A/N- Between my job, my car trying to fall apart and writer's block this story got stuck on the back burner, but two days ago it caught fire again and I finished chapters 4 and 5. So here they are!

Gil woke to a sharp pain in his shoulder as he felt someone lifting him up and away from the bed and released a startled gasp. "Sorry about that, just need to check back here for a moment," he heard his doctor say. He kept his eyes closed as the bandage was pulled off and a new one taped on. The hospital gown was pulled up into place and the doctor's warm hands guided him down until he was resting against the back of the bed again. Only when the pain was reduced to its usual throb did he open his eyes to see his doctor making a note in his chart.

"How do you feel today?" the surgeon asked when he finished writing.

Grissom considered his answer before answering, taking his time to compare the sensations he felt now with what he'd felt over the past couple of days. "The shoulder still hurts, but the whole body ache isn't as bad. And for the first time in two days I feel like I'm really awake," he added, faintly surprised.

The doctor smiled. "That's good, it means your system is recovering. A few more days and you can go home, and with another week or two of rest you can return to work," he added before leaving

He nodded with reluctant acceptance even as his mind went over everything he would be missing at work. What if they needed him? As their supervisor, he knew his team's strengths and weaknesses, and was well aware that they could handle any work that came in on their own, but he was so used to being involved, used to being there to lend a hand or give advice…

And at the lab he was useful. There was so little he could do from home, and if his current state of weariness and pain was any indication he would be able to do even less than normal. He gave a groan at the thought of hours wasted in bed, incapable of doing anything more than lying around watching lousy TV, all because of some punk with a gun.

Some punk with a gun and a lot of motivation, he remembered suddenly. He sat up too quickly and had to wait for the room to stop spinning before he could dial the number on the phone. "Hey Brass, it's me," he spoke into the mouthpiece. "I need to speak to you."

Jim Brass arrived fifteen minutes later, knocking softly on the door. Grissom had drifted off while he waited but was completely awake by the time the detective walked through door. He pushed the button to raise the back of the bed while Jim moved a chair over so they could talk face to face. Once he sat down he fiddled with the chair, shifting his weight and changing the angle.

"I don't think you can get anymore comfortable on that," Gil spoke after watching for a moment.

"Yeah, probably not." He settled into a position and looked at Grissom for the first time. "You look better."

"I feel better."

"That's good." He shifted around in the seat again. "So, you said you needed to speak to me. I assume it's about the shooting? 'Cause we got the guy who did it, we can wait until you're better to take your full statement."

"It's about something the shooter told me, why he did it," Grissom started, and Jim leaned forward to listen. "He told me two officers picked him up and interrogated him, accusing him of Jody's murder."

"Whoa, hold up a minute," Brass interrupted. "First of all, we've only had one suspect, the same guy your evidence nailed. And second, the guy is falsely accused so he gets a gun and goes nuts?"

"He told me the officers held him for fifteen hours, showed him pictures of the body, the scene, gave him detailed accounts of the rape and murder… How many seasoned officers were affected by this case? He's just a kid, Jim, he wasn't ready to deal with that. On top of that he had two police officers yelling that he did it, trying to force a confession, and he's convinced he's about to go to jail for something he didn't-" His tirade was cut off by a bout of coughing.

Jim poured a cup of water and handed it to him. "Okay, I can see where he might be coming from," he conceded while Gil recovered. "I'm not saying it excuses the guy, but I can understand why he was so upset."

"Not upset," Grissom corrected, his voice still rough. "He was completely freaked out. I don't think he was fully aware of what he was doing."

"All right, so did he give you any names?"

He nodded, clearing his throat slightly to delay. He knew what he had to say, he just wasn't sure of Brass's reaction. "Fromansky and Murdock."

There was no explosion, just a heavy sigh and a hand rubbed his eyes. "You sure about that?"

"I don't think he'll ever forget those names."

"Is there any chance he was lying? I mean, he goes to a crime scene with a gun for who knows what reason; maybe he was making it up. Both those officers were working the scene, he could've read their names off the uniforms."

"You didn't see him, Jim. I don't think he even had the capacity to lie."

Another sigh and Jim collapsed against the back of the chair. "You're not going to give this up, are you?" It was more a statement than a question.

Weariness started to pull at Gil and he knew he wouldn't be able to fight it for long. "Just look into, please," he asked quietly. "You don't have to say anything, or make any accusations. In a couple of days I'll be able to do more but by then the trail might be too cold."

"You're going to need more than a couple of days," Brass snorted. "All right, I'll look into it. But if I find anything that clears them, I want you to drop this, okay? The first time you chased after Fromansky he was cleared. The second time they ended up giving him an award. You go after him again and it's gonna look real bad on you, buddy."

