A/N: I've hoped back on the angst-drama train...did y'all miss me?! Ha, I sound smart in this chapter...Yay Google and Wikipedia! I get to use 'doctor talk' and know what I'm talking about! Ha...this is a good day despite everything else...
Disclaimer: It's easier to claim what I do own, which is Kris, DD, and Dr. Willms. Everyone else belongs to someone else and sadly, they are not mine. But...my birthday is coming up soon...who wants to get me them? And I don't own the song Play That Funky Music by Wild Cherry.
"Don't push, don't take things for granite."
- Gil Grissom
Las Vegas, Nevada
Anderson Residence
Living Room
Sunday
January 15, 2005
3:26 p.m.
Though Kris had assured Greg (and everyone else) that she could move her things into her new apartment by herself, they all still managed to show up. Even Grissom and Hodges, though none of them were really sure why Hodges was being so neighborly all of a sudden, showed up to assist her.
"Ugh...where's...this...going?" Greg grunted between breaths, trying not to look weak in front of Kris. Hodges was on the other side of the large green couch, helping Greg lug the beast into the apartment.
"Just set it in the living room somewhere!" Kris called from outside. She, Sara, and Grissom appeared a few minutes later with boxes that they took towards the back hallway. Nick and Warrick came in next with a dresser and mirror and went towards the back of the house, passing Kris on her way out.
Greg and Hodges carefully sat the couch down, and then wiped their hands as they saw Kris enter once more, a few more boxes and the television in her arms. "That's the last of it." She replied and Greg and Hodges rushed over to take the things from her. "Uh...thanks." They sent each other challenging looks as they toted the items back towards the bedrooms, then reappeared a few moments later. "Who's hungry?" Kris asked all the people standing in her new living room. "Dinner is on me."
Six hands shot up and DD barked, making Kris laugh. "Alright, I'll go get the food ready, Sar, you wanna help?" She asked and Sara shot her an unsure glance.
"I can't cook."
Kris smirked. "So help me find everything and clean up my messes."
Sara smiled. "That I can do." She followed her into the kitchen and Warrick picked up the television.
"Kris, I'm gonna hook up your television, if that's alright with you!" He called to her and she nodded, and then remembered he couldn't see her.
"Go ahead! Thanks." She replied as Warrick set to work, Nick bending down to help. Hodges wandered into the kitchen, a sickly sweet smile on his face.
"Can I help you with anything, Kris?"
She turned around and flashed a quick smile. "Ah...sure. Sara's getting the bowls and silverware out of that box," She nodded to the box Sara was digging through. "Why don't you help her and find the butcher's knife and a cutting board and chop up the peppers I clean?"
David nodded and started to work.
Back in the living room, Greg went over to Grissom who was getting a head start on setting up Kris' bookshelf. He wordlessly began helping his mentor, not needing instructions to know what to do. Grissom turned to see who was handing him the nails, screws, and tools he needed without asking. "I didn't know construction was your cup of tea, Greg. Where'd you learn?"
"My father." Greg answered and smirked. "Used to drive my mom nuts. She thought I needed to break free of all the stereotypical boys my age. Said I was destined for great things...so she taught me how to cook and clean and knit and..." He blushed and let his thought trail off.
Grissom turned around and arched a brow, telling the man to continue.
"...To sing. I have a better range than most singers out there. I can go from falsetto Soprano to Bass."
Grissom nodded, impressed. "Don't be ashamed of that, Greg. That's quite impressive. I believe it's good to be worldly balanced. One can't be a CSI forever..."
"So what's your thing?"
"My 'thing'?"
"Yeah..." Greg replied and handed another nail, then picked up a hammer himself. "I can sing and be the best damn housewife you'd ever met." Grissom shot the man an amused look. "What is your hidden talent to fall back on when you get bored of us CSIs?"
"I'll never get bored of you all..."
"You're avoiding the question." Greg countered, a smirk on his face and Grissom chuckled, then sighed.
"I play poker."
Greg quirked a brow. "Really? Like pro?"
"Well...semi-pro. I never made it completely; I found my true passion was in forensics...it always was. But I paid my way for quite a few things in college and starting out with my poker winnings..."
"Wow...I never knew that about you." Greg said as he continued with the hammering. "So is that how you afforded that classy diamond Tiffany necklace you bought Sara?" Grissom turned so quickly he almost knocked Greg's head clean off with the hammer. Greg ducked in time, then stood slowly, his big hazel eyes worried. "Geez Griss..."
"How did you know about Sara and I? Did Kris tell you?" Grissom asked and a hushed, urgent voice.
Greg looked shocked for a minute, then broke out into a grin fit for a Cheshire cat. "No...you did. Wait, Kris knows?"
"What?" Grissom asked confused and Greg chuckled, still whispering.
"I saw you in Tiffany's just before Christmas buying a diamond necklace...a sapphire and diamond necklace to be exact."
"Did your mother teach you jewelry as well, Greg?" Grissom countered and Greg flinched form the wickedly awesome burn.
