… part 2, chapter 7 …

Gil was fast asleep when his cell phone rang. At first, he thought he was hearing the beep of his stove's timer, and he kept wondering what he'd left cooking in the oven. But as it continued, and then ceased, only to continue again, he woke enough to realize what he was hearing.

"yeah… whut…" he said grumpily. He had called Ecklie yesterday to check in, and there was no reason for the lab to be calling him. He suspected a wrong number.

"Grissom, wake up. It's Sara."

"… Sara…?"

"Yes, it's me. Wake up."

"Gimme a minute." He sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. The red numbers of the alarm clock read 9:07. The fog lifted slowly from his mind, and he wondered why she was calling him so early. "Is everything okay?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yes, it's okay. I need you to set your alarm to get up two hours earlier. I'm meeting with you at 2 p.m. in your room – we're going to take the tape that's coming in at noon and we're running an experiment. I got permission from Jon last night after you left. He said your room is exactly the same style as the room Maria Sanchez was found in."

"Sara…" he warned, "you are not going to dangle yourself from fixtures in my hotel room."

"No, he had an idea. We're going to use miracle foam. We're going to wrap it, too."

"What?"

"Miracle foam. That stuff they make beds and pillows out of. It'll leave the imprints long enough for us to make a decent comparison, it's strong, and it won't hurt me. I'll wear them like bracelets. You'll see this afternoon. It's a good idea."

"I don't see this adding anything to our investigation."

"How do you know? Maybe it will. Irregardless, it's a question that needs an answer, and I'm answering it. So clean out the bathroom and your closet and I'll be there at two."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

"It'll take a half hour."

Grissom sighed into the phone.

"Oh give me a break; it isn't like I haven't been in your hotel room before."

"The last time you were in my hotel room, I was accused of murder."

"Hey pal, that wasn't my fault. You're the one that lost your kit."

Grissom smiled. She was teasing him. "You did find it for me, though."

"Yes," she said, smiling at the other end of the line, "I did."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

He sat in Sara's kitchen, clad in his boxers and a T-shirt. Sara was in her bedroom, getting ready or doing some bizarre woman thing he didn't want to think about. Charlie had informed him that their body was a bug bonanza, and he wanted Grissom's expertise on time of death determination, as well as location analysis. Grissom had called Brass, at home, and had gotten his approval to work the case.

"You might have to testify out there," Brass said. "You'll have to fly. You'll have to wear a suit."

"Yes," Grissom replied, "I know."

"You hate testifying."

"Yes, I know."

"You'll have a shitload of extra paperwork to do. You already have piles on your desk as it is." Brass was clearly baffled.

"Yes, I know."

"This is about the bugs, isn't it? You and your damn bugs. Oh hell. Have fun. But you'd better catch up on all your paperwork when you get back."

"I will. I'll keep you updated."

"Please. Spare me the details. Hey," Brass asked, changing the subject, "did they find your kit yet?"

"No, but they're working it. I haven't been charged with anything. Charlie's people are handling it."

"Good. You're staying with one, right?"

Grissom paused before answering, "Yeah."

"Well, tell him I said 'Yo' and to invest in some earplugs because you snore."

"Uh… sure. And I do not snore. How the hell would you know?"

"I've seen, no heard, you napping in your office. You snore like a sonuvabitch."

"Lovely. Good-bye, Jim."

"Later, Gil."

Grissom hung up the phone.

"You snore?" Sara asked, her head peeking around the wall into the hallway.

"I doubt it. My boss is just yanking my chain." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "To date, I've never had any complaints."

She smiled at that response and disappeared back beyond the hallway. He stood and followed her, but made a detour back into the spare bedroom. After closing the door, he got changed into his jeans. He knew he was going to get filthy, and he didn't have work clothes with him. Oh well, these jeans were getting kind of ragged anyways.

He returned to the kitchen to find Sara clad in a similar outfit of jeans and a T-shirt. She was ready to go.

"Is it still raining?" he asked her.

"No, those types of storms pass through really quickly. Isolated cells. And where we're going, it hasn't rained for days."

"You watch The Weather Channel."

"Yes, but it's getting old. I need background noise."

"Try a police scanner."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Excellent for background noise and you'll know when you're going to get called out before the phone actually rings."

She mulled that over as she led him outside and around the back of her condominium to a small sky blue Honda Civic. "It isn't much," she said, "but it runs."

"Hey, that's all that matters."

They drove for a while, across the bridge and past the suburbs into a remote wooded area.

"I'm glad you know where we're going," he told her as they pulled onto a dirt road.

"We've been called out here before. This is state land, and for some reason, the baddies like to dump bodies out here."

She pulled up next to a tan Ford Taurus, and parked. Grissom got out as she went around to the truck. He was surprised when she handed him a kit, most likely her spare.

"Here. It isn't yours, but it should have what you need."

