(disclaimers et all in first chapter)
Chapter Six
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Shock ran the course of her arm, numbing all the way down to her fingertips as she felt herself be yanked forward. She fell hard on top of him, with little or no time to react as he flipped their bodies over, crouching over her small frame to protect her from the falling debris. She felt his body jerk against her, groans sounding as pieces of wood slammed into his back.
The dull pain in her arm throbbed, but she couldn't deny the security she felt, with his body pressed up against hers. She more so felt his hands leave their place beside her, cradling the back of his head in a means of protection. She added to his safety by covering his hands with hers, creating another barrier to shield his head. She cringed as shattered glass and splinters smashed against her hands, but she weathered the pain in order to return the protective favour; quarrel or not, he was still dear to her heart.
The dust finally began to settle, instilling the room in a deathly silence save for the random creaking that any loose pieces sounded. "You okay?" It was a whisper, laced with pain despite trying to play off the damage done to his body. Granted, his concern for her well-being did take control of his thoughts as his body momentarily forgot the acute pains in his back, but he couldn't deny the gut-wrenching aches that assaulted him.
Catherine nodded, swallowing hard as she stared up into his eyes. Everything had happened so hastily that her thoughts were just now coming face to face with the reality of their situation: their battered bodies, destroyed evidence and two dead bodies now buried underneath the rubble. Her hands slid from his head, down his back and rested against the small of his back, gripping his flak vest and holding him to her.
He sighed, arching in to her but swallowing the pain as pressure was added to his wounds. He looked into her questioning eyes and he cocked his head to the side, masking his cringe with a fake smile. "I'm fine."
"Woah woah woah!" Jim exclaimed, side-stepping the damage and rushing to their side. "You guys okay?"
Gil rolled over on to the floor, the sound of glass and splinters crunching under his weight as he motioned to the police captain to help Catherine up first. Lying on his back, he tilted his head to the side, watching her cradle her arm close to her body. "Call the paramedics, I want that arm seen to. Might be a sprained wrist and a dislocated shoulder." He ordered Jim, who nodded his acquiesce.
Catherine stood up rather shakily, holding on to Jim as she glanced back at Gil, now lying flat on his back, eyes directed to the ceiling. "What about...I..." She replied distractedly, as Jim lead her towards the exit, leaving Gil alone in the room.
Gil let out a strained sigh when he thought to be alone, allowing some emotion to slither through his closed-off exterior. Deep breaths caused a painful sting in his lower back, while shallow breaths forced his shoulders to expand, allowing pressure to reside in his shoulder-blades. He groaned loudly as he tried to lift himself up, only succeeding in causing sharp pains to override his body.
"Damn Gris..." Warrick spoke as he hopped over a few scattered pieces of wood and glass. "What happened?"
Gil sighed, closing his eyes against the pain. "Ceiling caved." He replied curtly, anger seeping through partly directed at the younger CSI, partly at the current situation he found himself in. He emitted a chuckle at the symbolism that the broken scene portrayed: the foundation's collapse seemed to echo his falling out with Catherine.
Warrick glanced at his supervisor with concern as he watched his body shake with laughter. "Gris, um, maybe we should get you checked out."
Gil gave him a dismissive wave and rolled over on to his side with a groan. "I'm fine." He repeated again, ignoring the aches as he pushed himself up on to his knees. "I have to start work...salvage what's left of the crime scene." He spoke distractedly, surveying his surroundings.
Warrick offered him a hand and retracted it slowly when the older man purposely avoided it.
"I don't need your help." Gil straightened up and looked Warrick in the eye, unsure of his own intent.
Warrick placed his hands up in defence, taking a few steps back from his supervisor. "Alright man. I'll uh, I'll go help Sara and Nick." He pointed to the elevator, leaving Gil to stand alone in the rubble.
Once the elevator doors closed, Gil dropped his head to his chest, listening to the still creaking floorboards as they swayed slightly in the otherwise still room. He shook his head slightly, a sad smile rocking with the movements: was silence all that welcoming?
Bending down on one knee, he let out a gasp as the pain rocketed to the top of his spine, and then slipped downwards with an acute precision that left him breathless. He pressed on. Lifting up a few broken wooden beams, he tossed them to the side, leaning in closer to inspect the body part present in front of him. Digging into his flak-jacket pocket, he produced his tweezers and extracted a small green fibre from under the woman's fingernails. Taking out a bag, he mechanically placed it in there, securing his finding with a label.
His eyes travelled to the male body laying in a heap, a top the broken second floor that now resided on the first. His face held no reaction to the battered body and he silently took in the beatings: assumed broken ribs by the caving of the chest area, a damaged skull revealing grey matter and eyes still wide open, from moments before whatever impact had occurred.
His back stung, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the scene rather than his body. He didn't know how long he stood there, but he jerked his head to the right, upon feeling a hand placed on his shoulder.
"Hey Grissom...were you caught in the collapse?" David asked, with concern.
Gil shook his head, giving the young coroner a weak smile. "Nah, just shook up a bit." He pointed to the bodies, masking the pain in his back with a cough. "Two bodies instead of one - remind me to have a word with Jim about training his officers." He joked lamely, though caution did underline his words.