"No. I was buying my mother a diamond bracelet for Christmas, and I wanted to get the best. So I did my research and shopped around." He shook his head. "But anyway, I took a guess that it was for Sara...it would match nicely to a pair of sapphire earrings I saw at Tiffany's." Greg noted. "Sara looks good in sapphire." Greg added and Grissom shot him a look. "Sorry."
"Just keep the information to yourself. Alright?"
"Sure thing Boss...quick question though-"
"No."
"How did Kris find out?" Greg continued through Grissom's opposition.
"...I am a horrible liar."
"Whose hammerin' in my house!?" Kris called and stepped out of the kitchen to see Greg and Grissom setting her bookshelf up against a wall. They turned around guiltily.
"Uh...sorry...we were bored." Greg apologized.
"We can move it if you'd like..." Grissom suggested and she shook her head and inspected the neatly constructed bookshelf as she dried her hands off on the towel. She walked over and ran her hand up the side of the wood, neatly polished with no nicks from a hammer or travel.
"Nice. Good job, you two. Thanks."
She returned to the kitchen and continued chopping mushrooms and frying the eggs in the omelet maker Sara handed her from her box.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
"So c'mon...how'd they get the pig out of the well?" Greg asked eagerly, practically bouncing out of his seat (technically it was a cardboard box marked 'books'). Warrick, along with the rest of the team laughed, and wiped his mouth, nodding at Grissom.
"Yeah, Griss...tell us how they got it free."
Grissom sighed and shook his head. "...It's not a happy ending."
"They very rarely are." Kris said from her box across the living room, raising her glass of wine as she took a sip. Since the rooms hadn't been unpacked, the boxes still littered the floor. The table Catherine gave to Kris for a reasonable price cracked in the truck on the way over and was now sitting on the side of the road, waiting for the garbage man. The team was using one box as a chair, then two boxes each, stacked vertically as a table for their omelets, potato wedges and wine. The only meal Kris could muster with her limited supplies.
"Well...we had tried pulling the hog out by it's abdomen, then looping a rope around it...but nothing was working. He was wedged in there tight. So the head of police, Det. Sherman, decided to lather up the pig with oil and let it wiggle free...only problem was that the pig was facing the bottom of the well. So when he wiggled free..."
"Kur-splat." Nick finished and Sara gasped. Grissom winced, and everyone turned to her, knowing she wouldn't have liked that ending. She took a sip of wine.
"Brain damage?"
"Died instantly. The brain disconnected from the spinal column. It was a painless death." Grissom assured her, and Kris scoffed.
"Tell that to the plithed piggy."
"He wasn't plithed, Kris..." Grissom argued. "He was brain-scrambled. His cerebellum was severely damaged, as was his cerebral, and his brains turned to mush instantly." Grissom argued.
"These are really good omelets, Kris." Hodges noted, and everyone chuckled, knowing about Hodge's distaste for untidy and dirty things.
"Not one for the dirty work, are we Goose?" Nick teased and Hodges shot him a look.
"I don't mind getting down and dirty...I just don't like staying that way." Hodges informed him matter-of-factly. Kris' chuckle was muffled by her wine glass as she took another sip.
"I wanted to thank you all for helping me move in here. I know I said I could've managed it on my own, but it was a lot easier and more fun with you all...so thanks." Kris said genuinely and Sara smirked.
"Getting sentimental, are we Kristina?"
Kris pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Never. Sentiments require having a heart."
"Here here!" Nick cheered and raised his glass. Everyone, including Kris, laughed at the joke and raised their glasses before taking a sip.
Las Vegas, Nevada
CSI Crime Lab
Break Room
Monday
January 16, 2005
6:03 p.m.
"Go right. Go right!" Kris ordered as her character on the video game swerved away from the madness. Greg did as she instructed him, avoiding the vicious tackle by the other players. "Pass me the ball!"
"I can't, Nick's blocking me!" Greg shouted back, the two team mate's loud yells doing nothing to disturb the usual order of the lab.
"Get it over, Man!" Nick hollered to Warrick.
"Chill, Man...I got this." Warrick said, extremely calm, lounging back against the cushions.
In a swift seemingly single pass, Warrick passed the ball to Nick, who swiftly passed it to Warrick, who in turn drove it into the end zone as hard as he could. The giant red words 'Winner' flashed on the screen. Nick pumped a fist in the air, then slapped Warrick's hand as Greg threw down his remote and Kris groaned.
"You suck!" She informed Greg, causing Sara to laugh as she continued reading her paper at the table. "I call 'Rick for the next game."
Greg gasped. "You're trading me in?"
"Uh, yeah. May I repeat, you suck."
"Do not!" Greg defended.
"May I direct you to the screen?" Kris asked mock sweetly and threw an arm around Greg's shoulders and pointed to the screen showing that they lost.
Warrick snorted and shook his head. "There is no 'I' in team, Kris."
"Yes, but there is an 'I' in win."
Everyone laughed and Grissom walked in, hurriedly. "Quickly people, assemble."
