CSI Fic: Battlefield (2/11)
Title: Battlefield
Chapter: 2/11
Author: Jedi Princess Clarrisani
Beta: Stalker of Shadows
Additional Helpers:
galuxkitty and
puppytraining
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Paring(s): Nick/Greg, Grissom/Sara, Warrick/Tina, wishful Catherine/Warrick
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 25, 184
Tag: The storm’s been brewing for some time now.
Summary: With a serial killer on the loose and Greg’s job on the line, Nick finds himself caught up on several battlefields - professional, personal, external and internal…
Disclaimer: Do not own. If I did, you would have found several shots of Nick and Greg in the background creeping out of the supply room after their long bouts of absence…
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Nick didn’t see Greg the following night, as Grissom had sent the younger with Sofia to check out a missing persons case in Henderson. At the end of shift Nick found himself sitting in Grissom’s office, the elder man watching him over the top of his glasses. After a moment Grissom sighed, leaning back in his seat.
“How much has Greg told you about his problem, Nicky?”
Nick looked up. “The Ecklie thing?”
Grissom nodded.
“Almost everything.” Nick shrugged. “The lab, the eval, Atwater. How he could lose his job.”
Grissom nodded again, setting his jaw. “I’m afraid it’s become a little more complicated. Before Greg came to see me earlier, I received a letter from the board requesting that Greg is assigned permanently back into the lab.”
Nick blinked. “Permanently?”
Grissom nodded. “On Days.”
Nick felt his stomach knot, felt the colour draining from his face. “They can’t, can they?”
“His evaluation was poor, Nick.” Grissom sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “While he closes all his cases, he has only completed a third of the required quota for a CSI 1 for the year. Every time he is taken off a case, so is his name, and unfortunately I didn’t realise how often this had been happening until it was too late.”
Nick had a bad feeling about this. “What do you mean… too late.”
Grissom set his glasses on the desk. “Ecklie has signed his approval to the idea.”
“What!?” Nick stood, fighting to keep his temper in check. “But Griss, it’s Ecklie’s fault-”
“I know, Nick. Sit down.” Grissom waited until Nick was seated before continuing. “It won’t be happening immediately. I phoned Atwater a little while ago to inform him of the situation, and he’s planning to take it to the Mayor. CSIs, and good CSIs, are hard to come by, and we cannot afford to lose Greg from our team.”
Nick nodded, chewing his tongue. “So what’s going to happen?”
“For now, nothing. Atwater is going to delay the move with red tape, and I’m going to keep Greg in the field.” Grissom nodded toward the phone. “He and Sofia just wound up their missing person case. Husband turned up drunk in the back alley of the Paris. If no new cases turn up, I’ll be assigning him to you.”
Nick nodded. “Rick and I could use his help, sure.”
“Good.” Grissom caught Nick’s gaze. “Keep a good eye on him, Nicky. With all the added stress, Greg is at high risk of burning out, and if he wants to stay in the field we cannot afford to let that happen.”
“Yes sir.”
* * * *
Nothing stayed secret at the lab, and by the next shift all the CSIs knew the basics of what was going on. While no one said anything to Greg, he seemed uncomfortable beneath their gaze, eyeing them wearily during assignments and somewhat relieved when Grissom officially signed him onto Nick and Warrick’s case.
On their way to fill a search warrant at the suspect’s house, Warrick filled Greg in. Their vic had been identified as Andreas Georgalas, an athlete who’d flown in at the last minute to partake in a triathlon, only he had never shown up for the official sign up.
Georgalas had been staying at a fellow competitors home, one Richard Willrock, whose fingerprint had turned up on the tyre iron on closer inspection. No one had seen Willrock for three days - he wasn’t answering his door or phone, and no one knew his whereabouts.
That’s what they were going to find out now.
Willrock lived in an upscale housing estate about a 10 minute drive from the strip, and upon arriving they found Brass waiting for them with the warrant. As the police moved in, Nick moved to stand next to Greg.
“Griss tells me you closed another case.”
