Entry #3 in the "A Year in the Life" series. The Brillows clan takes a somewhat unplanned family vacation, and run into trouble in a little mountain town called Jackpot. You know the drill -- CSI is not my sandbox. If it were, they would've done something about Ellie already, dammit.
99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
by Alice Day
CHAPTER NINE
As two of Brooks' deputies handcuffed the now-moaning survivalist, Brass ignored the throbbing headache behind his left eye and climbed further up the hill. He had it all planned out. First, he'd go into the "fort" and apologize to Ellie for acting like such a jerk. If additional groveling was necessary, well, she'd more than earned it. And, please God, she would forgive him, and tomorrow she'd go back to Vegas with him, and maybe he would convince her to stay and they could start working on this brand new gaping hole in their relationship.
That was the plan, anyway. It flew out the window the moment he slid through the narrow gap between two rocks, Brooks behind him, and saw Ellie sitting against a slab with the veterinarian kneeling between her ankles, fondling her bare foot.
A fine red mist settled in front of Brass's eyes. "What the hell are you doing to my daughter?" he grated.
Ellie glanced at him, the relief on her face morphing to irritation. "Yeah, nice to see you, too, Dad," she said.
Sterling turned and gave him an annoyed look. "I think she has two broken toes," he said. "She's going to need help getting down the hill."
Brass's jaw clenched. "Fine," he said through his teeth. "Let go of her, and I'll get her down to the cars."
Sterling ignored him, gently palpating her foot.
The Homicide captain heard a crackling noise; dimly, he realized it came from his white-knuckled fists. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he rasped. "Get your fucking hands off my kid, or I'll take them off at the elbows."
"Dad!" Ellie yelled.
Carefully, Sterling laid her foot on the discarded boot and stood up, a glint in his eye. "Try it," he invited.
Growling, Brass was nose to nose with him before Brooks could shoulder between them. "Okay, both of you, knock it off!" he ordered, shoving them apart. "I have had one hell of a night, and refereeing you two idiots is not in my damn job description!"
Reluctantly, the two men backed off. "I'll get Ellie down the damn hill," the lieutenant continued. "Dale, you ride back with me. Jim, you and Ellie go back with Andy. We'll meet up at the PD and get all this hashed out, all right?"
"Fine," Sterling said.
"Great," Brass agreed. "As long as he stays the hell away from my kid."
"Hey!"
All three men turned to Ellie, who was now up and balancing on her still-booted foot. "Let's get a couple of things clear right now," she said, hanging onto the slab wall as she pointed a finger at Brass. "Number one, I am not a kid. Either you treat me like an adult, or you stay out of my damn life."
Brass stared at his daughter, his anger stuttering to a halt. The petulant look that had been Ellie's default expression for years was gone, now, replaced by a frightening determination. She meant every word; she would cut him cleanly out of her life.
In the back of his mind, he could hear Catherine, clear as day: this is your last chance, Jim. Don't fuck it up.
He sucked in a breath...
...held it...
...and let it go.
"You're right. You're not a kid," he said slowly. "I don't know why I keep treating you like one. I just...I worry. That's not an excuse, it's just what I do. I'm your dad, and I worry about you -- I always have, I always will. But that's my problem, not yours. And I shouldn't have pulled you out of the lounge -- that was wrong. And I'm sorry."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Good," she said. "That's a start. Number two -- Dr. Sterling saved my life a couple of times tonight. So you might want to try thanking him instead of tearing his head off."
Pour some salt on the wound, why don't you, Ellie? But Brass turned to the still-angry vet. "Thank you for saving my daughter's life," he said, his voice low.
"You're welcome," Sterling muttered, glancing at Ellie. She raised an eyebrow. "Mrph. And thank you for distracting Moses," he added ungracefully.
Brass risked a look at his daughter. "Yeah, well, apparently I'm really good at annoying people," he said. To his relief, Ellie's lips twitched.
"Great," Brooks announced, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Now that this heartwarming moment is over, can we get the hell back to town? I'm freezing my ass off out here."
Balancing carefully, Ellie leaned over and picked up her discarded boot. "That sounds like a damn good idea," she said. "And Dad? You're riding with Lieutenant Brooks. The doc and I can ride with Andy."