"Yes, Captain!" Kris jumped up and saluted Grissom before smirking at the disapproving look on his face. He tried to keep his attention away from the tiny white diamond through her nose and the tattoos he knew she was hiding.
He smirked evilly. "Glad to see you're so eager, Kris. Just for that. You get the first case." He handed her a slip of paper and she read it and frowned.
"What!? A B&E in Loaks?"
"And you get Sanders." Grissom nudged Greg forward and Kris sighed and rolled her eyes.
"I get the newbie?"
"Precisely..." He paused. "Captain."
Everyone tried to muffle their chuckles, all failing miserably as she sighed and walked out the door. She mumbled something about certain poles being shoved up certain asses as she trudged towards the front doors. Grissom smirked again. "Sara, Nick; 402 in Henderson. Reporting officer suspects that it may have been a grilling accident, but foul play may have been involved. He's requesting CSI to be cautious."
The two left.
"Warrick, you have a 430 out in Loaks as well."
Warrick groaned. "What'd I do wrong?"
Grissom thought about it, then shook his head. "Nothing. In fact, you have been the best behaved..."
"So why do I get stuck with this...an animal bite out in BFE crap-town?"
"BFE?" Grissom asked, but Warrick ignored it. He wasn't about to be the one to explain the foul term Kris often used to their boss.
"Why not give it to Nick? He was complaining earlier."
"Do you really want to work an arson case with Sara...?" Grissom asked, knowing Warrick was aware of how much Sara despised arsons.
Warrick thought about it, then shivered. "I'm going to my animal bite now..."
Loaks, Nevada
ABC Liquor Store
Back Alley
Monday
January 16, 2005
9:33 p.m.
"Heeeeey, do it, break down. Hey hey. Once I was a funky singer playin' in a rock and roll band. I never had no problems, yea, runnin' down the one-night-stands. And everything around me got to start to feelin' so loooow. And I decided quickly, yes I did, to disco-down and check out the show. And they were dancin' and singin' and movin' to the groovin' and just when, it hit me, somebody turned around and shouted: Play that funky music white boy. Play that funky music right. Play that funky music white boy. Lay down the boogie and play that funky music 'til you die!" Kris and Greg sang in unison as they worked out behind the liquor store.
They had been at it for nearly two hours, and found nothing.
"Man, this sucks..." Kris groaned. "Givin' me a shit case just 'cause I called him 'Captain'."
"Yeah, gave you the shit CSI too..." Greg replied semi-bitterly from somewhere behind her. She stood and turned slightly, watching him work from behind. She sighed and hung her head.
"Sorry. That was a bitchy thing to say."
"Yeah. It was."
She nodded. "I'm sorry, Greg." She said sincerely. "You're a good CSI. That was out-of-line, even for me..."
Greg turned and nodded. "Apology accepted. Now let's get this damn scene processed."
"Ya know, we'd probably work quicker if you started down towards the end of the alley and worked towards me. I'll work towards you and then we can cross paths and check each other's work."
Greg nodded. "Sounds good." He began to walk to the end of the very long alley. "Try not to miss me too much. And stay out of trouble!" He called over his shoulder and she smirked and shook her head.
After twenty minutes of the new routine, she was about ready to stand for another stretch break when something shiny caught her eye. She furred her brows, then knelt back down for a closer look. She pulled out her forceps and picked up the small bullet casing, and a smile lit up her face.
She stood and reached in the pocket of her vest when a sound behind her made her stop. She began to turn around quickly, but the man was quicker. A shot rang through the air, cutting through the silence that had enveloped the night. Kris didn't even have time to scream.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
It was the shot that startled him, but the fact that nothing was heard after it terrified him to his very core. He quickly stood and looked around, then drew his weapon.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
She heard him laugh behind her, triumphantly, and ignorantly. Punk mother fucker. She thought internally and quickly rolled over to her side, her weapon in her hands and pointed at him in an instant. At first he seemed confused and shocked. Then he seemed angry.
But his anger was no match for hers. "You should have killed me." She growled and let two shots rip into him, making him cry out in complete agony and fall to the ground screaming. His screams were the last thing she heard as more blood poured out of her and darkness swarmed her vision.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
His feet pounded into the pavement harder than he thought possible. His lungs and legs burned, and he wondered why he wasn't getting to her faster. He screamed the only thing he could think to scream; "KRIS!!"
He pumped harder and cursed the jerk that made the alley so damn long, then cursed himself for leaving her alone.
"Kris!" He screamed again.
The faint, dimming lights hooked onto the buildings in the alleyway shone over the fateful scene, and Greg felt the last bit of breath escape his lungs in the form of a whisper; "No..."
He ran to her and knelt down, then looked over to see an unconscious man about ten feet away. Greg was shaking terribly as he frantically pulled out his walkie talkie. "Dispatch! We've got a CSI down! Repeat; CSI down! I've also got an unconscious man, may be the shooter. We're at 25 Appines Blvd, Loaks Nevada. I need paramedics now!" He called in, and then hung up. He dropped the walkie talk.
