A knock on the front door of their parents' former home brought Rachael there while Maggie did hers and Michael's laundry down in the basement. Chris was busily cooking in the kitchen (remodeled slightly), talking on the phone with their brother and sister-in-law, trying to get the two to see Maggie again, seeing Michael for the first time. Even hearing the playful noises of her son and nephew in the living room – also newly remodeled, the windows and furniture changed – made her feel secure and a little safe, as if this case was not close to her again, as if Ursula's kidnapping had not happened
But if it could happen to my best friend, then it could happen to anybody. I was kidnapped a few years back so that Jason could complete an obsession he had years before. Michael is a product of that, despite my efforts otherwise. It was not a total mistake on my part, but it had some serious consequences to it, including aiding in the destruction in a perfect relationship. And if those also include another C.S.I. disaster, then can we take it, especially after Warrick was murdered? Hell, it seems like every time I come back to this city, something like this has to happen. Am I really that cursed?
Taking an iron to smooth out the wrinkles in one of her work blouses after rotating the clothes, Maggie worked quietly, carefully, as if disturbing the important phone call upstairs would destroy all of her chances on reconciling with Eddie and Grace. She left the situation to Chris and never told him what she really felt about it (trepidation), fearing again that another case from work would ruin her family again.
The knock on the door upstairs caught her attention, though. Dinnertime at the O'Keefe place, even when their parents were alive, had been a family affair and most people knew not to disturb them unless they were guests, although Maggie and her brothers had been more lenient as time passed. The person at the door must have known that, too, but kept persistent in wanting to see somebody.
"Maggie! Nick is here!" Rachael's melodious voice was heard as her soft footsteps came across the basement ceiling and the door opened.
The C.S.I. – turned into a simple housemaid for a moment before her night shift – sighed and put the hot iron down, wishing for more time in the day to do normal things like laundry. "I'm coming up! I'll be a minute."
Turning off and unplugging the iron and running up the stairs, Maggie thanked Rachael, who left the door open for her, and passed a curious Chris in the hallway, meeting Nick at the front doorway, sweating from the heat and relieved about the home's air conditioning.
"I thought I wasn't seeing you until later," Maggie commented as Nick smiled.
"I might as well be the messenger," Nick replied, sounding tired. "I want you to hear this from my mouth before you go on shift with me tonight."
"Because we all know Grissom is a great diplomat." Maggie got the hint immediately and took Nick upstairs to her bedroom, closing the door behind them. Then, plugging in her stereo on the desk quickly, she put on a C.D., to drown out their voices so that nobody could hear them.
All of our times have come
Here, but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
We can be like they are…
Come on, baby
Don't fear the reaper…
Baby, take my hand
Don't fear the reaper…
We'll be able to fly
Don't fear the reaper…
Baby, I'm your man
"Getting used to people not hearing us or something?" Nick asked as the C.D. played, the loud volume shaking the bedroom, the wall hangings rattling with fear at such power.
"I guess." Maggie paused. "So, what do you have to tell me because Grissom can't?"
"Other than murder in the air again, there's nothing more."
"Are you serious, Nick? That's all you have to say?"
"Maggie, I am serious and have been for a while now. When they are police parole vehicles out there, making sure you're not in trouble again, then, yeah, I guess I have to be serious with you."
"So, what did Doc Robbins find in the dead body?" Maggie didn't want to think about Eric's burnt body as she went to inspect it earlier that day, identifying the body as his. It made her sick when she pictured the last of her ex-boyfriend on that metal slab, the finale called death taking him instead of her.
"Eric Jacobson was obviously shot to death before he made his trip into the fire," Nick reported somewhat grimly as the two sat on her bed, the music ringing. "Doc Robbins wrote that as the sole cause of death. Whoever did pull the trigger, though, wanted people to think that he was trapped inside and died in it. The bullet was almost missed had he not investigated further."
Maggie gulped, her cold hands suddenly grabbing Nick's in a panic. "The question is, was he at the motel when he was shot or was he dragged there before somebody set the fire?"
"Shot in the parking lot," was the reply. "Catherine found the blood splatter after the fire department was finished with the scene and the body was removed."
