Well it's kind of amusing, I still haven't uncovered the killer, and we
don't know if Greg and Rilie will get together, or even if Ecklie will get
better. But I kinda achieved my goal, Greg is happy and has his self-
respect back.
So here's the question, do I continue? This is not a threat by the way, where I'm at seems like a genuine conclusion.
If I do, are y'all happy to put up with me taking forever to update.
That being said, here's another chapter. A bit shorter than normal. Thanks to Emily [briefly] and to the coffee monster - I still disagree with you about Greg though and it's my ball...Mich, you never got back to me, so I didn't know what to do
Anyway, hopefully [a] someone likes this and [b] tells me what they want.
******************************
Cos there's no easy way to, to understand it There's so much of my life in her, and it's like I'm blinded And it teaches you to never let go There's so much love you'll never know She can reach you no matter how far Wherever you are Phil Collins - Two Hearts
For every person who wants to teach there are approximately thirty people who don't want to learn--much. W. C. Sellar and R. J. Yeatman, And Now All This (1932) introduction
If you want to make peace, you don't talk to your friends. You talk to your enemies. Moshe Dayan (1915 - 1981)
They arrived singly and in pairs, drifting into the hospital waiting room like orphaned children following a dark piper of ill fortune. They did not come out of good will for none existed; but in turn they came not to gloat. They came because one of their own had fallen, and no matter how great an enmity, none would wish the darkness to set without cause. The came and they waited, awkward in their discomfort, yet it was the discomfort of not knowing how to express emotions they didn't know they had for the person laid low by circumstance.
Grissom was the last to arrive. Of all those present, he was the least comfortable, for the ill-feeling between he and Conrad Ecklie was, while not the stuff of legend, not inconsiderable in its reach or its depth; but nonetheless, he too would not wish this fate upon the head of the day shift.
There were two distinct groups gathered in that waiting room, those CSIs, from both night and day shifts, who had heard the news and headed immediately for the hospital. The other, smaller group, gathered apart. It was obviously a family grouping comprised of both adults and children all of whom seemed to be ebbing and flowing about an older woman with the bearing of a matriarch. Grissom watched silently for a moment as the woman calmed a child, smiled reassuringly at another adult and spoke a calming word to a third, but in a brief, unguarded moment, Grissom saw the pain that she carefully hid behind the outward mask of serenity and if there was anyone who could identify a mask, it was Grissom.
Grissom's silent soliloquy was interrupted by the emergence of a doctor from the emergency room, with a serious mien and sure stride; he approached the family grouping, pausing briefly to assess those present before moving to stand in front of the older woman of Grissom's observations.
"Mrs Ecklie?" Despite the quiet, respectful tone of his inquiry, the sound was magnified as all within hearing quieted in order to better hear the medical pronouncement. Allowing himself a small, resigned smile at the intrusive foibles of human nature, the doctor continued. "At present we have Mr Ecklie in a medically induced coma, the accident resulted in significant trauma to his brain and until the swelling subsides we are unable to determine precisely the degree to which he is injured."
The wife of Conrad Ecklie was understandably shaken, and for a brief moment she sagged against one of the young men who flanked her for support. The momentary weakness lasted no more than a second before she straightened and mechanically thanked the doctor for the information he had brought; the doctor, well used to the vagaries of shock and grief took little notice of her distraction, acknowledging her thanks he looked around as if trying to identify someone, failing, he addressed those gathered: "Is there a Mr Grissom present?"
Grissom, surprised at being signalled out, nonetheless responded by tentatively raising his hand. Sighting the acknowledgement of his question the doctor approached.
"Mr Grissom, I am given to understand that you are a friend of Mr Ecklie."
"A colleague."
"Quite." The doctor's lips thinned in a moue of pensive consideration as if debating whether to pass on the information that he held. "When Mr Ecklie was brought in he was semi-conscious, and to all intents and purposes comatose, but in a brief moment of lucidity he mentioned your name and something about 'he doesn't have the medicine'; does that, by chance, mean anything to you?"
"No doctor, I can't say that it does, but I will think on it, thank you for passing that on. Are you able to tell me when Mr Ecklie will awaken?"
The doctor gave Grissom a long, measuring look before answering, "I can't guarantee that he will awaken Mr Grissom. I suggest that you, like the family - who are far more important in my consideration - wait. Good day to you."
