New Fic: Miami/Vegas Crossover: "Carrion Tourist"
Title: Carrion Tourist: (Chapter One.)
Author: bnmc2005(nikkiP)
Rating: PG 13 (so far)
Pairing: Pre-Slash (so far) Gil/Other?
Challenge: Only to myself and to anyone else who has qualms with CSI-M and Horatio Caine.
The Question: How can I make Gil/H work? The answer: Very Very carefully.
Summary: Miami/Vegas Crossover: Don't fear if you think it's all about Horatio -it's not. Nick is not far away in Gil's mind. Just give him some time. He's got to get away and work some things out. This is the first chapter of an extensive story. (Cont. inside)
Carrion Tourist:
Summary: This is the first chapter of an extensive story. It's been stuck in my gut and it's been a slow, slow exercise to get this much out. But I will be taking my sweet time with it because A.) I am obsessed with the idea of comparing/contrasting and possibly even hooking up Gil Grissom with the loved/hated (depending on who you talk to) character that is Horatio Caine in a "realistic" context. B) I've only written one itty bitty fictional work before and not anything like an entire piece. C.) I want to do it right.
Author's Note/Warnings: I need to thank Brienze for Beta on my stumbling first chapter. I'm a bad typist and I didn't even know what a speech tag was. Her thorough feedback was beyond helpful and very enlightening. There is much more to go with this and it will be a long journey. (Yet already I have learned so much.)
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I did not create them. I merely obsess over them. They belong to T.P.T.B; ZUIKER, BRUCKHEIMER, MENDELSOHN, DONAHUE, and other highly paid people at CBS. But as Gil Grissom said: "Roy felt that the children of America were the true owners of (the fictional character) Trigger." I am A child of America, and Gil is the "Trigger" of this Slash -or something like that. Or not- just don't sue me m'kay?
Oh, and The "Melborne Report" referred to by Yelina in this chapter is based on a real forensic article (a pretty interesting read on it's own.)
Source cited: Nowak, Rachel. "Murder detectives must rethink maggot theory" New Scientist Print Edition. Melbourne. April 05, 2004. Online.
~Carrion Tourist: Chapter One~
The digital Lady of Voice Mail was the most enthusiastic voice Gil Grissom had heard that entire evening:
"You have -two- new messages!"
Unfortunately the following voice wasn't nearly as charming.
"Grissom," Ecklie never leaves his own name, "before you start your rounds you're going to get a call back from Florida. It's about a big name case in Miami. They need a Bug Guy. Good press. It'll be good for-- your clout. You need to take it -Oh, Uh." Ecklie lowered his voice as if he was hushing rude gossip, "and by the way, take your vacation days or you're going to eat them, OK?"
The message ended abruptly. No Hello or Goodbye, no details, no "call back" number for this nameless entity in Miami. Of course not. Grissom might have the gall to actually pick up an office phone and "call back" on the department's dime and find out for himself what the Hell Conrad was talking about.
Grissom glared down the hall. He knew full well whose "clout" Ecklie was worried about. Nothing spotlighted that man's absolute lack of tact quite like a political opportunity. The impertinent jackal just passed him less than 10 seconds ago down the hall but he couldn't bother with waiting to ask -ask- Grissom this favor in person?
Again the mechanical lady beamed: "Next message:"
"Good evening, " a much friendlier female voice smiled through the phone. "This message is for Doctor Gilbert Grissom. My name is Detective Yelina Salas of the Miami-Dade Police Department. I spoke to Conrad Ecklie earlier, but I would like to speak to you directly about possibly co-operating on a case we're working here in Miami. I believe this case would be of interest you. I e-mailed you a few pertinent details. Please contact me at your soonest convenience for further information. The number here is 305-555-2501. Ext. 701. Thank You."
Grissom admired the fact that even an out of town caller knew to avoid Ecklie. He already had his email open and was reading the attached report. Gil knew of it. Published out of Melbourne, Australia last year, it detailed a two-year study that re-examined the reliability of the "Maggot Theory" in context of fluctuating weather patterns and overall environmental temperature. Detective Salas' email was direct and detailed without flattering his reputation or tipping too much sensitive information over the Internet. He called her back.