“Guy’s credit card led us right to him.” Greg paused, frowning. “Well, not quite. Had to follow the blood trail. Guy got smashed in the face by some girl he groped.”
Nick chuckled. “Yeah, some guy’s can’t take no for an answer.” He paused. “Bet’s triple or nothing, by the way.”
Greg looked at him. “How’s that?”
“Competitive rivalry.” Nick nodded toward the house. “I say skipped town; Rick says holed up.”
“I say guy didn’t do it.”
Warrick looked over at him. “His fingerprints were on the murder weapon, Greggo.”
“Killer could have worn gloves.” Greg shrugged. “My sixth sense tells me we should be looking for another body.”
“So you think Willrock’s dead.”
Greg nodded.
“So…” Nick grinned. “You in?”
“I’m in.”
“Nice.” Warrick mimicked Nick’s grin. “More money for me.”
They looked up as Brass ambled over, a grim look on his face as he joined them. “Well, no sign of our suspect, just a whole new twist.” He pointed back toward the house. “Ransom note on the table, addressed to the PD. I left it for you guys.”
“Okay, thanks.” Nicked gestured for Greg and Warrick to follow, the three grabbing their kits and heading into the house. The air inside the house was musty, indicating that no one had been inside for some time. The blinds were closed, and a half-eaten breakfast sat on the kitchen counter.
They divided up the house - Nick took the upstairs, Warrick downstairs, while Greg took the parameter. After an hour they had completed their walk-through, finding nothing evident to suggest foul play.
“Whoever it was came in the front door,” Nick said, gesturing toward the front entrance. “Which means Willrock knew the guy.”
“Or,” Warrick said, “there’s no guy and Willrock staged the scene.”
Nick looked at him. “You’re stretching.”
“Evidence supports it.”
“Lack of evidence.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re missing something.” Greg picked up the bagged note, frowning as he cast his gaze around. “There should be evidence of something, right?”
“Right.” Warrick gave Nick a weary look before turning to look toward the front entrance. “I’m going to print the front door.”
“One step ahead.” Greg gestured to his kit. “Doorbell, and both interior and exterior handles.”
“Brass’ prints are probably on that.” Nick glanced up. “I’m going to go print the bedroom door in case someone other than Willrock was in there.”
Warrick turned to Greg. “You check for prints outside?”
Greg nodded. “No access to the eastern side, cobble path on the western, no prints on the sills. Backyard is too overgrown. No prints out there either.”
“So the guy kept the front yard tidy, but neglected the back.” Warrick raised an eyebrow. “He’s all about appearances.”
“Which is why I don’t think he’d stage his kidnapping like this.” Nick sighed, tugging at his gloves. “Let’s go over this place again. Rick, kitchen and lounge. If Willrock had a guest, you should find evidence of it.”
“You got it.”
“I’ll take the training room and office. Greg?” Nick smiled as the younger looked at him. “Bedroom and bathroom.”
Warrick laughed as Greg groaned, the junior CSI moving like a man resigned to his fate. Warrick slapped Nick on the back.
“That’s cruel, man.”
* * * *
Four hours later they were back at the lab, Warrick running prints, Nick developing photos and Greg delivering samples and logging evidence. Nick was already resigned to the fact they had probably hit another dead-end as he headed to the layout room with pictures in hand, slowing as he spotted Greg by the table, body tense as he glared at the man in front of him.
Ecklie.
Shifting to a position where he could hear and not be seen, Nick listened.
“I don’t really care what case you’re on, Sanders,” Ecklie was saying. “I’m sure Brown and Stokes are more than enough to handle it.”
“Grissom thinks they need a hand,” Greg said, setting his jaw. “It’s complicated. The more people on the case, the sooner it will break.’
“I doubt you’ll do much to help them.” Ecklie’s voice was level, calm, giving Nick a clear image of Ecklie’s expression despite not being able to see his face. “Fact is, Sanders, I need someone to run the DNA on the O’Conner case.”
