Author's Notes: This will be a first for this story, a two part "moment." I hope you like it. Thanks for all the support on this one. It's kind of my on-going pet project, and it's always great to get feedback on it;)
Moments
by Kristen Elizabeth
"So…Dad?"
Grissom took his eyes off the road just long enough to glance at the girl in the passenger's seat. "So…daughter?"
Rosalind rolled her eyes. "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you plan on embarrassing me today?"
As he pulled into the parking lot of the high school, Grissom shook his head. "How could I possibly embarrass you?"
She craned her neck and looked in the backseat. "I can name about fifty ways and they're all mounted on pins and labeled in Latin."
"Fifty-one," he corrected her. "I plan to use the ladybug joke."
Facing forward again, she heaved a great sigh, as only a fifteen year-old girl can manage. "This is going to be a disaster."
Grissom pulled the SUV into a guest parking space. "Princess, it's a thirty minute presentation. How much damage can I possibly do in thirty minutes?"
"Have you totally forgotten the cockroach race in third grade?!"
"May I remind you, young lady, that was a rousing success." He turned off the engine. "And I hardly think I can be faulted for the fact that your biology teacher requested I come and speak to your class during your unit on arthropods."
Rosalind crossed her arms. "You didn't set this up?"
"As much as I'd like to take the credit for any diabolical attempt to ruin your social life, no, I did not. But I'm not going to lie and say I haven't been looking forward to it." He pointed at the school building. "Who knows how many future entomologists are in there."
"God, you're, like, perpetuating your species. At my school! It's mortifying! I'll never recover from this."
Grissom opened his door. "Love you, too, princess."
Rosalind slid out the passenger's side and swung her bag onto her shoulder. Her father had opened the backdoor on his side and was pulling out his insect boards with great care. She opened her side and looked at him, biting her lip guiltily. "Need some help?"
"I'm fine. You go on. You'll be late for homeroom."
"Daddy…"
Grissom glanced up and lowered his sunglasses. "I understand that you're fifteen, Rosalind, but every now and then…do you think you could cut your old dad some slack?"
She nodded. "Okay."
He waved his hand at her. "Go. Don't be tardy. I won't bail you out."
Rosalind scrunched up her face at him like she first had when she was six years old and he'd had a hellacious day. She'd wanted to make her daddy smile. It had worked like a charm ever since.
She turned to go, twisting back around a second later. "Really, Daddy. One to ten? Ten being so embarrassing that I have to change my name."
"Solid eleven," Grissom replied. "I'm very good at this."
"Hey, Roz." Her heartbeat tripled when Camden leaned across his desk to whisper in her ear. But she couldn't turn back to look at him.
At the front of the classroom, her dad was in the middle of his presentation. Even though she'd heard him talk before, and she knew that he got paid a lot of money to basically do what he was doing right now on a much bigger scale at conventions all over the world, Rosalind had been surprised to see that the kids in her science class were actually listening to him.
Maybe it was because he'd gotten the okay from her teacher to talk about the bugs he found on dead bodies. At least he hadn't brought any pictures.
"Hey," she whispered back to Camden. She had English next, and he sat in front of her in that class. She spent a lot of time there staring at the back of his neck.
"So, that's your dad."
"Yeah." It was the best conversation they'd ever had.
At least it was until Ariel leaned over from her desk and butted into it. She was doing that a lot lately, and it was getting on Rosalind's nerves. "I used to think that he was her granddad when we were little," she told Camden with a toss of her hair.
"Is your mom the same age as him?" Camden asked Rosalind.
She was about to answer, when Ariel did it for her. "No, her mom's a lot younger. My mom calls them May and December. Whatever that means."
"Maybe I can meet her someday," Camden said. "I mean, your dad's kind of cool. So she must be, too, right?"
Rosalind smiled. "Yeah, she is."
Ariel shook her head. "You'll never see her. She works, like, all the time."
"She comes home every now and then," Rosalind snapped, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"My mom works a lot, too," Camden said. "She's a corporate lawyer. And my dad's retired. He used to be her boss."
"My dad, too," Rosalind quietly exclaimed. It was like fate! "But he's not totally retired. He just doesn't go to crime scenes anymore unless there's bugs."
