Fanfiction | CSI & Heroes | Family Affair | Chapter II
Title: Family Affair ~ Chapter 2/?
Author: frickangel
Fandoms: CSI/Heroes
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It’s time Niki told Greg. The Sanders family takes care of each other; no matter what.
Characters: Niki Sanders (Heroes) and Greg Sanders (CSI).
Pairings: None
Timeline: Post ‘Post-Mortem’ for CSI, and just before the ending of ‘Godsend’ for Heroes.
A/N: In my contorted little world, Greg has learnt to keep a gun.
Warning: Un-beta’d
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t know and don’t I wish.
Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
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The ice-cold metal burnt into his palm as he slid the handgun out of his holster and offered it over to the man. He winced at the sharp sound as the warden hit the release button and removed the magazine from the weapon, rendering it useless before being safely tucked into a metal container.
He was asked if there was anything else he’d like to declare.
Thinking about if for a moment, his hands flew to the empty holster clipped to his jeans’ waistband, making sure it really was gone; then he felt the CSI badge hooked on the same article of clothing. Releasing the peg, he transferred the badge to his jacket’s lapel; proudly advertising that he was CSI Greg Sanders-here on official business.
He shook his head to let them know that that was all he had. After all, a gun was enough to scare off gangs and angry mobs, a whole lot more effective than a car.
With the pen in his hand, he scrawled his cursive signature on the sing-in sheet and spread his arms out to allow them to wave the metal detector over him. Once they were satisfied, they opened the heavy doors and permitted him to the visitation room.
As he settled himself down in the hard chair, Greg stared forward into the murky plastic partition. It was like a looking-glass to him, only it showed the past and not the future. The past that was not too long ago and told about how he ended here. To be exact, it was the moment Nick’s voice echoed through the dismal settings of his hospital room.
“Looking good there, G,” Nick smiled in his Texan drawl while Sara stood by his side and grinned along.
“At least my face doesn’t feel like a freaking marshmallow,” he replied half-jokingly and decided against smiling in return.
“We would’ve brought more Mexican food in, but the nurses had us flagged and made sure we didn’t smuggle anymore grease and fat to you,” Sara pointed towards the back where the nurses’ station was. “Apparently they’ve got something against fast-food.”
Again more smiles and grins, but not enough to mask the unease that choked the air. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sara was too quick to reply and she recognised her mistake. “I mean… nothing that can’t wait until you’re out.”
“Spill,” he cleared his throat and waited.
“Look, G…” The Texan began but caught the serious expression on Greg’s face before sighing in defeat. He glanced at the brunette once more, trying to seek some sort of resolution but found none. He continued, “Sara and I got called to a scene not long after we locked up Pig and his gang. It was this place down just by the end of the desert.”
“Uh huh.”
“Yeah,” Sara weakly picked up, “We found six bodies buried there. Three of them were about a year-old while the rest have to be only a week at the most.”
Nick picked up where his partner left off, “If it was a normal crime scene, I’d say we barely had any evidence to make any leads. But then, we were called there because…” He looked over at Sara, urging her to finish it.
“…someone stepped up and confessed to the murders.”
Greg didn’t like where this was going, he just knew there was some awful punch line he’d rather not hear about. “And…?”
“It’s Niki,” Nick solemnly said.
His throat went dry and the air grew cold-much too cold, “What about Niki?”
“She confessed.”
The rest of the conversation was almost a messy blur. Greg recalled he had yelled and tried reasoning with his colleagues that Niki wouldn’t even call for an exterminator let alone kill those men in that fashion. There was no possible way that she could’ve been the murderer.
No way in heaven or hell.
Now, almost three weeks later, he finally managed to gain visitation to his cousin. He couldn’t have done it earlier since Grissom forbade him from seeing her so soon. Reason number one was that the D.A. of Niki’s case wouldn’t allow free visits from non-essential family; meaning only D.L. and Micah were authorised. Reason number two was to avoid attracting the media from making the Sanders family like a bunch of mass murderers particularly since they were piled on him with Demitrius James’ trial. Nobody saw the point in giving the press another bone to chew on.
When things finally cleared up, Greg was given an excusable verdict and the D.A. had allowed him for one visit with Niki, but something went terribly wrong. He couldn’t get the details right, but suffice to say it took his position as a CSI and Grissom’s hard tact to fight for one visit under the pretence that a Las Vegas crime lab CSI needed an interview with the suspect of the case.
Tapping his finger against the wooden table, his body stiffened as the door buzzed, signalling that the locks were being lifted and a prosecuted inmate was being brought in.
Niki.
---
Greg.
Her feet shuffled along the floor, moving as much as the shackles would allow her to. The sound of rattling chains drowned whatever joy she could have from seeing a familiar face especially without having to fear what Jessica might do. Though so far, her alter ego’s reign of violence hasn’t extended to her family… yet.
Forcing her body into the seat and having to face him like this; here she was a complete failure, a murderer, and a reject. She waited for a moment, seeing if they would release her from the metal bonds but nobody budged. Obviously they had no intention on risking the last incident repeating itself.
Still, the only one who dared to move was Greg as he reached over to pick up the phone, the only connection to his voice. She hadn’t decided if she wanted him to hear her sounding so pathetic like now; as if her haggard looks, framed by her limp blonde her and draped in the dull prison orange wasn’t bad enough.