After maneuvering past two or three tiers of push button menu requests in two languages, the final island of "please hold" emitted classical music straight from a Miami radio station. The pleasant music did little to counteract the nagging voice resonating from the hallway, where Ecklie was nitpicking Nick about a new lead.
"There's no more case here Nick. Drop it." the jackal ordered.
"If you'd just let me get a hold of the results Ecklie..." Nick's voice muted as he strained to hold back his emotion.
Vivaldi's playful allegro seemed an ironic accompaniment for this micro-tragedy. The defeated younger man's face told Grissom exactly what side of "Science VS. Politics" this contest was going to end up on. Gil eyed the phone, thinking he might hang up and get into it with Ecklie but he checked himself.
He wanted to give Nick his space. Nick... Nick was a sensitive matter these days.
As he watched the theatrics, a quiet air of pessimism weighed on Gil for a moment about the oil and water of so many aspects of his life. Science VS. Politics. Personal VS. Professional. Nick's emotional investment VS. Necessary unbiased scientific process. And then there was Gil's own responsibility VS... Gil's infatuation. He admitted it. Storms were brewing in his own mind. He had to shake himself of this unprofessional, unrealistic, uncharacteristic... inclination... real soon. It was all too distracting. He sighed and turned his back to the scene in the hall and forced himself to focus on Florida, assessing it all in the same vein of uncharacteristic upheavals.
An uncharacteristic amount of heat waves, hurricanes, and a bizarre brief mini-tsunami: Florida's weather in the last year had been insanely unpredictable. Most of the world's scientists might explain this new rise of yearly meteorlogical temper tantrums with a "politically controversial" theory called The Global Warming trend. Gris felt it was obvious to any true scientist that things were heating up all over.
His own perspective was built from the ground up. In the chain between climate change and real world effect, the link that inevitably hooked Grissom would be at the bottom. The larvae of flies and beetles had always provided indisputable evidence in forensic data. Now the testimony of his little wormy friends was being questioned. For this Florida case, the usually dependable "maggot theory" of forensic science was being thrown into a pressure cooker.
Across the room "Edna" The Prize-Winning Hissing Cockroach scattered under the bedding in her cage. A door slammed; Nick had stormed out. Grissom bit his lip and sneered. Politics. So many hard fought efforts of so many CSI teams, scientists, and social workers were too often simply buried or ignored by hardheaded preachers, teachers, politicians... and Ecklies.
"Fuck this" Gil mumbled as he was about to hang up the phone and follow Nick's lead himself.
"Is this 'The Maggot Man'?" A soft Hispanic accent halted Grissom's hand. "Hello, Doctor. Thank you for waiting."
"Excuse me," Gris cleared his throat, hoping she didn't catch his previous words. He quickly straightened up for a polite voice, "Hello, Ms.- Uh, Detective Salas, I've read your email. It seems Florida's stormy weather has destroyed a lot more than shorelines."
"I'll admit it Doctor, it's a nasty legal storm we're more concerned about down here." Salas spoke quickly and straight to the point, "Three dead bodies, one good lawyer and one nasty rich client with a short temper and long bank roll. We had the defendant on two counts before his 'Expert Witness' threw all our bug evidence into question with this Melbourne report." Then the Detective revealed the true urgency of her call. "You have dealt with Doctor Philip Gerard I believe?"
"Yes. I have." Grissom felt a chill. He perceived a deliberately cold timbre in the name of his favorite mentor gone evil. He wondered what havoc Gerard had wreacked on her already. There was need to dig up the details of his own history with him, this phone call alone was evidence that someone on the other side had done his or her homework.
"Just a moment." Gil got up, closed his office door, and gave her his full attention. "Continue, please."
"Well, about a year ago he reviewed this case. He ate up our evidence and spat it back out at us before it even got to preliminary." She said.
"Well. Philip has a good appetite for... discrepancies." Gil resisted a more profane term.