"Sara… thanks."

"No problem."

They walked side-by-side through the woods, each carrying their kits in their right hand. After a few minutes, they ran into Charlie, along with two different policemen and the plainclothes Detective MacKenzie, who was supposed to be working on Grissom's missing gun. Grissom and the good detective shared a testosterone moment before Charlie intervened.

"Gil! Sara!" Charlie walked briskly towards both of them, his exuberant energy overflowing. Charlie never was one to pass up on grand gestures. "So glad you could come, Gil. It's pretty gruesome, but I know you like that kind of thing. Sara, you can either help him or work the perimeter."

"I'll go with the good Doctor here… see him work his magic with his bugs."

"It's pretty nasty, Sara, so if you want to switch, just let me know."

"Okay, we'll see."

One of the two cops led them past a copse of trees to a clearing. From twenty feet away, Grissom could see the massive swarm around the body. A spotlight was illuminating the scene, and the moths fluttering near it created weird shadows along the grass. And the smell was overwhelming. They were downwind.

"Uhlgk," Sara gagged. "Forgive me, but maybe I will do the perimeter."

"Up to you," he said as he approached the body in anticipation. Hello, darlings. How are you this evening?

Sara must have noticed the goofy expression on his face. "You're looking forward to this. The smell is God-awful and there are zillions of creepy-crawlies everywhere, and you want to go over there."

"What can I say? I like bugs."

She smiled coyly at him. "Have fun, Doctor Bugman. I'll be waiting for you when you're finished."

Grissom spent the next hour collecting specimen after specimen. Charlie came by to assist him, but Grissom shooed him away. The coroner came to collect the body just as Grissom was finishing up. It was always fascinating, the last cycle of death. And some of the bugs were different than what he was used to, so he collected them just for analysis purposes. The woods on the outskirts of the Bay Area were not the hills and sandy valleys of Vegas. It was all utterly fascinating.

When he'd finished, he had used all the specimen holders that he could get his hands on. He had a plethora of fluttering, crawling and buzzing bugs, and he couldn't wait to take them to Charlie's lab to study them. His happiness was clearly evident in the huge grin on his face. This is a helluva day.

Sara and Charlie were waiting for him, both leaning against the Taurus and chattering intently to each other. Their conversation ceased as he approached. Ah, talking about me, are we?

"Hi, Gil," Charlie said with much less drama than his earlier greeting. "You ready to head back to the lab?"

"Yup," he said happily, lifting the kit and the small cardboard box overloaded with small plastic containers.

"Did you collect every damn bug that was out there?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Nope, I left some for later," he said with a smile.

Sara rolled her eyes and shot Charlie an 'Is he serious?' look. Charlie shook his head. I'm not really sure.

"So, can we go?" Grissom asked impatiently.

"Uh… where are you going to put those things?"

"In the car."

"Oh no. Not my car. You can ride with the boss." And Sara shot Charlie a 'gotcha' look.

Charlie paled, but agreed. "They're all sealed, right?"

"Yes, Charlie. They won't escape."

"Okay," he said, gesturing for Grissom to get into his Taurus. Grissom heard him mumble something along the lines of "great idea… bring a bugman… get bugs… brilliant…"

"What's that?" he asked innocently. "Did you say something?"

"Uh, nothing," Charlie said defensively as Grissom grinned toothily at his old friend. "Oh, knock it off and get you and your bug family into the damn car."

Charlie hit 100 mph driving back to his lab, looking over his shoulder periodically at the fluttering, buzzing occupants of his backseat. Once they arrived, Grissom took his time unloading his tiny passengers. Charlie guided him to a side room, complete with everything he needed to conduct his study. Grissom immersed himself in his work and the hours clicked by. Soon it was morning, and Charlie was standing in the doorway.

"Hey Happy, you think you'll be able to finish up in the next ten minutes? I ain't paying for your overtime."

Grissom looked up from his microscope. "Sure, just tell me where I can get my hands on some meat for these guys. I need to keep them alive for a little while longer."

"I'll send one of our newbies out to get you some ground beef at the store across the street. Set them up and he'll have it by the time you're done."

Charlie disappeared, only to return five minutes later, as Grissom was halfway through his cleanup.

"I'll be out of here soon," Grissom said from the corner. "By the way, have you seen my ride?"

"Yes, she's waiting for you in the parking lot. I'd like to talk with you about her for a minute, if you don't mind."

"Oh?"

"Gil… she's more delicate than she lets on."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I know she's pretty ballsy and damn intelligent, but she's got a lot of demons that haunt her, and she's really sensitive… about things."

"Charlie, get to the point."

Charlie sighed. "Look. I know that she's… well, taken an interest in you. And if you reciprocate that, well, hey… that's great. I'm all for it. You're both my friends and you deserve to be happy. If it's with each other, great. But…"

"I'm just staying with her, Charlie."