Moving to return to the Emergency room, the doctor paused briefly for a quiet, and Grissom hope potentially reassuring word with Ecklie's, wife before disappearing behind the double doors at the end of the corridor.
Seeing little point in waiting around, Grissom decided to return to work, asking Catherine to remain behind for a few hours on the off chance that Ecklie made a miraculous recovery and was able to pass on the information he obviously thought was so vital.
"Mr Grissom?" The voice, while soft, held more than a hint of steel and an even greater measure of authority. Turning, Grissom came face to face with the matriarchal figure whom had previously been identified as Ecklie's wife.
"Mrs..Ecklie?" Even though he was fairly sure it was she, such was her presence that Grissom had no wish to give offence.
Politely nodding assent, she paused, as if searching for the best way to start. "I understand you work with my husband, Mr Grissom."
"To an extent, ma'am. Your husband and I are the supervisors for the two shifts, as such we don't work together per se, but there is a degree of interaction."
"I also understand that you do not have a favourable opinion of my husband."
Grissom was momentarily at a loss for words. It was well and good calling a spade a spade, but coming out and baldly stating common, but unspoken, knowledge was somewhat unsettling. Deciding that the order of the day was directness, Grissom plunged onwards.
"It's not so much unfavourable" Grissom blanched internally at the lie, "As I don't like the way he does things: he's too political, too regimented. In essence, our approaches, and indeed our personalities, are too different to allow common ground."
"And this from the man who says that personal opinion should never be allowed to get in the way of the evidence."
"I don't think.."
"Let me finish Mr. Grissom. Conrad, for all that he'd never say it to your face, has a great deal of respect for your abilities, he just hates your lack of political nous and your grandstanding. It's ironic that you loathe in each other what you both lack."
"I take it then that he's mentioned me."
"Only in passing Mr Grissom, Conrad rarely brings his work home, it's one of the reasons why we remain so close. A word to the wise Mr Grissom, life is too short to worry about that which you cannot control. When Conrad and I started seeing each other I made it quite clear that I was not going to take second place to his work. We've been married twenty-eight years Mr Grissom, and happily so; his work stops at the door. It's only in the last four years or so that I've heard more about his work, it's all the fault of that dreadful killer, that Shakespeare creature. In fact Conrad had something of an epiphany just before his accident, I suppose it's somewhat ironic, but he was on his way to see you."
"Do you know why?"
A considering look crossed the features of Mrs Ecklie as she thought back to just before the accident. "No, he didn't say. All he mentioned was that he'd thought of something important and that you'd need to be told, and before you ask, no, I don't know why he didn't call you."
"Maybe he wanted to gloat in person."
Ecklie's wife seemed caught between annoyance and bemusement while Grissom mentally berated himself for a lack of tact that was, even by his own lofty standards, remarkable. If Catherine had of heard what he'd just said, he would have never heard the end of it and more than likely the sharp edge of her tongue would have filleted him on the spot. Mrs Ecklie, however, was cut from a very different cloth and her reply, while ostensibly mild was as cutting as anything Grissom's flame-haired colleague could have uttered. "That may well be Mr Grissom, and with an attitude such as yours one can see why he would wish to, as you would say, gloat."
"Touché. Actually, ouch"
"Conrad can be a difficult, stubborn man at times Mr Grissom, but he isn't petty and more importantly he would never put a personal vendetta ahead of the job...no matter what others may think. Anyway, it was a pleasure meeting you Mr Grissom, but I have more pressing concerns at present, so good evening to you."
Thoroughly chastened, Grissom could only nod mutely in response before the formidable woman returned to her family, and he, after a suitably minute interval beat a hasty retreat to the safety of his car where he reflected on the vicious irony that had seen him less than a week before swear to mend relations with Ecklie.
*******
Back at the lab, Greg had spent an enjoyable hour torturing the erstwhile Vincent, commenting on everything from the man's shoes, tie; and appearance in general, before moving on to remark on the remarkable resemblance of his cologne to a sexually aroused civet cat. He had pushed too far, however, when he pressed Vincent as to the mental state of his latest silicone- enhanced, leopard- print wearing liaison and Vincent had threatened to vivisect him without the benefit of anaesthetic.