But he remained the way he was, the phone firmly placed to his ear as his eyes begged her to do the same. Hesitantly, her fingers went for the object, while the other hand had no choice but to follow along as the chains bound both. Lifting it to her own ear, she took a deep breath and looked at him, not one of them daring to speak first. “The bruising is gone…” her words escaped the lips before Niki realised she had even spoken.
“It’s been a while,” Greg shrugged slightly.
“How did the hearing go?” She remembered now about Greg’s coroner’s inquest. The whole thing seemed a little more trivial now compared to what’s been going on. But still, it was just as important.
“Excusable.”
“Meaning you did the right thing?”
“Meaning I wasn’t wrong but wasn’t right either.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Niki bit her lip and felt the frustration beginning to build. “You did the right thing and saved a man’s life. That punk kid shouldn’t even deserve this much sympathy.”
“Doesn’t matter. He was still a kid,” his voice dropped just as he eyes did, focusing on something else other than her, which was a slight relief to Niki. Only now, the silence that was left was worse.
“How’d you get in?” she asked. The moment when the guards announced of a visitor, Niki was surprised that even her lawyer would pop by, especially since her mental episode with him, “I was sure they were going to lock me in solitary and throw away the key.”
His finger tapped against the laminated badge on his jacket. Of course, she should’ve known, Greg was an LVPD personnel and she was a murder suspect, it wasn’t hard for any CSI to come waltzing through those doors. Though this served more as an embarrassing reminder that she was a criminal while her closest friend and family was with the law that placed her where she was. He was always smart one, smarter than her, smarter than everyone else.
“Oh.”
Silence again.
“You lied,” his voice was so strong and fierce that it hurt her.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered and frowned, seeking forgiveness from him.
“You didn’t kill those men. You couldn’t. Why did you lie about it?”
“No, Greg, I did kill them.”
“Enough.”
“I’m telling you the truth…”
“Stop lying to me, Niki.”
“I’m not!” she spat out and nearly growled; her palm slamming down on the table but the shackles remained intact as they clashed. Behind her, a few guards were already armed with their batons all inching closer towards her. This was not the time to be angry or else she’d return and god knows what will happen again.
With her eyes closed and a deep breath, Niki had her temper under control-or at least she hoped so.
“Niki,” Greg warned in a voice unwavering and his stare so intense, “Don’t. Lie. Anymore.”
“It’s not a lie,” she was breaking down once more; the wall of protection was already crumbling like it had nearly the last time she was with Greg. Only difference with now is that she couldn’t stop it.
Everything was too much for her.
“It was her. She made me do it,” she murmured into the phone, forbidding the guards to eavesdrop on her deepest and darkest confession.
Leaning forward and peering closer through the plastic screen, Greg asked eagerly, “Who, Niki? Tell me her name and we’ll get her.”
“Jessica.”
It was his turn to frown in return, “Jessica who?”
The frustration mounted further and Niki was already releasing her pent up emotions onto the phone, squeezing it tightly until her knuckles were white. “She’s in me, Greg.”
She saw the wind of hope blow right out of him when he realised who she might be referring to, “Jessica’s dead, Niki; years ago when Hal left.”
“I know,” her voice was close to hysterics-controlled, but still verging on screaming it out. “But this Jessica is in me and when she takes over, I can’t control her. She does things I don’t remember doing and she’s insane. You saw those men and she even tried killing D.L.”
Greg sighed, as if defeated in a vicious battle. And who could blame him? “We’ll get you help, Niki. I know a doctor, Dr. Witherson-she’s good and she can get Jessica out and then maybe you can go home.”
“No!” she hissed, “If I get out that means so does Jessica and I think I’m losing control over my own mind. In here, everyone’s safe from her. She’s not some split personality, Greg… she’s different-I’m different!”
Why couldn’t he understand!?
“This isn’t a game, there’s the death penalty waiting for you,” Greg swallowed hard and pressed his free hand against the partition, his palm opened towards her. “I don’t want you dead. We’re better than this!”
He will never understand.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated those words again, this time it was for disappointing him and defying his wishes-and for leaving him.
She licked her lips and kissed her fingers before tapping her symbolic gesture of love against the divider where his palm still remained. It didn’t matter if the panel was in the way, but that was all she had to prove how she felt. “I really am…”
Hanging the phone back softly, she stood up and made her way back to the guards. Each one grabbed an arm and guided her through the thick metal door while she fought the tears of despair and loneliness. Turning back, image of Greg imprinted permanently into her memory as he yelled her name through the room-though the words were useless with that soundproof barrier between them. The only thing she could hear as she looked away was the dull thuds as he repeatedly pounded his fist against the screen over and over again.
She really was sorry.
---
This was not the end.
He slammed the magazine back, pulling the slide back, and heard the bullet inside catch. Satisfied that everything was as it was, Greg left his John Hancock on the register. With the safety clicked back in place, he returned the weapon into its rightful place by his hip, in the holster.
Massaging his hand, the redness from his earlier act was already subsiding and so was his hope. As he stepped out of the county jail and headed for his Denali in the blazing Nevada heat, Greg retrieved his cell phone and scrolled down his contact list.
Ring tone went off once, then twice. By the third round, Greg was already in the car and enjoying the air-conditioning, seeking some momentary relief from the cool air. Just as the sixth ring went by, he was ready to hang-up and try later.
It seemed that luck was on his side.
The phone line clicked and he spoke, “Dr. Witherson?”