FIC: Isolated Elements, 4/?, PG-13 (for now), Grissom/Giles
Title: Isolated Elements
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG-13 for the time being
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: At some point in the future, the two of them will be having hot monkey sex. I think. For now, though, snark reigns supreme. This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that will accompany each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
Part 1 can be found here.
~*~*~
“Quentin Travers, please...Rupert Giles...Er, yes. Thank you...Yes, it was a terrible thing...She was very special indeed...You did?...I had no idea that was from you. Your thoughtfulness was very much appreciated...” Giles stood in his borrowed office with a borrowed cell phone, wondering when he would emerge from that special hell reserved for survivors who had to listen to expressions of sympathy. “I’m sure the Powers will get it all sorted in the end...Right...Yes...Look, I’m terribly sorry, but if you wouldn’t mind, I need to speak with Quentin...No, please don’t worry about it...Yes, I’ll hold.”
He paced, maintaining as much distance as he could from the sword, even as he watched it, half expecting it to jump up and do something. Not ten minutes earlier, the office had seemed too large, a decadent waste of space. Now, it was entirely too small and cramped, especially with that -
“Rupert? I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Is there a problem?”
Giles spared a glare for the opposite side of the room, grinding his teeth at Travers’ tone. “You tell me, Quentin. Does a Babylonian Sword of Destiny constitute a problem or an inconvenience?”
After a long pause, he cleared his throat. “Are you certain that’s what it is?”
“What do you think?” Giles bit back additional responses. Though he would have dearly loved to give his nominal supervisor a piece of his mind, the threat of deportation was still very real, and Travers was enough of a pillock to play that card if he thought it was in everyone’s best interests to drag Giles back to England.
“I see. Have you ascertained its purpose?”
Giles smiled grimly at the hint of nervousness in Travers’ voice. “I’ve only just seen it, so no, I haven’t. And for the record, I’m not touching it, and you can’t make me. I’m too bloody old for that kind of adventure.”
Travers slid into soothing mode. “Of course we wouldn’t expect that of you.”
“You’d better not.” Giles glanced at it and shuddered. “It’s so damn smug.”
After a beat, Travers said, “I’m sorry. What was that again?”
“The sword. It’s smug.”
“The sword is - smug?”
Giles rolled his eyes. “You do recall that these things have a rudimentary consciousness, don’t you?”
“To be honest, I was never all that interested in them,” he admitted. “I was always more concerned with issues related to the Slayer.”
“Amazingly, I’m not surprised,” Giles said snidely.
“All right, Rupert, you’ve made your point. The sword is there, it’s not a mundane matter, and you don’t have any interest in going on an adventure. Have I got it all?”
“Not quite.” Giles risked another glance at the sword. “I need to know if Lavery is still tottering about the library.”
“Lavery? Possibly. As I recall, the last time the Council tried to move him to the retirement community, he threatened to curse the lot of us,” Travers said.
“It’s as well they didn’t force the issue. He’s forgotten more curses than you and I will learn in a lifetime.” Giles realized he was closer to the sword than he had been and very deliberately stepped back several feet.
“Hold on a moment - yes, here’s the office list. According to this, he’s still with us. What do you want me to ask him?”
Giles made his voice as neutral as possible. “I’d rather speak with him myself, if you don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t trust me at the moment -” not neutral enough “- but it would be better for me to ask. His hearing was quite horrible the last time I spoke with him, and I don’t imagine it’s improved at all.”
“He’s not got a hearing aid?”
“He despises technology even more than you do, so I doubt it,” was Travers’ dry response.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Giles said, “Very well. Check with him on whether or not I can safely handle the sword with latex gloves or any kind of gloves, really. I also need to know whether or not it’s possible to leach the sword of its purpose.”
“I’ll grant that I don’t know much about them, but I seem to recall that they can’t be defused,” Travers said.
“That’s the theory, but Lavery made a study of the things. He might have a few suggestions.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to remove it entirely out of harm’s way?”
Giles shook his head, ignoring the fact that Travers couldn’t see him. “It’s evidence in a case. The police will be upset if it disappears.”
“I’m surprised it hasn’t been triggered yet, with the number of people who must’ve handled it by now,” Travers said, his curiosity piqued by the apparent contradiction.
