The Black Book Chapter 2
Title: The Black Book (Chapter 2/?)
Author: Yoru
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ecklie/Gil (Primarily *wicked grin*)
Summary: Ecklie has a plan to finally get what he wants.
Author's Note/Warnings: thanks knightmusic and supergrover82 for reading thru this madness!
Disclaimer: I don't pretend to be the genius that originally gave us CSI...I just like to play in Jerry's backyard.
Chapter 1
If anyone had noticed the different atmosphere in the DNA lab, they didn’t say anything. Greg kept himself busy and was almost his usual talkative, flirty self. In the field, he was all business. If he seemed distant at moments, he would always laugh it off; say he was “not getting enough sleep.” He always hurried out of the lab after his shift, never saying anything to anyone.
Ecklie smiled. No one had said anything but that didn’t mean Greg’s slightly altered behavior had gone unnoticed. There had been moments when he had seen Grissom watching Greg with a concerned expression on his face. He’d even had the pleasure of overhearing a lecture from Grissom about his “too tired” excuse. And the tension. All the members of Grissom’s former team had felt tension working with or even just talking to Greg. Ecklie encouraged that feeling. He made a point to “run into” Greg at different intervals. The younger man always blanched when he saw Ecklie, adverted his eyes, and threw himself into whichever task was closest.
Ecklie’s grin broadened, hands tightening on the steering wheel of his car. It had been a week since his little meeting with Greg, and everything was perfect. He pulled into the diner, feeling triumphant. He parked between two identical ford trucks, both of which he noted had seen better days and possessed gun racks. He cut the engine, got out of his car, and stood regarding this little paradise. The place was twenty minutes outside of Vegas, just off the interstate. Rust covered the top part of the sign, spilling over the letters so that it read “Sin’s Place” rather than “Sinead’s Place.” Open twenty-four hours, the diner itself was small, painted bright blue. But there was an air of decay, of failure, that surrounded the place. Graffiti covered the west side of the building, and two of the front windows had bullet holes in them. The owner had tried to fix them but had done a piss-ant job of it. That’s why Ecklie chose this place for his other business. Few people, other than truckers, ever stopped here. The patrol tried to avoid it.
Chimes announced a new customer, as Ecklie pushed open the glass door. The interior was a fifties-style tribute to the late Elvis complete with a statue of the king in the corner. Johnny Cash came from the jukebox at the opposite end of the building. The counter played host to a few truckers, most of whom looked like they belonged in the Hell’s Angels gang. Two waitresses, one old, one young, both with big, curly hair and caked-on make-up, worked the diner. Through the window to the kitchen, Ecklie could see the regular night cook: a fat, bald man with an evil temper. He could also see the bottle of Jack the cook kept in order to deal with stubborn waitresses and problem customers. Ecklie shifted his gaze and searched the red-vinyl booths until he found the reason for his trip: the man was in his early thirties with long, artistically tousled black hair; a few strands falling into his cool gray-blue eyes. Classical face, lean body, the epitome of a thriving business based on the demand for the perfection of human form. Clad in designer jeans and a blue plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he looked like he should be at some beach club rather than out in the middle of the desert.
“Christopher,” Ecklie greeted as he sat down across from the man. Christopher nodded and signaled to the waitress for coffee. “I hope I didn’t pull you away from something important.”
Christopher laughed. It was smooth, hypnotic; a testimony to his superior charisma. “For you, Conrad, I’d leave some of my top clients on hold.” Flash of white teeth. “So, what’s this…favor you want me to do for you?”
Ecklie removed a piece of paper from his inside sport coat pocket. He slid the folded paper across the table to Christopher. Christopher took it, unfolded it and raised an eyebrow at Ecklie. “Am I moving?”
“That,” Ecklie said, leaning forward on his elbows, “is the address of someone who needs to…disappear.”
“Ah.”
At that moment the younger of the two waitresses, came by with two mugs and a pot of black coffee. She set down a small dish of creamer along with sugar and gave a slow wink and a yellow smile to Christopher. Ecklie hardly noticed. A familiar heat curled in his groin at the sight of the cream and coffee. Ecklie clenched his jaw. Now was not the time for daydreams. Besides, those fantasies would soon become reality. But God, he could almost feel Grissom as of he were back in that room…
“How soon?”
Ecklie started, thoughts interrupted. He quickly regained his composure. “Tomorrow. Preferably before the grave shift starts at the lab.”
Christopher leaned back, regarding Ecklie for a moment. “What’s this kid worth to you?”
