Cassandra - You found me! Yay! Thank you for the review, and I'm happy that you're still reading. Cheryl's not going to forget where she came from in a hurry - which is why I can't see her getting with Nick... although I could be persuaded.
Just a reminder, CSI and all characters - not mine. Cheryl and Simon are though... and Eddie - he's mine too!
Cheryl found Sara in the hallway talking to Greg and walked over to the two. 'So, did we establish a cause of death?'
'You couldn't make it to the autopsy?' Sara asked her.
'No, I had to wash Eddie,' Cheryl told her, pointing down at her feet, 'he smelt of decomp. And that's not a nice thing to smell like.' She finished, knowing perfectly well from the look on Sara's face that the 'tour' had been intentional, and that she smelt like lemony death.
Sara scowled at her. 'I don't think washing a duck is a priority when there is a murderer at large.'
'He's a goose. And I wanted a clean goose following me around. Not a bad smell,' she glared back at her.
Greg looked blankly between the two of them. 'Have I missed something?'
'Are you implying something?' Sara asked her.
'May I ask why there is a gosling in the crime lab?'
The three CSIs turned around to find Grissom behind them. Cheryl sighed. 'Sorry, sir. It turns out the last resident in my new home was a decomposing body. So I have no home, and nowhere for Eddie to go. But he's good. He'll just fall asleep,' she glanced down, 'like he is doing now. He's not normally like this, but I think my music kept him up on the drive here. Although he did seem to be singing along to the music. Of course, that could have been goose talk for "turn it off, I'm trying to sleep".'
Grissom started to say something, then stopped. He tried again, 'so the DB was at your house?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Don't call me sir.'
'Yes ma'am.' Cheryl said, before she'd realised it was coming out of her mouth.
Grissom frowned, 'Grissom will do,' he told her, before shooting a look at Greg, who was staring at them with his mouth open. 'I'm not sure if I want to know the answer to this, but you're not related to Greg, are you?'
'Huh?'
'Never mind.' He said, shaking his head and walking off.
'Why would I be related to you?' She asked Greg.
'Because you two seem to have the same mental age.' Sara told her before Greg could answer. 'COD was a gunshot wound. Probably caused by the bullet we found in the bathtub, but if you'd have made it to the ME's office, you would have known that. And I've just come from ballistics. Bobby is running the bullet through IBIS now, but it came from a semi automatic handgun, most likely a glock. I'm going back there now to follow up, if you need me.' She told them, turning on her heel and marching off down the hall.
Cheryl stared blankly after her, wondering what to say first: who's fault is it I didn't make it to the ME's office? We found the bullet – who stuck their arm in that gunk? And the same mental age? What was she implying? She settled for a simple, 'huh?'
Greg was staring at her in awe, 'you… I… Grissom… I,' he stuttered.
Cheryl stared blankly at him, 'huh?' She repeated. Two degrees and the best she could come up with was huh? Very articulate.
'What's got you all flustered, Greggo?' Cheryl looked up to find Nick clapping his hand on his back.
'Cheryl,' he spluttered.
Nick raised an eyebrow in Cheryl's direction, who shrugged back at him, 'she been stripping off again?'
'Yeah,' Cheryl told him, 'I have a habit of stripping off in the middle of corridors. You should try it some time. Both of you. I don't think there would be many objections.'
'I don't think this department works on a case of I'll show you mine if you show me yours.'
A sly grin spread across Cheryl's face, 'who said anything about showing you mine?'
'You called Grissom, Ma'am.' Greg finally blurted out.
'You what?' Nick asked her.
'I didn't mean to.' Cheryl said, 'do you think I should go apologise?'
'You got away with it!' Greg exclaimed, his voice raising in pitch slightly.
'Congratulations,' Nick told her, patting her on the back, 'you managed to accomplish something Greg here has been trying to do for years.' He walked off, continuing in the direction that he had been heading.
Cheryl stared after him, before turning back to Greg, who was still gaping at her. 'You gonna stand there all day catching flies, or do you want to show me where the DNA lab is so we can drop the hairs off?'
Greg blinked and shook his head, 'you are my new hero.'
'Being smart with the boss puts me at hero status?'
Greg nodded, 'it does in my books.'
'You need to get out more.' She leant over and grabbed the two yellow envelopes he was holding on to, containing the hairs they had found at the crime scene. 'I'll find it on my own, shall I?'
'Oh, it's this way.' He told her, walking down the corridor.
He led her to the room she had passed earlier. She was right – it was the DNA lab. DNA, not her most favourite part of the job, but it was still fun, nevertheless. They were greeted by a guy who, to Cheryl, looked like what she would expect Harry Potter to look like when he hit his thirties; wild, black hair, green eyes, glasses, and a bit of stubble.
'Cheryl Carter!' He exclaimed, as soon as he clamped eyes on her.
Cheryl stared blankly at him, trying to put a name to a face. 'Have we met?'
