30) A Time To Laugh-+-

Sorry for two sober chapters in a row, but gotta send Warrick out with a laugh.

"She's hot, Warrick," Nick said, smiling.

Across the bar, the girl he referred to was flirting with Warrick with her pretty smile. Warrick smiled back, but since Nick had been trying to encourage him to talk to her for the last fifteen minutes, he knew Warrick wouldn't take the chance.

"Go ask her to dance," Nick told him.

"Man! Back off! I'm not asking her out or to dance."

"Do you know how to dance?"

"YES!"

The two stared at each other. Warrick suddenly grabbed his jacket and stormed off. Nick watched him disappear in the crowd, and then looked at the girl. She was watching someone or something else. He considered his options – she really was hot. Nick headed toward her table.

#

Warrick looked at his apartment door when someone knocked. He paused the football game he was watching and got up. What he found standing in the hall made him want to pummel the rookie. He knew Warrick was interested in this woman, and yet he moved in on her, behind Warrick's back.

"This is Katrina," Nick said. "And you are not going to believe this, but she's a dance instructor."

"I don't believe it." Warrick retorted. His voice was strained with his anger.

"See? I told you he'd say that," Nick told Katrina.

"Well, I do only I teach ballet," Katrina told Warrick.

Warrick leaned on the door. "What are you two doing here?"

"Well, I told Katrina you don't know how to dance and she's offered to give you lessons."

Warrick's anger was not fading. "I know how to dance."

"I told you he'd say that," Nick said to her, then to Warrick, "I told her you'd be interested in learning. So..." Nick duck two hundreds out of his pocket, grabbed Warrick's hand, and slapped the bills in them. "Why don't you two go have some dinner and she can see where she could help you. It's not like a date or anything."

Warrick stared at him. What was Nick up to? He'd only know the man for six months and so far he'd been fairly predictable. Warrick couldn't predict what Nick was trying to do now.

"I know a good place to go," Katrina offered. "Not the best food, but they have a great dance floor. There won't be too many people there this time of day."

Warrick looked at her, then the money in his hand. He handed the money back to Nick.

"I've got the dinner covered. Thanks for the offer though. Let me grab my wallet and keys."

"Great. Well, I'm off. You two have a fun night."

"You're not going?" Warrick asked.

Nick had already started down the hall to the building exit. He turned, smiling. "Nope. Gotta date. See you two later."

#

Nick looked at Warrick when he sat down on the bench next to him and leaned in.

"Did you know ballerinas are way limber?" Warrick whispered.

Nick almost snorted and then giggled. Warrick smiled.

"Just how limber, Warrick?"

"Really limber."

Nick nodded. "So the private lesson was worth it?"

"Oh yeah. Might have another one Friday."

"Good. Glad to hear it."

"Why did you do that, Nick?"

"Do what?"

"You thought she was hot. You could have just moved in on her. I've seen you work your charm on women. Why didn't you?"

Nick looked shocked, and then answered, "Because you liked her, and you're my friend. I wouldn't ever do that to you, man. Never."

Warrick nodded. "Male bonding over. Tell me about our case, rookie."

With a short laugh, Nick changed the subject to the evidence.

Nick opened his eyes. The harder he tried to hold on to the memory that had slipped into his dream, the faster it slipped away. He closed his eyes, trying harder. He didn't want to lose those memories.

"If it wasn't too personal, I'd like to know what you were dreaming," he heard Grissom's voice say. Was that a dream too?

Nick opened his eyes. A movement caught his attention and he looked toward it. Grissom was sitting in the recliner, staring at the wall. Nick looked away. He'd come to The Wall to hide and be alone.

"I was remembering something. It was a long time ago," Nick admitted.

"About Warrick?"

"Yeah."

"I find myself doing that often. We have a lot to chose from, don't we?"

Nick closed his eyes. He was tired. The hours he'd been keeping were wearing him down, but he didn't even have enough energy to care. And his job had fallen to some internal autonomic function – half the time he'd leave the shift with no idea what he'd done or accomplished that night. He left the interrogations to everyone else because he couldn't confront anyone – not in a way that wouldn't get him fired, anyway.