"I know," Gil nodded.

"You always know, then you go and do it anyway. We'll have to talk about your survival instincts later when you're up to it."

"Thank you, Jim. I appreciate your help."

"Yeah, well, you can thank me by getting better."

A uniformed officer walked out of Jim's office and the captain scratched another name off his list. Only two remained and they matched the names of the cops waiting outside. 'This is it', he thought to himself.

"Murdock!" he called out. "You're next."

Officer Frank Murdock was young, hotheaded and cocky -- and off duty during the supposed interrogation. He strutted into the office as if it was his and tried to stare Brass down. Jim tried to ignore the attitude and pointed at the chair. "Take a seat," he told the officer. "This should just take a couple of minutes."

Murdock dropped into the seat. "What's this all about?"

"Settling a couple of details." He held out a photo array for the other to study. "Do you recognize any of these men?"

The officer took a moment to look at the pictures. "Sure, this guy," he said, tapping one in the middle. "When we responded to the call he was lurking around the Holcomb house. I was going to talk to him but he took off when the other car arrived."

"You and Fromansky were first on the scene, right? Why didn't say anything about him?"

"We did," Murdock protested. "We told the lieutenant as soon as he got there. He just blew us off."

"All right, I'll talk to him later. Send Fromansky in on your way out," Brass said, waving him away and leaning back in his chair.

The second officer walked in stiffly. "What's going on this time?"

"Relax, just filling in a couple of details," Brass placated. "I'm interviewing everyone involved in the Holcomb case. Do you recognize anyone in this array?"

Fromansky glared at Brass for a moment before looking down. "Him." He pointed to the same picture as Murdock.

"And where do you know him from?"

"He was watching the Holcomb house when we arrived, but took off pretty quickly." He stared at the picture for another moment before looking at Brass again. "This is they guy who shot Grissom," he stated. "You think he had something to do with Jody's murder?"

"There's no evidence that says he did."

"Well evidence or not," Fromansky said as he stood up. "All he did was give Grissom what he deserves."

Brass stood as well. "You care to explain that?"

"Grissom walks around making accusations left and right," he spat out. "He hides in his lab completely unaware of the real world. It's about time someone woke him up."

"Get out. We're done here."

Fromansky smirked at him before turning around to leave.

Jim waited until he was out of site before sinking back into his chair. He rubbed his forehead wearily as he studied the list he'd kept of the interviews. Out of everyone who'd worked at the Holcomb scene, Fromansky and Murdock were the only ones who'd seen the shooter. Neither of them had been on duty during the supposed interrogation, though a couple of others had mentioned seeing them around the station.

So what next? The kid's lawyer wasn't letting them talk to him. He could have a CSI dust the interrogation rooms for prints, but not without anyone noticing. Asking Fromansky and Murdock directly was out of the question.

"Hey, Jim," Sheriff Atwater spoke up from the doorway. "You got a minute?"

"Sure, I have a few." What now, he thought to himself.

The next morning found Jim back at in Grissom's hospital room and seated on the same hard plastic chair. "I have some news for you," he told the injured man once the greetings were out of the way. Grissom looked at him expectantly. "First of all, I did some digging around, and both Fromansky and Murdock were off duty at the time of the supposed interrogation, yet both were seen at the station. Plus out of all the officers involved in the Holcomb case they were the only ones who recognized your shooter, said they saw him hanging around the house when they first responded to the call."

Grissom nodded slightly. "That explains how they found him," he mused, staring off into the distance.

"Yeah, well, there's something else. Your shooter killed himself yesterday."

"What? What happened?" The sharp gaze was brought into focus.

"He hung himself. I don't know the details yet, but the dayshift is working the case."

"I didn't even know his name," Grissom said quietly. "I was so focused on the gun that I never thought to ask..." his voice trailed off.

"Eric Cooper," Jim told him and held out the folder he'd brought. "Warrick and the others did some digging, I thought you'd like to see this."

"Thank you, I do." He opened the folder and skimmed through the top page before looking at Brass again. "We can't let the get away with this, Jim."

"If you're right, I agree. But before you call out the hunt you have to be completely sure that they're the ones who did it. Do you even have an idea of what their motive could've been?"

"No," Gil admitted heavily, "Not yet."

"Look, you're going to be here for a couple more days. Take it easy, get plenty of rest, and when you're well enough the case will still be there." He stood up and prepared to leave. "I gotta get home and sleep, you want me to bring anything before I work tonight?"

"I already gave Catherine a list, she should be here soon."

"Good. I'll stop by tomorrow, see how you're doing," he said in parting.

"I'm going to find out who got to that kid," Grissom said just as he reached the doorway.

Brass turned to look at his friend. "Yeah, I'm sure you will."

tbc