Valentine is done
Here, but now they're gone
Romeo and Juliet are together in eternity
Romeo and Juliet…
Forty thousand men and women everyday
Like Romeo and Juliet…
Forty thousand men and women everyday
Redefine happiness…
Another forty thousand coming everyday
We can be like they are…
Come on, baby
Don't fear the reaper…
Baby, take my hand
Don't fear the reaper…
We'll be able to fly
Don't fear the reaper…
Baby, I'm your man
Maggie shuddered. "Then somebody was out to get him. I know that he was released two days ago by Brass and allowed to be free just as long as he provided more information to the case if he found it, seeing as how he could contact anybody in the household. He called in that day and was supposed to – oh, my God, Nick. He was supposed to be at the White Sands Motel last night. Maybe that's what happened. He went there to call Brass or something and was attacked somewhere."
"Maggs, you're ram –"
"Stop calling me that, Nick! Only Ursula can. And I'm not rambling. I'm thinking about the case. Now, where was the blood splatter found? You said something about the parking lot. Ok, did somebody see somebody? There's traffic on all sides. Did anybody see anything?"
Nick put his hands up in defeat, letting go of Maggie's. "Ok, ok, Maggie. Here's the scoop. Just don't say it's from me or Catherine will kill me. She wanted to keep some of it from you, but since it's mostly our case unless otherwise told, you should be in the loop."
The C.S.I. leaned forward in interest, hiding her distress.
Nick sighed. "Yeah, well, the blood splatter was on a handicapped space, where nobody could see or hear anything. It's around a couple of things, like the main office and such. Grissom and Catherine processed the scene."
"So, nobody saw or heard anything?"
"Exactly, Maggie. So, we're almost back to square one."
"Almost, Nick, but we still have names and a couple of places. What did Eric tell Brass the first night?"
"The usual things, but he also mentioned that Hannah Tanner was at home often and that there was another woman with her at the kitchen table, having coffee with her. Apparently, your abusive ex was doing some snooping of his own, changing his mind about a lot of things. It was like he humbled a little but before he was killed."
"And this may have gotten him into some serious trouble. Did he catch what the other woman looked like?"
"Well, yes and no. He said that it looked like Ursula, but he couldn't be so sure."
Maggie felt a lump in her throat form, blocking out air.
"Furthermore," Nick added, "we can't be sure if we can believe him or not. Brass and his men have been investigating that house for days and have found nothing but the Hannah Tanner doing her errands, going to work, whatever. Ursula is not around, they said. And the officers have been looking up and down that house for days now."
"Didn't they check any possible places where a person could be hidden?" Maggie hoped, but it went out her window when she saw Nick's face.
"She hasn't been found yet, Maggie." He put his hands back on hers. "We'll keep looking."
Love of two is one
Here, but now they're gone
Came the last night of sadness
When it was clear she couldn't go on
The door was opened and the wind appeared
The candles blew and then disappeared
The curtains flew and he appeared
Saying, "Don't be afraid!"
"Come on, baby!"
And she had no fear…
And she ran to him
And they started to fly…
They looked backwards and said goodbye
She had taken his hand
She had become like they are…
Come on, baby
Don't fear the reaper…
The two were unvoiced for a while, listening to the music roll past them as tracks played. Then, after twenty minutes (and a warning from Chris that dinner was within the hour), Nick broke the silence, rubbing Maggie's hands with his thumbs again.
"So, what's with us?" he asked Maggie, looking into her eyes.
The other raised an eyebrow, trying not to choke on her emotions, trying to be stoic. "I don't know, Pancho. I just don't know anymore. I still love you and I want to be with you. I just don't know if it's possible or not now."
"It was before. Can't it be now?"
"Because we haven't really worked out everything yet and I don't wanna put you through anything ever again. Nick, I have a child. He's nearly four years old now. Can youhandle that? Can you play father to a child who has been scared of his own shadow all of his life, knowing that his biological father was a murderer and rapist?"
"How could he know, Maggie? He's four."
"Children have ears, Nick, and they pick up things quickly. I didn't need to say anything to him. He heard everything once when I brought him to work when I couldn't find a babysitter. It was a mistake on my part, but I had no choice really. I didn't take him out on the field and did paperwork all day, but he heard a lot while he was playing. And by the end of the shift, he was crying and wishing that he was never born. It took a year of therapy to fix it and make him a normal child again."
"Sometimes, I wish it were a solution to everything, too." Nick looked at Maggie with pleading eyes, wanting to tell her something, but keeping it back. "I'm glad he's ok, though."
"I agree." Maggie met Nick's glaze, knowing what it meant: despair, wanting, fear even. "Do you need to talk about something?" she then asked softly.
"Not yet. You're not ready." The C.S.I. shook his head.
"Then, that's something I can agree to," Maggie only replied, hearing another call for dinner from her brother.