"There's a memorial in Warrick's locker. Did you know that?" Grissom paused, adding quietly. "I just found out and it's been there for five days."

"Yes," Nick softly answered. He suddenly started talking. It was as if he had to tell Grissom this story, even though there was no relevance to it. "Last year, me and him had three days off at the same time – I think that was someone's mistake, probably yours, huh? – and so he suggested we go to the Hoover Dam. I told him I wasn't interested in a dam, but he insisted. So we got in that wreck of his and headed down there. We get there, and he just kept driving. Said we were going to see the Grand Canyon. We get there, and he kept driving. Said it wasn't interesting and decided to go home. But I didn't mind, ya know? I hadn't gone on a road trip for a long time and we talked and laughed, and once even got in a fight over how to fix the car so it would run after it stopped the fourth time. We were so tired when we got back and had to be to work in two hours. That was the night we traded Sara that call out at Indian Springs. He slept on the way there; I slept on the way back. It was like the road trip never ended."

It felt like hours passed before either of them spoke.

"I was looking for you, Nick," Grissom told him, "and I went by your place. There are newspapers there from last week, the day he was killed. When was the last time you were home? You've been wearing the same clothes for days."

Nick closed his eyes. He couldn't remember. Everything had a strange fuzzy, detached feeling to it. Like he was a participant in life without actually being in it.

"I don't know," Nick answered.

"I miss him too, Nick."

He waited for Grissom to add the 'but' part, to tell him he had to get over it, or move on, or something crass. It never came.

Nick sat up, but pulled his legs up, taking up as little space as possible. It was the only way he seemed to feel comfortable these days.

Nick heard the door open and looked up. Catherine walked in and sat down next to Nick.

"Thought I'd find you two down here."

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Nick asked.

"I can't sleep. Sara's coming. She stopped to get us coffee."

They didn't talk, as if they couldn't speak until she was there. And when Sara arrived, she brought coffee and the rest of the crew. Cups were passed out and the group silently sat around the room.

"Did Warrick add all those rules?" Mandy asked.

All eyes turned to the wall.

Grissom smiled, softly answering, "Yes. He said while he was sitting around waiting for them to realize he was innocent, he had a lot of time to come up with new rules. He told me that thinking about here, about writing them, imagining the chalk on the bricks, kept him calm. Maybe I should have..."

No one asked what the unfinished sentence was. No one wanted to know, if they didn't already guess it.

Gina smiled, reading the first rule, "471. I am not allowed to tell any member of the press that Ecklie's head is shiny due to his state funded unlimited supply of Turtle Wax. (Inspired by CsiFREAK24 and a friend)"

Even Ecklie chuckled a little at the rule. He read the next one. "472. This is not the Buy More. We do not have a 'Cage of Death' to settle employee disputes. I don't really get that one."

"It's a television show," Archie told him. "The main guy had this super computer downloaded in his head and he's become a pseudo-spy. He must have overheard us lab rats joking about needing a Cage of Death in the basement."

"And what is that?"

"Do you really want to know?" Hodges asked.

Ecklie thought about it for a moment. "No. I don't."

"Hey. Look. He listened to me, for once," Hodges said a little too excitedly. "473. Laptops are not to be used to test how far the ground is – even if they are slow, archaic, and still running Windows 95."

"Oh come on," Greg argued. "Those old things aren't good for much else and you know it, Archie."

"They make good paperweights," Mandy argued.

"And door stops," Gina piped up.

"They are company property and should be treated as such," Ecklie said in Archie's defense.

That made all most of the CSI and lab rats laugh.

"If that's your argument, Conrad, then expect them broken every time," Catherine told her.

"Why do I even bother?"

Gina leaned on him, smiling up at him. "Because you love us and we're cute."

"Some of you, maybe."

They booed him.

"We have new meanings to our acronym," Mandy said, reading the next rule, "474. Revisit: We are CSI; this does not stand for 'Criminally Sexy Investigator' or 'Commonly Stupid Idiot.' (first one submitted by csivhp)"

"That is not what CSI stands for," Grissom argued.

