Disclaimer: No change in the status of the ownership of CSI.
"I knew it." Grissom sat alone in what used to be his office, but which now belonged to Catherine. She'd granted him permission to continue storing his books there until he could find some more room at his place. He could still remember the conversation as it had taken place.
He walked into the room looking almost nervous. He had a white box in hand, and he looked around hopelessly wondering where to start. How on earth did I manage to accumulate this much stuff? He was still trying to assess the situation when Catherine entered the room behind him. His Wide Mouth Billy Bass warned him that he was no longer alone in the room.
"Like that's gonna happen." Catherine exclaimed as she took one glance at the box Grissom held in his arms. Grissom looked around again and had to admit that Catherine was completely right. He had accumulated far too much in his time for it to all fit into one white box. Grissom grinned sheepishly at Catherine admitting his own defeat.
She looked back at him and he began to get worried. She looked like she was getting ready to get all emotional on him. He was again surprised by his co-worker's response.
"You can leave the big stuff here if you want." It wasn't any kind of patronization. It was a simple statement. "It'll make me look smarter." She added with a wink.
And that had been that. Grissom had snatched up a few of his most valued items and left without another word. He was glad Catherine hadn't tried to talk to him about his decision or talk it out of him in any way. On the contrary, his entire team seemed to support his decision completely, for which he was very grateful.
Grissom was still thinking of his memory when he felt a small prickling on his left hand indicating that his evidence was free of it's container and he needed to be focusing on the task at hand. He jerked his mind away from the past and back into the book he'd taken from the shelf behind him. With a final look he confirmed once more that his suspicion at the scene had been correct. The ants that were present in the grave at the scene were in fact Solenopsis invicta.
Just as he was putting the lid back on the container holding the specimen, Grissom realized that the building seemed unusually quite at the moment. He couldn't hear anything of the hustle and bustle that he knew was occurring just beyond the door. With a pronounced frown on his face Grissom replaced the book to its rightful place on the shelf.
He knew that this was going to start happening again. The doctor had informed him that as the disorder progressed, he was more and more likely to experience the brief spells of deafness that he was used to being subjected to. They weren't likely to last for long, but they would take some getting used to all the same. They served, for Grissom, as rude reminders of what was to come. The fact that something was inevitable was hard for him to deal with. He wasn't pleased with the idea that anything was beyond his control, especially in regards to himself or, to an even greater extent, to his work.
Grissom jerked out of his misery when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He pivoted on the spot to find Catherine standing right behind him. Quickly masking his surprise at her entry, he switched himself into lip-reading mode. There was no need for his supervisor to realize what was going on.
"Grissom I've been knocking on my office door for like 5 minutes. What are you doing in here?" her expression was accusatory, but seemed to Grissom to hold more amusement than anger. Of course at the moment he couldn't judge the tone of her voice, but he chose to believe his intuition when it came to the expression.
"Sorry boss," he responded once he was sure he understood what she'd said. "I was focused that's all."
Catherine gave him a sideways glance but decided not to press the issue. She had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on and, if she was right, she could understand that Grissom would not want to show his hand. Instead of confronting him she merely took a seat at her desk and made sure he was looking at her face before continuing, pronouncing every syllable as clearly as she dared, without tipping her own hand and letting Grissom realize that she knew exactly what was going on.
"Well we got the results back on those pieces of plastic we rushed back here to have analyzed." Catherine continued with what she had originally come to inform Grissom of. "We found trace amounts of – "
"Let me guess," Grissom cut across her, "SEMTEX?"
"I…yes. How'd you know?" Catherine's frustration at being interrupted in the middle of her report was extinguished immediately by Grissom's correct assumption of the material from the scene.
"Because," Grissom continued, "I've got some results back too. The ants from the scene… Solenopsis invicta. Fire ants." He explained in response to her blank expression.
"Fire ants?" Catherine was bewildered by this news, "but I thought you said they don't like Nevadan soil."
"They don't."
"Then why were they there at all? The scene was nowhere near any kind of tree nursery." Grissom recognized that Catherine wasn't necessarily asking for his assistance, more likely she was thinking to herself in an attempt to put together the pieces of the puzzle before her. Nevertheless, he was compelled to provide her with the suspicion he'd formed, in its entirety.
"The ants weren't there by coincidence." Grissom continued his somewhat fragmented report. "They were placed there purposely. There was no ant hill nearby, I checked."
Grissom was shocked to see Catherine's expression contorted into one of fury. "Between the ants, the Semtex, and the crime scene in general, there's not other explanation… Someone's screwing with us"
Grissom had of course come to the same conclusion almost immediately upon approaching the crime scene but, being a man of science, he had forced himself to reserve judgment until the evidence could verify his suspicion.
Catherine moved towards the door and gestured Grissom to exit the room before her. Grissom was taken aback, but immensely relieved, when the sounds of lab came rushing back to him. It was always a good thing to have all five of one's senses intact when initiating an investigation.
"Oh," Catherine added turning to face him as they both made their way down the hall, "I've taken Nick off the case too. I think he's going home."
Nick walked slowly towards his townhouse looking grudgingly at his door as he fumbled for the keys in his pocket. He was angry at being removed from the case, but at the same time he couldn't deny that he was relieved. That case had been much too close to home. He wasn't likely to have been able to remove himself from it and rationally process the evidence. As proven by the 20-minute investigation of MY footprint Nick added irritably.
Nick finally found the correct key in the dark and inserted into the slot in his door. Upon gaining entry to his home he fully intended to stomp into his kitchen, grab something bad for him from the fridge, and slump onto his couch. Perhaps he could take in an old western or something to cool him off.
Just after removing his shoes, Nick made to move through his darkened living room into the kitchen when something caught his eye. There was a small piece of white paper on the floor in front of him. It looked as though someone had slipped it through his door. Wondering what could possibly be the meaning of this, Nick slowly bent down to retrieve the paper. As he got closer he realized there was writing on it, writing that he didn't recognize at all.
Something about the situation tickled Nick the wrong way. Before he moved to read the note he found a pair of gloves in the stand next to his phone. For some reason he found himself thinking that this paper could easily be something extremely important, though he couldn't understand why. His CSI instincts seemed to have kicked into full gear.
Latex gloves on, Nick bent over and retrieved the paper. As he read the words the blood drained from his face. The junk food and western movie were wiped from his mind. He turned on the spot immediately, and, locking his door behind him, headed straight for his SUV. Within a minute he was speeding back towards the lab, paper in hand. He glanced at it whenever he could spare his eyes from the road, though he knew each time the words would be the same.
Take this with you.
Okay. I know…how mean am I? A horrible ending I know but it just seemed like the best place to leave this chapter. Unfortunately I'm headed on a camping trip too so it might be a few weeks before the next chapter gets up gulp I will try to update if I can but only if I keep seeing those reviews! (No just kidding). On a more serious note, PLEASE review. Even if it's just a couple words telling me to give it up. I love the feeling of knowing people are reading! Until later …