He searched around Kris and saw a large pool of blood near her lower abdomen, though she was laying face up. Asshole shot her in the back. God...God no...you screw up, Sanders! You shouldn't have left her alone! You were supposed to be her partner! It was supposed to be a simple B&E!! His mind screamed as he felt the air slowly return to his lungs as he gasped for breath, terrified as he saw the color draining from her face.
"God, no." He grabbed her hand and began shaking his head as he checked for a pulse and found none. "Kris! No! Don't die on me, Kris!" Greg begged desperately, tears falling from his cheeks and landing on her white pallor. "Kris please don't die!" He begged.
A soft grunt tore through her throat, then a low, agonized growl. "Chill out and stop crying you big baby..." She grumbled and winced. "Fuck..." She swore softly and tried to move herself into a sitting position, but feeling the pain. She cried out in pain, then threw out a few more curses.
Greg stared at her in sheer amazement. "Y-you...you're not dead?"
She rolled her eyes, then gritted her teeth as another pain struck her. She squeezed her eyes shut and growled; "No...I'm too damn stubborn to die..." She groaned. "Now quit being a girl and help me sit up, my ass is killin' me and I think I'm ruining evidence."
"Fuck the evidence, Kris. You've been shot!" Greg exclaimed as he helped her sit and she cried out once again.
"Fuckin' rat bastard shot me in the ass...he thought I was dead, but I wiped around and shot him back."
"Did you shoot to kill?" Greg asked, his mind automatically began playing ACDC's Shoot to Thrill, for no apparent reason. He shook his head to get the lyrics out.
She shook her head. "Nah..."
"Well where?"
She smirked. "Ah...let's just say he's two olives short a martini..."
It took Greg a moment, but he finally realized what she meant. He gasped a little, then squeezed his thighs together in pain for his own helpers and shook his head, mustering a chuckle. "Only you, Baby..."
Henderson, Nevada
Dwight Residence
Front Lawn
Monday
January 16, 2005
10:27 p.m.
"God, I hate arsons...Nick, do me a favor and shoot me now." Sara requested as she and Nick carried the last of the evidence to his Denali. They were both 'decked out' in CSI's standard blue jumpers to protect their clothing. "If I never have to process another arson, it'll be too soon."
Nick chuckled and shook his head. "C'mon, Sar...lighten up. At least this case'll be a slam dunk."
"A slam dunk?"
"Yes...I can tell you right now, the husband did it."
Sara rolled her eyes. "That's always your response."
The two continued to banter as they opened the car door and tossed their evidence and kits in, then laughed about an aspect of the case as they climbed in. Nick went to start the car when the radio began to screech and the dispatcher's voice rang through;
"We've got a CSI down. Repeat, CSI down. Out in Loaks Nevada; ABC Liquor store, 406. Suspected gunman down at scene, requesting back-up and paramedics."
The dispatch cleared and Nick and Sara looked at each other, eyes wide, Kris' earlier words ringing in their ears: "What?! A B&E in Loaks?"
"Oh God..." Sara said softly. Nick quickly started the car and jammed his foot on the gas as he backed out and sped down the road.
Loaks, Nevada
Dunman Residence
Monday
January 16, 2005
10:34 p.m.
Warrick walked out the front door, animal control following closely behind. The flashing lights of the paramedics' car pulling out of the driveway attracted his attention. Turns out the 430 had been a simple case. A dog, that appeared to be a wolf, had been prowling the streets and bit an old lady as she went out to see her daughter to her car.
The dog had been contained by animal control, and the woman had been cared for by the paramedic. Warrick called the owner of the dog and informed him of the situation.
Now, Warrick was making his way back to his car, feeling bored and useless. The case hadn't even been a case. Ecklie could've solved it with his eyes closed.
Warrick set his kit on the seat beside him and started up his car and drove off down the street. He heard the sirens in the distance, and furred his brows, wondering why the ambulance carrying Mrs. Dunman would have their sirens on. His walkie talkie screeched and dispatch came through, relaying the message Nick and Sara heard at the same time on the other border of Las Vegas.
The ambulance whizzed past Warrick from out of nowhere, and Warrick flipped on his lights and whipped the car around to follow the ambulance.
Loaks, Nevada
Denali
Monday
January 16, 2005
10:48 p.m.
He didn't mind being the supervisor of his own shift. He loved his team. They were smart, amusing, and though they had their faults and weaknesses, it was evident each of them was destined for great things. He felt like a proud parent. And like each proud parent, there is one call you never want to receive...
One of your children has been hurt.
Grissom received the call from Brass, who heard it on dispatch and knew Grissom was in his office; and would want to know. Grissom immediately raced to the door and sped off in his Denali. It was unclear who was hurt and how bad it was, but whatever the circumstances, a shooting was never good.
Especially when its one of your own.
He sped off down the street, seeing an ambulance race his way and a flashing Denali following closely behind. Knowing it was Warrick; Grissom pulled in behind him and flipped his lights on as well.