"That's really cool. I've kind of thought about being a crime scene person one day."
Ariel made a face. "Not me. Dead bodies freak me out."
Even though she agreed, she was about to tell Ariel that no one had asked her when their teacher suddenly noticed the conversation taking place in the back rows. "Would the three talkers in the back like to come up and apologize to our guest, or can they be quiet from now on?"
Rosalind avoided her dad's eyes. Maybe he'd understand and forgive her if she told him that the cutest boy in school wanted to be a CSI when he grew up.
It was a very quiet ride home after school.
Even though she looked painfully guilty, and that pleased him to a certain degree, Grissom wasn't upset with his daughter. Kids were kids. They were going to do kid-like things.
No, he was far more interested in the teenaged miscreant who had been tempting his daughter into talking during class. And he wasn't talking about Ariel.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as Rosalind fiddled with the AC vents, pulled down her sun visor to look in the mirror, and adjusted her seat's position. When she reached for the radio controls, Grissom broke the silent treatment that had been hanging over them ever since he'd picked her up.
"Don't even think about it," he told her. "It's the Moody Blues or nothing."
Rosalind retracted her hand, and tucked both of them between her knees. "Daddy…" she tentatively began.
"Yes?"
"Do you think it would be…you know…possible for someone who wanted to be a CSI to, like, go to a crime scene? To see what it's like."
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to be a fashion model this week."
"It's not me," she quickly corrected. "It's a friend."
"Ariel's taking an interest in forensics?"
Rosalind rolled her eyes. "Not even. It's someone else."
"Who?"
"Just a friend, Daddy. Could you make it happen?"
Grissom turned a corner. "Crime scene, no. The morgue or the lab? Maybe. We have programs for juvenile offenders." He glanced at her. "Is your friend a juvenile offender?"
"No! He…" She stopped. "You always do that!!"
"Do what?" he asked, innocently.
"Find out what you want to know! I hate that!" She slumped down in her seat and turned her head away from him to look out the window.
There was silence in the SUV until Grissom turned onto their street. Rosalind took a peek at him, quickly turning back when he noticed her. She sniffed. "I'd really appreciate it if you could do this for me, Daddy."
"What's his name?"
"Daddy…"
"Rosalind. This is a non-negotiable condition of my assistance in this matter. What is his name?"
She sighed dramatically. "Camden."
A moment passed. "Does he have a last name, or is he too cool for that?"
"Flynn," she gave in, rolling her eyes.
Camden Flynn. Grissom pulled the car into their driveway and turned off the engine. The teenaged miscreant finally had a name.
"And you want me to set this whole thing up?" Sitting at her dressing table, Sara dabbed moisturizer under her eyes to combat the lines that only she seemed able to see. As far as he was concerned, she looked as beautiful as she did the day they met.
Meanwhile, Grissom turned down the bed, stacking their pillows in the familiar pattern. "That's right," he replied.
She watched his reflection in the mirror. "So you can…what? Scare him? Intimidate him? Distract him with dead people so he won't be thinking about our daughter?"
"Something like that," he admitted.
Sara bit back a smile. "I think I need to meet this kid. He must be really cute if he's got you this worried. Does he have hair that flops over his eyes? That used to get me every time."
"I'm glad you find this so amusing, Sara." Grissom got into bed and reached for his reading glasses and his book. "I don't recall Hank having floppy hair."
"Oh, I gave up flop after college. Switched to curls." She stood up and unclipped her hair. It fell in waves around her neck. Thanks to an excellent stylist, recommended by Catherine herself, there was not one streak of silver to be found. Fifty looked good on his wife. Even his sixty-five year old body recognized that. Suddenly, his book wasn't quite as interesting.
"If the boy is serious, it could be a great learning opportunity for him," she mused, untying her robe's belt too slowly for his liking. "I assume you'll want to be his tour guide? Or should I assign Greg?"
Grissom took off his glasses. "Whatever you think is best, boss."
She smiled wickedly and crawled onto the bed. "You'll owe me." Her fingers climbed up his bare arm.
"Yes, I will." He reached over to turn off the bed-side lamp.
To Be Continued