Taking the hint, the lab tech had wandered off in search of other pursuits, or, if the gods were kind, victims. To his dismay, however, the building appeared deserted - at least of CSIs and by extension his primary targets. When the receptionist told him that everyone had gone to the hospital, Greg felt a momentarily abandoned before acknowledging that there wasn't, in the grand scheme of things, a whole lot of point in his attendance, other perhaps than acting as head cheerleader for the 'Guy with the Scythe', which under the circumstances was probably a little inappropriate.
A quiet night was one of the oddities of the job, a place, which on most nights was the epitome of chaos, became quieter than a tomb without its vampire; in fact, the morgue was the proverbial party zone compared to the lab. After rearranging the test tubes for the tenth time and taking the wheels off Vincent's chair, he decided to check home for any phone messages; not that he expected any.
The disembodied courtesy of Greg's answer-phone informed him that he had 'one new message'.
"Hi...um...Greg,...it's Rilie..."
How'd she get my number, Greg wondered. Like all people who worked with the police, Greg had been given the option of having an unlisted number, an option he'd taken in his quest to remain isolated from the world at large.
"If you're wondering how I got your number...well I kinda...hacked...the university's student records database..."
Well that explains that, he mused. Guess it must be important.
"I'm not really sure why I'm calling you..."
Or maybe not.
"Look Greg, I was arguing with my friends, Cassie thinks you're a hottie and wants to jump your bones and I got all bent out of shape about it.
I don't know why...well OK I do...but I can't tell you.."
Rilie's voice on the message grew muffled and Greg listened in bemusement as she swore at herself for leaving him a message telling him that she couldn't say anything. Greg was torn, the message was turning out to be compulsive listening but he also felt like he was crawling around in someone else's psyche; even if it was his answering machine.
"Where was I? Look Greg, I think you're a good guy...well you're not a complete pain in the arse...but I don't know what I'm thinking and...and...I really shouldn't have had that last margarita..and...look just forget I called OK. Bye."
Well, Greg thought, that was different. No dial tone though.
"Greg? You still there?"
Looks like she didn't hang up he thought, and for a brief moment he regretted his lack of pop-corn; then Rilie started crying, and conscience briefly battled the vicarious voyeuristic pleasure he was experiencing .
"Dammit, I am not crying. This is so unfair, why did I have to meet you and why couldn't you have stayed a bastard. You're still a weirdo, but not a bastard if you were a bastard then I...I..." **click**. The phone went dead.
Speechlessness was a rare affliction for the lab tech, but Rilie's message left him lost for words; well words that could be strung together into a coherent sentence indicating understanding, empathy or just plain surprise. It was in this state that Grissom found him, head in hands, trying to make sense of the universe: DNA tracking was easy, you had a machine for that, women on the other hand..
"Greg?"
"Oh, hi Grissom. What's the word on Ecklie?"
"Not good, he's in a medically induced coma, he suffered fairly severe head injuries as well as some other problems. They've got him stabilised, but can't really do anything until the swelling in his brain reduces enough for them to see what's going on."
Greg felt momentarily guilty, the guilt a person feels when their conscience had previously caught them thinking something inappropriate and has now found the perfect opportunity to rub it in. "Who's going to take over day shift?"
"No idea, Brass might take it over for a while, at least until we have a better idea of what's happening." Grissom paused briefly, seemingly weighing his words, "Greg, what do you know about Eckile's wife?"
"How do you mean? What she looks like? What she does? Things like that?" Taking Grissom's nod as a prompt to continue, he considered carefully what he knew, and had heard, before answering. "This isn't gospel Grissom, but word has it that she's a paediatric psychologist and a damn good one too, which would probably explain how she puts up with..".
"Greg, let's leave the personal observances aside for a second and concentrate on the rumours."
Rendered speechless by Grissom's casual use of a non sequitur, Greg slowly returned to the problem at hand. Although he was fairly certain that he had been brought back here for his lab tech skills he was perfectly happy to play the part of Jessica Fletcher and Abigail van Buren's love child.
"The general word is that she's good people, but don't cross her. Apparently, she is also fiercely protective of Ecklie. You know Miles, Ecklie's ballistics guy? Well he was telling Dave, who told Rosemary, who told me, that she ripped the late, unlamented Mobley a new arsehole when he tried to take Ecklie's accrued leave off him and his staff.
