Of Life and Living: Chapter 5
Title: Of Life and Living : Chapter 5
Author: Laurelgardner
Rating: Goes to NC-17
Pairings: Grissom/Greg, Sara/Nick, Warrick/OFC, Catherine/OMC
Summary: Gil Grissom and Greg Sanders have resigned themselves to certain realities. All of that is about to change.
Author's Note: This story takes place five years after the events of season 5. A lot has changed in this time; Greg is a level 3 CSI and happily out of the closet, Ecklie is gone (ding, dong, the witch is dead!), Sofia is assistant director of the lab, Catherine is happily remarried and head of the Reno crime lab (but don't worry, she still plays a part in this tale!), Warrick has returned to night shift, and Nick and Sara are not only married but are heads of day and swing shifts, respectively.
Warnings: Happy story with a few dark themes. References to murder and child abuse, but hey, this is CSI. Nobody we care about gets raped, killed or pregnant, so no worries there. Mostly, this is a character study/romance with lots dialogue and eventually, sex.
Disclaimer: I am not worthy. *bows before the altar of CSI*
I've changed the format so that the transcripts are in italics. Also, there may be typos. So sue me. P>
Previous chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
GREENE: You know, Gil, we can talk about something other than your work in here.
GRISSOM: For me, there isn't anything else.
GREENE: I don't believe that. What about relationships?
GRISSOM: What about them?
GREENE: You tell me.
GRISSOM: I don't have relationships.
GREENE: You don't have them, or they don't have you?
GRISSOM: Either way.
(pause)
GREENE: Tell me, Gil; when you interview suspects, do they use the same avoidance techniques that you're using with me?
GRISSOM: They try to. We don't let them.
GREENE: Then why should I be any different?
(pause)
GRISSOM: I think our time is up, doctor.
GREENE: So it is. But only for today, Gil.
GRISSOM: Then I hope you'll have better luck next time.
GREENE: So do I.
GRISSOM: My hat is off to you, though, doctor. You'd be good enough to work for me.
GREENE: I already do.
* * * *
Never in a thousand years would Greg have guessed that marrying Nick Stokes would be enough to turn someone like Sara Sidle into a social butterfly.
Greg smiled over the top of his wine glass as he watched her bustle around the apartment, checking place settings and getting things ready. From his vantage point on the couch next to Greg, Nick laughed at her.
"Sara," he said. "I don't know if know if you've noticed, but we didn't invite the mayor over for dinner. It's just three friends."
"I know," said Sara. "I just...like to have things festive." She shrugged, not pausing for a second as she worked to arrange flowers, candles, napkins... "Can I help it if I'm feeling cheerful?"
"You're manic is what you are," said Nick.
It still surprised Greg, at times, just how open Nick and Sara were about the subject of Sara's manic-depressive symptoms. But then, it was just part of the way they all behaved with each other now; open, honest and capable of communicating. Somewhere along the way, their little circle of CSI friends had learned that they could actually trust each other, and that doing so was a hell of a lot easier than keeping up the shields they'd had for so many years.
Greg didn't want to be arrogant, but he honestly thought that it had started when he'd come out to them. Opening his own personal floodgates had not been a matter of trust for him, just a matter of being honest with himself, but the warm, accepting response he'd gotten from them had taught them all a valuable lesson about what kind of a surrogate family they had in each other.
It was all good, now. Secrets were not secrets. Mental illness. Addiction. Sexual abuse. Sexual orientation. Fuck-ups. Bad relationships. They all had something. It was all just...whatever. They shared an openness of communication, and a closeness and comfort that continued even though they didn't see each other very often.
The only problem was, the man who'd brought them all together wasn't a part of it. Grissom wouldn't be attending this little dinner party tonight, and though Greg knew he would be working, he didn't know if that fact was a cause or an effect. He didn't want to ask Sara. He knew she wouldn't intentionally exclude him, but he would certainly exclude himself unless somebody pushed. And at this point, Greg figured he was the only one left who ever even tried to push Grissom.
But now wasn't the time for moping about that, he reminded himself. It was good to see these two like these, to relax together. Nick he hardly ever saw these days, not since he'd been promoted to day shift head. He sipped the wine, letting it relax him a little, and chatted easily with his friends.
A few minutes passed, and then there was a knock on the door. It was Warrick.
"Hey, man!" Nick greeted, rising from the couch to hug his friend.
"Where's Carol?" Sara asked him.
"Ah," said Warrick. "She told me to tell you she was sorry. She had to work tonight after
all."