The other men looked at him, waiting for his reaction. After a moment, Brass nodded. "If that's what you want, Ellie," he said, surprising himself. "I'll see you back at the station. Just be careful coming down the hill, all right?"
He turned and left the fort. Seems like old cops can learn new tricks, after all.
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Around 3:00 AM, Brass finally found himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror at Leland's house, brushing his teeth and musing over the aftermath of the evening.
Delilah had radioed in from the hospital; Missy was fine, and while Janine would need some physical therapy, she'd recover. Brooks planned on going over there in the morning and interviewing her about her role in her father's murder. "I don't know if this was just a slip of the lip or what, but we're gonna have us a long heart-to-heart about her scumbag boyfriend," he said to Brass back at the station.
"Good. So what happens to Mack's money?" Brass asked.
The lieutenant scratched his chin. "It all depends on what happens to Janine. If she's convicted on felony murder, it'll go to Missy. If it turns out Janine was a victim, well, it goes to her. She'll have to find a way to live with the fact that it's covered with her daddy's blood."
The Homicide detective nodded. "So...where is the money, anyway?"
Brooks smirked. "Who knows," he said. "All I know is, it's a good thing we installed a new evidence locker just before Mack retired. Lots of room for secure storage."
"I'll bet."
Both Moses and Ellie paid a visit to the St. Luke's ER; the survivalist was x-rayed, pronounced moderately concussed, and admitted to the secure ward for observation prior to his transfer to the county jail. The nice young ER doctor then taped Ellie's toes, explained the acronym RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation), and told her to stay off her feet for the next few days. When Ellie explained that she was a bartender and being on her feet was part of her job, the doctor offered to write a note. Ellie just shook her head and sighed.
She was now ensconced in the small bedroom's bottom bunk, a pillow propped under her foot. Lindsey was doing a fairly good imitation of a nurse/ladies' maid, and Brass heard them laughing together when he passed their door on his way to the bathroom. Now that, I didn't expect. Maybe this trip was a good idea, after all.
He spat out the minty foam and rinsed his mouth. Now it was time for the hard part.
Catherine was already in bed with a forensics journal when he came in. She looked up, giving him a small smile. "Don't look so worried -- I'm not going to bite your head off," she said.
"I earned it," he admitted. Time to pull on the Apologizin' Panties and commence to groveling. "Baby, I'm sorry about what I said--"
Catherine held up a hand, and he stopped. "Jim, I think I need to know something if we're going to go any further together," she said. "Does it really bother you that I used to be a stripper?"
He sat down on the bed next to her. "No, baby, it doesn't," he said humbly. "I don't know why I said that -- hell, I've been in enough strip bars myself as a customer. I know it's just a job."
"And a well-paying job at that," she said. "But it's a job you don't want your daughter to have. Or your girlfriend."
He winced at the on-point thrust. "Catherine, I'd be a hypocrite if I said I was fine with it," he admitted. "I can't help being old-fashioned, honey -- I want to protect the women I love, and that includes stopping scumbags from doing hootch dances with them." He scowled unhappily. "Even if the scumbag did save her life."
Catherine's eyebrow went up. "That was a rather impressive hootch dance, and I speak from professional experience," she said crisply. "And your information about the scumbag is inaccurate." She explained what Doris had told them at the diner.
Brass groaned. "Oh, great. So I have to apologize to him, too?"
"Might be nice. He did save Ellie's life, after all."
The captain lay back, grumpily contemplating the bedroom ceiling. "Okay," he finally said. "I think she wants to say good-bye to him tomorrow, so I'll do it then. Assuming he doesn't take a swing at me."
"I don't think you have to worry about that." Catherine stretched out next to him, resting her head on his chest. "I don't know if anyone bothered to tell you this tonight, but you're a damned good man to have around, Captain Brass."
"Not all that good. But I try." He wrapped his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. "Happy Valentine's Day, Cath."
She looked up with a smile, her blue eyes lambent in the glow of the bedside lamp. "Happy Valentine's Day, Jim."
She snuggled closer, and Brass closed his eyes, content.
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Ellie carefully climbed out of the Highlander the next morning, making sure her right foot took the brunt of her weight. She'd woken up hoping that Lindsey had a pair of sneakers she could borrow, since there was no way she could get her taped toes into the boots.
