Fanfiction | Family Affair | CSI & Heroes | Chapter V
Title: Family Affair ~ Chapter 5/?
Author: frickangel
Fandoms: CSI/Heroes
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Decisiveness was never one of his better suits. The Sanders family takes care of each other; no matter what.
Characters: Greg Sanders (CSI), Catherine Willows (CSI), and Niki Sanders (Heroes).
Pairings: None.
Timeline: Post ‘Post-Mortem’ for CSI, and during ‘The Fix’ for Heroes.
A/N: -
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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Steely silence seemed to have settled itself on the lab, locking the usually busy mood of the place into a damp and slow movie. Catherine was beginning to feel herself dragged down by the humdrum of things, causing her to sigh as she slipped on her blue lab coat. Tossing her strawberry blonde hair over the collar, she checked her watch and felt another pang of something as she realised it was still awhile longer before her shift ended. In the meantime, she had a pile of photographs that needed sorting for the case hearing the day after.
“It’s not going to get done by itself,” Catherine willed herself to finish the task at hand. Right now, the only thing she could do was pray that she won’t be called out to a case on the final minute of her duty. She had promised Lindsey she’d be home to make her daughter blueberry pancakes. But then again, this wouldn’t be the first time she had broken a promise with the teenager.
Scratching her arm under the blue fabric, Catherine found another displeasure in tonight. Although photograph sorting required neither chemicals nor machinery to man, it was mandatory that lab coats be worn always no matter what. She understood the safety precaution, but at times it served more as a hindrance than protection.
With one final sigh, she pushed the sleeves up and began shifting through each snapshot onto the fluorescent lit table. Once she was relatively satisfied with its order, Catherine retrieved the permanent marker from the table behind and scribbled down a few words on an evidence bag. She then took a photo, gave it one final glance and sealed it into the plastic. Repeating the same procedure on another handful, Catherine’s head suddenly snapped up. “Greg?” she looked at the young CSI standing silently by the door.
He answered her with a soft nod and a weak attempt at his trademark smile; clear signs that something was obviously not right.
“You’ve been standing there long?” she tried another question on him.
A shrug as he uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the frame, “Long enough to know that this is going to take all night.” He motioned at the pile of evidence Catherine had been hunched over.
“Yeah, I should probably get someone else to do it, huh?”
“All the right reasons to be supervisor,” he managed a small joke. Slowly shuffling over, he picked up another marker from the stationery cluster and then grabbed an empty evidence bag, “Need help?”
“Please and thank you,” Catherine replied with a smile, and promptly attacked her work again. It was another four or five pictures later that she decided that she had given Greg enough time to speak up. Instead, she stuffed her hand into her pocket and dug around. Finding it, she slid the object across the table, like an offering, towards him.
“What’s this?” he asked her, eyebrows furrowed.
“A penny,” Catherine explained, “for your thoughts.”
He capped his pen and leaned into the table, letting out a sigh more burdened than hers had been.
“Cough it up, Sanders,” the blonde ordered, her maternal instincts over Greg taking the wheel. She always had a soft spot for him, but the moment she discovered that she had unintentionally caused the explosion, Catherine had been trying to redeem herself ever since.
Staring intently at the man, she blinked and waited patiently for his response.
“How important is your family to you, Cath?”
Taken by surprise, Catherine was expecting some sort of problem related to girls, a case, or Grissom. Family wasn’t one of the options she had mapped in her mind. “Very,” she answered, her thoughts suddenly travelling back to Lindsey, her mother, and even Sam and Eddie. They weren’t exactly the American pie version of a wholesome family, but there were moments that she felt were worth it. “It’s all I have left.”
“I know the feeling,” he said, a hand running through his sandy-blond hair.
“This is about Niki, isn’t it? Your cousin?” Catherine suddenly recalled Grissom mentioning this to her earlier. She hadn’t met this Niki before, but from what Catherine knew, it seems that Greg and she were really tight.
“Yeah,” his voice sounded hoarse and raspy.
“Look, Greg,” Catherine laid the marker on the table carefully and turned her attention on him. “Answer me this one simple question…”
It took a moment for him to tear his gaze away from the ground to her.
“Do you believe she could’ve committed those murders?”
His eyes were uncertain for moment, troubled brown ones staring back; until there was a sudden change and the uncertainty turned into pure faith. “No,” he stated firmly. “At least not Niki.”
“Good,” she stated simply. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about because the evidence is going to clear her.”
Did he just wince?
“The evidence, huh?”
“You know as well as I do that the evidence never lies.”
His fingers picked at the corners of the table, looking more troubled than he had been. Catherine began wondering if her advice was making things worse. “This time the evidence is pretty silent.”
Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she pursed her lips, “Those times when Sam was suspected of murder?
Greg returned his gaze upon her.
“I didn’t know whether to trust Sam, but I let the evidence do the talking and it cleared him right? My father died innocently enough,” Catherine concluded her experience, letting Greg in on a small secret of hers.
“Niki’s different,” Greg returned the favour, a small story of himself for hers. “She was always the girl who preferred to stay out of trouble, but no matter what it kept finding her. There was once,” he smiled and laughed softly, mostly to himself. “She had just moved to Las Vegas and she was driving Micah-my nephew-back home on the highway. A patrol car forced her to stop. It seemed that a car just like hers but with a one digit difference on the number plate was involved in a kidnapping. The officer got a little over-excited and assumed Micah was the victim.”
Catherine couldn’t help but chuckle along at the flashback. “I take it that everything got solved?”