"Now Ecklie, prick or not, went by the book, buried Mobley in more employment law than you can shake a stick at and he had to back off on Ecklie's staff; but Mobley, being Mobley, went after Ecklie, or at least he did until Mrs Ecklie came in to have a few words with him."
Grissom was clearly surprised, not so much by the impression of Mrs Ecklie as the personification of the Hindu god Jaggernath, but at Greg's description of Ecklie standing up for his staff. To the shift head's knowledge, no-one had a good thing to say about Ecklie and he challenged the younger man on this fact.
"Well, that's true to an extent Grissom, no-one likes Ecklie personally because he is a complete stickler for procedure and because he won't join in socially, but if you talk to his team you'll find that he backs them to the hilt. No-one takes advantage of the day shift and if they try, Ecklie will beat that person to death with a mountain of procedures and legal precedent; you did know that Ecklie is a qualified lawyer didn't you?"
That final piece of information was enough to completely unsettle Grissom, it showed just how little he knew about the man he characterised as Bureaucracy - the fifth horseman of the apocalypse. It did explain a lot, especially Ecklie's actions when others were seen to go beyond the bounds of procedure. Grissom vividly remembered when Ecklie had gone after Nick Stokes and how everyone had attributed the shift head's behaviour to his dislike of Grissom and a resultant need to get at him though any way possible. Now, in light of what Greg had told him, he was prepared to believe that Ecklie was only going by the book as he had said he was at the time.
It didn't change how Grissom felt about his colleague, for he had no positive memories to recall, but nevertheless it was humbling to realise just how far personal dislike could taint a person's perceptions. He had worked with Ecklie for a long time and had never even known about his legal training, so much for keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.
"So how is it Greg, that you know all this? It's not like you're on a heart- to-heart basis with Ecklie."
Greg smiled mischievously, and pointed to the steaming coffee pot in front of him. "I may not be on the best of terms with Ecklie, but even he trades for my coffee; and what I don't get out of him I find out from everybody else."
"Really?" Grissom appeared interested, "Then you would know if Sara was..."
"...interested in you." The younger man finished for him.
"No!" Grissom's dismay was a palpable thing, an entity exposed to the light of day for the first time and deciding that it really preferred being nocturnal.
Greg grinned mercilessly, "The coffee knows all Grissom."
Deciding that there was only a limited amount of entertainment to be derived from torturing his boss - as much as he was enjoying the pleasure of having Grissom on the hot seat for a change - the lab tech returned to the subject at hand; Ecklie.
"The thing with Ecklie, isn't so much that he's nasty, Grissom; well OK", he amended on seeing the older man's expression, "Maybe to you he's nasty, but you're no Prince Charming where he's concerned; to the rest of us, he's just oblivious. It's like he doesn't see us as more than tools to do a job and treats us accordingly. If one of us doesn't function as specified in the manual - you'd call it a job contract Grissom - then he has us fixed."
Grissom looked thoughtful, what Greg had said rang true with the conversation he had had with Ecklie's wife. "It could be that you're right Greg. Ecklie's wife said that he never brings his work home, so I guess when he gets here, it's just the job that matters and everything around him is just part of the job ."
"I'll tell you who does get on with him, Catherine."
"You're joking...",
"Not at all, simple answer too."
".and what's that Greg?" Grissom appeared unwilling to give credence to the notion that Catherine got on with his nemesis, and perhaps more importantly, that he didn't know about it
"He doesn't flirt with her, doesn't hit on her, no stripper comments, no come-ons, he's all business. He treats Catherine with professional respect and expects the same from her.'
"So do I."
"But you're also her friend, Grissom.
Look at Nick and Warrick; they flirt with her. Hell, I flirted with her. There's something about Catherine that just gets guys going; Ecklie's the exception and Catherine appreciates that."
"I don't flirt with her." Grissom was still stranded at an earlier point in the conversation. "I don't believe you know how," murmured Greg. "Is there anything else I can do for you Grissom.
"I actually dropped in to tell you to go home, there's not a lot happening and you finish in thirty minutes anyway, so call it a night, OK?"
"Sure Grissom, thanks. Oh, by the way, Grissom."
"Yes Greg?"
"She is."
"Who is what?"
"Sara."
