Disclaimer: Still don't own them. You starting to see a pattern here?

Notes: Sorry for the long time it took to update, but I have been busy working on my school mag, and studying for my tests. Also, I confess...I had a serious attack of writer's block and a nasty computer virus - and as it happened, so did witch. We do humbly apologize, and I hope this chapter will keep you guys amused...for now. I think this fic will be ending soon...that is, if i can find time to write andupload it.

More important notes: Witch has gone to college and is no longer able to help me with this fic..so I have decided to finish it alone. There should only be a few chapters left to do, so all I need is inspiration and time. I'd like to thank witch for all her help and all the fun we had working on this fic. This chapter is dedicated to her...and to all you patient readers out there! Specially Jess from the GE Yahoo! group, who never fails to remind me to keep updating! Cheers! ;)

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Chapter 9

The problem with working the night shift in any profession was the rest of the world. The average citizen woke up every morning, worked through the day and slept at night. Night shift people had opposite schedules. Grissom had worked all night and received Lee Nha's case late in the shift. He then stayed up all day when he went to Nick's house and back home when he explained to Jason that he was his father. Jason was lucky, he'd slept all day, but now Grissom was exhausted. Sure, he'd pulled several shifts in a row before- his whole team had at one point or another, but at those times only physical exhaustion slowed him down. In this case, emotional exhaustion made him want to fall asleep. He had a few hours before the sun set again and the night shift went back to work, but for Jason's sake there could be no rest for the weary graveyard shift supervisor.

Grissom called a few old friends and made Jason's case a top priority at Child Services. Jason didn't need to be adopted by a foster family, but papers still needed to be signed and Gil wanted to get his son settled in at his home as soon as possible.

His son. Boy, that sounded good – if he did admit it himself.

As they walked through the front entrance of the Child Services building, a towering red head stormed out and bumped into Grissom. She was rather petite, but angry and absorbed in her thoughts, a bad combination for someone who didn't realize their own strength. She muttered a snappy apology and was about to march away when she focused on the little boy. 'Hello, what do we have here?' she mused as she grinned to herself. Grissom and Jason were rooted to the spot, staring at the strange woman as she smiled strangely at Jason.

Here was the kid from the photo; the one she was supposed to off. Allie snapped back to the real world and saw the strange looks they were giving her. "Cute kid. What's his name?" she queried innocently.

"Jason. I'm his father, Gil Grissom." Though he was used to the idea of being a father by now, the words still sounded funny to Grissom. Allie looked from Jason to Gil, her mind stunned. She kept looking back and forth between the two of them, trying to find some resemblance, but they shared nothing except the same intelligent blue eyes…which she noted out loud.

"Wow, I never would have guessed except for the eyes." She bowed her head and pretended to blush. She stammered, "Well, I hav… I mean… er…I need to go!" She smiled broadly and walked off, her mind now racing. 'Lanyon never mentioned a father! Damnit, this is getting too deep. Am I supposed to off the father as well?'

Grissom stared back at her as she walked off, oddly amused and intrigued. A grin tugged at his mouth. It wasn't until he felt something tugging at his shirt that he snapped back to the present and saw Jason waiting patiently for him. He shook his head and followed him inside.

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As Allie turned the corner she stopped at a graffiti-decorated pay phone and inserted two quarters. She dialed a number, paused and then spoke up. "We have to meet. No, NOW. Cool Beans Café on Westfall Avenue." The coins clinked as they dropped into the box when she hung up.

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Meanwhile, Grissom found himself sitting in a room with a stern-faced Child Services officer who looked at him as though he were one of his bugs. Jason was waiting outside patiently as Gil signed several papers under the woman's watchful eye, flipping through a well-worn book that seemed to be about spiders – although he didn't look like he was enjoying the book much.

For his part, Gil did his best to hurry, not wanting to keep Jason waiting. Once they were done here, Jason and he had an appointment with a friend of his at her clinic. He signed papers as fast as the woman would let him, risking her glares – he'd gotten worse from the sheriff and the mayor, and she didn't have authority over him.

Or did she?

"We'll be sending someone over in a week's time to check on the boy's welfare, Mr Grissom," Ms I-Cannot-Smile informed him. "I'm afraid it's procedure – we have to make sure that you'll do everything and anything you can to care correctly for this already traumatized child. I do hope that will be all right."

Forcing up a rather pained smile, Grissom nodded. "Certainly."

He had barely even known he had a son for what, a couple days, and they wanted to send someone to assess his parenting skills within a week? Gil fought to stay calm as he rose, shook hands with the woman, and exited the room to collect his son, who dropped any and all pretence of reading the book to run to Gil and take his hand.

"Can we go home now?" he asked, hopefully.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed, leading the little boy outside.

Once outside, father and son stood together for a moment, enjoying the heat of the sun as it shone down on them. Then, before the eye of heaven could start burning into them, Grissom took his son's hand once more and led him to the car.

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"Gil Grissom! This is a pleasant surprise!"

Tall, willowy and cheerful, Dr Teresa Wingman was truly a sight for Gil's sore eyes. Teresa was a certified psychologist, and she specialized in treating traumatized children – something Grissom was truly thankful for as he hugged his old friend. The doctor had treated him for a while when he was in his teens and had been struggling to cope with certain issues, and yet, Teresa still didn't look a day over forty, and Grissom told her so.

