Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just really wish I did.
A/N: Very short chapter, I know... the next one is kind of a big deal though, so I want to make sure I proof-read it well. :) Let me know what you think, hopefully I'll have the next one up by tonight or tomorrow morning.
Chapter 11: Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes
We finally narrowed down our applicants to twenty-five interviewees, which Brass and I split—keeping five to re-interview together. Of the five, it was certainly hard to choose two—they had all done exceptionally well in school, and had individual areas of expertise.
One was a Texan with an easy smile—bright-eyed, eager to please… eager to prove himself, and he came from a great school—Texas A&M. His accent was charming, his vigor impressive—he wanted justice as fervently as a person can want anything—and I trusted him, immediately.
Another was a woman—impressively intelligent, but seeming fairly ambitious. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I'd seen ambition cloud judgment—and impair the execution of justice in the process—in the past. It made me wary.
The third applicant was another woman, who we very nearly hired—but she told us she would be relocating within a year, if not sooner, and after a lot of discussion, Jim and I decided we wanted to hire someone with more staying power.
The forth was a tall man with a careless but modest confidence—he hadn't gone to as good a school as some of the applicants—UNLV—but it was still a good school, and there was something to be said for working in your home town. It gave you a certain insight… plus, every answer he gave was meticulous. He may not have come from the Ivy League, but he certainly had known his forensics, maybe better than any of the other applicants.
And the final was a man from Yale—he was nearly perfect. Nearly perfect grades, class ranking, letters of recommendation… but it didn't feel right. I had the feeling that while he could detail on paper every perfect aspect of processing a scene, he wouldn't have the insight—that indefinable 'it' factor—which made for a good CSI. Sometimes you needed to at least be able to see around protocol, even when you followed it to a letter.
Needless to say, we hired the Texan and the Las Vegan, Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown. One of the best decisions I think we ever made for the lab. Of course, during every interview I had given I was imagining how Sara's answers or her education would be superior—but it doesn't do to dwell on things you can never have. They were excellent additions to the team, and I enjoyed getting to know them.
Nick looked at me like a mentor—he struggled with the sinfulness of sin city, and with being away from home. Even when he'd gotten his own place, he'd been very close to his family—Sunday dinners, babysitting nieces and nephews on the weekends, movie nights with a sister or two… I really felt for the young man, who seemed as though he'd needed the opportunity to make a life and a name for himself, but who also seemed a bit lost in that endeavor. I tried hard to be a good mentor to him, because he was a good man, and a great CSI—he deserved as much.
Warrick was a little less open, a little more reserved—but no less kind or genuine. I sensed in him that he was resistant to the idea of a mentor, but over time he stopped viewing me as a boss and more as a colleague. And when that barrier shifted, and a level of trust was established, I was able to see a bit more of who he was. And I became a sort of mentor to him as well—less because he wanted or needed it, and more like a meeting of minds… I had more experience, and he drew knowledge from our interactions to better himself.
I enjoyed working with both of them, and felt like my errant thought that I would 'father a lab' was, in a way, coming to fruition. I almost felt like the new additions, though rookies to an extent, were better than the veterans we'd lost. They were insightful and dedicated and professional… even if Nick couldn't bring himself to call me 'Gil.'
Maybe it was the informality of it—I'd once heard him in the locker room, on the phone with his dad, say 'Yes, sir.' I had never called my parents 'ma'am' and 'sir'… so maybe it was just a different set of expectations. But I refused to be 'Dr. Grissom' to a team member… and eventually, he just starting calling me Grissom, which worked. I wasn't even upset when the others picked it up—Catherine going back and forth between Grissom and Gil, and Warrick shortening it to 'Griss' more often than not. And, for some reason, I liked it… maybe it was just because it was the first time in my life I had a nickname, or maybe it made me feel closer to the team.
Maybe I felt closer to the team because I was more confident in the team—they were just such good criminalists, down to a man. I was certain that the lab would soon be rising in rankings again.
Although it had been a goal of mine, to get the lab to be one of the best in the country, that was fading a bit. I still worked for it, but instead it was because of the increased amount of funding we received, with the higher rankings. It left more room for experiments, and following the evidence through to the end, purchasing new and better equipment, and paying employees what they deserved.
I appreciated the importance of that.