“They made a deal, that we didn’t press charges if the LVPD didn’t book D.L. for assaulting an officer.”
The chuckle turned into a laugh, “Who’s D.L.?”
“Niki’s husband,” he made a small swinging motion to mimic a punch. “He came marching down to the precinct and socked the guy who arrested Niki.”
“Wait, D.L. as in D.L. Hawkins?” Catherine’s mind suddenly clicked to the familiarity of the name.
“Yeah,” it sounded like the energy was suddenly being drained from him.
“Wasn’t he the one accused of the-”
“Two million dollar heist?” Nodding once at his own statement, Greg continued, “Interesting family, right?”
She watched him fidget a little, while she stood there deciding on what to say next. Why couldn’t she be like Grissom? Sometimes so emotionally detached that his advice was always so clear and straightforward, easily leading into a solution. But then again, she wasn’t the Bug-Man so she’ll do this the Willows way. “You’re right about your cousin though,” she tapped against the cool lighting of the table and tried a comforting smile, “trouble does follow her.”
It was an awkward picture to paint: the two investigators standing there in troubled silence, both not knowing what else to say. Not too long ago, Catherine would humour Greg’s enthusiasm and harmlessly flirt with the boy, both exchanging witty parries. Now the boy was no longer a boy; in replace was a young man facing his own demons of life.
In the end, they both went back to the work at hand, the numbing task of filtering through snapshots.
With just a few more slips to go, she glanced at him to make sure whatever dark cloud there was had passed. But instead she caught his eyes on her and narrowed for a moment, as if sizing up Catherine’s worth before speaking, “For the people you love, you’d do anything?”
On any other day, she would’ve tapped into the morally conscious side of her, saying that she’d protect her loved ones so long as it didn’t breach any ethical codes. But whom was she kidding? She had lost enough in the past years, from Eddie to Sam, and even Lindsey’s abduction had shown Catherine the meaning of true fear.
He deserved the raw truth, “Anything.”
Greg’s jaw tensed and then he relaxed a little, “Thanks, Cath.”
“For what?”
“Being you.” Replacing the marker where he had found it, Greg shot an apologetic look, “I’m gonna bail now, so think you can wrap this up?”
“Sure,” she answered, wondering at his unexpected change of mood. “Thanks for all the help.”
“No problems,” he was already halfway to the exit, almost jogging from what she could see.
“Greg?”
He turned once more, looking at Catherine who was walking over to him.
“You sure everything’s okay?” she quizzed.
“Everything’s good,” throwing in a more genuine smile; he shrugged a little, allowing some of his boyishness to return. “I’m just going to let the evidence do the talking.”
Breathing a little relief that she may have done something right, she lifted her hand and patted him on his shoulder, “Good to hear.”
Giving another smile, he practically bounded out of the room and disappeared down the hallway. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed again, Catherine sighed at the tail end of her thankless work. At least now the difference is she could feel a small amount of joy for helping her family.
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He surprised himself sometimes.
Being able to do well in things he never knew he could. Today he discovered that he could maybe find a niche in acting. After all, Catherine bought his whole worriless-façade. It was so simple that human nature scared him; the fact that people easily accepted whatever it was they were seeking.
Satisfied that he was far away enough from his colleagues, Greg looked over his shoulder just to make sure the coast was clear before he wiped off the mock smile. Puffing out his cheeks and letting the air loose slowly, his mind raced with the decision he needed. But the answers were still far from reaching him.
And there he was, standing in a sequestered corner of the lab and watching everyone else go by, not one noticing the sole person staring at them. The only thing that disturbed his quiet meditation was the constant vibration of his phone. For a moment, he had dreaded to discover who it was seeking him, afraid of the dark man. Though, that fear turned into joy as he noted the number flashing on the screen. “Hey, buddy,” he flipped the shell open and spoke gently into it.
“Hi, Greg,” Micah answered cheerfully.
Backing into the stairwell, he slid the door close before responding, “What’s up?”
Imagining the boy doing a shrug, Greg’s lips curved into a small grin as he waited for his reply, “Nah, I was just wondering…”
“Uh huh?”
“If you’re free for game night?”
“You mean now?”
“Yeah, usually it’s mum and I, but well…” Micah paused and must have decided against continuing. “Dad’s not much of Scrabble kinda guy.”
“I’d love to buddy, just that I’m working right now,” Greg was feeling bad about blowing the kid off. He felt bad about everything.
”It’s okay then,” There was no disguising Micah’s disappointment even though he was covering it with his own brand of plastic happiness.
Sliding down against the rough wall a little, the CSI cleared his throat, “Look, I promise your mum’s gonna come home soon. Okay?”
Another long pause from the other side. “Really?”
From leaning against the wall, to investigating the rusted railings, Greg finally sat on one of the dusty steps, “For real.” He licked his cracked lips, feeling a sting where his tongue swept over. “Just hang in there and I’ll do the best I can.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve gotta make another call, Micah, so I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Sure,” the young one said before adding a goodbye and hanging up.
Left alone to his musings again, Greg’s mind was still in decision turmoil, but a clear voice was ringing in his head telling him exactly what was needed to be done. For now, the first step was to stick his hand into his back pocket. Moving on was to read that special seven digit number on the boring white card. Thirdly, Greg was required to dial that exact same sequence of numbers into his cell.
The end of the beginning was when Greg needed to say a short but simple answer.
Listen to the ring tone; the pick-up from the other end; and the recognition.
Finally, Greg parted his lips and spoke the word clearly.
“Yes.”
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TBC