Nick frowned. "Don't tell me Grissom called her in."
Warrick shook his head. "No, actually. He does have a new lead on their case, though, so she insisted on going."
Greg set down his wine glass. "Wait," he said. "Does this mean those two are actually getting along?"
Warrick's face held a weary look. "That'd be nice, huh?" he said. Though Warrick had never said it in so many words, Greg knew that the ongoing tension between his girlfriend and his most trusted mentor was a source of some considerable distress to him.
Greg wondered if Sofia had told Carol of her plans for Grissom when the two women had talked. If so, it was possible that Warrick also knew about the developments with Gil, about the therapy. Greg decided he would tell him even if he didn't know; he just needed to talk to someone about his concerns for Gil, and Warrick was always a good candidate. He couldn't tell Nick and Sara, though; they didn't understand about discretion when it came to Grissom and would want to confront him about the situation, which wouldn't help matters.
He seized his opportunity when Sara and Nick retreated to the kitchen together, leaving him alone with Warrick in the living room. Greg scooted closer to him on the couch and, in a quiet voice, told him about his little fly-on-the-wall experience with Gil and Sofia.
Warrick nodded with interest at Greg's account, but didn't appear to be surprised.
"Yeah," he said. "Carol told me she knew Sofia was going to do something. She was afraid she'd gotten Grissom in trouble."
"No, it wasn't like that," said Greg. "I think pissing off Carol was just the straw on the camel's back, as far as Sofia was concerned. She didn't seem upset," he added.
"Huh," said Warrick.
"Here's the thing," continued Greg. "I would have expected him to, you know, duke it out with her or something. But he didn't. In fact, he was just gonna roll over, give up the shift, whatever."
"Geez," breathed Warrick. He shook his head. "That's not the Grissom I remember."
"I know," said Greg. He sat dejectedly back on the couch and said nothing.
Warrick eyed him thoughtfully. "Man," he said. "You have got to do something about this."
Greg didn't have to ask Warrick what he was referring to, and it didn't have anything to do with Sofia, Carol, or some damn therapist.
"I can't!" said Greg. "Don't you tell me to just 'get over it.' I've tried so hard, Warrick, but... the guy doesn't even have anybody else. I'm his best friend, and I'm not even a good one, really, but I'm still the best he's got. What can I do for him?"
"You can't fix him," said Warrick.
Greg glared at his friend. "Does he need to be fixed, Warrick?" he charged. "Is that really the thing he needs?"
"Are you two talking about something serious? Tonight?" Greg and Warrick whirled around at the sound of Nick's easy, teasing tone as he entered from the kitchen. He hadn't caught any of their conversation, Greg guessed; he was merely responding to the somber looks on their faces.
Greg mustered an easy smile. "Sorry," he said. "Are we breaking the house rules?"
"Well, you are," said Nick, his voice containing a mock note of warning. "But we'll forgive you if you promise not to let it happen again. Dinner's ready. C'mon."
Nick led the way into the dining room. Once he'd gone, Warrick gave Greg one last sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder. Greg nodded in silent understanding, then they both stood up and followed Nick to dinner.
* * * *
Greg arrived home late in the night, feeling more agitated than ever. Their little group of four had talked about the old days, back when Grissom’s team was still a team. Greg had forgotten, almost, what Gil had been like in those days; then, if he had been the last one to leave work, it was because he was too damn excited about his latest puzzle or experiment, not because he seemed to be trying to punish himself.
Mostly, Greg hadn't been in the mood for a night of cheerful reminiscing after all, and all the talk about old times had also reminded him of events he didn’t enjoy reliving...
Greg went to his desk and sifted through one of his drawers. He didn’t keep a photo album, he just kept his pictures in the envelopes they came at the drugstore. He rummaged through several of these until he found the one he was looking for; prints from a roll of film he’d used over the course of many months, three years ago. He hadn’t looked at them in a long time...
The pictures were still laid out in chronological order. Greg remembered realizing how close he’d felt to his colleagues then, so he’d started collecting pictures. Shots of them at breakfast together, shots from the lab, shots from a BBQ Nick had thrown at his place, they were all there.
(recorded in the office of Dr. Ellen Greene)
GREENE: Gil, tell me about the lab's previous assistant director.
GRISSOM: Well, before Sofia, Catherine served in the position. She was sort of an interim director, still working as a CSI a the same time. I couldn't have done it.
GREENE: But before Catherine, there was Conrad Ecklie. What happened with him?
GRISSOM: You know the name.
GREENE: It's been spoken in this room before, yes. Usually amidst a string of curse words.