"And yet, he says this every time it's been put up there, as if the choir is actually listening or some strange thing the like."

"It's wishful think," Mandy said. "No one ever said our supervisors fell short of wishful thinking. It radiates from them."

Grissom asked, "What exactly does 475. "I'm here to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and I'm all out of bubble gum," is not to be said upon arriving at a 'walking wounded' crime scene mean? Do I want to know?"

In unison the men (minus Ecklie) answered, "They Live."

"Movie?" Grissom asked Catherine.

She nodded.

"He could quote that movie," Hodges went on. "Which is sad, considering how bad it is."

"It's not sad when you're drunk and the friends your hanging out with are drunk too." Greg pointed out.

"A lot of movies aren't bad then, even the really offensive ones."

"True," Greg and Nick answered.

"Wow. I think we've left normal and entered some really weird group-think place," Mandy said.

And as if on queue, the men faked laughter, and made the rest of them laugh for real.

Okay, okay, moving on." Catherine said and then read the next rule, "476. We do not compare our suspects, witness, or victims to farm animals. Why does this sound like the beginning of a really bad sex joke?"

"Naw. It wasn't," Greg told her. "See, at this crime scene there was this really tall, gangly guy with a really long neck. And then this little, squatty guy that snorted when he laughed. And this other guy with a really long face that slightly resembled a horse's face. So Warrick says to me 'Did we just step into Animal Farm? Have the animals started looking more human or the humans started looking more like animals?' They heard us and the fight was on – he yelled, they yelled, we all yelled. The officer broke it up. Good times. Good times."

The group stared at him.

"What?"

"You're story telling skills suck tonight."

"Yeah. But so does your breath so we're even." Greg grinned.

Nick laughed, slugging his arm. Greg slugged his arm back.

"So onto the next rule," Grissom loudly said, "477. We do not demonstrate public beheadings, even on resuscitation dolls. And who, shall I ask, did this?"

The question sobered Nick and Greg.

Quietly Greg told him, "Warrick was mad at some kids pulling a prank on the police with a resuscitation doll."

"So he beheaded it?" Grissom asked, smiling.

Greg almost smiled. "Yeah. He grabbed it, twisted the head off, and threw the head back to the kids. Told them the next time they did it, he'd do that to their heads. They ran off screaming for their parents."

"At least that was effective!" Catherine laughed. "And only the resuscitation doll had to die. That's always good."

"Yeah, but then I had to promise to write him up for it," Ecklie said.

"You did?" Grissom asked.

"I said I had to promise, I didn't say anything about actually doing it."

"You kept your fingers crossed when you promised?" Henry asked.

Ecklie smiled. "Yes. I guess I did."

It was strange how the man's smile and soft laughter seemed to lighten up the room's mood. Or maybe there was a more unearthly reason for that.

"So the next one," David began. "478. I will not re-create the Running of the Bulls using the lab rats or mice. (Submitted by DustBunnyQueen). What!?"

"Yes. What. Exactly." Archie said.

She looked over at him. "You did that?"

"Me? No. I was an innocent bystander."

"Innocent as a kid with his hand in a cookie jar! You, Warrick, and Hodges are all guilty of plotting it."

"Yes. But plotting is not considered actually doing it."

"Being an accessory is just as bad as doing it, Archie," Ecklie told him.

"I wasn't an accessory. I was a bystander. I stood by and watched. See? I didn't accessorize anything."

"And cheered," Hodges added.

"So you are admitting guilt to this one?"

"Hey. Warrick and I were bored and it's pretty rare for him to say, 'Hodges, let's...' on anything."

They laughed and no one seemed to catch the present tense Hodges used. He decided to let it slide rather than correct it.

"Okay, so this one he stole from the paramedics. 479. Air goes in and out, blood goes round and round, any variation of this is bad," Greg read.

"Meaning?" Catherine asked.

"Meaning that you breathe air in and out. Blood runs around in the body. If either of those change for any reason, you're looking at a very dead or dying victim."

"He stole that from me," Grissom told Greg.