The lab tech looked a little hurt, 'it's me. Simon Hunter. We worked together on a case once.'
Cheryl shook her head, 'this is my first day here.'
'Oh, no, it was back in Miami. I did the DNA on the Kings case. Valera was snowed under with the DNA from the Lopez case Detective Caine was working on.'
The Lopez case was a triple homicide case from a few months ago. Someone had broken into the Lopez's house and murdered the three children whilst the mother was asleep, before going for the mother. There had been blood everywhere. It turned out the husband had killed them when he found out he was infertile and couldn't possibly have been the father. It had been a big case and with all the blood, Valera had been working all hours under the sun. As for the Kings case, that had been a case of stolen identity, and she had been busy trying to keep an irate executive from tracking down his impostor. She had been so caught up, it was highly possible that they had worked together, and the chances were he'd been called in from the night shift to cover.
'Yeah, I remember, I'm sorry.' She told him, even though she really had no clue, 'you look different though,' she indicated vaguely to her face.'
'I grew the stubble,' he told her, his face lighting up in delight, 'I knew you would notice.'
'Anyway, Simon, we've got to get back to the case, you know how it is. Will you process these for me?' She handed over the envelopes, 'just page one of us when they're ready.'
'For you, anything. I'll get started on them now.' He took them off her and placed them on the side. 'It's nice working with you again.'
Cheryl smiled at him and walked out of the lab, faster than she'd walked in.
'You have no idea who he is, do you?' Greg asked her.
'Not a clue.' She told him, 'but I know about the cases he was talking about, so I probably did work with him. How long has he been here?'
'Only a couple of weeks. We don't seem to be able to keep anyone in DNA very long, these days. He's replaced Wendy, who's on maternity leave. She replaced Mia, who's on sabbatical, and Mia replaced Chandra, who replaced me.'
'You used to work DNA? What made you want to be a CSI?'
Greg sighed, 'lots of reasons. It's a long story. I'm going to start running those shoe prints. You know where you're going?'
Cheryl nodded, 'yeah, I'm going to stick Eddie in the break room, and then I'm going to see if I can work out who the teeth belong to.'
'Oh, David said he'd done impressions and put them up for the local dentist to identify, but so far no one's said anything.'
'Cheers, Greg.' She headed to the break room. It was empty. Eddie, who had been following her the whole time, instantly jumped up into the corner of the couch and curled up. 'You are one lazy gosling.' Cheryl muttered to him, before leaving the room and heading to the trace lab, via the evidence locker.
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'So, you upset Sara, eh?'
'Excuse me?' Cheryl looked blankly at the trace technician in front of her.
'She sent you to the only room in the morgue that doesn't open from the inside. The last person who ended up in there, ended up dead.'
'Huh?' She was glad to see her articulacy had remained.
'Some newbie. Before my time.'
'Ok, then,' Cheryl shook her head, about to change the subject, but he stopped her.
'Don't worry about it. You're on one messed up team.'
'Huh?' The man was beginning to bug her.
'Well, one of them got buried alive, one is a gambler, who married a woman he had known for all of a month. One is related to Sam Braun, who is probably the guy with the most power in this city. Another is obsessed with bugs, and I swear, is slightly autistic. One of the detectives is a cop killer, and the other is an ex-CSI who couldn't handle it. The other CSI used to be the biggest joker here, but now is boring, and continually trying to prove himself to everybody. So Sara being just plain psychotic, that's no big deal. In fact, other than yours truly, everyone should be institutionalised, or something.'
'Excellent, because I am a twenty-three year old who has had no life because all I've ever done is learn and work,' said Cheryl. 'I have been shot four times in the line of duty, one of those times was by my own colleague, I can tell you what the car is, from anything as small as the engine sound, and I have had to have anger management courses because I have hit medics and doctors for coming within a metre of me with a needle. And, oh yeah, I sing out loud, far too loudly, to whatever music is on my mp3 player at the time. So I guess my weirdness will fit right in. Now, can you please tell me what the sodding teeth are made from.'
A round of applause startled both Cheryl and the trace guy, who were both glaring at each other. Cheryl turned around to find Warrick in the lab doorway, 'I'm impressed,' said Warrick, 'most people don't talk back to Hodges like that. Is he giving you any problems?'
Cheryl shook her head.
'Excuse me, but why am I always made out to be the bad guy?' Whined Hodges.
'After that lovely description of the grave yard shift, what do you expect?' Said Warrick, he turned to Cheryl, 'we're not that bad, you know.'
'Oh,' said Cheryl, 'because I pretty much am.'
Warrick smiled, 'you might just fit in here.'
Cheryl gave a small smile back, before turning back to Hodges. 'So, is it just Hodges, or do you have a first name?'
'It's David.' He told her shortly.
'Okay, David.' She sighed, 'I'm sorry for that outburst.'
Hodges gaped at her, 'huh?'