"Goodnight Greg." However, beneath the exasperated tone, Greg could detect the barely suppressed delight, he wondered if this time Grissom would actually do something about it.
So here's the question, do I continue? This is not a threat by the way, where I'm at seems like a genuine conclusion.
If I do, are y'all happy to put up with me taking forever to update.
That being said, here's another chapter. A bit shorter than normal. Thanks to Emily [briefly] and to the coffee monster - I still disagree with you about Greg though and it's my ball...Mich, you never got back to me, so I didn't know what to do
Anyway, hopefully [a] someone likes this and [b] tells me what they want.
******************************
Cos there's no easy way to, to understand it There's so much of my life in her, and it's like I'm blinded And it teaches you to never let go There's so much love you'll never know She can reach you no matter how far Wherever you are Phil Collins - Two Hearts
For every person who wants to teach there are approximately thirty people who don't want to learn--much. W. C. Sellar and R. J. Yeatman, And Now All This (1932) introduction
If you want to make peace, you don't talk to your friends. You talk to your enemies. Moshe Dayan (1915 - 1981)
They arrived singly and in pairs, drifting into the hospital waiting room like orphaned children following a dark piper of ill fortune. They did not come out of good will for none existed; but in turn they came not to gloat. They came because one of their own had fallen, and no matter how great an enmity, none would wish the darkness to set without cause. The came and they waited, awkward in their discomfort, yet it was the discomfort of not knowing how to express emotions they didn't know they had for the person laid low by circumstance.
Grissom was the last to arrive. Of all those present, he was the least comfortable, for the ill-feeling between he and Conrad Ecklie was, while not the stuff of legend, not inconsiderable in its reach or its depth; but nonetheless, he too would not wish this fate upon the head of the day shift.
There were two distinct groups gathered in that waiting room, those CSIs, from both night and day shifts, who had heard the news and headed immediately for the hospital. The other, smaller group, gathered apart. It was obviously a family grouping comprised of both adults and children all of whom seemed to be ebbing and flowing about an older woman with the bearing of a matriarch. Grissom watched silently for a moment as the woman calmed a child, smiled reassuringly at another adult and spoke a calming word to a third, but in a brief, unguarded moment, Grissom saw the pain that she carefully hid behind the outward mask of serenity and if there was anyone who could identify a mask, it was Grissom.
Grissom's silent soliloquy was interrupted by the emergence of a doctor from the emergency room, with a serious mien and sure stride; he approached the family grouping, pausing briefly to assess those present before moving to stand in front of the older woman of Grissom's observations.
"Mrs Ecklie?" Despite the quiet, respectful tone of his inquiry, the sound was magnified as all within hearing quieted in order to better hear the medical pronouncement. Allowing himself a small, resigned smile at the intrusive foibles of human nature, the doctor continued. "At present we have Mr Ecklie in a medically induced coma, the accident resulted in significant trauma to his brain and until the swelling subsides we are unable to determine precisely the degree to which he is injured."
The wife of Conrad Ecklie was understandably shaken, and for a brief moment she sagged against one of the young men who flanked her for support. The momentary weakness lasted no more than a second before she straightened and mechanically thanked the doctor for the information he had brought; the doctor, well used to the vagaries of shock and grief took little notice of her distraction, acknowledging her thanks he looked around as if trying to identify someone, failing, he addressed those gathered: "Is there a Mr Grissom present?"
Grissom, surprised at being signalled out, nonetheless responded by tentatively raising his hand. Sighting the acknowledgement of his question the doctor approached.
"Mr Grissom, I am given to understand that you are a friend of Mr Ecklie."
"A colleague."
"Quite." The doctor's lips thinned in a moue of pensive consideration as if debating whether to pass on the information that he held. "When Mr Ecklie was brought in he was semi-conscious, and to all intents and purposes comatose, but in a brief moment of lucidity he mentioned your name and something about 'he doesn't have the medicine'; does that, by chance, mean anything to you?"
"No doctor, I can't say that it does, but I will think on it, thank you for passing that on. Are you able to tell me when Mr Ecklie will awaken?"
The doctor gave Grissom a long, measuring look before answering, "I can't guarantee that he will awaken Mr Grissom. I suggest that you, like the family - who are far more important in my consideration - wait. Good day to you."