As it turned out, there was a pair of comfortable blue boat shoes waiting outside the bedroom door, courtesy of Dad and an early morning run to a nearby Walmart. Okay, he's getting better at the whole apology thing.
Zipping her jacket, she limped up to the clinic door, Brass in tow. He paused, studying the weatherbeaten exterior with a dubious eye. "So this is where the magic happens," he commented.
"Dad," she chided.
He held up his hands. "Just kidding."
She shook her head as they went in. "Hello?" she called. "Doc?"
"Be right with you," came from the exam room.
Ellie grinned. "Wait here," she said to Brass, and headed into the exam room. She found Sterling trying to wrap an enormous -- and very unwilling -- black cat in an old bath towel; the vet's glasses were halfway down his nose from the effort.
Sterling glanced up at her, his head tilted back comically as he wrestled with the squirming animal. "Oh, good. I was hoping I'd see you before you left," he said. "Sorry about this -- I'm trying to prep J.J. for an anal gland expression and he's not," the vet grunted, recapturing a flailing paw and sticking it under the towel, "cooperating. Um, could you please push my glasses back up?"
She put her index finger on his nose bridge and eased them back into position. Goodbye Jack Bauer, hello Dr. Cooper. "Want some help?"
Sterling flashed her a grateful look. "Please. Put one hand on his back, then grab his scruff with the other and shake his head very gently, just enough to get his attention."
She did, ignoring the cat's offended yowls. Moving quickly, Sterling lifted the cat's tail and inserted his gloved index finger in the appropriate place, squeezing out a thick, dark blob from one impacted anal gland. The cat's yowls turned operatic.
"Okay, one more," he said, wiping his glove off on the discarded towel. Once the other gland was expressed, Ellie carefully released the cat's scruff and rubbed his ears, earning a grumbling purr.
Sterling stripped his gloves off, tossing them into a trash bin before rinsing his hands in the exam room sink. "Once again, you've been a lifesaver," he said, coming back and scratching the cat's chin. The purr turned into a motorboat rumble. "I don't suppose you'd like a job as a vet technician? The pay is mediocre, but you'd get your own lab coat and my undying gratitude."
Ellie sensed something slightly wistful under the joke. "I think I'd need a degree for that kind of job, wouldn't I?" she asked.
"Well, yes, but Great Basin is only forty-five minutes away and I think office work could be applied towards your degree." He shrugged. "Of course, you'd have to live in Jackpot, which might be considered something of a drawback after Vegas and LA."
She cocked her head to the side, giving him a crooked smile. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said. "There's definitely one thing I like about Jackpot."
Sterling blinked at her in surprise. Before he could say anything, Brass stuck his head through the door. "Ellie, honey, we need to get on the road," he said. "And I still need to talk to the doc."
Great timing, Dad. She held out her hand to the vet. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Dr. Sterling."
He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Likewise, Miss Brass. Oh, wait." He pulled open a drawer and took out a business card. "If you want to talk some more about vet tech positions, here's my contact information -- please call or email me if you have any questions."
Bingo.
She tucked the card in her jacket pocket. "Thanks, Doc," she said smoothly. "And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm going to haul my gimpy self back to the car before my foot explodes." Giving her dad a warning look, she left.
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Brass watched his daughter limp off, then rubbed the back of his head and sighed. Here we go.
"Uh, hi, Doc," he muttered. "Look, I'm sorry I acted like such an asshole last night. I was just worried about Ellie."
Sterling shrugged. "That's okay. I probably would've done the same thing in your shoes. And I'm sorry I got in your face like that -- I was on adrenaline overload." He leaned back against the counter. "Um, about Ellie -- I really hope she doesn't mind me telling you this, but we talked for awhile last night while we were waiting. She didn't go into details, but I got the impression the last few years haven't been easy for her."
Brass grimaced. "Yeah, you can say that again."
"Mm. She's really strong, you know. That's a good thing, but sometimes it also makes it hard to ask for help. And she's going to need some help, whether she likes it or not." The vet gave him a sober look. "With two broken toes, she really should be off her feet for a couple of days at least, which is going to make traveling difficult, not to mention tending bar. If you don't push her on it, I think she'd be willing to stay in Vegas."
The Homicide detective went very still. "You think so?"
"Yup. But I'm serious about not pushing it. Let her have some space, make up her own mind. If you can do that, it'll be easier for her to stay."