"Pfft," she responded, shaking off the compliment with a good-natured smile. "Flattery, from you, Gil? I'm touched…but I'd like to get down to business, if you don't mind? I'm afraid I have other patients waiting."

"Now," she went on, "I don't somehow think you're here for me to examine your head…so, what is it?"

Smiling, Grissom turned and beckoned encouragingly. Tentatively, Jason shuffled out from his hiding place behind the couch, stepping up to the supervisor and attaching himself barnacle-style to Gil's leg. His eyes peered uncertainly up at Teresa, and she responded exactly as Gil had known she would.

"Well, hello there," she exclaimed softly, bending down to Jason's eye level. "And what's your name?"

The little boy backed away behind Gil's leg, and answered, "Jason."

Sidestepping, Gil waited for Teresa's next move.

"Jason? That's a nice name – a good, strong name. My name's Teresa. Say, did you know that Jason means 'healer'? I have a nephew who named his son Jason Alexander…say, how about we go make ourselves comfortable in my office? I do believe I have milk and cookies in there…"

The doctor's cheerful, easygoing manner swept the little boy right off his feet, and Gil fought the urge to chuckle as he followed behind the pair, Teresa holding Jason's hand as she brought him into her office. It wasn't long before Jason was happily seated in a chair munching on some Oreo's, a glass of warm milk in front of him on Teresa's desk. Grissom himself gladly accepted the mug of coffee that his old friend handed to him, and he selected a seat next to his son.

"These are Shrek Oreo's!" Jason exclaimed happily as he reached for another cookie. "They're limited stock, I thought there weren't any more in the supermarket!"

Shrek Oreo's? Grissom reached for one of his own, but he quickly stopped as Jason twisted off the top half of his cookie, revealing that the cream inside was lime green.

Teresa, meanwhile, was quickly covering up the part on the Oreo packet that had the expiry date printed on it with her hand.

"So," she said quickly, "What brings you and Jason here, Gil?"

Gil grinned to himself as he proceeded to fill her in, summarizing the happenings of the past 48 hours – had it even been 48 hours yet?

"I thought I'd bring Jason in to talk to you," he finished.

Teresa was nodding, gently stopping Jason from taking anymore cookies.

"Well," she said, "I have nothing against helping out an old friend, Gil, but you neglected to make an appointment and I have several in line right now. So…how about you bring this little man in on…" she checked her calendar, "..Monday?" I can see him at 6.30pm – gives you a little time to rest after work."

Relieved and grateful, Grissom nodded, rising to shake Teresa's hand and collect his cookie-stained son.

"Thanks," he said. "I think I will."

"Right." Teresa hugged him, then Jason, tactfully using a tissue to wipe the chocolate and milk mustache away.

Once in the car, Jason looked sleepily at his father. "Griss…Dad? Are we going home now?"

Swallowing hard, Grissom took a moment to reply. The use of the word "dad" had thrown him off a little, though Jason had used it once before already.

And why shouldn't he? Grissom was his dad, after all. He had the right to say it.

"Not just yet," Grissom managed to say at last. "I've got one more stop to make…but you can sleep in the car on the way, okay?"

Darn it all, he was not going to cry…

"Okay." Jason yawned, his mouth opening wide. "Wake me."

"I will," answered Gil, but Jason was already asleep.

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"What did you want to meet me for? It's too dangerous – we shouldn't be seen together!"

Lanyon's hiss of displeasure slid smoothly off the sides of the booth Allie had chosen in the café. The assassin, however, wasn't perturbed at all.

"I want out of this deal," she announced.

Lanyon stared at Allie as though she had claimed that Spiderman could defeat Batman. "You what?"

"You heard me." Taking out a cigarette, Allie lit up and started smoking. "This is getting too deep for me. First you say off the woman, then you tell me you never wanted her dead, you wanted the kid dead…now I learn that the kid's father is in the picture, should I off him too?"

A few patrons glanced over as Allie raised her voice, though they clearly interpreted the scene in the booth as a lovers' quarrel before turning away.

"Keep your voice down," hissed Lanyon.

Allie took another drag on her cigarette, before stumping it out in the ash tray and saying, "I don't care, Lanyon. I can't afford to pay my rent, and soon I'll have no money for anything else either. If I turn myself in, I go to jail – free room and board, and I'll be safe from you…mainly because you'll be in a men's prison, and I'll be in a women's institution."

"You -" With a snarl, Lanyon lunged across the table at Allie, who leapt aside quickly and brought her arm down on Lanyon's back, sending him crashing into the table.

"Don't mess with a professional assassin next time," Allie growled, before picking up her handbag and leaving the café. Wide-eyed, Lanyon got up, painfully holding his chest.

The bitch was going to ruin everything he had ever worked for. She was going to tell the cops everything. He'd go to jail – jail!

But Theodore Lanyon didn't want to go to jail. He had too much to live for – like seeing that little brat dead and six feet under.

And if Allie Redman wouldn't do what Theodore had paid her to do, then – he would just have to do it himself.

And after that, if they came and took him to jail, it wouldn't matter any more.

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Much as I'd love to do shout-outs, I can't - apparently it's against ff dot net's rules, so...I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed, and encourage those who didn't to press the pretty little purple button...thank you all, and goodnight!

RK9.