The coroner observed the Graveshift supervisor as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, and the debris that was left of it. "Hey Gris, you okay? You seem to be walking a little -"
"- just getting old, David." Gil interrupted him, though his eyes were directed to the upstairs area. Five stairs remained before a large gaping hole interrupted the ascent to the second floor and Gil, still on a robotic mission to reach the upper level, decided to chance his body and began to climb. His movements were slow, but still un-calculated as his mind focussed on all but his body, in order to numb out the pain. The first and second step remained silent under his weight, and he paused, searching the walls for any evidence. He leaned the side of his head against the wall and looked upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary.
Eyes still trained on the wall's imperfection, he blindly reached for a piece of tape from one of his flak vest's pocket. Placing it on the wall, he smoothed his hand over the print, and then slowly peeled off the tape, immortalizing the evidence in hand. His eyes travelled up further, and he spied a wooden handle, balancing precariously on a semi-destroyed floorboard. The third step creaked mercifully under his foot and he cringed slightly, despite his eyes not leaving the object in sight.
The fourth step caved under his weight - his leg piercing straight through the weakened boards, causing him to topple forward through the large gap between the stairs. He landed on top of the rubble and rolled down the mound, slamming into the wall while more debris rained down from above. Folding his hands above him, and closing his eyes, he waited until the remaining pieces ceased falling before relaxing slightly.
"You done playing Tarzan?"
Gil's eyes focussed on the police captain's cheeky grin, and his eyes flitted to the concerned frown that David now sported. Gil exhaled, pushing himself up and sitting against the wall. He breathed loudly, glaring at Jim before letting out a somewhat delirious laugh. "Shut up, Jim."
Jim joined in the laughter and held out his hand. "I know you don't need help but..." He left the sentence hanging, poking fun at his longtime friend. Off Gil's questioning look, he shrugged, "I met Warrick on the way up."
Gil stood up slowly and held his lower back, cussing under his breath. "I wasn't made for action movies." He mumbled, his hands untucking his shirt and caressing his bruised skin.
"Well if you didn't act like a distracted jackass, this wouldn't have happened." Jim answered, his eyes taking in the environment.
"Well if you're officers were trained in clearing a scene, we could have salvaged both the bodies." Gil shot back, heading back towards the stairs. He glanced up, observing the handle though the object was still out of view. He climbed the first and second step, ignoring the added pain in his thighs and right leg.
"You don't learn your lesson, do you?" Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him back, offering support as he almost fell over. "You can barely walk, yet your still swinging from the vines." Jim walked Gil to the door, pressing the button and pushing his friend into the elevator. "I'll get Nick and Rick up to process what's left of the scene." He paused long enough to win Gil's attention. "Paramedics are downstairs."
Gil nodded absently and turned around, facing his concerned friend. "Don't worry Jim, I'll stop by and see them."
Jim eyed him suspiciously until the elevator doors closed in his face, then turned and took out his cell phone. Minutes later, Nick and Warrick stepped off the elevator with their kits in hand. "Boys." Jim greeted them before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "David's finishing up with the bodies," he glanced over his shoulder, noting the young coroner still struggling with removing the debris off of them, "why don't you two give him a hand, huh?"
Nick shared a smirk with his partner before stepping to the apartment, leaving Jim still standing near the elevator. "And what are you going to do, Cap'n Crunch?" He drawled, giving him a wink.
Jim chuckled, stepping into the elevator. "Contrary to the rumours you boys spread, I -do- work from time to time." He smirked as the doors slid closed.
True to his word, Gil had stopped by the ambulance stationed outside the hotel, but merely to decline any aid, affirming his physical health. He had forced a smile, thanking them for their effort and headed towards his vehicle, wanting to start processing the evidence he already had on him.
After painfully extracting himself from the driver's seat, he slowly made his way to the fingerprint lab to drop off the hand print he had taken from the apartment. He then walked over to trace, where he found David with his eyes glued to the microscope. "Hodges, I need you to tell me exactly where this came from." He produced a sealed bag with the green fibre in it.
"That all?" David raised his head, looking at Gil with an observational air. "You look like hell."
Gil eyed the lab technician, considering some sort of retort but decided against it. He pulled out another sealed bag, with the word 'elevator' marked on it. "Run tests on this one as well, and then compare the two. Superficially, they look the same, but I want to be sure if they came from the same source."
David took both samples, waited and then looked at Gil expectantly. "I prefer to work alone." He snarked, offering the Graveshift supervisor a tight smile.
Gil cocked his head to the side sharply, then turned on his heel and left, a slight smirk apparent. He stepped into his office, letting the door swing closed behind him. Once in the safe haven of his element, he finally let loose his emotions: unabashedly groaning from the abuse his body had taken. Bowing his head, he leaned a hand against the wall behind his desk and tried to focus on numbing the pain away, to a point of it being bearable. "Oh God..."
Catherine stood unseen, observing him through the door now pushed ajar. Her heart tightened in her chest and she hugged her left arm closer to her body: a reminder of sacrifice and protection, all generously offered by the man suffering in front of her.
–TBC–