Title: From a Fountain, Chapter 3

Author: Sorsha_711
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.
Summary: It had been another brutal night and Brass needed… he needed something to give him hope, to give him comfort… to give him a reason to get up in the morning, purpose… a partner, a lover. He knew what he needed; he just never thought he'd find her. JB/OFC

"Water from a fountain quenches the excessive heat which would destroy this life."
Nicola Salvi

From a Fountain, Chapter 3 --- Second Chance City

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"You're in an awfully good mood."

Looking up from the stacks of paperwork littering his desk, Brass smiled in greeting to his friend and colleague. "This is Vegas, baby. Way stranger things have been known to happen."

Moving out of habit to the chair across the desk from the veteran policeman, Catherine Willows took a moment to study the smirk that warned those that knew Brass, the real Jim Brass, to tread with care. "OK, I give. What's up?"

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Brass leaned back in his chair and fixed the CSI with a deliberately innocent grin. "Other than we're nearing the end of our shift and we've so far managed to avoid any calls involving dead babies or their too young mothers, you'll have to tell me. I've been stuck in my office all night doing paperwork."

Nodding slightly, Catherine hesitated briefly before offering him three files. "Sorry… here's a few more for the stack. We've finished most of the work-up on the Fahey murders. Autopsy proves Daniel Fahey is the one that killed the baby… bruises match his hand span. Her parents' hands weren't big enough to have left the marks. He snapped Rose's neck instantly… Doc Robbins doubts she suffered."

Sighing, Jim dropped his hands as he sat upright, the last trace of his previous good mood vanished from his features. "Maybe not, but Carrie sure did."

"Blood spatter around the basket they used as her crib is consistent with the description of events Carrie gave in her statement. Empty baby bottle on the couch covered in Fahey's prints. Stab wounds were to his back… three punctures; scissors lacerated his heart and punctured the left lung and spinal column respectively," the scientist continued. "There's also no doubt Fahey killed Patrick McKissick. TOD was around 9. Carrie's boss told you she worked from 5 to midnight and then had an hour's ride home on the bus. GSR on Fahey's hand… gun in his pocket that matches the murder weapon… splatter on the front of his shirt and shoes matches Derrick's DNA."

"Well, that should make the DA's decision an easy one. Carrie acted to try and save her daughter's life… justifiable homicide," Brass concluded. "Fahey's dead, so that closes the other two."

"Evidence supports that decision," Catherine agreed. "Have you heard what's going to happen to her?"

"Her mother arrived over the weekend," Brass offered, reaching for his ever-present cup of coffee. "Sophia talked to her. Said she plans to sell everything they own in Wyoming… take Carrie and her other daughter somewhere as far from there as they can get. The whole family needs counseling… Carrie most of all. Hope they get it."

Sighing, Catherine observed, "We can only hope, but… she's never going to get over loosing her baby right in front of her eyes."

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The sudden heat of the night air was a shock to the senses after the cool twilight of the lounge. After twenty years of calling Vegas home, Jim expertly estimated the temperature was still in the upper 80's. Glancing to his right, he stifled a grin as his companion giggled at the sight of the swarming mass of humanity walking the Strip.

Apparently, he hadn't been as successful in the effort as he had hoped. Glittering hazel eyes locked with his as she reminded him, "I warned you!"

The grin won. "Have I said a word?"

Tightening her hold on the curve of his arm, Julie began to laugh just as he had hoped. He'd decided several hours earlier that he could become addicted to the sound… not to mention the golden halo in the center of her hazel eyes that seemed to glow when she was amused. "Smirking counts."

"Ah… you forgot to warn me about that part," he teased, settling his hand over hers in a subconscious attempt to stake his claim. "Maybe we need to walk around a bit before we call it a night. I'm beat, so a little exercise and fresh air might help me focus for the drive home. Luckily, I don't have too far to go."

Hoping to sound casual, he added, "You are going to let me give you a ride home aren't you?"

Dropping her head to stare at the sidewalk, she demurred, "I don't want to inconvenience…"

"You won't," he insisted. "It's late. I'll sleep better knowing you're home safe and sound…giggles and all."

