and not wanting to let this woman go just yet.
"You must get that all the time though, I guess," he continued, his voice growing fainter. Catherine jerked her head in a nod.
"Yeah. I do." Catherine said bluntly. Grissom opened his mouth to say something else but Catherine saw him and stood up to go. "Nice talking to you and all," she told him, distinctly not meaning it. "But I've got to go. See you around."
And then she was gone, swallowed up by the seething crowd. Grissom sighed and put down his drink. Maybe it was time for him to go too.
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"That doesn't sound like the kind of situation that would lead to us getting married," Gil commented with a smile. Catherine grinned back, happier remembering how things used to be than thinking about what was happening now.
"I told you, it was a long time ago. A lot of stuff happens in between – you'll see," she assured him, getting quite into the whole story-telling thing. The rest of the team around her had drawn up seats around the room, listening intently to something they'd always wondered about.
"You were really that shy?" Greg spoke up curiously. Gil shrugged.
"Yeah, he really was," Catherine supplied for him. "I guess I can't have helped much, I wasn't exactly very friendly." Brass chuckled.
"No, that sounds like the Gil Grissom I know," he grinned. "Real smooth with the women, you know."
Catherine smiled around at the room; this was turning out to be easier than she thought it would be. "Shall I go on?"
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"Well if you're so confident, smart guy, then you won't have a problem with us taking your DNA, will you?" Brass folded his arms and looked down at the scruffy guy sitting sulkily at the table. The guy was just a little bit younger than himself, who had only recently really gotten into his role as a newly qualified homicide detective. He was working on the whole routine, the self-assured walk, the slamming hands on tables and looking like he meant business.
"Not at all," the suspect replied coolly. Brass jerked his head to his colleague.
"Gil –" he prompted and Grissom deftly brought out a mouth swab, swabbing the inside of the guy's mouth.
"But I didn't do it..." the suspect added.
Brass shot him a withering look. It was sort of fun, this whole business of proving someone was lying and seeing their reactions. "We'll see about that, shall we? And maybe when we prove you wrong, you won't be so tough."
"Alright, so this is the Las Vegas Crime Lab..." a distant voice drifted through the halls.
"Aha – the students," Brass muttered to Gil as a troop of eager people came down the hall.
"Huh?" Gil looked up and immediately dropped the mouth swab on the floor. "Oh shit." He bent to pick it up. They couldn't use it now; they'd have to take another one.
Brass rolled his eyes but Grissom didn't notice. Coming down the hall among a group of keen students, was that girl again – Catherine.
"Ballistics is down the hall that way," their lecturer went on, pointing off in the left. "You'll get a chance to see that later on in the day..."
Catherine looked around her. It was the third time she'd been taken here and she loved it every time, just wandering through the corridors and thinking that one day, one day she'd be working here. And then she saw him. He smiled briefly before quickly looking away and concentrated on swabbing the mouth of some guy sitting in front of him. The guy crossed his arms contemptuously. Catherine groaned inwardly and hoped she wasn't blushing as much as she felt she was. That guy from the club still remembered her. And he wasn't some sleaze – he was a man with her dream job. And he knew what she really was. He knew she spent her nights dancing for dollar bills in a tacky, smoky room to music playing overly loudly.
"Catherine Grey? You paying attention?" the lecturer snapped. Catherine was jolted back to real life.
"Yes, I am. Sorry," she answered, tearing her eyes away from the CSI.
At the sound of her name, her voice, Gil Grissom dropped the second mouth swab on the floor.
"Jeez, Gil. Hold it together," Brass muttered to his friend.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Grissom mumbled vaguely and reached for yet another mouth swab.
"Third time's a charm," the suspect assured him in a voice that dripped with sarcasm. Brass only narrowed his eyes at the arrogant man but Grissom didn't hear anything.
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