"Uh hmn. Unfortunately for us, discrepancies were the just the beginning of our problems," she admitted unabashedly. "As I outlined in my report to you Doctor- in our case- Gerard was able to point out and prove fluctuations in the soil temperatures where the bodies were found--"
Grissom cut her off. "Which naturally affected the viability of the maggot specimens, making their growth rate variable and thus making the time of death virtually impossible to calculate." Gil was already miles down the track that Dr. Philip Gerard had laid out. He was manipulating the results of qualified research that questioned the "Maggot Theory" and using it to throw out any evidence of an established time of death. "Any alibi would suffice when you don't know when the victim expired" Gris concluded.
Salas sighed, "Exactly. He expanded the margin of error from a few days to months. We decided to re-gather our case and re-file when we we're more prepared for Gerard's process."
Grissom knew of the million shades of headache Dr. Philip Gerard was for his own team. It did not surprise him that Philip saw this margin of error as a window of opportunity. He'd be first in line to climb into it and take the case down for cash.
The Haviland case came to mind. After not communicating for so many years, it had to be a celebrity million-dollar double murder trial that brought Gerard back into Gil's life. Even then he only appeared as a high paid defense witness to debunk every piece of evidence that Gil and his team came up with. It disappointed Grissom that his old friend had taken such a mercenary turn in his career. Never mind the new life granted to the criminal career of his clients. Grissom felt his stomach turn.
"Wait, you said 'two counts', but 'three bodies'?" He queried.
"The third one just turned up today. Same location, same M.O. and exact same forensic difficulties."
Grissom countered, " I take it in this incident, you perceive that stabilizing the T.O.D. is difficult but not impossible?"
Detective Salas elaborated further, "The suspect's behavior and off-the-record comments in this case has given us a time frame for our investigation but we need an outside expert to substantiate our evidence. We would need you later for expert testimony in court but right now our priority is the processing of the physical evidence." She sighed and shifted her tone. "I'll be honest with you, Doctor Grissom. Horatio doesn't want to take any chances. The defense is redlining every single move we make and more than anything we need somebody this guy can't shake."
The picture was complete. Grissom could guess how his name had drifted all that way over and down the coastline. Catherine's cross-jurisdiction case with Horatio Caine left her talking about him for weeks. No doubt she's corresponded with him several times since. Gil was a little annoyed. Maybe if Catherine's voice had gotten into his mailbox before Ecklie's braying did he would have been more open to the idea, but Grissom was still reluctant. "Look, Detective, I appreciate your situation and I am highly flattered by the recommendation but... my area of expertise has always centered on Vegas. 'Maggot Theory' studies have always thrived here because the weather is predictably hot, dry and stagnate all year round. This was one of the reasons I was drawn to Vegas in the first place." He sighed. "Besides, I'm no expert in tropical ecological patterns and Philip knows that."
The Detective was undeterred. "Leave the storms to us, Doctor. We know how to handle them, "she assured. "We just need you for the bugs."
Catherine knocked and entered without invite. "Hey, is that Horatio?"
"Ok, Detective -Salas, " Grissom saw Catherine frown as she heard -not-the-name- she wanted to hear. "I will think about it. Let me see what I can arrange here and I'll have an answer for Lt. Caine by 5:00 am this morning."
After polite goodbyes Grissom felt drained. "Thanks for the heads up Cath."
"Oh- yeah, sorry about that. You were out." Catherine shrugged, "So are you gonna take it?"
"I - don't know- I'm thinking about it." Gil said, scanning the monitor for more motivation.
Catherine sat on his desk looking tired, "Gerard is such a prick. How did you ever intellectually spawn from that man?" She leaned over to spy on the email.
"People...change." One click closed the browser window. Grissom felt his disposition grow sour. "Do you need something?"
"Not really, just- it's your shift now," She returned to the subject to her own business. "Look I hate to interrupt, dump, and leave-- but things are getting moody enough around here and I haven't even picked up Lindsey yet." She smirked. "So -just a quick visual, Nick is seeing red over a child killer, Ecklie is seeing budget red again, Greg is out sick and Sara is... uh, just in the blue... deep in the blue... again."
After Nick's case, Gil wasn't really listening. He'd learn to tune out all Catherine's non-case-related chatter long ago. He only heard the door click again as Catherine left.