The ambulance pulled off at ABC Liquor and the EMTs quickly rushed to the alley. Grissom pulled over and jumped from the car, then jogged towards the path the EMT had taken. He watched Warrick do the same, except the car never even came to a full stop by the time the man expelled himself from it. He had to run back and turn it off before he could run and catch up with Grissom.
Flashing lights behind them gave away the impression of an ambulance, but the sound of the doors slamming said it was a much smaller vehicle. Warrick and Grissom didn't have to turn around to know that it was Brass jogging behind them, then ran up along side them.
Finally, a last car pulled in, and they all turned to see Sara and Nick pull up and ruin from the car as fast as they could. Nick ran faster than Sara did, and didn't stop as everyone else had. He kept going, thinking of a horrible scenario of one of his friends being held at gunpoint by a vicious man.
By the time the four CSIs and the detective reached the scene, it was being taped off by a police officer. Grissom reached out a hand and held the group back. "Wait here..." He instructed softly and ducked slowly under the tape, then rounded the corner to see the scene. His heart broke and shattered into a thousand pieces when he saw an unconscious Kris being lifted into the air to be set on the gurney.
Greg was beside her, not letting his eyes leave her or his hand fall from her limp grasp. The EMTs gently set her on the gurney, earning a bark from Greg. "Be careful! She's hurt!"
"Greg..." Grissom went towards the younger man, glad to know that his protégé was unharmed. He frowned, looking over at Kris. He looked back at Greg to see the younger man struggling against tears and shaking his head.
"It was supposed to be a simple B&E..."
Grissom took a deep breath and nodded, not knowing what else to do. Greg looked down at Kris' blood covering his hands, and couldn't help but wince. He saw the symbolism and felt the guilt...
So he let the tears flow and crumbled to his knees.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Desert Palms
ICU Waiting Room
Monday
January 16, 2005
11:36 p.m.
It had been a while since they heard from the doctors; that made them anxious. Doctors and nurses were constantly bustling in and out of the room, all looking frantic and worried; that made them even more nervous. Grissom sat next to Sara, not bothering to hide the fact that he was consoling her. He gripped her hand tightly as she held her head with the other. Warrick and Nick sat, transfixed on the same spot on the wall, but neither really paying any attention to it. Brass bounced his knee nervously, his hands folded at his mouth as he stared at the ground, trying not to hit something.
Greg paced in the middle of the floor, shaking his head and sighing every few seconds. "What's taking so long?" He grumbled, but no one responded. He didn't really expect them to.
Sara sighed and shook her head. "What happened?" Greg stopped pacing and looked over at her. "How'd this happen?"
Greg sighed and felt all the eyes in the room shift to him. He slid his hands into his pockets and looked down, his eyes closed. "She said we'd cover more ground if we split up...and I thought it was a good idea, so I agreed. For about twenty minutes we worked in complete silence. Then out of nowhere I hear this...this..." He shook his head. "This gunshot. And then silence. I started running towards where Kris was working, and then I heard two more gun shots and someone scream."
Somehow Greg's eyes had found only Grissom's as if he'd asked the question and he was answering to him.
Greg shook his head, his eyes welling up with tears. "I swear to God, I ran as fast as I could...you gotta believe me Grissom, I tried." He begged and Grissom felt his heart break for a second time that night. "Please, Grissom. I'm sorry." Greg apologized and Grissom stood.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He pulled Greg into a fatherly hug and sighed. "It wasn't your fault, Greg. You reacted as you should have." Grissom calmed Greg, much like a father would a child. The team sat, watching in shock. "Kris will be fine...she'll be fine thanks to how you helped her."
"No...no, I messed up. It's my fault. I screwed it all up. I'm so sorry." Greg sobbed. Grissom stiffened, becoming uncomfortable. Sensing this, Sara stood and took Greg from Grissom's arms and began to soothe the man she thought of as one of her brothers.
Grissom stood off to the side, looking lost and confused, buried in his own thoughts as Greg suffocated in guilt.
The door leading to the ICU room Kris was in, opened and Doctor Willms appeared. "Family of Kristina Anderson?"
"That's us." Grissom said standing up.
The doctor didn't really give it a second sniff; he was already diving into the technicalities. "Ms. Anderson has lost a significant loss of blood, and minor tissue damage."
"Where exactly was Kris shot?" Sara asked, the doctor paused for a moment, and then continued.
"Luckily, the area of penetration had a greater proportion of tissue and flesh, than..." He struggled to find the right words. He shifted his footing and cleared his throat. "Any other part of her body..."
"Her gluteus maximus?" Nick asked and everyone quirked a brow. He looked at them innocently. "What? It's generally the fattiest and fleshiest part of human's bodies..."
Everyone was silent for a moment. "Kris is gonna kick your gluteus maximus when she finds out you said she's got a fat ass." Warrick replied and then turned back to face the doctor.