GRISSOM: That's appropriate.
GREENE: You told me before that something very messy and unpleasant happened while he was still working there.
GRISSOM: Yeah.
Greg set the pictures aside for the moment and opened a different desk drawer. He took a deep breath and let it out, steeling himself for the less-than-pleasant walk down memory lane that the drawer’s contents were about to take him on.
Greg pulled out a collection of newspaper clippings, internet printouts and magazine articles. They, too, were arranged chronologically. The top page read, “Nevada Senator Implicated in Murder of Prostitute.”
GRISSOM: Dr. Greene, did you follow the Peter Kelley murder trial three years ago?
GREENE: I wasn’t living under a rock, so yes, I did. Why? (pause) My gosh...that was you, wasn't it?
GRISSOM: I was the lead CSI on that case, yes.
GREENE: I didn’t recognize you.
GRISSOM: I got rid of the beard afterwards. I don’t like being recognized, especially not for that.
GREENE: Your hair has gone white, too.
GRISSOM: Yes. That happened very quickly.
Greg flipped through a few more headlines; “Senator Charged With Second Degree Murder,” “Margery Wescott to Defend Sen. Kelley in Upcoming Murder Trial,” “Kelley Enters Plea of ‘Not Guilty,’”
GRISSOM: I wanted to do my job, just like any other trial.
GREENE: But it couldn’t be like any other trial.
GRISSOM: No. It couldn’t. Sometimes, in my job, I get reminded that ‘equal protection under the law’ is nothing more than a good idea. It was worse than the Tom Havelin case, and our evidence was better.
GREENE: But Kelley’s lawyer found a way around that, didn’t she? I remember.
To the CSI’s, the facts had been as clear as crystal; young, dashing, politician on the rise campaigns in Vegas, meets a working girl who doesn’t tell him what her work is, then threatens him with blackmail once he’s slept with her. One broken wine bottle and one botched cover-up later, the authorities get involved and all reveals itself in due time, through the evidence. Case closed.
Yeah, right.
Greg paused on an internet article with the headline, “Wescott Claims Forensic Evidence Was Altered,” next to a photo of Margery Wescott in a press conference. Greg had written the word “BITCH” over the picture in black Sharpie, but it had only provided him with a moment of relief.
GRISSOM: The idea that we’d tampered with the evidence was only speculation; she started the rumour, but she never took it to court. I think that she wasn’t really interested in getting Kelley acquitted; for her, it was all about me.
GREENE: You?
GRISSOM: I was her white whale. I’d crippled her on the Havelin case, so she wanted to destroy me. Lucky for her, she wasn’t the only one.
The case for Peter Kelley had been a lost cause; even if the defence had managed to acquit him, his political career was deader than the girl he’d stabbed in his hotel room. But the man still had powerful friends, and the trial had been complicated, drawn-out, and messy.
Meanwhile, the comments made by Wescott had given Conrad Ecklie enough fuel to start a witch hunt, with Gil Grissom as the primary target.
GRISSOM: Ecklie pulled some strings and did some...very neat re-arranging of departmental policy. Because Margery had mentioned my name in the press conference, Ecklie could make the case that he had sufficient grounds for an enquiry into my work.
GREENE: And what did that consist of?
GRISSOM: I was put on leave for almost two months, still in the thick of the trial proceedings. So even though Margery couldn’t question the evidence itself, she had plenty of room to question my credibility. Meanwhile, no one at the lab was talking to me about the state of the enquiry; I didn’t know, from day to day, if I was going to be called back to work on Monday or arrested for obstruction of justice.
GREENE: Did you really think they would do that?
GRISSOM: I didn’t know. I never thought they would take it as far as they did.
GREENE: Did it feel personal to you?
(pause)
GRISSOM: Yes.
Greg clenched his fists in renewed anger as he remembered those weeks. As if they hadn’t had enough problems with all the trial-related hoops they had to jump through, they’d had Grissom taken away from them for no good reason. He remembered the day it had happened, how the news had spread to all the night and swing shift CSIs before Grissom even had the time to get out of the building. They’d confronted him at the door, fuming, ready and willing to start a war on his behalf, but he’d silenced them all with a steely glare.
“What’s happening to me right now is my problem to deal with,” he’d said. “You guys have a case to worry about right now, and if you get sloppy, if you let anything distract you from that, we could still lose it. I want you cooperating with Ecklie wherever you can, and I don’t want to hear from any of you unless it’s about the Peter Kelley murder trial. Do you understand?”