“The technician who brought it never touched the blade, and I’d be surprised if anyone else had, either. They all tend to wear gloves around here.” Giles caught himself approaching the sword again and veered toward the far wall.
“If it’s safe for them, shouldn’t it be safe for you?”
“That’s a good question.”
“You needn’t sound so surprised by it,” came the testy response.
“I didn’t mean - never mind.” Giles took a deep breath before continuing. “I doubt that any of them are magic users, so they wouldn’t be useful to it.”
“Hm. Good point. I’ll go hunt down Lavery. What number can I reach you at?”
Giles gave him the number of the cell phone Anya had forced on him before he left then hung up. After one last look at the sword, he glanced around the office and came to a decision. He left the room, locking it with a minor spell, and wandered off in search of someone who might be able to help him with other concerns.
~*~*~
“Gil!”
Grissom’s stride faltered as he turned to see who called him. “Good morning, Phillip. Are you down here for the Laritz interview?”
Phillip Kane, one of the department’s psychologists, shook his head with a smile. “Actually, I’m down here for the Grissom interview.”
His comment brought Grissom to a halt. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Gil. You and I have one last session to go before I can give you the all-clear on the Goggle case.” Phillip stopped next to him and added, “Since you keep canceling on me, I thought I would come down here and -”
“Ambush me,” Grissom said, a bit disgruntled.
“Is that how you see it?”
The question was careful, nonjudgmental and more loaded than a con artist’s pair of dice. Grissom ignored it and started walking again, veering toward an open door.
“Is my office good enough, or do we need to find neutral territory?”
“Your office is fine,” Philip said, following him into the office in question. Once inside, he only glanced at the various items preserved in formaldehyde then ignored them and said, “The last time we spoke, you were still having issues with Catherine’s handling of the situation.”
“I’m over it,” Grissom said shortly as he sat at his desk.
Phillip took a seat in one of the guest chairs and gave Grissom an attentive look, choosing not to comment.
“Really. I am. Catherine did what she had to do.”
When Phillip continued to look at him, Grissom snorted. “Fine. I’m not. Happy now?”
“The question isn’t whether I’m happy with it. It’s whether you can be happy with it.” Phillip frowned thoughtfully. “One of your colleagues shot and killed a man who was attacking you. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know,” Grissom said with the exaggerated patience he normally reserved for the mentally ill. “And I know this, because I’m the one who was rescued. We’ve covered this Phillip. Why are you really here?”
“You came close to losing your job over the Strip Strangler case, Gil. It’s reasonable for you to have doubts about your function in the department. Hell, it’s even reasonable for you to start questioning your life and the direction it’s taking,” he said, relaxing into the chair as he spoke.
His irritation kicked up a notch, and Grissom said, “I’m still missing your point.”
Phillip waited a beat before responding. “I heard you have a guest staying with you.”
“What does that have to do with Goggle?” Grissom shook his head. “For that matter, what’s the big deal about me hosting a visiting expert?”
“You’re a private man, Gil. You’ve always kept work and home very separate. Yet last night, you opened up your home to a stranger.” Phillip cocked his head to the side. “Don’t you think that’s interesting?”
“I think the rumor mill is working overtime.” He reached for a stack of reports and opened the first folder to read it. Without looking up, he asked, “Are we done here?”
“That depends. Are you going to keep reading that file upside down?”
~*~*~
“Excuse me?”
Marjorie looked up from her work at the soft intrusion. “Yes?”
“Are you Miss Crandall?”
She smiled warmly at him. “Yes, I am. And judging by your accent, I would guess that you’re Dr. Giles.”
He returned her smile with one of his own. “Mr. Giles, actually. I understand that you - er - run things around here?”
Marjorie felt a blush rise from her neck and told herself in no uncertain terms to get over it - whatever “it” was - and help the poor man. “Not quite, though I imagine I can help you with whatever you need -”
“Lovely -”
“- But not, I’m afraid, a hotel room. As I explained to Mr. Grissom earlier, my hands are tied at the moment, so you’ll have to stay with him until the budget is finished.” She managed a look that combined sympathy with defensiveness.
“Oh. Yes. It’s a very busy time for you, I’m sure,” he said, vaguely confused yet sympathetic.
Marjorie smiled again. “Now, other than getting you a hotel room, what can I do for you?”