"Actually, Mr. Stokes is correct; it is the largest of all three gluteal muscles. The muscle is remarkably coarse in structure, being made up of fasciculi lying parallel with one another and collected together into large bundles separated by fibrous septa. Since the mass of muscle and tissue was so large, it slowed down the bullet's kinetic energy significantly, causing less muscle retardation and a greater chance of quick healing. There was a short wound tract, and as I said before; left minor muscle damage." Dr. Willms replied. "As for the wounds on her hands and knees-"
"Her hands and knees?" Greg interrupted and the doctor slowly looked at him and nodded.
"When she fell she popped a knee cap out of place, but we were able to swiftly move it to its original position. Her hands had some cuts and swelling on them, as well as a wound between her thumb and index finger. I assume it came from when she fired the gun on the gunman."
"She's an experienced arms man, she would know how to hold and fire a gun without harming herself." Grissom pointed out.
"I suspect she was disoriented when she fell, perhaps blacked out for a moment. She was more than likely bewildered when she fired the gun. She may not have held it correctly and got her hand clipped in the slide. Also," He looked down to his file. "When she fell she dislocated her wrist, and fractured her middle finger. I gave her a tetanus shot when we found pieces of a beer bottle in her palm, so she should be fine for now. We had to wait to give her any anesthesia while the tetanus vaccination was still running in her blood, but she fell asleep on her own."
"Is she still unconscious?" Brass inquired.
"For the time being, yes. Nurse Ratched just administered some mild anesthesia, so she should be out for a few more hours. I'll permit visitors by twos, but when she wakes up, only one at a time." Dr. Willms instructed. "I'll be back in two hours to reevaluate her, for now, enter quietly. Nurse Ratched will arrive every thirty minutes to check on her." And with that, Dr. Willms disappeared down the hall.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Desert Palms
ICU
Hospital Room
Tuesday
January 17, 2005
12:13 a.m.
Grissom and Sara entered first, taking a cautious step into the sterile, blindingly white room. The soft, constant beep of the EKG was the only sound to be heard. The couple's eyes were immediately drawn to the redhead lying in the bed, her chest slowly rising and falling in rhythm with every other beep of the EKG.
Her normal peachy-shine was gone from her face, and replaced by a bland, gray pallor. Sara's heart ached as she took a few steps towards the bed, then cautiously held the younger woman's hand, careful of the wrist brace and bandages. Grissom went to stand on her other side, looking inhumanly-detached as he stared at the silver finger splint on the hand closest to him.
Sara's gaze was drawn to Kris' untouched, flawless face and neck, noticing for the first time just how thin the woman really was. Had she always been this thin? Sara found herself wondering. No; she realized. When she first arrived a little over a month before she had meat to her body, now...she seemed all skin and bone,
And apparently muscle.
Sara sighed softly and felt Grissom's strong hand reach across Kris and grip her arm supportively. She drew her brown orbs to his eyes and frowned, then cocked her head to the side. "Was Kris' nose ring always a diamond stud?"
Grissom was slightly taken aback, and then looked to the abomination he had purposely tried not to notice. "Yes."
"You can see her tattoo now..." Sara noted, nodding to the wrist turned upright towards Grissom. He nodded as well, then slowly traced the still tender flesh. Sara winced, wondering if that would hurt her if she was awake, and flashed her eyes to Kris, to see hers unmoving.
That bothered the brunette more than Kris' would-be-protest.
"She looks plastic." Grissom noted. "Almost," He paused. "Fake."
Sara looked from Kris, to Grissom, knowing that he had almost said dead. "Should we go? Let the others have their turn." She suggested and turned to head for the door. When she noticed Grissom wasn't following her, she turned back around. "Gil?"
He seemed fixated on the unconscious Kris. He stared at her like he was looking at a long lost friend, like he knew who she was, who she really was. Sara furred her brows and took a step forward, but stopped like she'd been burned. The intense focus around Kris and Grissom was like an invisible barrier.
"Gil?"
Apparently sound couldn't break through either.
Grissom seemed to move a little, but it had been so slight, Sara couldn't tell if he actually had. He removed his hand from Kris' wrist and took a noticeable step back, then turned towards Sara and the door and walked to them both. "Let's go." He said as if it'd been his idea all along.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Warrick and Nick trailed quietly into the room, closing the door softly behind them. "Wow..." Nick began, and Warrick rolled his eyes, praying for the Texan's sake that a stupid comment wasn't on the way. They came to Kris' side and stood there. "She looks..." Warrick opened his mouth to verbally reprimand the Texan, but stopped when he saw the look of confusion on his friend's face. Nick shook his head. "Vulnerable."
"Surreal." Warrick provided the synonym in Kris' case, and Nick nodded.
"Yeah...I keep expecting her to wake up and lash out at me."
"Well she's not dead, Man. Come back in about twelve hours wearing that green shirt that makes her angry and that wish may come true." Warrick joked, then mentally kicked himself for being the first one to make a crack about their hospitalized friend.
Nick shook his head again. "Think she can hear us?"