Moving to return to the Emergency room, the doctor paused briefly for a quiet, and Grissom hope potentially reassuring word with Ecklie's, wife before disappearing behind the double doors at the end of the corridor.
Seeing little point in waiting around, Grissom decided to return to work, asking Catherine to remain behind for a few hours on the off chance that Ecklie made a miraculous recovery and was able to pass on the information he obviously thought was so vital.
"Mr Grissom?" The voice, while soft, held more than a hint of steel and an even greater measure of authority. Turning, Grissom came face to face with the matriarchal figure whom had previously been identified as Ecklie's wife.
"Mrs..Ecklie?" Even though he was fairly sure it was she, such was her presence that Grissom had no wish to give offence.
Politely nodding assent, she paused, as if searching for the best way to start. "I understand you work with my husband, Mr Grissom."
"To an extent, ma'am. Your husband and I are the supervisors for the two shifts, as such we don't work together per se, but there is a degree of interaction."
"I also understand that you do not have a favourable opinion of my husband."
Grissom was momentarily at a loss for words. It was well and good calling a spade a spade, but coming out and baldly stating common, but unspoken, knowledge was somewhat unsettling. Deciding that the order of the day was directness, Grissom plunged onwards.
"It's not so much unfavourable" Grissom blanched internally at the lie, "As I don't like the way he does things: he's too political, too regimented. In essence, our approaches, and indeed our personalities, are too different to allow common ground."
"And this from the man who says that personal opinion should never be allowed to get in the way of the evidence."
"I don't think.."
"Let me finish Mr. Grissom. Conrad, for all that he'd never say it to your face, has a great deal of respect for your abilities, he just hates your lack of political nous and your grandstanding. It's ironic that you loathe in each other what you both lack."
"I take it then that he's mentioned me."
"Only in passing Mr Grissom, Conrad rarely brings his work home, it's one of the reasons why we remain so close. A word to the wise Mr Grissom, life is too short to worry about that which you cannot control. When Conrad and I started seeing each other I made it quite clear that I was not going to take second place to his work. We've been married twenty-eight years Mr Grissom, and happily so; his work stops at the door. It's only in the last four years or so that I've heard more about his work, it's all the fault of that dreadful killer, that Shakespeare creature. In fact Conrad had something of an epiphany just before his accident, I suppose it's somewhat ironic, but he was on his way to see you."
"Do you know why?"
A considering look crossed the features of Mrs Ecklie as she thought back to just before the accident. "No, he didn't say. All he mentioned was that he'd thought of something important and that you'd need to be told, and before you ask, no, I don't know why he didn't call you."
"Maybe he wanted to gloat in person."
Ecklie's wife seemed caught between annoyance and bemusement while Grissom mentally berated himself for a lack of tact that was, even by his own lofty standards, remarkable. If Catherine had of heard what he'd just said, he would have never heard the end of it and more than likely the sharp edge of her tongue would have filleted him on the spot. Mrs Ecklie, however, was cut from a very different cloth and her reply, while ostensibly mild was as cutting as anything Grissom's flame-haired colleague could have uttered. "That may well be Mr Grissom, and with an attitude such as yours one can see why he would wish to, as you would say, gloat."
"Touché. Actually, ouch"
"Conrad can be a difficult, stubborn man at times Mr Grissom, but he isn't petty and more importantly he would never put a personal vendetta ahead of the job...no matter what others may think. Anyway, it was a pleasure meeting you Mr Grissom, but I have more pressing concerns at present, so good evening to you."
Thoroughly chastened, Grissom could only nod mutely in response before the formidable woman returned to her family, and he, after a suitably minute interval beat a hasty retreat to the safety of his car where he reflected on the vicious irony that had seen him less than a week before swear to mend relations with Ecklie.
*******
Back at the lab, Greg had spent an enjoyable hour torturing the erstwhile Vincent, commenting on everything from the man's shoes, tie; and appearance in general, before moving on to remark on the remarkable resemblance of his cologne to a sexually aroused civet cat. He had pushed too far, however, when he pressed Vincent as to the mental state of his latest silicone- enhanced, leopard- print wearing liaison and Vincent had threatened to vivisect him without the benefit of anaesthetic.