“Wrong question, but if you want a dollar amount, I’m sure the amount I transferred to your account with be sufficient.”
Christopher studied him for a moment before smiling. He grabbed his leather jacket from beside him and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Ecklie smiled and nodded. He listened to the retreating footsteps and the jingle of the bells from the door. He sipped his coffee and waited five minutes before leaving. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Catherine stormed into Gil’s office. Gil had just taken off his coat and looked at the memo on his desk. Ecklie wanted to see him.
“Have you seen Nick?”
Startled, Gil looked at Catherine. “He didn’t come in?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, and he didn’t call in.”
“This must be what Conrad wants to see me about.” Gil sat down at his desk.
“Why does he want to see you? Nick is assigned to me,” Catherine said.
“I have no idea.”
“Hey, I have the trace results from the casino case…” Greg trailed off as both Catherine and Gil looked at him. “Did I say something?”
“Greg, did Nick say anything to you about not coming in today?” Catherine asked.
Gil immediately noticed Greg’s discomfort. His eyes widened a little, and he seemed to pale. “No.” The reply came too quickly. “Why? He didn’t come in?”
“No, Greg,” Gil said. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Greg looked from Catherine to Gil, and for a moment, he looked as if he might say something. There was pain in those brown eyes. Gil was surprised by his strong reaction to this vulnerable man. He wanted to get up and pull Greg into his arms and comfort him. Before he could make a fool of himself, something caught Greg’s attention and he shut down instantly. Gil’s gaze followed Greg’s in an attempt to discover what had affected the CSI: Ecklie was having a conversation with Hodges just outside of his office. Gil suppressed a groan; Ecklie had come looking for him. He watched as the conversation ended and Ecklie made his way into his office. Gil frowned as Greg chose this moment to escape, passing quietly around Ecklie without looking at the Assistant Director. There would be other moments to corner Greg and discuss his recent behavior. Now, he had to deal with Ecklie.
He pulled off his glasses and glanced at Catherine. She folded her arms across her chest and gave a look to Ecklie that just dared him to dismiss her, which he promptly did.
“Catherine, I would like to speak with Grissom, privately.”
“Nick is under my purview,” Catherine protested.
“Catherine,” Ecklie warned.
Gil watched this exchange, thoughtfully. He pursed his lips and placed his glasses on his desk. He wasn’t sure how Ecklie was going to pin Nick’s disappearance to him, but he was sure that’s what Ecklie intended. They had never been able to work together. Being in the same room was a struggle. Gil looked up as Catherine left the room, slamming the door in a final protest.
“She’s right, Conrad. I haven’t had contact with Nick for awhile.”
“But you know Nick.”
“So does Catherine. So do Warrick, Greg, and Sara,” Gil countered trying to maintain his patience.
“Speaking of Greg,” Ecklie’s sudden change of subject surprised Gil, ”I noticed that he has been a little…” Ecklie searched for the word for a moment. Gil didn’t have to guess that it was a deliberate search. Ecklie knew exactly what he wanted to say, and he knew that Gil knew. “Distracted,” he finally finished.
“He’s been keeping up.”
Ecklie nodded looking at Gil with an odd expression. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. He seems to admire you the most and I thought maybe something had happened.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Gil frowned as Ecklie turned and moved to the door.
“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said as he opened the door. Big Mouth Billy Bass startled him as the electronic voice belted out a rendition of “Take Me to the River.”
“I really wish you’d get rid of that thing,” Ecklie growled as he walked out.
Gil could only sit in utter shock. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Ecklie had sounded sincere. They couldn’t spend an hour in congenial conversation together let alone work together, and Ecklie was offering to help? And since when was he concerned about Greg?
It all came back to Greg. Even Ecklie had noticed Greg’s odd behavior. Gil leaned forward bracing his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his folded hands. And his reaction to Greg only minutes before…this wasn’t the first time either. His reaction to Greg as he was wheeled out of the lab on a stretcher had been just as strong.
The stunned, pained look on Greg’s face haunted him still as he lie awake in bed late at night. He couldn’t explain why but he was fascinated with the younger man. Try as he might not to, he was often thinking about him. Gil rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was just because Greg was acting strangely, nothing more.
He should be thinking about Nick. He was concerned about Nick too, but his thoughts kept returning to Greg. Frustrated, Gil decided to go work on sorting the evidence gathered at last night’s case. He kept telling himself that he was just as concerned about Nick’s disappearance as he was Greg’s behavior.