Brass took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of hope. "That's good to know, Doc -- thanks." He fidgeted with his jacket zipper. "Uh, did she say anything else I should know?"
The vet smiled a little. "Well, she said that she loves you, even though you drive her up the wall sometimes."
"Yeah, can't blame her on that one. It's nice to get outside confirmation, though."
"Of what -- that she loves you, or that you drive her up the wall?"
"Both, I guess. I'll have to keep working on the second one."
Sterling nodded. "Good choice. I think you're stuck with the whole love thing, myself."
"Believe me, I'm not complaining." Brass glanced around the exam room, noting the dusty shelves stacked with vet supplies. "Hey, Doc, can I ask you kind of a personal question?"
"Shoot."
"What are you doing here?"
Sterling frowned. "I don't understand."
Brass studied the other man. "Grissom told me a little bit about you," he admitted. "You're a smart guy, and judging from the pictures in your waiting room you do good work. So what are you doing in a boring little burg like Jackpot?"
The vet's expression went opaque, and he absently rubbed his arm. "It's kind of a long story," he said. "Let's just say I've had enough excitement in my life and leave it at that. Besides, Jackpot's my home town -- I like it here."
"Oh." Brass shook his head. "Sorry -- no offense."
"None taken." The cat gave an inquisitive meow, and Sterling picked him up. "Well, I'd better get J.J. back to his owner. I'm glad we got a chance to talk, Mister Brass."
"Me too, Doc," Brass said, offering his hand. The vet shook it firmly. "Take care of yourself."
"You, too. And good luck with Ellie."
"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."
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Four hours later, the Highlander was parked at a truck stop near Ely, fueling up. Catherine stood next to the gas pump, dividing her attention between the rapidly clicking numbers and her daughter and Brass trading quips as they browsed the drinks cooler inside the shop.
The Highlander's rear door opened, and Ellie got out. "God, I can't feel my butt anymore," she groaned, leaning against the car as she stretched.
"Yeah, that's the one thing that really sucks about road trips," Catherine said. "Well, that and the fact that everyone usually hates everyone else by the time the trip's over."
Ellie snorted. "Good thing we got that out of the way early."
Catherine grinned at her. "That's one way of looking at it. How are your toes."
"They hurt, but I'll live." She hesitated, glancing at the shop. "Um...could I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Dad told you what I did in LA, right? I mean, my old job."
Catherine gave her a sober nod. "Yeah, he did."
Ellie took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Okay, so, do you think it's a stupid idea if I wanted to go back to school or something?" she asked. "I mean, 'hooker turns life around, gets a degree' -- it sounds like some lame chick flick on the Oxygen channel, right?"
"Ex-hooker," Catherine pointed out, "and I don't think it's stupid at all. Besides, didn't your dad ever tell you about the stripper who went to night school and became a criminalist?"
Ellie's eyebrows went up. "No. That really happened?"
"Yep. I think I was about your age, too."
Her jaw dropped open. "You're shitting me. You were a stripper?"
"One of the headliners at the French Palace. Now look at me -- CSI supervisor for the grave shift." She tilted her head. "Granted, it took me about twenty years to get here, but I am living, strutting proof that you can do whatever you want if you're willing to work for it."
"Huh." The younger woman's hand closed over her jacket pocket, as if checking for something. "Yeah, that's good to know. Thanks."
The gas pump shut off. "You're welcome," Catherine said, unhooking the hose as Brass and Lindsey strolled up with six packs of bottled water and Diet Coke.
"Okay," Brass said cheerfully, kissing the strawberry blonde on the cheek and handing her a bottle of water. "We are refreshed, recharged and ready to roll. Ladies, in the chariot, s'il vous plait. Let's get the hell out of here and back to civilization."
Minutes later, the Highlander was back on Highway 93, heading south and home.
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"Are we there yet?"
"Lindsey!"
A/N: Man, I'm sorry it took so long to get the last chapters up -- Real Life Drama, dontchaknow. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this entry in the "A Year In The Life" series -- I'm already working on the next one, I promise. And yes, Ellie and the doc will be making an appearance in future stories -- can't lay all this background and not use it, after all.
Oh, and while I'm 48 minutes late for this -- happy birthday, Paul!