Taking the hint, the lab tech had wandered off in search of other pursuits, or, if the gods were kind, victims. To his dismay, however, the building appeared deserted - at least of CSIs and by extension his primary targets. When the receptionist told him that everyone had gone to the hospital, Greg felt a momentarily abandoned before acknowledging that there wasn't, in the grand scheme of things, a whole lot of point in his attendance, other perhaps than acting as head cheerleader for the 'Guy with the Scythe', which under the circumstances was probably a little inappropriate.
A quiet night was one of the oddities of the job, a place, which on most nights was the epitome of chaos, became quieter than a tomb without its vampire; in fact, the morgue was the proverbial party zone compared to the lab. After rearranging the test tubes for the tenth time and taking the wheels off Vincent's chair, he decided to check home for any phone messages; not that he expected any.
The disembodied courtesy of Greg's answer-phone informed him that he had 'one new message'.
"Hi...um...Greg,...it's Rilie..."
How'd she get my number, Greg wondered. Like all people who worked with the police, Greg had been given the option of having an unlisted number, an option he'd taken in his quest to remain isolated from the world at large.
"If you're wondering how I got your number...well I kinda...hacked...the university's student records database..."
Well that explains that, he mused. Guess it must be important.
"I'm not really sure why I'm calling you..."
Or maybe not.
"Look Greg, I was arguing with my friends, Cassie thinks you're a hottie and wants to jump your bones and I got all bent out of shape about it.
I don't know why...well OK I do...but I can't tell you.."
Rilie's voice on the message grew muffled and Greg listened in bemusement as she swore at herself for leaving him a message telling him that she couldn't say anything. Greg was torn, the message was turning out to be compulsive listening but he also felt like he was crawling around in someone else's psyche; even if it was his answering machine.
"Where was I? Look Greg, I think you're a good guy...well you're not a complete pain in the arse...but I don't know what I'm thinking and...and...I really shouldn't have had that last margarita..and...look just forget I called OK. Bye."
Well, Greg thought, that was different. No dial tone though.
"Greg? You still there?"
Looks like she didn't hang up he thought, and for a brief moment he regretted his lack of pop-corn; then Rilie started crying, and conscience briefly battled the vicarious voyeuristic pleasure he was experiencing .
"Dammit, I am not crying. This is so unfair, why did I have to meet you and why couldn't you have stayed a bastard. You're still a weirdo, but not a bastard if you were a bastard then I...I..." **click**. The phone went dead.
Speechlessness was a rare affliction for the lab tech, but Rilie's message left him lost for words; well words that could be strung together into a coherent sentence indicating understanding, empathy or just plain surprise. It was in this state that Grissom found him, head in hands, trying to make sense of the universe: DNA tracking was easy, you had a machine for that, women on the other hand..
"Greg?"
"Oh, hi Grissom. What's the word on Ecklie?"
"Not good, he's in a medically induced coma, he suffered fairly severe head injuries as well as some other problems. They've got him stabilised, but can't really do anything until the swelling in his brain reduces enough for them to see what's going on."
Greg felt momentarily guilty, the guilt a person feels when their conscience had previously caught them thinking something inappropriate and has now found the perfect opportunity to rub it in. "Who's going to take over day shift?"
"No idea, Brass might take it over for a while, at least until we have a better idea of what's happening." Grissom paused briefly, seemingly weighing his words, "Greg, what do you know about Eckile's wife?"
"How do you mean? What she looks like? What she does? Things like that?" Taking Grissom's nod as a prompt to continue, he considered carefully what he knew, and had heard, before answering. "This isn't gospel Grissom, but word has it that she's a paediatric psychologist and a damn good one too, which would probably explain how she puts up with..".
"Greg, let's leave the personal observances aside for a second and concentrate on the rumours."
Rendered speechless by Grissom's casual use of a non sequitur, Greg slowly returned to the problem at hand. Although he was fairly certain that he had been brought back here for his lab tech skills he was perfectly happy to play the part of Jessica Fletcher and Abigail van Buren's love child.
"The general word is that she's good people, but don't cross her. Apparently, she is also fiercely protective of Ecklie. You know Miles, Ecklie's ballistics guy? Well he was telling Dave, who told Rosemary, who told me, that she ripped the late, unlamented Mobley a new arsehole when he tried to take Ecklie's accrued leave off him and his staff.