His face took on a blank look for a moment before he said, “Actually, Mr. Grissom stocked the office I’m to use with quite a bit of equipment -”
“Nothing but the best,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure. It’s all very - shiny.” Giles ran his finger under his collar to loosen it a bit.
Marjorie gave him a knowing nod. “You’re old school, aren’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Computers and the digital age give you hives?”
Giles sighed in relief that she’d understood. “To be perfectly honest, yes, they do.”
Marjorie picked up the phone. “Judy, could you come over here, please? I need you to help one of our visiting experts get a few things.” When she hung up, she said, “Judy will show you to the notepads, pencils, pens and whatever else you might need.”
“A sketchpad wouldn’t be amiss. Oh! And a magnifier and a strong light source would also be helpful,” he said as he waited for Judy to appear.
~*~*~
Grissom froze then slumped back in his chair. “Alright, Phillip. Whatever it is you have to say, just say it.”
“It’s good that you’re letting someone in,” he started. “Even if he’s only visiting, you’re still allowing him into your personal space, and that’s an important step in any developing relationship.”
“You make it sound like I’m dating him,” Grissom answered, annoyed.
Phillip plowed ahead. “He’s only here for a short period of time. He’s safe.”
“But -”
“You can practice your people skills with Dr. Giles. Are you going to take him to dinner again?”
Grissom looked at Phillip, failing utterly to recognize the colleague he’d worked with for so many years. In his place was a Buddha-like Yenta, one who was telling him to - to - “Exactly what are you saying, Phillip?”
“I’m saying live a little. Have fun!”
“Since when did matchmaking get added to your list of responsibilities?”
Phillip tilted his head to the side. “I find it interesting that you seem to think I’m matchmaking.”
“You said -”
Kane raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say last week that you’d read through several of his monographs on antique weaponry? Because I also find it interesting that you ‘forgot’ to arrange for a hotel room for Dr. Giles.”
Grissom shook his head. “No. We’re not having this conversation.”
“Gil -”
“Goodbye, Phillip,” he said, standing suddenly and leaving his office. Conversations like that were the reason he tended to focus on the evidence. Even if it was confusing at first, it always made sense in the end, unlike his colleagues.
Or himself.
Part 5
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG-13 for the time being
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: At some point in the future, the two of them will be having hot monkey sex. I think. For now, though, snark reigns supreme. This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that will accompany each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
Part 1 can be found here.
~*~*~
“Quentin Travers, please...Rupert Giles...Er, yes. Thank you...Yes, it was a terrible thing...She was very special indeed...You did?...I had no idea that was from you. Your thoughtfulness was very much appreciated...” Giles stood in his borrowed office with a borrowed cell phone, wondering when he would emerge from that special hell reserved for survivors who had to listen to expressions of sympathy. “I’m sure the Powers will get it all sorted in the end...Right...Yes...Look, I’m terribly sorry, but if you wouldn’t mind, I need to speak with Quentin...No, please don’t worry about it...Yes, I’ll hold.”
He paced, maintaining as much distance as he could from the sword, even as he watched it, half expecting it to jump up and do something. Not ten minutes earlier, the office had seemed too large, a decadent waste of space. Now, it was entirely too small and cramped, especially with that -
“Rupert? I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Is there a problem?”
Giles spared a glare for the opposite side of the room, grinding his teeth at Travers’ tone. “You tell me, Quentin. Does a Babylonian Sword of Destiny constitute a problem or an inconvenience?”
After a long pause, he cleared his throat. “Are you certain that’s what it is?”
“What do you think?” Giles bit back additional responses. Though he would have dearly loved to give his nominal supervisor a piece of his mind, the threat of deportation was still very real, and Travers was enough of a pillock to play that card if he thought it was in everyone’s best interests to drag Giles back to England.
“I see. Have you ascertained its purpose?”
Giles smiled grimly at the hint of nervousness in Travers’ voice. “I’ve only just seen it, so no, I haven’t. And for the record, I’m not touching it, and you can’t make me. I’m too bloody old for that kind of adventure.”
Travers slid into soothing mode. “Of course we wouldn’t expect that of you.”
“You’d better not.” Giles glanced at it and shuddered. “It’s so damn smug.”
After a beat, Travers said, “I’m sorry. What was that again?”
“The sword. It’s smug.”