It was the lack of an amused response that tipped him off to the fact she was trying to avoid looking his way. Biting her lip, she shook her head. "Really…it's not a problem. I can take the bus and be there in no time. It stops…"

"Look… I'm the first to admit my manners can be a little rough around the edges, but no way I'm comfortable letting a lady take a bus home at this hour of the night," he insisted, disappointed by the obvious fact she didn't want him to have her address. That could only mean… "If you're worried I'll show up on your doorstep… make a pest of myself, I can take a hint. I'll drop you off and that will be the end of it."

Surprised hazel eyes lifted to meet his serious expression. Julie was quick to note that all traces of his earlier good mood had been wiped away. "That's not… I'd like to see you again. It's just…"

Pulling her to a stop, Jim let the confusion he was feeling show. "It's what, Julie? If you're willing to see me again, why the big brush-off?"

He had to lean a little closer to hear her over the speakers blasting music from a nearby club. "I don't want you to see where I'm living. I'm embarrassed by it, but… it's the best I can do for now… OK?"

"So you don't live in a palace," he responded. "My house is OK, but hardly the Taj Mahal."

Sighing, she finally admitted, "It's a dump. Until I can save enough for something better, I'm living in one of those old travel courts near McCaron… a furnished efficiency, but… the place is pretty shabby. Satisfied?"

Finally hearing the embarrassment in her voice, Jim took a moment to decide how to proceed with what was obviously a touchy subject. Studying her profile, he noted the tense set of her features… her entire body. "Some of those places aren't safe for a woman on her own. Hell, some of those places I don't go in alone."

"Tell me about it… but I don't have much choice. I had a job lined up when I got here, but relocation expenses took most of what I had managed to set aside for the last few years. On top of that, I had to rent a storage unit for my stuff, so money's tight," she admitted, refusing to meet his gaze. "It's only temporary. My boss offered to divert some of my salary to a housing fund so it doesn't show up in my paycheck. I should have enough saved by fall to move… but, until then, it's the best I can afford."

Puzzled, Jim steered her toward a low wall separating the sidewalk from a parking lot. Urging her to sit, he pressed, "Why would your boss need to do that? You don't strike me as the type of person that needs someone else to manage her money or help her save… just the opposite. You clearly have no interest in gambling from your reaction to the casino... so…"

Sighing, she seemed to sag into herself. "Long ugly story."

Gentle fingers titled her head so their eyes could meet. "You listened to mine. Floor's yours, beautiful. Tell me."

"You don't want…"

"Yeah, I do, so tell me. I promise I won't judge you for whatever happened."

A slightly panicked look preceded, "Short version… messy divorce lead to an even messier aftermath."

Nodding, Jim calmly admitted, "Been down that road myself."

"I somehow doubt it was as bad as mine," she muttered, pulling her chin free of his hold and dropping her eyes to her hands… the fingers of which were busily bunching and un-bunching the front of her skirt.

"OK, you're on… let's look at the facts and compare notes," he teased, hoping to get her to open up. "I married my high school sweetheart the year I joined the force. I'd just graduated from Seton Hall…done a couple of tours in Viet Nam. It seemed like it was time to settle down and get serious about my life."

Sighing, he admitted, "To be honest, the marriage didn't grow up with us… youthful infatuation and sex doesn't give you much to work with if you don't have anything else in common. I was more interested in making the grade as a cop than as a husband and… looking back, I know I deserve a lot of the blame for us failing. I was never there… used work to avoid her and our problems. Nancy wanted more… deserved more… not to mention our daughter."

Sighing, he offered, "I adored Ellie, but I wasn't there for her either. She became the only reason I'd bother going home at all. I suspected… hell, I knew Nancy was cheating on me with another cop… one she had been going with while I was in the Marines, but… it was still a blow to learn Ellie isn't mine… at least not biologically. She's mine in all the ways that matter. I was afraid Nancy would use her paternity against me to block my getting visitation so I struck it out. I figured a bad marriage was better than no marriage… stupid, right?"