He reopened the report. Something was nagging him. Not dismissing the very real predicament of the Miami office's situation, Grissom could appreciate on many levels the issues at stake here. Questions of entomology, climate research, and forensic evidence were overlapping each other. A standard truth of forensic theory and a whole CSI team's reputation were pitted against a powerful suspect and Gerard's suffocating scrutiny. Power and money added that human element which Lucius Seneca described as "half of its own poison" - pure malice. Here the key to it all, Gil mused, was concentrated down into a few pale squirming pinpoints of evidence that could -given the right kind of attention- hide or reveal an unknown wealth of information about one individual and maybe... closure for another. Grissom didn't quite understand why he wasn't jumping at the opportunity to document a new case in his favorite field of study.
Well, yes he did.
"It would have to be hands on." Grissom muttered into his closed fist. He would have to fly down there and do it himself if this case had any hope against Gerard's mud raking machine. In that he realized his first obstacle- he would have to leave the lab. The second- he woud have to go head to head with Philip again- in person. He didn't want to think about that.
He closed his email and trained his eyes on the more immediate paperwork piling up on his desk. Timesheets, budget requests, Greg's sick leave. After over an hour of distracted number crunching and scheduling duties, he found himself just staring at the pages as abstract forms in black and white. The words were meaningless. The negative spaces between them were connecting to each other like they were alleyways on a foreign city street map. He couldn't find an exit ramp.
Eventually, Edna resurfaced. So did Nick, who was now marching triumphantly down the hall, with his bagged murder weapon and crying suspect in tow. Gris peered out through his office blinds to see Ecklie -true to character- just staring dumbstruck and stubborn and unwilling to admit his misjudgment. The administrator rolled his eyes at Grissom before he sulked back into his cave. Gil returned the sentiment with a smile and a wave.
"You have -one- new message!:"
Grissom sighed and rubbed his eyes. The night shift wasn't passing fast enough. "Hey Gris it's Sara." The moping voice startled Gil, "Uh, we need to talk, nothing urgent. Just um... Yeah. Call me." Gil swallowed and immediately picked the up office phone.
"Hello, may I have Horatio Caine's office please?"
Author: bnmc2005(nikkiP)
Rating: PG 13 (so far)
Pairing: Pre-Slash (so far) Gil/Other?
Challenge: Only to myself and to anyone else who has qualms with CSI-M and Horatio Caine.
The Question: How can I make Gil/H work? The answer: Very Very carefully.
Summary: Miami/Vegas Crossover: Don't fear if you think it's all about Horatio -it's not. Nick is not far away in Gil's mind. Just give him some time. He's got to get away and work some things out. This is the first chapter of an extensive story. (Cont. inside)
Carrion Tourist:
Summary: This is the first chapter of an extensive story. It's been stuck in my gut and it's been a slow, slow exercise to get this much out. But I will be taking my sweet time with it because A.) I am obsessed with the idea of comparing/contrasting and possibly even hooking up Gil Grissom with the loved/hated (depending on who you talk to) character that is Horatio Caine in a "realistic" context. B) I've only written one itty bitty fictional work before and not anything like an entire piece. C.) I want to do it right.
Author's Note/Warnings: I need to thank Brienze for Beta on my stumbling first chapter. I'm a bad typist and I didn't even know what a speech tag was. Her thorough feedback was beyond helpful and very enlightening. There is much more to go with this and it will be a long journey. (Yet already I have learned so much.)
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I did not create them. I merely obsess over them. They belong to T.P.T.B; ZUIKER, BRUCKHEIMER, MENDELSOHN, DONAHUE, and other highly paid people at CBS. But as Gil Grissom said: "Roy felt that the children of America were the true owners of (the fictional character) Trigger." I am A child of America, and Gil is the "Trigger" of this Slash -or something like that. Or not- just don't sue me m'kay?
Oh, and The "Melborne Report" referred to by Yelina in this chapter is based on a real forensic article (a pretty interesting read on it's own.)
Source cited: Nowak, Rachel. "Murder detectives must rethink maggot theory" New Scientist Print Edition. Melbourne. April 05, 2004. Online.