"I don't know...you've been knocked out enough times, you tell me." Oh crap, there goes another one.
"If I ever did hear y'all, I don't remember it." Nick smirked. "I mean, it's been a few years since I got stuck in one of these places."
"Do you dream when you're under anesthesia?"
"Haven't you ever been medically-knocked-out?" Nick asked and Warrick shook his head. "Damn...well, yeah. I mean sometimes."
"What about?"
Nick chuckled. "Naked nurses."
"Oh yeah, Naughty Nurse Ratched out there would look real fine in a birthday suit." Warrick quipped sarcastically and Nick cringed.
"Eew, Dude, don't even joke like that." Nick shivered at the thought, then looked back at Kris. "Well, I guess she can't hear us, 'cause if she could, she'd wake herself up and slap us right 'bout now."
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
"The door won't open itself, Greg." Brass said harshly, making the younger man jump and quickly open the door. He tumbled into Kris' room and popped back up in an instant.
"Whoa." He spoke in shock at the sight of her. He slowly walked towards her and took her hand like Sara had. Brass saw the guilt on the young man's face, but knew that words did nothing to console him. He was drowning in his own guilt and no life saver could pull him out.
But Brass tried anyway. "She's going to be fine, Greg. I haven't known her very long, and I don't know a lot about her; but I know she's tough."
Greg nodded lamely and gently dragged a finger along her injured wrist. Brass opened his mouth to say something else when the door opened and Nurse Ratched entered and flashed a frown. Brass shot Greg a look, and the young man couldn't help but crack a smile and mouth. 'One flew over the cuckoo's nest'.
She pushed past Brass and went to the EKG and wrote down the numbers. Everyone stood in awkward silence as she went about her business. After a few moments, Brass sent Greg a desperate look, and then both men headed out of the room.
But not before Greg slid a kiss onto Kris' bandaged palm, earning a glare from the nurse.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Grissom Residence
Study
Tuesday
January 17, 2005
3:12 a.m.
The drive back to Grissom's had been almost unbearable. Sara hadn't even planned to go over to his house, when he offered her a ride; she assumed he would drop her off at her house. As she mounted the steps to the townhouse, she could feel her anxiety bubbling.
Grissom opened the door and flipped on the light, letting it bounce off of all the silver and chrome in his bland house. He turned around and hung his keys on the hook by the door and hung his coat on the coat rack. She watched him do so then slid out of her shoes and hung her coat by the door as well.
Grissom automatically went to the couch and sat down, hanging his arms off his knees where his elbows were perched. He sighed and looked at the ground while he rubbed his temples with one hand and scratched his neck with the other. Sara watched him from a distance, and then drew closer to him tentatively.
"It's my fault."
Sara quirked a brow and stopped walking.
"It's my fault Kris is in the hospital."
Sara looked at him worriedly, not realizing just how hard he was taking it. She hadn't seen it before, because he hadn't let her. But as soon as he walked through that door his façade had dropped completely, leaving him naked and vulnerable. They were like his children, she realized. For him, it was like seeing his child in the hospital because of something he did. "It's not your fault." How could it be?
"Yes...it is. Granite, several people played roles in it. But it's mainly my fault."
"How?" Sara asked confused, shaking her head.
Grissom sighed as if it was so obvious and leaned back against the couch, staring at a plant by the window. "I sent Kris to the crime scene...she was right; what she said before she left. I sent her there to teach her a lesson." He chuckled dryly. "My job as a supervisor is to guide, teach, and protect you all...I didn't do that with her."
"You didn't know the shooter was going to be there...if you had sent anyone else, they'd be lying in a hospital bed as well. You couldn't have prevented this."
"I could have taken the scene myself." Sara sighed and shook her head as he continued. "I guess I should have taught myself the lesson."
Sara walked over to him and sat down next to him. "Well...I guess she got her lesson...we all did." She took his hand in hers.
Grissom nodded slowly, still staring transfixed on the plant. "Yes...don't push, don't take things for granite."
"You didn't take her for granite, Grissom. It happened by chance. The shooter could have easily gone after Greg instead of Kris." Sara tried to console, but Grissom wasn't hearing it.
"I'm responsible."
Sara looked over at him and squeezed his hand softly, realizing that nothing she said was going to get through to him. He was set, in his mind. So she scooted closer to him and turned him towards her and wrapped him in a hug. He might suffer through this and drown in his own guilt...but he wasn't going to do it alone. In all this, Sara had learned the same lesson...
Don't push, don't take things for granite.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Desert Palms
ICU Waiting Room
Wednesday
January 18, 2005
5:12 a.m.
After shift the next night the team plus Brass and Hodges collected in the ICU waiting room, waiting anxiously to see if Kris had gained consciousness since they last spoke with her doctor. They sat scattered about the room, not really talking, sitting in awkward silence as a few of them paced, and every now and then one was summoned to go on a coffee run and grab food from the vending machine.