The articulacy was catching. 'I have anger issues, apparently. Okay, not apparently. I do have them. As you just witnessed. But, yeah, anger issues. I don't control my temper very well. It's either the redhead in me coming out, or the Irish. And now I'm rambling, which is something else I seem to be doing recently. I think it's a nervous habit.' She looked over at his lost expression, 'I tell you what, just tell me what the teeth are made of, and I'll be going.'
'You're not a natural blonde?'
'Out of all of that, the only thing you picked up on is that I dye my hair? I guess I do talk too much. Teeth, David, please.'
David closed his mouth and whipped around to the paper on the table. 'You're teeth are made from platinum, with diamonds and sapphires. It's solid platinum, too. Pretty expensive teeth.'
'Thank you,' said Cheryl, taking the sheet of paper and teeth off him, and leaving the room.
Hodges turned to Warrick, 'is she old enough to be working here?'
'You make the best first impression, you know that.'
'I was only trying to introduce myself.'
'By telling the new girl about everyone else apart from yourself. Smooth, Hodges. You should be thankful I didn't catch what you said about me.'
Hodges glared at him, then grabbed another sheet of paper. 'The mystery blue material was latex.' He told him, before thrusting the paper into Warrick's hands.
Warrick took it without a word and left the trace lab, glancing at his watch. It was getting close to the time when the sun came up. Coffee was what he needed. He headed there, expecting it to be empty, but instead found Catherine in there… holding a… duck? 'Cath, what are you doing?' He asked her.
'Oh, Warrick, isn't he cute?'
'Where did it come from?' He asked, heading towards the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug. 'Want some?' He asked, holding the pot up.
'I'm fine, thanks. I don't know where he came from, but he's so cute.'
Warrick came around so he was stood in front of Catherine. He glanced down at her watching her cradle the bird.
Catherine looked up and caught him staring, 'what?'
'You still have the maternal instincts going.'
Catherine groaned, 'I don't think so. Lindsay is beginning to be unreasonable. She's threatening to go out and get her navel pierced. Why would she want to do that to herself?'
'She's a teenager, Cath. She's rebelling. It's what they do.' He sat down next to her, 'you want me to have a word?'
'No, it's alright,' Catherine told him, shaking her head. 'I'm not at that stage yet.'
'You know, if you ever need me, I'll be there to help.'
Catherine looked over at him, removing her attention from the gosling, which seemed to be doing a very good job of imitating a cat purring, and looked over at Warrick. He wouldn't look up from his coffee and meet her eyes. 'Are you?' She asked him softly.
Warrick finally turned to face her, looking like he was going to tell her something, but he was prevented from doing so by Grissom, 'ah, here you are, Warrick.'
Catherine bit her lip and looked away. Typical – Grissom couldn't get his timing right even if someone was stood there with a stopwatch and telling him when to do things. Unless it involved his beloved bugs. She was incredibly tempted to say something about it, but the moment was lost anyway. 'Any idea where the walking pillow came from?'
'It's Cheryl's.' Grissom told her, 'she turned up at her crime scene this morning to find out it was her house.'
Catherine and Warrick's mouths dropped open in unison. 'Damn, that's unlucky,' winced Warrick. 'She's not a suspect is she?'
'The dead body was a decomp. She was still in Miami when he was killed.'
'A decomp!' Exclaimed Catherine, 'the smell won't come out for months. What is she planning to do?' Her mother mode was setting in. The poor girl would have to sell it.
'I don't know,' said Grissom, 'it never came up.'
Yep, that was Grissom, completely oblivious to things like that. Catherine sighed; she would have to have a chat with her later. Not that it would be possible for her to stay at hers as her mother was there, but she could find somewhere for the girl.
'What have you found out about the blue material?' Grissom asked Warrick.
Warrick looked over at Catherine and smiled, before getting up and following Grissom out of the door. 'It's latex, according to Hodges, who, by the way, needs a personality transplant.'
'David is just being David,' said Grissom, trying to be diplomatic.
'It doesn't stop him needing that transplant.' Warrick muttered. He looked over at Grissom, expecting a comment to be made, but Grissom was frowning in thought, 'you okay, Gris?' He took a sip of his coffee.
'I Touch Myself.' Grissom told him.
Warrick spit his coffee out, 'I beg your pardon?'
Grissom looked at Warrick, noticing the coffee and frowned, but pointed down the corridor, 'I Touch Myself, by the Divinyals.'
Warrick stopped and listened. Sure enough, drifting down the corridor was the sound of music, and I Touch Myself. 'Please don't ever do that to me again.'
'Do what?' Grissom asked him, genuinely not realising what Warrick was talking about. Warrick merely shook his head in disbelief, as the two men entered the room from which the singing was originating. Cheryl was stood at a table, singing along to the music which was coming through her headphones from her phone. She didn't realise that she was being watched, and started singing along to the next song, which sounded remarkably similar to the stuff Greg used to play in the lab, and therefore nothing like what she had just been singing.
Well, thanks for reading, Chapter 6 will be up soon.