~Carrion Tourist: Chapter One~
The digital Lady of Voice Mail was the most enthusiastic voice Gil Grissom had heard that entire evening:
"You have -two- new messages!"
Unfortunately the following voice wasn't nearly as charming.
"Grissom," Ecklie never leaves his own name, "before you start your rounds you're going to get a call back from Florida. It's about a big name case in Miami. They need a Bug Guy. Good press. It'll be good for-- your clout. You need to take it -Oh, Uh." Ecklie lowered his voice as if he was hushing rude gossip, "and by the way, take your vacation days or you're going to eat them, OK?"
The message ended abruptly. No Hello or Goodbye, no details, no "call back" number for this nameless entity in Miami. Of course not. Grissom might have the gall to actually pick up an office phone and "call back" on the department's dime and find out for himself what the Hell Conrad was talking about.
Grissom glared down the hall. He knew full well whose "clout" Ecklie was worried about. Nothing spotlighted that man's absolute lack of tact quite like a political opportunity. The impertinent jackal just passed him less than 10 seconds ago down the hall but he couldn't bother with waiting to ask -ask- Grissom this favor in person?
Again the mechanical lady beamed: "Next message:"
"Good evening, " a much friendlier female voice smiled through the phone. "This message is for Doctor Gilbert Grissom. My name is Detective Yelina Salas of the Miami-Dade Police Department. I spoke to Conrad Ecklie earlier, but I would like to speak to you directly about possibly co-operating on a case we're working here in Miami. I believe this case would be of interest you. I e-mailed you a few pertinent details. Please contact me at your soonest convenience for further information. The number here is 305-555-2501. Ext. 701. Thank You."
Grissom admired the fact that even an out of town caller knew to avoid Ecklie. He already had his email open and was reading the attached report. Gil knew of it. Published out of Melbourne, Australia last year, it detailed a two-year study that re-examined the reliability of the "Maggot Theory" in context of fluctuating weather patterns and overall environmental temperature. Detective Salas' email was direct and detailed without flattering his reputation or tipping too much sensitive information over the Internet. He called her back.
After maneuvering past two or three tiers of push button menu requests in two languages, the final island of "please hold" emitted classical music straight from a Miami radio station. The pleasant music did little to counteract the nagging voice resonating from the hallway, where Ecklie was nitpicking Nick about a new lead.
"There's no more case here Nick. Drop it." the jackal ordered.
"If you'd just let me get a hold of the results Ecklie..." Nick's voice muted as he strained to hold back his emotion.
Vivaldi's playful allegro seemed an ironic accompaniment for this micro-tragedy. The defeated younger man's face told Grissom exactly what side of "Science VS. Politics" this contest was going to end up on. Gil eyed the phone, thinking he might hang up and get into it with Ecklie but he checked himself.
He wanted to give Nick his space. Nick... Nick was a sensitive matter these days.
As he watched the theatrics, a quiet air of pessimism weighed on Gil for a moment about the oil and water of so many aspects of his life. Science VS. Politics. Personal VS. Professional. Nick's emotional investment VS. Necessary unbiased scientific process. And then there was Gil's own responsibility VS... Gil's infatuation. He admitted it. Storms were brewing in his own mind. He had to shake himself of this unprofessional, unrealistic, uncharacteristic... inclination... real soon. It was all too distracting. He sighed and turned his back to the scene in the hall and forced himself to focus on Florida, assessing it all in the same vein of uncharacteristic upheavals.
An uncharacteristic amount of heat waves, hurricanes, and a bizarre brief mini-tsunami: Florida's weather in the last year had been insanely unpredictable. Most of the world's scientists might explain this new rise of yearly meteorlogical temper tantrums with a "politically controversial" theory called The Global Warming trend. Gris felt it was obvious to any true scientist that things were heating up all over.
His own perspective was built from the ground up. In the chain between climate change and real world effect, the link that inevitably hooked Grissom would be at the bottom. The larvae of flies and beetles had always provided indisputable evidence in forensic data. Now the testimony of his little wormy friends was being questioned. For this Florida case, the usually dependable "maggot theory" of forensic science was being thrown into a pressure cooker.