"Now Ecklie, prick or not, went by the book, buried Mobley in more employment law than you can shake a stick at and he had to back off on Ecklie's staff; but Mobley, being Mobley, went after Ecklie, or at least he did until Mrs Ecklie came in to have a few words with him."
Grissom was clearly surprised, not so much by the impression of Mrs Ecklie as the personification of the Hindu god Jaggernath, but at Greg's description of Ecklie standing up for his staff. To the shift head's knowledge, no-one had a good thing to say about Ecklie and he challenged the younger man on this fact.
"Well, that's true to an extent Grissom, no-one likes Ecklie personally because he is a complete stickler for procedure and because he won't join in socially, but if you talk to his team you'll find that he backs them to the hilt. No-one takes advantage of the day shift and if they try, Ecklie will beat that person to death with a mountain of procedures and legal precedent; you did know that Ecklie is a qualified lawyer didn't you?"
That final piece of information was enough to completely unsettle Grissom, it showed just how little he knew about the man he characterised as Bureaucracy - the fifth horseman of the apocalypse. It did explain a lot, especially Ecklie's actions when others were seen to go beyond the bounds of procedure. Grissom vividly remembered when Ecklie had gone after Nick Stokes and how everyone had attributed the shift head's behaviour to his dislike of Grissom and a resultant need to get at him though any way possible. Now, in light of what Greg had told him, he was prepared to believe that Ecklie was only going by the book as he had said he was at the time.
It didn't change how Grissom felt about his colleague, for he had no positive memories to recall, but nevertheless it was humbling to realise just how far personal dislike could taint a person's perceptions. He had worked with Ecklie for a long time and had never even known about his legal training, so much for keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.
"So how is it Greg, that you know all this? It's not like you're on a heart- to-heart basis with Ecklie."
Greg smiled mischievously, and pointed to the steaming coffee pot in front of him. "I may not be on the best of terms with Ecklie, but even he trades for my coffee; and what I don't get out of him I find out from everybody else."
"Really?" Grissom appeared interested, "Then you would know if Sara was..."
"...interested in you." The younger man finished for him.
"No!" Grissom's dismay was a palpable thing, an entity exposed to the light of day for the first time and deciding that it really preferred being nocturnal.
Greg grinned mercilessly, "The coffee knows all Grissom."
Deciding that there was only a limited amount of entertainment to be derived from torturing his boss - as much as he was enjoying the pleasure of having Grissom on the hot seat for a change - the lab tech returned to the subject at hand; Ecklie.
"The thing with Ecklie, isn't so much that he's nasty, Grissom; well OK", he amended on seeing the older man's expression, "Maybe to you he's nasty, but you're no Prince Charming where he's concerned; to the rest of us, he's just oblivious. It's like he doesn't see us as more than tools to do a job and treats us accordingly. If one of us doesn't function as specified in the manual - you'd call it a job contract Grissom - then he has us fixed."
Grissom looked thoughtful, what Greg had said rang true with the conversation he had had with Ecklie's wife. "It could be that you're right Greg. Ecklie's wife said that he never brings his work home, so I guess when he gets here, it's just the job that matters and everything around him is just part of the job ."
"I'll tell you who does get on with him, Catherine."
"You're joking...",
"Not at all, simple answer too."
".and what's that Greg?" Grissom appeared unwilling to give credence to the notion that Catherine got on with his nemesis, and perhaps more importantly, that he didn't know about it
"He doesn't flirt with her, doesn't hit on her, no stripper comments, no come-ons, he's all business. He treats Catherine with professional respect and expects the same from her.'
"So do I."
"But you're also her friend, Grissom.
Look at Nick and Warrick; they flirt with her. Hell, I flirted with her. There's something about Catherine that just gets guys going; Ecklie's the exception and Catherine appreciates that."
"I don't flirt with her." Grissom was still stranded at an earlier point in the conversation. "I don't believe you know how," murmured Greg. "Is there anything else I can do for you Grissom.
"I actually dropped in to tell you to go home, there's not a lot happening and you finish in thirty minutes anyway, so call it a night, OK?"
"Sure Grissom, thanks. Oh, by the way, Grissom."
"Yes Greg?"
"She is."
"Who is what?"
"Sara."
"Goodnight Greg." However, beneath the exasperated tone, Greg could detect the barely suppressed delight, he wondered if this time Grissom would actually do something about it.