Title: What Becomes of a One Night Stand
Rating:R (for graphically described scenes)
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot and ideas belong to CBS.
A/N: This is my first attempt at a case-laced fic. In response to a challenge:
1. Greg and Sara have started to become friends since his proficiency, a little while after 'Who Shot Sherlock'.
2. Starts after Greg gets a job at the crime lab. He goes out one night to a party meets a random girl and ends up having a one-night stand (season 1).
3. Advance to now (season 5) a few months after his proficiency he and Sara get called to a case involving a woman being beaten to death. While on scene a little girl is found.
4. Upon instinct Greg goes through protocol, asking her questions and getting samples needed; almost feeling like he needs to be there to comfort her. Slowly people start to notice his attachment to the child.
5. Grissom being the workaholic he is tries to finish out the case. Giving the DNA to Mia they try to find out if the child is the child of the woman found beaten to death. Finding that she is, the computer brought something startling: Greg's the father. Finding out she takes it to Grissom immediately, who gets his surprise reading the results.
6. Finding Greg and the child in the breakroom Grissom tells Greg the results not-so quietly, as members of the team and lab techs move in and out of the room; working and looking at the little angel who seems attached to the ex-lab tech.
7. How does Greg take it? How does the team take it? What happens to the girl? What happens when Sara starts noticing an instant change in Greg? How will the story end?
8. MUST USE characters; Greg, Sara, Grissom, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, Mia and Hodges, other characters optional
9. Greg/Sara friendship ends Greg/Sara
10. any rating
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"Mommy?"
A pair of baby blue eyes peered curiously into the master bedroom, where she seemed unsurprised at the mess that littered the floor. Shards of glass and slivers of wood lay strewn all over the cheap shag carpet, poking into the little girl's feet as she walked towards the bed.
Knocking over a few bottles of discounted vodka, the little girl clutched her worn-out teddy bear closely to her chest. The oversized nightgown trailed on the ground, dirt fraying its edges.
"Mommy?"
The little girl stood at the foot of the bed, taking in the sight of a light-haired woman covered in a mass of purple and blue. Crawling higher onto the bed, the little girl moved the blonde hair from the woman's face. She prodded the woman's hip gently, shaking her harder as the woman didn't respond.
Scared now, the little girl picked up the woman's manicured hands and held it tight. Tiny tears began to splash onto the bedcover, mixing with the blood staining the sheets.
"Mommy?"
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"Who called it in?" Sara Sidle questioned as she ducked under the bright yellow crime tape surrounding the cheaply-built house.
Captain Jim Brass shook his head. "Anonymous call. Sounded like a squeaky toy on helium." Noticing the glare that Sara was shooting at him, he held his hands up in defense. "Don't look at me; that's how the operator who picked it up described the caller."
Using his flashlight, Greg Sanders examined the inside of each room and wrinkled his brow. "What are supposed to be looking at?" he queried, confused.
Brass set his mouth in a grim line. "In here." Swinging open a door that was hanging off its hinges, he looked away as Sara and Greg covered their mouths.
The room-a bedroom, she supposed-was a total wreck. On top of nearly every piece of furniture smashed or heavily damaged, nothing seemed in its place. A large floor mirror was shattered, covered in what appeared to be dried blood, and large pieces of it were still sticking out of the ground. Countless bottles of alcohol were laid opened everywhere, most of them spilled or empty. Large clumps of blonde hair stuck to the puddles of blood. Not to mention what was on the bed-Greg turned away, face turning green.
Whoever the victim was had been hit countless times, some leaving only bruises and others leaving deep-edged gashes, completely mutilating the skin. Face bashed in, the half-bald head was turned in an odd position, neck bent in several directions. Partly wrapped in a thread-bare blanket, it didn't hide the glass-scabbed wounds crisscrossing broken limbs.
It almost didn't look human.
"Oh my god," Sara breathed through her sleeve. Greg coughed and faced out in the hallway, looking ready to gag. "What happened here?"
Shrugging, the detective motioned the coroner and his crew through. "That's your job."
Entering the room, David Phillips held a face mask to his nose. "Wow." His eyes widened in horrific shock. "That's disturbing."
"All homicides are disturbing, David," Sara snapped, looking away as it finally got to her.
He nodded sadly. "Rigor has already fully developed, no obvious decomposing yet." Gently sticking a thermometer into the victim's liver, he glanced at the reading. "Seventy degrees. Body temp drops two degrees per hour, so she's been here at least twelve hours. But this place doesn't have climate control and can get really cold at night, so she could've have been here longer than that."
Greg made a face, taking pictures of the crime scene. Looking underneath the bed, something caught his eye. With his gloved hands, he pulled out a bloody brown fabric. On closer inspection, it was a-
"Teddy bear?" the younger man asked, puzzled. "What's a teddy bear doing here?"
"Why it's here doesn't matter until we get all the evidence, Greg." Sara pointed out quietly. "Just bag and tag it for now." She headed towards the closet, which seemed to be the only untouched area in the whole bedroom.
Pulling the knob, the brunette moved the clothes around. She scowled at the extremely short miniskirts and flashy camisoles. Obviously a hooker or a strip dancer, there were a lot of those in Vegas.
All of a sudden, a pair of shoes moved and the hangers dangled as something moved behind them.
Letting out a small shriek, Sara dropped her flashlight as fingers shot out of the mess and wrapped tightly around her wrist.
In a flash Greg and Brass rushed to her side, the detective pulling out his police-issued handgun. "Come out with your hands in the air," he demanded, keeping it trained at the shifting pile of clothes.
Timidly, a little girl stumbled out with a tear-streaked face. Brass put his firearm back into his holster and backed up, allowing Greg to come forward.
"Uh…hi. What's your name?" Sara asked, bending down to be at eye level with the child. The child refused to answer, instead looking at Greg with wide, wet eyes.
Sara turned to Greg, who looked as clueless as ever. Giving him a pointed look, he kneeled down to the ground. "You okay?" he tried, offering a small grin.
To the group's surprise, the girl gave him a teary smile through her snuffles and ran forward with open arms. Nearly knocking him over, the child buried her head into his jacket.
"Daddy!"