It was useless to pretend she was anything other than what she was. In love.
"Okay, so I love you, you big, dumb jerk! What now?" She snapped. It was infuriating how he always knew how to strip her down to her most basic feelings while he never had to say a word in return. Her anger flared while he simply sat back and smiled.
"Your turn." He said. It was a flat-out mockery of her feelings. Keats gritted her teeth and poured a hearty helping of gin into his glass, while refreshing her own.
"Truth: The only reason you came to find me was for my contribution to the Ladykiller case." Keats retorted, her green eyes flashing. Ryan laughed, much to Keats' behest.
"You can be such an idiot at times… I want you to come back to Miami for the sake of the Crime Lab. That part is true." Ryan said. Keats encouraged him to continue.
"I went to come find you because I wanted to. Nobody asked me, and it wasn't because I was thinking about some serial killer. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He asked. Keats felt she was dangerously close to a revelation that she couldn't handle.
"Your turn." She murmured dizzily, taking yet another shot of gin. Ryan gave a gruff sigh and rubbed his temples.
"Fine… Truth: If Ryan Wolfe asked Keats Remington to marry him, would she say yes? That's not a proposal, by the way. It's a hypothetical question."
Perhaps it was the gin, or the company, or maybe even the lack of sleep, but sometime after he asked his last question, Keats lost her ability for rational thought.
"I don't know. She's never been asked…but I'll tell her if I see her." Keats murmured as her face fell flat on the table.
Keats woke up in an unfamiliar hotel room. This isn't the one Grissom showed me yesterday…
She fumbled around in the dark and struggled to put on some clothes. She fell backward several times and ran her fingers through her hair, grabbing her bag and heading out the door.
After exiting the building, she almost didn't recognize where she was. It was the hotel across the street from the bar. She shrugged, more concerned about being late for work and feeling like crap than wondering what happened after she passed out and how she ended up at a random hotel.
She walked into the Las Vegas P.D. Crime Lab trying to forget about everything that had happened the previous night. Ryan is just teasing me. The team at Miami Dade sent him to speak on their behalf and he's just complying with their wishes. It has nothing to do with how much I love him. And dammit, I really do.
Sorry to disappoint you, Ryan, but I'm staying right here no matter what you say.
Warrick Brown, the attractive African American audio/visual analyst with gray eyes, and Nick Stokes, the handsome Texan fiber analyst, brought Keats to the darkroom for closer examination of the bloody cage from the crime scene.
Keats felt a bit intimidated by the two men by the mere fact that they were so gorgeous. And much older. Pushing forty, even. But boy, are they nice to look at.
They shined their flashlights all around the cage, taking bloodwork, fingerprints, and the occasional piece of lint.
"Check this out. Black fuzz. Why do vampires always wear black?" Stokes asked. Brown chuckled and shook his head.
"Just how many vampires do you know, man?" He said. Stokes shrugged with a grin. Keats began packing away their materials when Warrick Brown shined his light over Keats' hand.
"Congratulations. I didn't know you were married, Remington. Or is it something else, now?" He wondered. Keats was speechless. She looked down at her left hand and saw the shiny gold band on her ring finger.
I'm married???
She went into the nearest restroom and pulled out her cell, dialing Ryan's number hurriedly. She waited for a bit until she finally heard his voice.
"Mmm…Wolfe here." He mumbled, sleepily.
"Wolfe…did you take advantage of my inebriated condition last night?" Keats asked , her voice beginning to rise out of sheer panic.
"What do you mean? We got drunk and went back to my hotel room to sleep it off. And I was sleeping quite soundly, as a matter of fact, before you called." Ryan groaned.
"Do me a favor and check your left hand. I'll call you back later." She said. She heard scuffling on the other end and hung up with a sigh.
Screw Las Vegas and their numerous wedding chapels!!!
"Dr. Grissom? Can I talk to you?" Keats asked as she pulled up a chair next to him. Grissom put down his files and gave her his undivided attention.
"I don't mean to be indecisive, but I'm afraid I have to go back after I finish up this case, Dr. Grissom." She said. It was there…out in the open. Finally.
"Keats, I had planned on sending you back in a few weeks anyway. Lt. Caine didn't want you gone permanently. He knows what a great commodity you are. But if you should happen to leave early, I don't think he'd mind." He said, giving her a warm pat on the back.
"Oh, and call me Gil. You've earned it, kiddo."