Across the room "Edna" The Prize-Winning Hissing Cockroach scattered under the bedding in her cage. A door slammed; Nick had stormed out. Grissom bit his lip and sneered. Politics. So many hard fought efforts of so many CSI teams, scientists, and social workers were too often simply buried or ignored by hardheaded preachers, teachers, politicians... and Ecklies.
"Fuck this" Gil mumbled as he was about to hang up the phone and follow Nick's lead himself.
"Is this 'The Maggot Man'?" A soft Hispanic accent halted Grissom's hand. "Hello, Doctor. Thank you for waiting."
"Excuse me," Gris cleared his throat, hoping she didn't catch his previous words. He quickly straightened up for a polite voice, "Hello, Ms.- Uh, Detective Salas, I've read your email. It seems Florida's stormy weather has destroyed a lot more than shorelines."
"I'll admit it Doctor, it's a nasty legal storm we're more concerned about down here." Salas spoke quickly and straight to the point, "Three dead bodies, one good lawyer and one nasty rich client with a short temper and long bank roll. We had the defendant on two counts before his 'Expert Witness' threw all our bug evidence into question with this Melbourne report." Then the Detective revealed the true urgency of her call. "You have dealt with Doctor Philip Gerard I believe?"
"Yes. I have." Grissom felt a chill. He perceived a deliberately cold timbre in the name of his favorite mentor gone evil. He wondered what havoc Gerard had wreacked on her already. There was need to dig up the details of his own history with him, this phone call alone was evidence that someone on the other side had done his or her homework.
"Just a moment." Gil got up, closed his office door, and gave her his full attention. "Continue, please."
"Well, about a year ago he reviewed this case. He ate up our evidence and spat it back out at us before it even got to preliminary." She said.
"Well. Philip has a good appetite for... discrepancies." Gil resisted a more profane term.
"Uh hmn. Unfortunately for us, discrepancies were the just the beginning of our problems," she admitted unabashedly. "As I outlined in my report to you Doctor- in our case- Gerard was able to point out and prove fluctuations in the soil temperatures where the bodies were found--"
Grissom cut her off. "Which naturally affected the viability of the maggot specimens, making their growth rate variable and thus making the time of death virtually impossible to calculate." Gil was already miles down the track that Dr. Philip Gerard had laid out. He was manipulating the results of qualified research that questioned the "Maggot Theory" and using it to throw out any evidence of an established time of death. "Any alibi would suffice when you don't know when the victim expired" Gris concluded.
Salas sighed, "Exactly. He expanded the margin of error from a few days to months. We decided to re-gather our case and re-file when we we're more prepared for Gerard's process."
Grissom knew of the million shades of headache Dr. Philip Gerard was for his own team. It did not surprise him that Philip saw this margin of error as a window of opportunity. He'd be first in line to climb into it and take the case down for cash.
The Haviland case came to mind. After not communicating for so many years, it had to be a celebrity million-dollar double murder trial that brought Gerard back into Gil's life. Even then he only appeared as a high paid defense witness to debunk every piece of evidence that Gil and his team came up with. It disappointed Grissom that his old friend had taken such a mercenary turn in his career. Never mind the new life granted to the criminal career of his clients. Grissom felt his stomach turn.
"Wait, you said 'two counts', but 'three bodies'?" He queried.
"The third one just turned up today. Same location, same M.O. and exact same forensic difficulties."
Grissom countered, " I take it in this incident, you perceive that stabilizing the T.O.D. is difficult but not impossible?"
Detective Salas elaborated further, "The suspect's behavior and off-the-record comments in this case has given us a time frame for our investigation but we need an outside expert to substantiate our evidence. We would need you later for expert testimony in court but right now our priority is the processing of the physical evidence." She sighed and shifted her tone. "I'll be honest with you, Doctor Grissom. Horatio doesn't want to take any chances. The defense is redlining every single move we make and more than anything we need somebody this guy can't shake."