A slightly lopsided smile greeted her gaze as she hesitantly looked up. "Anyway, I finally had enough and told her I wanted the divorce when I found out she was still seeing him behind my back… bastard was a vice cop I worked with if things weren't bad enough. He was married to a girl from my old neighborhood, sweet girl who deserved better than that bastard. Nancy didn't want to loose her meal ticket… threatened to use Ellie's paternity to block me from seeing her, so I retaliated and cheated on her… something I'm not proud of, but we're trading tales of marital woe, so I have to come clean, right?"

"I'm sorry, Jim," she whispered. "That must have been tough."

"It was," he agreed. "While all of this was happening, I uncovered proof that O'Toole… the sperm donor, was dirty… which led me to a snake-pit in the middle of the Newark PD."

Reaching up to rub his neck, Jim recalled, "I was in homicide by that point, but… some things you just can't turn your back on, so I did a lame impression of Serpico and blew the whistle. That's where I earned myself the tag, 'Squeaky'."

Staring at the ground under their feet, Brass took a moment to decide how to continue his story. "When the whole thing hit the press, it blew up in my face… got pretty ugly. My credibility was attacked… gossip about my affair gave Nancy the excuse she'd been looking for to divorce me on her terms… cleaning me out and taking Ellie in the process. The fact she was cheating too came out during his trial, but not that I wasn't her father. Ellie was only eight… had been through enough not to need that made public and… I love her, so I don't want her to know."

"In the end, I managed to bust up the corruption, but it cost me… guys I'd known for years on the force never trusted me again. Ellie was angry and confused… didn't understand what was happening around her. The woman I was having the affair with took off to LA… joined the force there. That might have gone somewhere if Annie'd stuck around, but she didn't… probably best for both of us. In the end, there was nothing left for me there," he concluded. "I decided I needed a change and I moved here hoping to start over. Locals call Vegas 'Second Chance City' for good reason."

Mid way through his monologue, Julie had reached out to take his hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze, she asked, "Do you ever see your daughter?"

"Yeah…I went to see her as often as I could while she was growing up, but… being on the other side of the country made it next to impossible for me to make much of a difference in her life. When she turned 16, she told me not to bother coming to see her again. I agreed to stay away until she said otherwise… in retrospect, a big mistake, but, at the time, I thought it was best for her," he admitted, the guilt he felt over that decision clouding his eyes, making them seem more black than blue..

"Ellie eventually showed up out here after she'd gotten hooked on drugs and was acting as a drug mule for the looser she was shacking up with. It was a mess… almost lost my job trying to help her, but she went back east to live with her mom once the dust settled… been bouncing around the country since… is in LA now. Things between us are pretty rocky… she's a recovering addict… refuses every attempt I've make to try to help," he confessed, unable to meet her gaze as he shared the last part of his story. "I found her working the streets… doesn't get much worse than that, I guess."

"She's still mad as hell at me for the divorce… for working too much when she was little… for missing so much of her life while I was avoiding her mom and trying to save the world. I moved out here when she still needed me… when I might still have made that up to her." Sighing, he added, "My daughter got lost in the whole mess Nancy and I made of our marriage. I didn't mean for it to turn out like that but… She's been in and out of trouble for years now, but… I keep trying… hoping it will get better before…before it's too late."

The grip on his hand tightened painfully, reminding him she had lost her own child… hers to war. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me…"

Shaking her head, she interjected, "No, it wasn't. Don't give up on her, Jim. It sounds like you're the only one she can count on. She needs you."

"Yeah… her biological father is still in jail last I heard," Jim offered. "Nancy… she was a lousy wife… not much better as a mother. Ellie moves around a lot… calls once in a while. I'll do whatever it takes, but she has to decide to let me help… that she's ready to make the effort or it won't work. I keep expecting to get a call telling me she's back on drugs… or dead."

"Don't give up on Ellie, Jim," she repeated. "Don't wait. Losing her love is bad, but losing her forever… you never get over that. Force it if you have to, but don't let her go without a fight!"

-----

"Loosing your child… you never get over that," he repeated, looking up to find Catherine's probing stare fixed on his face. "What?"

Intrigued, but biding her time, she settled back into her chair. "Nothing… other than the fact you zoned out for several minutes. Want to talk about whatever is bothering you?"

Shaking his head, Brass dodged the question. "Ellie… I was thinking about Ellie. Nothing new to talk about there. So…"

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7-15-2009