Disclaimer: They're not mine
Rating: T or PG-13 for language and violence
Summary: It's 2am. The doorbell rings. A baby is crying. What are you going to do? W/S with GCR moments and a major case
Hurrah for reviews! Thanks plenty, all – especially to csilouise, icklebitodd (hmm, I'll take the chocolate but pass on the tea. Any black coffee going?), JennCorinthos, Shelbers, aleja21, Kelly, Joyce3, Megara1, Review1234 (the other one was longer :P), charmed1818, Mrs. Elektra Murdock, MissyJane and WSShippeR. They were very much appreciated as will any feedback for this chapter be.
To all you patient GCR shippers – the chapter after this will be stocked with GCR goodness and I'm planning on starting that Gil-gets-locked-in-the-bathroom fic, although that'll be a GC friendship as opposed to some serious lovin' – though it's what we all want at the end of the day, apparently. Plug my Live Journal community once more: plug. And now on with the show. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
LAST MINUTE EDIT: (oh the things I do for you). A last minute thanks to cherishedcrush and don't be sorry – it's a totally fine mistake to make. I usually assume that people on here are American until otherwise proven and it's fine that you'd bring that up – it's a TERRIBLE W/S-RUINING STORYLINE! No worries, man – it's all cool.
- o -
Wake The Hope. Chapter Eleven. The Line Up
- o -
"Curiosity will conquer fear even more than bravery will."
JAMES STEPHENS
- o -
The noisy whirring of the coffee machine in the break room is joined by someone groaning in the corner of the room and Greg Sanders turns around to see Catherine glaring at him over the arm of the sofa. Greg smirks.
"Have you been here all day?" he asks. Catherine sits up and runs her fingers through her tangled hair.
"Since I started this morning," she replies. "I hung around at Desert Palms with Sara last night – didn't sleep much. I'm waiting on DNA from the swabs." The cheeky grin vanishes from Greg's face at the reminder of what'd happened to their colleague not even some twenty-four hours ago.
"How is she?" he looks concerned. Catherine gets up, thinking of taking some of that coffee.
"Imagine how you'd feel if you were her," she offers. "And then imagine pretending that you didn't feel all that. That's pretty much where she's at, I reckon."
Greg stares silently down into his coffee before drinking it. Then he looks up and voices the question that had plagued all of their minds in the past hours: "Why didn't he kill her?"
Catherine shrugs her shoulders and rubs her eyes. "I have no idea. She says she got a good look at him, too. Surely that's even more motive to make sure she won't speak." She trails off, realising how uncomfortable a conversation this is.
"We should count ourselves very lucky that he didn't." she adds as Mia sticks her head around the door.
"Finished up processing the swabs from...from the vic." Mia announces, catching herself before she brings up any names.
"And?" Catherine prompts.
Mia shakes her head. "Nothing. Just her DNA and condom lubricant."
Catherine sighs and reaches for the coffee pot. "Right. Thanks, Mia." Mia nods and leaves.
"So – what now?" Greg asks tentatively. Catherine glances at the clock. It's almost nine in the evening.
"Well, Warrick's bringing Sara in with him when he starts his shift tomorrow morning. She's going to try and give a more detailed description of the assailant but until then, I suggest we check up on our pizza boy." Catherine proposes. Greg nods.
"Okay. Except I think that Nick, Grissom and I should chase up the pizza kid and that you should go home and sleep," Greg tells her. Catherine arches an eyebrow over the rim of her coffee cup.
"You're sending me home, Sanders?" she folds her arms and looks amused. Greg draws himself up.
"Yes." he replies firmly and smiles. "There's nothing much to do right now, we're not taking any more major cases until we bury this one and you look in serious need of some sleep."
Catherine laughs at his nerve. "Huh – thanks." she grabs her coat and purse. "After a comment like that, you wonder why I'm actually doing what you say." Greg grins as Catherine heads out down the hall.
"'Night Cath!" he calls after her, raising his mug of coffee. She only shakes her head disbelievingly and keeps on walking.