The picture was complete. Grissom could guess how his name had drifted all that way over and down the coastline. Catherine's cross-jurisdiction case with Horatio Caine left her talking about him for weeks. No doubt she's corresponded with him several times since. Gil was a little annoyed. Maybe if Catherine's voice had gotten into his mailbox before Ecklie's braying did he would have been more open to the idea, but Grissom was still reluctant. "Look, Detective, I appreciate your situation and I am highly flattered by the recommendation but... my area of expertise has always centered on Vegas. 'Maggot Theory' studies have always thrived here because the weather is predictably hot, dry and stagnate all year round. This was one of the reasons I was drawn to Vegas in the first place." He sighed. "Besides, I'm no expert in tropical ecological patterns and Philip knows that."
The Detective was undeterred. "Leave the storms to us, Doctor. We know how to handle them, "she assured. "We just need you for the bugs."
Catherine knocked and entered without invite. "Hey, is that Horatio?"
"Ok, Detective -Salas, " Grissom saw Catherine frown as she heard -not-the-name- she wanted to hear. "I will think about it. Let me see what I can arrange here and I'll have an answer for Lt. Caine by 5:00 am this morning."
After polite goodbyes Grissom felt drained. "Thanks for the heads up Cath."
"Oh- yeah, sorry about that. You were out." Catherine shrugged, "So are you gonna take it?"
"I - don't know- I'm thinking about it." Gil said, scanning the monitor for more motivation.
Catherine sat on his desk looking tired, "Gerard is such a prick. How did you ever intellectually spawn from that man?" She leaned over to spy on the email.
"People...change." One click closed the browser window. Grissom felt his disposition grow sour. "Do you need something?"
"Not really, just- it's your shift now," She returned to the subject to her own business. "Look I hate to interrupt, dump, and leave-- but things are getting moody enough around here and I haven't even picked up Lindsey yet." She smirked. "So -just a quick visual, Nick is seeing red over a child killer, Ecklie is seeing budget red again, Greg is out sick and Sara is... uh, just in the blue... deep in the blue... again."
After Nick's case, Gil wasn't really listening. He'd learn to tune out all Catherine's non-case-related chatter long ago. He only heard the door click again as Catherine left.
He reopened the report. Something was nagging him. Not dismissing the very real predicament of the Miami office's situation, Grissom could appreciate on many levels the issues at stake here. Questions of entomology, climate research, and forensic evidence were overlapping each other. A standard truth of forensic theory and a whole CSI team's reputation were pitted against a powerful suspect and Gerard's suffocating scrutiny. Power and money added that human element which Lucius Seneca described as "half of its own poison" - pure malice. Here the key to it all, Gil mused, was concentrated down into a few pale squirming pinpoints of evidence that could -given the right kind of attention- hide or reveal an unknown wealth of information about one individual and maybe... closure for another. Grissom didn't quite understand why he wasn't jumping at the opportunity to document a new case in his favorite field of study.
Well, yes he did.
"It would have to be hands on." Grissom muttered into his closed fist. He would have to fly down there and do it himself if this case had any hope against Gerard's mud raking machine. In that he realized his first obstacle- he would have to leave the lab. The second- he woud have to go head to head with Philip again- in person. He didn't want to think about that.
He closed his email and trained his eyes on the more immediate paperwork piling up on his desk. Timesheets, budget requests, Greg's sick leave. After over an hour of distracted number crunching and scheduling duties, he found himself just staring at the pages as abstract forms in black and white. The words were meaningless. The negative spaces between them were connecting to each other like they were alleyways on a foreign city street map. He couldn't find an exit ramp.
Eventually, Edna resurfaced. So did Nick, who was now marching triumphantly down the hall, with his bagged murder weapon and crying suspect in tow. Gris peered out through his office blinds to see Ecklie -true to character- just staring dumbstruck and stubborn and unwilling to admit his misjudgment. The administrator rolled his eyes at Grissom before he sulked back into his cave. Gil returned the sentiment with a smile and a wave.
"You have -one- new message!:"
Grissom sighed and rubbed his eyes. The night shift wasn't passing fast enough. "Hey Gris it's Sara." The moping voice startled Gil, "Uh, we need to talk, nothing urgent. Just um... Yeah. Call me." Gil swallowed and immediately picked the up office phone.
"Hello, may I have Horatio Caine's office please?"