And knowing that he was lying to himself.
Author: Yoru
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ecklie/Gil (Primarily *wicked grin*)
Summary: Ecklie has a plan to finally get what he wants.
Author's Note/Warnings: thanks knightmusic and supergrover82 for reading thru this madness!
Disclaimer: I don't pretend to be the genius that originally gave us CSI...I just like to play in Jerry's backyard.
Chapter 1
If anyone had noticed the different atmosphere in the DNA lab, they didn’t say anything. Greg kept himself busy and was almost his usual talkative, flirty self. In the field, he was all business. If he seemed distant at moments, he would always laugh it off; say he was “not getting enough sleep.” He always hurried out of the lab after his shift, never saying anything to anyone.
Ecklie smiled. No one had said anything but that didn’t mean Greg’s slightly altered behavior had gone unnoticed. There had been moments when he had seen Grissom watching Greg with a concerned expression on his face. He’d even had the pleasure of overhearing a lecture from Grissom about his “too tired” excuse. And the tension. All the members of Grissom’s former team had felt tension working with or even just talking to Greg. Ecklie encouraged that feeling. He made a point to “run into” Greg at different intervals. The younger man always blanched when he saw Ecklie, adverted his eyes, and threw himself into whichever task was closest.
Ecklie’s grin broadened, hands tightening on the steering wheel of his car. It had been a week since his little meeting with Greg, and everything was perfect. He pulled into the diner, feeling triumphant. He parked between two identical ford trucks, both of which he noted had seen better days and possessed gun racks. He cut the engine, got out of his car, and stood regarding this little paradise. The place was twenty minutes outside of Vegas, just off the interstate. Rust covered the top part of the sign, spilling over the letters so that it read “Sin’s Place” rather than “Sinead’s Place.” Open twenty-four hours, the diner itself was small, painted bright blue. But there was an air of decay, of failure, that surrounded the place. Graffiti covered the west side of the building, and two of the front windows had bullet holes in them. The owner had tried to fix them but had done a piss-ant job of it. That’s why Ecklie chose this place for his other business. Few people, other than truckers, ever stopped here. The patrol tried to avoid it.
Chimes announced a new customer, as Ecklie pushed open the glass door. The interior was a fifties-style tribute to the late Elvis complete with a statue of the king in the corner. Johnny Cash came from the jukebox at the opposite end of the building. The counter played host to a few truckers, most of whom looked like they belonged in the Hell’s Angels gang. Two waitresses, one old, one young, both with big, curly hair and caked-on make-up, worked the diner. Through the window to the kitchen, Ecklie could see the regular night cook: a fat, bald man with an evil temper. He could also see the bottle of Jack the cook kept in order to deal with stubborn waitresses and problem customers. Ecklie shifted his gaze and searched the red-vinyl booths until he found the reason for his trip: the man was in his early thirties with long, artistically tousled black hair; a few strands falling into his cool gray-blue eyes. Classical face, lean body, the epitome of a thriving business based on the demand for the perfection of human form. Clad in designer jeans and a blue plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he looked like he should be at some beach club rather than out in the middle of the desert.
“Christopher,” Ecklie greeted as he sat down across from the man. Christopher nodded and signaled to the waitress for coffee. “I hope I didn’t pull you away from something important.”
Christopher laughed. It was smooth, hypnotic; a testimony to his superior charisma. “For you, Conrad, I’d leave some of my top clients on hold.” Flash of white teeth. “So, what’s this…favor you want me to do for you?”
Ecklie removed a piece of paper from his inside sport coat pocket. He slid the folded paper across the table to Christopher. Christopher took it, unfolded it and raised an eyebrow at Ecklie. “Am I moving?”
“That,” Ecklie said, leaning forward on his elbows, “is the address of someone who needs to…disappear.”
“Ah.”
At that moment the younger of the two waitresses, came by with two mugs and a pot of black coffee. She set down a small dish of creamer along with sugar and gave a slow wink and a yellow smile to Christopher. Ecklie hardly noticed. A familiar heat curled in his groin at the sight of the cream and coffee. Ecklie clenched his jaw. Now was not the time for daydreams. Besides, those fantasies would soon become reality. But God, he could almost feel Grissom as of he were back in that room…
“How soon?”
Ecklie started, thoughts interrupted. He quickly regained his composure. “Tomorrow. Preferably before the grave shift starts at the lab.”
Christopher leaned back, regarding Ecklie for a moment. “What’s this kid worth to you?”