“The sword is - smug?”
Giles rolled his eyes. “You do recall that these things have a rudimentary consciousness, don’t you?”
“To be honest, I was never all that interested in them,” he admitted. “I was always more concerned with issues related to the Slayer.”
“Amazingly, I’m not surprised,” Giles said snidely.
“All right, Rupert, you’ve made your point. The sword is there, it’s not a mundane matter, and you don’t have any interest in going on an adventure. Have I got it all?”
“Not quite.” Giles risked another glance at the sword. “I need to know if Lavery is still tottering about the library.”
“Lavery? Possibly. As I recall, the last time the Council tried to move him to the retirement community, he threatened to curse the lot of us,” Travers said.
“It’s as well they didn’t force the issue. He’s forgotten more curses than you and I will learn in a lifetime.” Giles realized he was closer to the sword than he had been and very deliberately stepped back several feet.
“Hold on a moment - yes, here’s the office list. According to this, he’s still with us. What do you want me to ask him?”
Giles made his voice as neutral as possible. “I’d rather speak with him myself, if you don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t trust me at the moment -” not neutral enough “- but it would be better for me to ask. His hearing was quite horrible the last time I spoke with him, and I don’t imagine it’s improved at all.”
“He’s not got a hearing aid?”
“He despises technology even more than you do, so I doubt it,” was Travers’ dry response.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Giles said, “Very well. Check with him on whether or not I can safely handle the sword with latex gloves or any kind of gloves, really. I also need to know whether or not it’s possible to leach the sword of its purpose.”
“I’ll grant that I don’t know much about them, but I seem to recall that they can’t be defused,” Travers said.
“That’s the theory, but Lavery made a study of the things. He might have a few suggestions.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to remove it entirely out of harm’s way?”
Giles shook his head, ignoring the fact that Travers couldn’t see him. “It’s evidence in a case. The police will be upset if it disappears.”
“I’m surprised it hasn’t been triggered yet, with the number of people who must’ve handled it by now,” Travers said, his curiosity piqued by the apparent contradiction.
“The technician who brought it never touched the blade, and I’d be surprised if anyone else had, either. They all tend to wear gloves around here.” Giles caught himself approaching the sword again and veered toward the far wall.
“If it’s safe for them, shouldn’t it be safe for you?”
“That’s a good question.”
“You needn’t sound so surprised by it,” came the testy response.
“I didn’t mean - never mind.” Giles took a deep breath before continuing. “I doubt that any of them are magic users, so they wouldn’t be useful to it.”
“Hm. Good point. I’ll go hunt down Lavery. What number can I reach you at?”
Giles gave him the number of the cell phone Anya had forced on him before he left then hung up. After one last look at the sword, he glanced around the office and came to a decision. He left the room, locking it with a minor spell, and wandered off in search of someone who might be able to help him with other concerns.
~*~*~
“Gil!”
Grissom’s stride faltered as he turned to see who called him. “Good morning, Phillip. Are you down here for the Laritz interview?”
Phillip Kane, one of the department’s psychologists, shook his head with a smile. “Actually, I’m down here for the Grissom interview.”
His comment brought Grissom to a halt. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Gil. You and I have one last session to go before I can give you the all-clear on the Goggle case.” Phillip stopped next to him and added, “Since you keep canceling on me, I thought I would come down here and -”
“Ambush me,” Grissom said, a bit disgruntled.
“Is that how you see it?”
The question was careful, nonjudgmental and more loaded than a con artist’s pair of dice. Grissom ignored it and started walking again, veering toward an open door.
“Is my office good enough, or do we need to find neutral territory?”
“Your office is fine,” Philip said, following him into the office in question. Once inside, he only glanced at the various items preserved in formaldehyde then ignored them and said, “The last time we spoke, you were still having issues with Catherine’s handling of the situation.”
“I’m over it,” Grissom said shortly as he sat at his desk.
Phillip took a seat in one of the guest chairs and gave Grissom an attentive look, choosing not to comment.
“Really. I am. Catherine did what she had to do.”
When Phillip continued to look at him, Grissom snorted. “Fine. I’m not. Happy now?”
