Title: Can't Take It
Summary: Snickers. Follow Grissom, Nick, and Sara through a case; one that could ultimately draw two of our favorite CSIs together.
Disclaimer: Still don't own it. But if I did the world would be good. And I would be happy.
A/N: I'm glad that you guys liked it so far… at first I was kind of nervous about it, but even my sister like it, and I think she's a tough critic. Plus, if it sucks, she'll tell me. And then call me a moron. :D Just kidding (sort of). Anyways, on with the fic!
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"What do you have for me, Doc?" Grissom asked as he walked into the morgue, meeting Al by the table. The victim was already laid out under the generic white sterile sheet, bruising on his upper arms and face glaringly obvious under the harsh lighting.
"How about a name?" Al greeted his friend with a small smile. "Found his wallet in his back pocket. Gil, meet Jack Hobbes. Hi stuff's already bagged for you when you're done here." He pointed towards a large evidence bag sitting on another table.
"Thanks" Grissom responded. "So…what's the cause of death? This?" He ran a latex-covered finger along a violent looking slit on the victim's neck.
"Yes" Al confirmed. "By the looks of the cut I'd say your perp got him from behind; clean slash from left to right. Damage to the trachea and carotid artery. Bled out pretty quickly, I'd imagine." He pointed to the man's face. "Bruises are peri-mortem, and so is the cut on his cheek."
"So we're looking for a knife" Grissom mused aloud.
"Yes. Something with serrated edges…similar to a steak knife. Was one missing from the house?"
"We didn't check" Grissom said, "I'll have Sara or Nick go back. So you're thinking this was a crime of opportunity?"
Al cautioned him, "I wouldn't say that. Take a look at this." He lifted the sheet, revealing the man's torso. Bruises and small cuts were abundant, but what interested Grissom were four deep slits forming a square on the man's left pectoral.
"He was trying to cut out the guy's heart?" Grissom asked aloud in disbelief.
"Post-mortem" Al confirmed grimly. "This was personal."
Grissom sighed. "Anything else?"
"Just defensive wounds on his hands."
"I'll take a swab under his nails and get his prints to Greg. Maybe we'll get a hit."
"I hope so" said Al, replacing the white sheet over the man's face as Grissom left the morgue. "I hope so."
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"Miss Gordan?" Nick asked, knocking on the hospital door as he and Sara entered. The woman on the bed nodded slowly from under thick bandages. "Hi Miss Gordan" Nick spoke gently, "I'm Nick Stokes and this is Sara Sidle. We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab and we were hoping we could ask you a few questions about last night."
The woman nodded, so Nick and Sara pulled up two chairs. "How are you feeling, Miss Gordan?" Sara asked.
"Call me Karen" the woman spoke in a quiet, cracked voice. The pair had to strain to hear her.
"Ok then. Karen, how are you feeling?"
"The doctors said I've got a concussion and a gash along my head, back here." came the whispered reply. Karen winced as she located the cut with her fingers.
"We think you may have hit your head on the edge of the coffee table" Nick provided. "Do you remember what happened?"
The woman sighed and closed her eyes while she spoke. "We, Jack and I, were on the chair…that big brown one in the living room, when his face got all pale. Like he was scared. I asked him what was wrong, and he didn't say anything so I turned around to see what he was looking at. There was this man there, just standing there with a knife. He had some sort of a ski mask on, I couldn't see his face. I think I screamed."
Nick and Sara watched as a single tear trailed down her face. "Miss Gord- Karen." Nick said softly. "If this is too much, we can wait…"
"No" Karen objected in a weak voice. "They told me, they told me that Jack died. I want to know, I need to know, rather, who did it." She sounded so lost, so hopeless, it send a cold shudder through Sara. Nick scooted his chair closer to hers, and draped his arm reassuringly across the back of it.
'Thank you' mouthed Sara, offering Nick a small smile, before she spoke to Karen. "Okay, so what next?"
"He punched me, here" she spoke, gingerly touching nasty looking bruise forming around her eye. "And I fell. He grabbed my arm and picked me up. He told Jack to get up, but not to move. He had the knife to my throat. I, I bit him, and I think I drew blood, and he pushed me away to the ground. I guess I blacked out; that's all I remember. I just, oh God, I just wanted him off of me." She sobbed silently, accepting a tissue from the box Nick offered her from the bedside table.
"Karen?" Sara probed tentatively, "Exactly how were you and Mr. Hobbes involved?"
Karen sniffled, smiling slightly as she recalled, "he proposed to me just last night. That night. We were eating and he pulled out this ring…" Her eyes widened as she suddenly clawed at her left hand. "My ring!" she cried out, eyes rolling to the back of her head as a violent tremor shook through her body before she passed out.
"We need someone in here now!" bellowed Nick, sending two nurses charging into the room. Sara and Nick moved into a corner out of the way as the staff attempted to revive her.
"We're so sorry" Sara spoke to them once they'd gotten her vitals under control, watching her even breathing under the heavy lid of sleep.
"It wasn't your fault, dear" the elder of the two assured the pair. "You didn't know that it would be such a shock. All the same, you might want to leave her to rest now…"
The two CSIs nodded, and after printing Karen and offering her their best wishes, they exited into the hallway. They walked in silence to the car, Nick's arm resting comfortingly on Sara's shoulders. And, even though it wasn't the time to worry about it, Nick noticed that the contact sent an agreeable shiver up his spine.
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A/N: Well, there's chapter two. Hope you guys like it. So… drop me a line and tell me what you think. Reviews make me giddy with delight. Next chapter, Sara and Nick drop by a used car dealership.