-
At the sound of knuckles rapping on his front door, Lyle Woodstock gets up reluctantly and opens the door. Three uniformed men stand in the hall and they don't look happy.
"Can I help you?" Lyle offers uneasily.
"Lyle Woodstock?" Nick asks and shows him his badge. Grissom surveys the man – white guy, blond hair – he fitted Sara's sketchy description.
"That's me," Lyle replies.
"Where were you last night, Lyle?" Grissom narrows his eyes at the kid. Lyle looks confused.
"I was here. Sleeping, I guess." Lyle says slowly.
"Was there anyone with you who can confirm that?" Nick presses.
Lyle rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I wish." Greg cranes his head around the man and looks into his apartment. It's extremely tidy and neat, every surface wiped clean and an old tape player stands in the corner.
"You're a very clean-living guy, aren't you, Lyle?" Greg comments. "Not many kids your age live this neatly."
Lyle raises his eyebrows at Greg. "Don't you?" he quips, beginning to get annoyed at the pointed comments coming out of this guy who looks even younger than him.
"Where were you on the night of the 19th of June, Lyle?" Grissom cuts in sharply as he sees Greg beginning to rise to the bait.
"Huh?"
"You know, the night you raped and killed Katie Taylor? Remember her?" Nick mutters sarcastically.
"What?" Lyle stares at the man in incredulity.
"Okay, right – let's make this easier for you," Grissom cuts Nick off, too. The case, now personal, was starting to wear down everybody. "You're coming with us."
"You're arresting me?" Lyle steps back. "No way – I didn't do anything."
Grissom sighs. "Well if you didn't do anything, you'll have no problem coming with us so you can be identified, will you?"
Lyle pales and Nick grabs him roughly, leading him back down to the police car waiting outside.
-
The following morning finds Warrick staring through the mirror, one clenched fist resting against the glass, at the sulky-looking blond man who slouches in his plastic chair.
"You think it's him?" he asks, not taking his eyes off the guy. Nick, standing beside him, shrugs his shoulders.
"I don't know but it's not like we have much else to go on," Nick mutters.
"He doesn't look like he'd be strong enough to escape with no scratches or anything after a fight with Sara," Warrick muses sceptically. Nick chuckles.
"Yeah – I hear ya. Oh well, he's gonna be put into a line up and we'll see if Sara picks him out or not," Nick says. Warrick turns.
"What?" he looks outraged. "So soon? Jesus, Nick – give her a break. It happened like, what – less than three days ago and now you're making her go through it all again?"
Nick holds up his hands. "Warrick, come on, man – if she doesn't feel up to it, we won't make her."
"Of course she's gonna say she feels up to it, Nick. But that doesn't mean she will be," Warrick objects exasperatedly. "Can't you give her a break?"
"'Rick," Nick speaks sharply. "This is serious stuff and the only thing we might be able to have against this guy is Sara's word. Grissom's not going to let this one go so just deal with it, okay?"
Warrick sighs and, glancing briefly back into the room, nods finally. "Okay." Nick claps a hand on his shoulder heavily and leaves the room in silence.
-
Grissom looks at Sara closely.
"You're sure?" he repeats for about the third time. Sara rolls her eyes.
"Yes." she assures him forcefully. He flips his notebook, containing all the details she'd given him on the assailant, closed. The guy was fairly average, consistent with Lyle's appearance – he didn't have any distinguishing features but Sara was positive she'd know him if she saw him.
"Because if this is too tough for you to do right away, we get it." he says cautiously.
"Jesus, Gil – I'm fine. I just want to get this case finished quickly, like everyone else." she tells him. "When will you be doing the line up?"
Grissom smiles; he knew Sara'd be this determined.
"Later in the day – you can stick around here or you can head home. I'll page you when we need you," he nods and gets up.
Sara smiles resolutely and sits back on the break room couch but, when Grissom leaves her alone in the empty room, she unclenches her fists and rubs them, shaking, across her face.
- o -