"Don't try to play me, Gil. It isn't my business what happens between you two, but I know her. I know her very well."

Grissom growled, "Izzat so?"

Charlie laughed. "Down boy. Not like that. She's like my kid sister. I look out for her, okay? And she's a good friend. And tonight, I could tell that she's happy, and I'm pretty sure that you have something to do with that. So, I need to you do me a favor."

"Okay…"

"I need you to promise me something. Promise that you won't hurt her. She's sensitive, and she… well, she hasn't been around the block all that much when it comes to relationships."

Grissom found that incredibly hard to believe, considering what had transpired in Sara's bedroom, oh… 11 hours ago? "I'm sure she's a big girl, and can take care of herself just fine, Charlie."

"Gil. I'm serious. Let her down easy if you change your mind. Or hell, just leave her alone if you aren't all that interested. She isn't that type of girl, okay? Just promise me you won't hurt her, that's all I ask."

"Charlie, I'm not going to hurt her."

"I need your word on that." Charlie was staring at him intently.

"This is very immature, you know that, right?"

Charlie said nothing, and continued with his stare down.

"All right, all right. I promise I won't do anything stupid to hurt her feelings. Does that work for you, or do I need to sign some pact in blood, or what?

"Yes. That's all I wanted. You are a man of your word, whether you care to admit it or not. And here comes Jim with your meat. Feed your infestation and go back to Sara's. I've got nothing on your gun or your kit, but there's a guy on dayshift that might have something for you tomorrow."

"Great," Grissom replied. "The sooner they find it, the better. But I still want to work on these guys for you."

"Yeah, well, whatever. I'll see you tomorrow night. Goodnight, Gil."

"'Night, Charlie." Well, that was odd. At least it did reaffirm that Sara and Charlie were only friends. But still, Sara was a grown woman, an intelligent woman, and she seemed perfectly capable of deciding what she did and did not want. Grissom preened to himself, thinking that what she did want was him. And not as a bedpost notch; she liked him for who he was. She'd smiled at him a lot tonight, and he'd caught her checking on him while he'd processed the scene.

Charlie was being overprotective of her; Grissom was sure of it. Sara and he were both adults. And he didn't have any intentions of hurting her; in fact, he intended to keep in touch with her after this whole fiasco was over. He'd be back to testify and he could see her again. Beyond that, he didn't know. How could he?

He gathered up Sara's spare kit after he put the last bug away. He wandered the corridors for a while until he found his way out the front door. Sara was there, leaning against her little beat-up Civic.

"You ready, Doctor Bugman?"

He grinned. "Yes'm."

They drove back to her home in silence, each tired from the night's events. Grissom sensed something was on her mind, but he let it go, not knowing her well enough to judge. His instincts weren't off though. When they were back inside her condo, she seemed very apprehensive. Nervous about what happens now, most likely.

Grissom knew what to do. "I'm utterly exhausted," he said. "I'm going to get a quick shower and get some sleep. Is that okay?"

"Uh… sure," she replied. "That's fine."

"Great. Well, goodnight then."

"Goodnight… Grissom." It was the first time she'd called him by that name, or any name really, but Grissom didn't notice. Everyone called him Grissom. For her to do so just seemed natural to him. He didn't sense anything unusual. He should have.

The next afternoon when he woke, she was friendly but reserved. "I have a theory about your kit," she said as he sat down in her kitchen. She had toasted some bagels, and left out some light cream cheese, butter, and peanut butter. "Do you remember putting it back in your closet? Is it possible you left it in one of the conference rooms at the seminar?"

"Honestly," Grissom said as he helped himself to a plain bagel with peanut butter, "I can't remember. Thursday was a hectic day; I had three presentations. It is possible I left it in one of the rooms. Although it is highly unlikely." He munched happily on his bagel. Breakfast is good. This is why men do the cohabitating thing.

"I'm thinking that the perp saw your kit, opened it, and made off with the gun. It's possible your kit is still at the hotel tucked away somewhere."

"It had my name and the address and phone number of the crime lab on the outside label. If someone found it, they should have called, or turned it in to the front desk of the hotel."

"Maybe they did. Did you check the concierge for Lost and Found? It's also possible that it just got misplaced in the shuffle. Either way, it's worth a shot to take a ride over there and look around."

"I agree," Grissom said, finishing his bagel and helping himself to another; this one a cinnamon raisin with cream cheese. "What time does your shift start tonight?"

"Seven o'clock."

"And it's three now, so we have time."

"Not a lot," she said with a tinge of impatience.

His eyes narrowed. Ah, a negative of cohabitation. "It will only take me a few minutes to get ready," he said in a neutral tone.

"Good," she replied. "The sooner we get over there; the more time we'll have to look."

Grissom couldn't argue with that logic.

…continued next chapter ->