A/N: Takes place directly after "Grave Danger."
Summary: My thoughts on how Grissom and Sara might have started their relationship...
Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS and no one else... I'm just renting the characters :-)
Note: This is my first fanfic EVAR! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated...
By the time Catherine and Greg drive up, there are even more police officers swarming around the body dump site. Brass assured her on the phone that Gil and Sara were unhurt, but that doesn't stop the waves of anxiety that pass through her. She glances over at Greg in the passenger seat. He's tense as well, but there's unmistakable determination on the young CSI's face and she's pleased that he's able to work well under these conditions. Looks like our little Greg Sanders has a future in this business, she thinks with satisfaction.
They get out of the car and Brass fills her in. Catherine stops short when she sees the condition of the water processing plant. "Brass—that building could collapse at any moment! Get them out of there!"
Brass shrugs somewhat sheepishly. "I would, but the bomb squad was called in and they said they need to clear the site of all explosive elements before we can approach the building."
"Makes sense," Greg offers. Catherine gives him a sideways glare.
"Anyway," Brass continues, "we need you guys to work the scene while Grissom and Sara are… indisposed."
"Greg, I need you on the periphery. See if our perp left any tire tracks. He had to get here somehow." Greg nods and starts to head off. Catherine catches his arm and looks him hard in the eyes "Take lots of photos, Greg. We wanna get this guy for messing with our people."
Greg gives a trademark Sanders smile and walks away, studying the ground with intense levels of scrutiny. Once he's out of earshot, Catherine turns to Brass. "Has anyone told Nicky about this yet?"
Brass shakes his head. "No… he and Warrick are still working on a car accident… fatality… should keep them busy for awhile. I didn't see the use in telling them that Grissom and Sara are in danger."
"Good thinking," Catherine replies and heads towards the building. She approaches one of the policemen there. He seems to be more shaken up than the rest, indicating to her that he's the one who was closest when the place blew up. This is Catherine's territory, her comfort zone. While Gil's interest is in the bugs, Catherine feels most in her element with the human factor—taking witness statements, getting crime details from the law enforcement officers, running the scenarios in her head from the perspective of the people involved. Grissom thinks it's imprecise, but she tells herself it's only imprecise if you do it wrong.
She smiles warmly at the young officer who clutches his cup of coffee while he stares at the nearly wrecked building. "Hey there, Officer…" she looks at the name embroidered on his vest. "…Cullen. How's it going?"
He gives her an unsure smile back and resumes staring at the scene. "I was wondering if you could tell me what happened here," she presses. "How did this all happen?"
"I don't know, ma'am," he says quietly, gazing into his coffee cup. "I wish I could tell you. One second, we were out here talking about Brad and Christine, you know? Then all of a sudden, the whole place nearly goes up."
"Where were you standing?" she asks. She keeps her voice gentle, wanting to keep the officer calm and helpful.
"Just a few yards closer to the building…" He turns to her suddenly, his eyes wide and moist. "I swear, I didn't know… I didn't know…" He's pleading with her for something. But what? Surely this man couldn't be blaming himself for the destructive impulses of some psychopath. But she senses that he knows something that could help her… and she has to find out what.
"I believe you, Officer Cullen, I do. But right now, two of my people are trapped in that building. And if you know something about what happened here, you'd better tell me." Compassion has drained from her voice, but she doesn't care. She can't afford to waste any time. He still seems unsure. "Tell me," she says more harshly. "Now."
He can't even look at her as he hands her a small device that looks like a small alarm clock. "I tripped over something out there… I found this…"
"Where?" she asks. He wordlessly gestures in front of him. "Show me where exactly." He robotically walks forward and stops at a small patch of dead grass. A few cigarette butts litter the ground. "These yours?" she asks him in irritation. He nods. Biting back an insult to the man who doubly contaminated the crime scene, she dismisses him with a wave of her hand.
A few minutes later, she's found a small pole where she thinks the device may have been mounted, most likely a power source of some kind. She examines the gadget carefully. It's definitely not a bomb, which she's sure would be a relief to Officer Cullen. It looks like some kind of transmitting device, but it's probably only a component. Without the other pieces, there's not much she can deduce about it.
Impulsively, she places the device back on its mounting, where it fits perfectly. Once reattached, the LCD projector lights up and bathes her face in a soft blue glow. Her actions have gotten Brass' attention and he joins her examination of the strange contraption.
"What is it?" he asks.
"I'm not sure yet, but at least it still works. I think it's starting up… must be a little computer of some sort."
"Archie will love it," Brass smirks. He takes a quick glance at the screen that starts to grow dim. One of the officers standing by the parked police cars calls him over and he pats Catherine on the arm before he walks away.
Catherine is about to tear her eyes away from the device and focus on the mounting and power supply when the little computer screen blinks a few times. Then words slowly scroll across it.
STUPID PIG! YOU DID A BAD THING! SO I GO BOOM!
Any residual amusement from Brass' comment quickly drains from Catherine's face. This is no mere toy—it has something to do with the explosions inside the tanks. "Oh my God," Catherine breathes.
NOW I'M GOING TO TELL MY FRIENDS!
The words disappear and are replaced by numbers: 2:00.
1:59… 1:58…
Catherine's breath catches in her throat and she looks around in a panic. The place is still swarming with people—officers mostly—who are carelessly standing around. For a second she feels the world caving in around her. There's no time to think, to try and figure out where these "friends" are… or even what they are. The air is thick with danger and she's the only one who knows it. Her voice erupts from her throat. "Everyone move back!" she shrieks. "This place is rigged!"
Still writing up a storm here... hope you guys like it. :-)