“The question isn’t whether I’m happy with it. It’s whether you can be happy with it.” Phillip frowned thoughtfully. “One of your colleagues shot and killed a man who was attacking you. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know,” Grissom said with the exaggerated patience he normally reserved for the mentally ill. “And I know this, because I’m the one who was rescued. We’ve covered this Phillip. Why are you really here?”
“You came close to losing your job over the Strip Strangler case, Gil. It’s reasonable for you to have doubts about your function in the department. Hell, it’s even reasonable for you to start questioning your life and the direction it’s taking,” he said, relaxing into the chair as he spoke.
His irritation kicked up a notch, and Grissom said, “I’m still missing your point.”
Phillip waited a beat before responding. “I heard you have a guest staying with you.”
“What does that have to do with Goggle?” Grissom shook his head. “For that matter, what’s the big deal about me hosting a visiting expert?”
“You’re a private man, Gil. You’ve always kept work and home very separate. Yet last night, you opened up your home to a stranger.” Phillip cocked his head to the side. “Don’t you think that’s interesting?”
“I think the rumor mill is working overtime.” He reached for a stack of reports and opened the first folder to read it. Without looking up, he asked, “Are we done here?”
“That depends. Are you going to keep reading that file upside down?”
~*~*~
“Excuse me?”
Marjorie looked up from her work at the soft intrusion. “Yes?”
“Are you Miss Crandall?”
She smiled warmly at him. “Yes, I am. And judging by your accent, I would guess that you’re Dr. Giles.”
He returned her smile with one of his own. “Mr. Giles, actually. I understand that you - er - run things around here?”
Marjorie felt a blush rise from her neck and told herself in no uncertain terms to get over it - whatever “it” was - and help the poor man. “Not quite, though I imagine I can help you with whatever you need -”
“Lovely -”
“- But not, I’m afraid, a hotel room. As I explained to Mr. Grissom earlier, my hands are tied at the moment, so you’ll have to stay with him until the budget is finished.” She managed a look that combined sympathy with defensiveness.
“Oh. Yes. It’s a very busy time for you, I’m sure,” he said, vaguely confused yet sympathetic.
Marjorie smiled again. “Now, other than getting you a hotel room, what can I do for you?”
His face took on a blank look for a moment before he said, “Actually, Mr. Grissom stocked the office I’m to use with quite a bit of equipment -”
“Nothing but the best,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure. It’s all very - shiny.” Giles ran his finger under his collar to loosen it a bit.
Marjorie gave him a knowing nod. “You’re old school, aren’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Computers and the digital age give you hives?”
Giles sighed in relief that she’d understood. “To be perfectly honest, yes, they do.”
Marjorie picked up the phone. “Judy, could you come over here, please? I need you to help one of our visiting experts get a few things.” When she hung up, she said, “Judy will show you to the notepads, pencils, pens and whatever else you might need.”
“A sketchpad wouldn’t be amiss. Oh! And a magnifier and a strong light source would also be helpful,” he said as he waited for Judy to appear.
~*~*~
Grissom froze then slumped back in his chair. “Alright, Phillip. Whatever it is you have to say, just say it.”
“It’s good that you’re letting someone in,” he started. “Even if he’s only visiting, you’re still allowing him into your personal space, and that’s an important step in any developing relationship.”
“You make it sound like I’m dating him,” Grissom answered, annoyed.
Phillip plowed ahead. “He’s only here for a short period of time. He’s safe.”
“But -”
“You can practice your people skills with Dr. Giles. Are you going to take him to dinner again?”
Grissom looked at Phillip, failing utterly to recognize the colleague he’d worked with for so many years. In his place was a Buddha-like Yenta, one who was telling him to - to - “Exactly what are you saying, Phillip?”
“I’m saying live a little. Have fun!”
“Since when did matchmaking get added to your list of responsibilities?”
Phillip tilted his head to the side. “I find it interesting that you seem to think I’m matchmaking.”
“You said -”
Kane raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say last week that you’d read through several of his monographs on antique weaponry? Because I also find it interesting that you ‘forgot’ to arrange for a hotel room for Dr. Giles.”
Grissom shook his head. “No. We’re not having this conversation.”
“Gil -”
“Goodbye, Phillip,” he said, standing suddenly and leaving his office. Conversations like that were the reason he tended to focus on the evidence. Even if it was confusing at first, it always made sense in the end, unlike his colleagues.
Or himself.
Part 5