And that had been the end of discussion. But as painful as it was, Gil had been right; they had more than enough to do without worrying about what was going to happen to their beloved leader. They couldn’t really worry that much anyway, since none of them had a clue what was going on.
At least, not until Ecklie approached Catherine, Nick and Sara, asking them to be members of a special ‘review board’ being formed to discuss Grissom’s case. Greg had wondered what kind of wacked-out shit Conrad had to have been smoking if he thought that he had any of Grissom’s people in his pocket, but apparently those weeks of "cooperating" like Gil had told them to had given Ecklie the wrong idea about where their loyalties had lain.
GRISSOM: The first time I got called back in to work, I found myself having an informal hearing in front of a review board made up of members that Conrad specifically told me he’d hand picked. Three members of my team were there, including Catherine.
GREENE: What did you think of that?
GRISSOM: I didn’t know what to think. I still don't. I think they were on my side, but I don't know.
GREENE: Even now?
Two days. That was how long they'd drawn out the crap with the review board, asking Gil questions, re-examining every detail of this case and countless others, trying to trip him up. It was all bullshit, and later they put it together that Ecklie had been using the time to try to convince the powers that be that two supervisory enquiries in three years gave him a good enough reason to call for Gil's dismissal. If only they'd known that, all five of them would have been in Covallo's office, threatening to turn in their own resignations if it came to that.
GRISSOM: But none of it held water in the end. And Kelley was convicted. I thought things would go back to normal.
GREENE: They didn't?
GRISSOM: No. The new policies Ecklie created ended up being a double-edged sword; in trying to take me down, he'd given high-ranking CSI's the power to investigate each other's work.
GREENE: So he had skeletons in his closet?
They'd all wanted Ecklie's blood after that, but Catherine and Sofia had been the ones to figure out how to get it. After all, hadn't Sofia been his right hand for years when he'd headed dayshift? It was one thing to know that Ecklie was the kind of guy who had no qualms with imposing his own will on the evidence, but it was another thing to be able to point in the direction of the exact cases where'd he'd played God with what he found. Sofia could do just that, and Catherine knew how to play the politics well enough to make it stick.
Greg had to hand it to the guy; he'd been shrewd enough to never actually tamper with anything. No, he'd been a master of strategic ignorance, of acknowledging the evidence he wanted to see and sweeping the rest under the rug. So they couldn't, technically, get him in any legal trouble. Still, being fired for incompetence after 15 years on the job wasn't an excuse that anyone really believed.
GRISSOM: Luckily I wasn't any part of it. And the press wasn't interested, either. But we all had to pull doubles for weeks, working on cases that had been closed years ago. Just one more mess to clean up.
Greg shoved the articles back into his desk drawer and shut it. Unpleasant memories, all of them, but he kept them for a reason; it had been the events of that year, in the course of all the anger, frustration, and pain, that he'd fallen hopelessly in love in Gil Grissom. There was a sweetness there, even beneath all the unresolved anger, all the injustice. He didn't want to forget that.
He sighed, returning his attention to the stack of photos on his desk. He pulled two from the stack, both of Grissom, but taken almost a year apart, one before the trouble began, one from near the end of it.
Greg shook his head slowly as he peered at them; he could barely belief that the difference was only a matter of months; in less than a year, Gil had aged as much as he had in the first ten that Greg had known him. Yes, the mostly-white hair was shocking, and the guy had lost a noticeable amount of weight, but other than that, the difference wasn't physical. It was in his eyes, and though he was smiling in the picture, the expression didn't touch them. They were dead, cold and wary.
Greg shoved the pictures back in the envelope and got up from his desk, pushing in his chair with all the force of his impotent anger. He went to his bad and sat hugging his knees.
Some nights, he reflected bitterly, loving Gil didn't hurt him at all. Some nights it was just fun to imagine, to reflect, to enjoy the fantasy. But some nights were like this. Something inside him was screaming at him, but he didn't know what it was saying. He was going to go nuts if he didn't do something soon, completely stark raving.
He just wished he knew what.
GREENE: Gil, have you considered the possibility that your friends were trying to get revenge against Ecklie entirely for your sake?
GRISSOM: Not...really, no.
(pause)
GREENE: Gil, trust is a very tenuous thing. When a person experiences a betrayal, even if it comes from an expected source, it can make it very difficult to believe that anyone around them is still on their side. Do you see what I'm saying?
GRISSOM: I do, but...I don't know.
GREENE: Well, do me a favor and keep it in mind until the next time I see you, okay?
GRISSOM: All right.