“Wrong question, but if you want a dollar amount, I’m sure the amount I transferred to your account with be sufficient.”
Christopher studied him for a moment before smiling. He grabbed his leather jacket from beside him and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Ecklie smiled and nodded. He listened to the retreating footsteps and the jingle of the bells from the door. He sipped his coffee and waited five minutes before leaving. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Catherine stormed into Gil’s office. Gil had just taken off his coat and looked at the memo on his desk. Ecklie wanted to see him.
“Have you seen Nick?”
Startled, Gil looked at Catherine. “He didn’t come in?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, and he didn’t call in.”
“This must be what Conrad wants to see me about.” Gil sat down at his desk.
“Why does he want to see you? Nick is assigned to me,” Catherine said.
“I have no idea.”
“Hey, I have the trace results from the casino case…” Greg trailed off as both Catherine and Gil looked at him. “Did I say something?”
“Greg, did Nick say anything to you about not coming in today?” Catherine asked.
Gil immediately noticed Greg’s discomfort. His eyes widened a little, and he seemed to pale. “No.” The reply came too quickly. “Why? He didn’t come in?”
“No, Greg,” Gil said. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Greg looked from Catherine to Gil, and for a moment, he looked as if he might say something. There was pain in those brown eyes. Gil was surprised by his strong reaction to this vulnerable man. He wanted to get up and pull Greg into his arms and comfort him. Before he could make a fool of himself, something caught Greg’s attention and he shut down instantly. Gil’s gaze followed Greg’s in an attempt to discover what had affected the CSI: Ecklie was having a conversation with Hodges just outside of his office. Gil suppressed a groan; Ecklie had come looking for him. He watched as the conversation ended and Ecklie made his way into his office. Gil frowned as Greg chose this moment to escape, passing quietly around Ecklie without looking at the Assistant Director. There would be other moments to corner Greg and discuss his recent behavior. Now, he had to deal with Ecklie.
He pulled off his glasses and glanced at Catherine. She folded her arms across her chest and gave a look to Ecklie that just dared him to dismiss her, which he promptly did.
“Catherine, I would like to speak with Grissom, privately.”
“Nick is under my purview,” Catherine protested.
“Catherine,” Ecklie warned.
Gil watched this exchange, thoughtfully. He pursed his lips and placed his glasses on his desk. He wasn’t sure how Ecklie was going to pin Nick’s disappearance to him, but he was sure that’s what Ecklie intended. They had never been able to work together. Being in the same room was a struggle. Gil looked up as Catherine left the room, slamming the door in a final protest.
“She’s right, Conrad. I haven’t had contact with Nick for awhile.”
“But you know Nick.”
“So does Catherine. So do Warrick, Greg, and Sara,” Gil countered trying to maintain his patience.
“Speaking of Greg,” Ecklie’s sudden change of subject surprised Gil, ”I noticed that he has been a little…” Ecklie searched for the word for a moment. Gil didn’t have to guess that it was a deliberate search. Ecklie knew exactly what he wanted to say, and he knew that Gil knew. “Distracted,” he finally finished.
“He’s been keeping up.”
Ecklie nodded looking at Gil with an odd expression. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. He seems to admire you the most and I thought maybe something had happened.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Gil frowned as Ecklie turned and moved to the door.
“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said as he opened the door. Big Mouth Billy Bass startled him as the electronic voice belted out a rendition of “Take Me to the River.”
“I really wish you’d get rid of that thing,” Ecklie growled as he walked out.
Gil could only sit in utter shock. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Ecklie had sounded sincere. They couldn’t spend an hour in congenial conversation together let alone work together, and Ecklie was offering to help? And since when was he concerned about Greg?
It all came back to Greg. Even Ecklie had noticed Greg’s odd behavior. Gil leaned forward bracing his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his folded hands. And his reaction to Greg only minutes before…this wasn’t the first time either. His reaction to Greg as he was wheeled out of the lab on a stretcher had been just as strong.
The stunned, pained look on Greg’s face haunted him still as he lie awake in bed late at night. He couldn’t explain why but he was fascinated with the younger man. Try as he might not to, he was often thinking about him. Gil rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was just because Greg was acting strangely, nothing more.
He should be thinking about Nick. He was concerned about Nick too, but his thoughts kept returning to Greg. Frustrated, Gil decided to go work on sorting the evidence gathered at last night’s case. He kept telling himself that he was just as concerned about Nick’s disappearance as he was Greg’s behavior.
And knowing that he was lying to himself.