“Then get a DNA tech.” Greg looked down at his paperwork, writing in another sample onto the log. “Why they’re there.”
“I need someone who won’t make mistakes.” Ecklie shrugged. “It’s a high profile case, and you’re the best in the country.”
“New York thinks that too. They say that’s what gives me so much potential as a CSI.” Greg looked up at him. “I guess that’s why they keep trying to recruit me.”
Nick saw Ecklie’s body tense, although his voice showed no sign of it. “I’m the one who has to approve any transfers, Sanders.”
“Grissom signs them.”
“And I approve them.”
Greg looked at him for a moment before shrugging, going back to work. “I could always just quit and reapply.”
“You’d need a reference.”
“Grissom, Catherine and Brass.”
By now the frustration was creeping into Ecklie’s voice, causing Nick to smile. “If you don’t run the DNA, Sanders, I’ll cut your vacation quota and deduct from your pay. Your evaluation will support it.”
“Should I remind you that I’m a member of the union?”
Silence. Nick smirked. Stalemate. Hearing a soft step behind him, Nick looked back to see Grissom moving away, Nick frowning. How long had Grissom been standing there? Shrugging it off, Nick stepped into the layout room.
“Hey G, you finished…” He let his voice trail off as if seeing Ecklie for the first time, allowing a confused expression to slide across his face. “Can we help you, Ecklie?”
“No. I just needed to speak with Sanders.” Ecklie gave him a tight smile before moving toward the doorway. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
Nick watched him leave before turning back to Greg, noting he glare Greg was shooting after the man. Worrying his lip, Nick moved to Greg’s side and slid a hand up to squeeze Greg’s shoulder, feeling the muscles tense beneath.
“You okay, man?”
“Yeah.” Greg sighed, closing his eyes and slumping. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know what that was about.” Nick slid his hand from Greg’s shoulder to the back of his neck, gently massaging the still tense muscles and noting how Greg leaned into his touch. “Don’t let him get to you, G.”
“He’s not.” Greg opened his eyes, looking up at him. “Just getting sick of the way he always manages to corner me.”
“No worse than Grissom when you’ve pissed him off.” Nick gave a tight smiled, nodding back toward the doorway. “Griss heard too, by the way.”
Greg blinked. “He did?”
“Yeah. Don’t know how long he was there, though. He snuck up on me.” He shrugged. “Griss and Ecklie will probably have it out, later.”
“I’ll pay for a front row seat to that.”
Nick chuckled, gently squeezing the back of Greg’s neck before letting his hand drop, instantly missing the contact. He really shouldn’t be taking advantage of moments like that, but he couldn’t help it. Clearing his throat, he held up a manila envelope. “Got the photos.”
“More than I’ve got.” Greg sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at the collection of sorted evidence in from of them. “You ever had a case full of so many dead ends?”
“Syd Goggle and Paul Milander were the biggest ones.” Nick saw Greg’s startled look. “We all dwell on them. Because we couldn’t put the pieces together quick enough they kept finding and attacking more victims.”
Greg nodded. “Both ended up dead, right?”
“Mm-hm.” Nick glanced at the evidence log. “So what do we have?”
“Big fat nothing so far.” Greg shrugged. “I left some stuff with Hodges and Wendy, but they’re both backlogged. Bribery didn’t even help.” Greg smiled. “And I always thought Blue Hawaiian could get me anything.”
“Sometimes even the best bribes don’t match up to the threat of a pay cut.” He nodded toward the log. “How far did you get with that?”
“Only a couple of things to go. Should only take me a couple of minutes.”
“Right. Okay.” Nick set the photos down on the layout table. “I’ll just go check on Warrick. See if he’s got anything. Then I’ll be right back.”
Greg nodded, picking up his pen. “Who’s in the print lab tonight?”
Nick frowned. “Franco, I think.”
“Jacqui, hm.” Greg scooped out his phone, checking something on it and raising his eyebrows. “It’s the 17th. Beware of the PMS.”
Nick laughed. “Will do, Boss.”
TBC...