"See, now, Tory says he stole it from them."

"Tory is a credit hog," Ecklie told Greg. "He'd claim he made earth if he thought he could get away with it."

"Yeah. He and Warrick fought about that a lot, especially when he was gallantly trying to save a victim all over the crime scene."

"So Tory says this one all the time. 480. All bleeding stops, eventually. Did he steal that from someone ya'all think?" Nick asked.

With horrible harmonic distortion, the group answered 'probably.'

"Is number 481 true?" Henry asked. "The love of our fellow officers of law is proportional to their acceptance of our findings."

"Oh so true." Catherine told him.

"The epitome of truth," Nick added.

"It is not. Stop teasing him," Grissom told them.

"It is too!" everyone else argued. Ecklie broke off telling Grissom, "When have the police ever liked us when we found their suspect innocent? Ever? Name me one time."

Grissom thought for a moment, then smiled. "I'll make you a list."

Ecklie looked away. "I hate everyone I work with."

"That's my line! THIEF!" Greg cried, getting another laugh from the group.

"Hey! He wrote one that's so very true it's so very sad!" Archie cried, reading, "482. There is a reason lab rats should not talk to the media."

"Speak for yourself!" Wendy retorted. "I do just fine talking to the press."

"And when have you ever spoken to the press?" Gina asked her.

Wendy grinned. "Yes. Exactly."

"I don't get it," Hodges said.

"Me neither," Henry added.

"All the more reason for the rule," Sara jabbed at them. "He knew people better than you think he did."

"This is why we have rule 483, is it?" Robbins asked. "Never second-guess a man with a girl's name."

"Oh! That's Sandra!" Greg told them.

Nick added, "And Big Rhonda."

"And Harris Janice"

"Candy."

"Trisha."

"We get it," Sara told them. "There were a lot of them. We all knew them and loved them."

"I wouldn't call it love," Nick argued.

"More like liked. Maybe above average like, but certainly no where near the love line."

In a softer voice she told them, "Don't joke about the, okay? They're the ones that are setting up the memorial in the alley. Don't... Don't joke about them. They're all good people with good hearts. He knew that. He saw that."

Her point sobered the room for several moments.

"I'm afraid I might be responsible for those next two," Robbins admitted. "485. Captain Kangaroo may not be used as the name of a John Doe. And 486. Lamb Chop may not be used as the name of a Jane Doe. I gave him grief when he used those names. We laugh, say it wouldn't happen again, and then do it again. I think he knew I laughed every time because I always knew that was Warrick's case."

"Hey, this next one works great. He shouldn't have put that one up there!" Hodges laughed. "494. I may not 'make my job easier' by having a co-worker or cadet that talks to much be my personal reader when I am given a case with mountains of paperwork to read through. (inspired by the last llama)."

Ecklie shook his head, looking back at him. "Why, Hodges, do you admit these things? Don't you realize how much trouble you wouldn't get into if you didn't tell me things that makes me blame you for everything that goes wrong?"

"Seriously?" Hodges asked.

Ecklie smirked, looking away. "Gullible as Gilligan."

That cracked up the room.

Greg looked up at the last rule, starting to read, "And last but not least, number four hundred and ninety... five..." Greg's voice trailed off as he mentally finished the rule before reading out loud.

The other's looked at the rule and it quickly took the joy from the room. For the superstitious of the group, it hinted that subconsciously he knew that morning was his last, even if consciously he didn't. For the others, it just eerily echoed Warrick's fate, as if some paranormal force had taken his hand and forewarned him – but he never saw it.

Quietly Sara read it for the group. "495. The mountain your co-workers must move to clear you name grows proportionally to the amount of trouble you're in – but never doubt they will move it."

The room fell silent. For a while they had been able to ease the pain of loss, but it was back to confront them and it left no one untouched.

In a hushed voice, as though he knew anything louder might be considered disrespectful, Hodges told them, "This place, this one room, is the closest I've ever had to a family I cared about or a home where I wanted to stay. I wonder if he felt that way too,"

"Yes," Catherine answered.

No one argued with her.

-+-Ecc. 3:4