Sara was once again by Grissom's side, but no one really paid any attention to it. Hodges stood up with a sigh and decided to begin pacing like Greg was doing, hoping it would pass the time quicker. Nick came back from the hallway while closing his cell phone. He sat next to Brass and whispered something next to the older man's ear. He handed him a few papers, and then a evidence bag with the bullets retrieved from the shooter's injuries.
Brass nodded and stood, then pulled out his cell phone and went to the hallway around the corner where he could make a quick call. Nick resumed sitting silently next to Warrick. The African American man hadn't really spoken much that shift, feeling the shock of what had happened to Kris as much as everyone else had.
He had seen the comfort Sara gave Grissom, though he chose not to say anything. He noticed the kind words Greg had given Hodges; even Nick had spoken words of confidence and hope to them all, seeking his own comfort from his friends and Jessica.
It was about this time that Warrick began feeling very alone, missing the one who had left. He wished she were sitting next to him, holding his hand instead of across the country with a man he didn't care too much for. Warrick found himself wondering if she even knew what happened to Kris.
A commotion from Kris room made all their heads shoot up and look around anxiously. What sounded like a tray falling and a loud yell scared the nurse from the room, on the verge of tears. She dashed down the hall and everyone looked around worriedly. Greg practically jumped through the ceiling when the familiar Montana twang rang out from behind the closed doors.
A few choice profanities slipped through the crack in the door as the doctor slipped out of the room. He flashed a terrified and stressed smile. He cleared his throat. "Ms. Anderson has regained consciousness..." Everyone jumped and the doctor closed his eyes as she shouted something profane. "And she seems to be a little...upset right now, she's agitated and in some pain and mild discomfort from the surgery. We think it would be best if you all returned later when she is more calm..."
"No. No way. We need to see her now." Greg said defiantly and everyone nodded.
The doctor sighed. "I really shouldn't allow-"
"Then we'll stay camped out in this room until we get to see her." Sara responded.
The doctor sighed and nodded. "Fine, you can see her. If you can, try to calm her down. Seeing familiar faces should comfort her." She yelled something obscene and everyone cringed. "If that's possible..." He muttered and walked down the hall.
Grissom was the first to enter the room. "What the Hell happened?! If someone doesn't tell me what the fuck is goin' on I'm gonna-" Her tirade was cut short when she saw the team. She stared at them blankly for a moment, and then shook her head. "What happened?"
"Don't you remember?" Greg asked and Kris sighed angrily.
"No! That's why I'm asking."
"You were shot at a crime scene. The bullet hit you in your gluteus maximus and you shot back. They just finished the surgery to remove the bullet." Grissom informed her.
Kris stared at them all for a minute, confusion spreading across her face before she turned away and stared at the wall in front of her. Her lips formed a tight line and she closed her eyes, trying to remember. It flooded back to her, her face a white sheet of information as the scenes played out for them all.
She sighed and opened her eyes again. "Where's the shooter?"
"Mr. Montez has been taken to recovery. We removed the bullets-" The Doctor began.
"Bullets?" Grissom asked and the doctor nodded.
"I shot him twice..." Kris informed him and they all turned to look back at her.
"...Where'd you shoot him?" Sara asked and Kris couldn't hold her smirk back.
"Hey, Doc," He looked up. "What's the technical term for scrotum?"
Las Vegas, Nevada
Desert Palms
ICU
Hospital Room
Thursday
January 19, 2005
2:18 p.m.
"Just another sip, Ms. Anderson." The nurse prodded and Kris groaned.
"It tastes like shit." She grumbled but obediently took a sip. She pulled away and made a face. "Oh God, that's nasty." She made a gagging face and sound and the nurse smirked and shook her head.
"Yes, but it's good for you."
"I highly doubt that." Kris argued as the nurse grabbed the chart and walked out of the room.
"Try to get some rest, Ms. Anderson." She closed the door soundly as she left, and Kris sighed and fidgeted. She hated hospitals. If her ass didn't hurt so damn much she'd have walked out there and given all the assholes poking her asking; 'does it hurt here' a piece of her mind.
Unfortunately, she was stuck in the bed in a harness with her ass raised in the air.
This wasn't Kris' best day. She sighed and tried to adjust herself so that the harness wasn't rubbing her hip raw. She groaned when the alterations made it worse, and wished her arms were longer so she could reach down and scratch her now itchy thigh.
A hand came up to her thigh and began scratching it in exactly the right spot. Overcome by sheer bliss and relief, it took Kris a moment to realize that the hand scratching her thigh wasn't her hand. Her hazel eyes shot open and went to an instant chocolate brown, glazing over as she gasped. Her eyes focused on the figure, then bulged in complete and utter shock at the tanned strawberry blonde in front of her.
"Catherine...?"
A/N: Argh! Cliff hanger! I know, I'm a bitch...but I have all right...it's my gosh-darn book.Ha ha ha. Kris shot some guy's balls off...don'cha just LOVE HER!?! Yes, Grissom blames himself...and he was fatherly. Imagine that! Stay tuned... ;)
-Futuremisscsi60