Numb3rs fic: Second Look (David/Liz, R)
Title: Second Look
Pairing/Characters: David/Liz, Don, Nikki
Rating: light R
Summary: In a few minutes she'll probably be sent to interview the victim's family or co-workers, run through the usual gamut of questions, ask about enemies or recent causes of stress.
Word Count: 590
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none
Notes: Unbetaed. Written for the numb3rs_het Summer Challenge.
Prompts: 02. Janitor/22. Crime Scene/17. Curtains
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
Liz eyes the scene, taking in its details carefully.
"The ME estimates four days," Nikki says.
"And the janitor found the body?" Don asks. He raises an eyebrow. "Four days, he must not do a very thorough job."
"It's a small business, holiday weekend," she tells him. "He said he only comes in once or twice a week, anyway."
"Alright. Just double-check that."
The office is a respectable size, though crowded now with CSIs and techs recording the blood spatter on the wall, collecting trace hairs and fibers from the carpet. The room is filled with hushed, steady communication that she half-ignores.
It smells like death, like stale blood and putrefying flesh, thick in the air even with the body removed. She breathes through her mouth as she moves about the room, taking notes and awaiting an assignment. In a few minutes she'll probably be sent to interview the victim's family or co-workers, run through the usual gamut of questions, ask about enemies or recent causes of stress.
Anything could happen. She could find blood under the widow's fingernails. She could find a gun in the receptionist's desk. Often, people aren't very smart when they commit a murder. There'll be something. Somewhere.
There's a planner open on the floor next to the desk. She crouches to examine it and feels an ache burn through her thighs. She shifts and glances up, around the room, until she finds David. He's by the door, talking to somebody, comparing notes. Her muscles tense and she refocuses on the book, taking note of where it's open and flipping through the pages carefully to see if anything stands out.
It doesn't.
She continues her walkabout along the edges of the room, stopping by the window to check out the view. It's nice, a little park with a collection of trees and jogging paths running through it. A large, intricate jungle gym sits at one end, a couple of kids climbing on it while their mother watches.
The curtains have blood spatter on them, tiny drops of red patterning the plain white fabric. She frowns, ready to turn her attention back to the case.
David steps up behind her. She knows it's him before he speaks, from the light scent of his cologne. He's close enough she can feel the heat radiating off of him, trapping her between his body and the window, the bloody curtains. He's looking over her shoulder, out at the park. She holds her breath.
"Good morning," he murmurs. "How are you?"
"Fine," she says. She pauses. "A little sore." She glances back and sees him grin slowly.
"Hmm," he says. "That's good."
Together they watch one of the kids across the street make a valiant attempt to cross the monkey bars.
"I have something for you," David tells her finally. He shifts and then his hand is in her coat pocket, putting something there. She reaches in and feels silky, lace-trimmed fabric. She takes a deep breath and pulls her hand out slowly, empty, feeling her skin go hot.
"I thought about keeping it," he whispers. "But I think you'll look better in them."
She laughs, feeling giddy and unprofessional, secreting away her pair of forgotten underwear at a crime scene, in front of everybody.
They're silent again, and then he brushes his fingers across the back of her hand. "I'll see you tonight."
"Okay."
He leaves and she can breathe properly again. She takes a second to compose herself, then turns around, looking for Don with her assignment.
Pairing/Characters: David/Liz, Don, Nikki
Rating: light R
Summary: In a few minutes she'll probably be sent to interview the victim's family or co-workers, run through the usual gamut of questions, ask about enemies or recent causes of stress.
Word Count: 590
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none
Notes: Unbetaed. Written for the numb3rs_het Summer Challenge.
Prompts: 02. Janitor/22. Crime Scene/17. Curtains
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
Liz eyes the scene, taking in its details carefully.
"The ME estimates four days," Nikki says.
"And the janitor found the body?" Don asks. He raises an eyebrow. "Four days, he must not do a very thorough job."
"It's a small business, holiday weekend," she tells him. "He said he only comes in once or twice a week, anyway."
"Alright. Just double-check that."
The office is a respectable size, though crowded now with CSIs and techs recording the blood spatter on the wall, collecting trace hairs and fibers from the carpet. The room is filled with hushed, steady communication that she half-ignores.
It smells like death, like stale blood and putrefying flesh, thick in the air even with the body removed. She breathes through her mouth as she moves about the room, taking notes and awaiting an assignment. In a few minutes she'll probably be sent to interview the victim's family or co-workers, run through the usual gamut of questions, ask about enemies or recent causes of stress.
Anything could happen. She could find blood under the widow's fingernails. She could find a gun in the receptionist's desk. Often, people aren't very smart when they commit a murder. There'll be something. Somewhere.
There's a planner open on the floor next to the desk. She crouches to examine it and feels an ache burn through her thighs. She shifts and glances up, around the room, until she finds David. He's by the door, talking to somebody, comparing notes. Her muscles tense and she refocuses on the book, taking note of where it's open and flipping through the pages carefully to see if anything stands out.
It doesn't.
She continues her walkabout along the edges of the room, stopping by the window to check out the view. It's nice, a little park with a collection of trees and jogging paths running through it. A large, intricate jungle gym sits at one end, a couple of kids climbing on it while their mother watches.
The curtains have blood spatter on them, tiny drops of red patterning the plain white fabric. She frowns, ready to turn her attention back to the case.
David steps up behind her. She knows it's him before he speaks, from the light scent of his cologne. He's close enough she can feel the heat radiating off of him, trapping her between his body and the window, the bloody curtains. He's looking over her shoulder, out at the park. She holds her breath.
"Good morning," he murmurs. "How are you?"
"Fine," she says. She pauses. "A little sore." She glances back and sees him grin slowly.
"Hmm," he says. "That's good."
Together they watch one of the kids across the street make a valiant attempt to cross the monkey bars.
"I have something for you," David tells her finally. He shifts and then his hand is in her coat pocket, putting something there. She reaches in and feels silky, lace-trimmed fabric. She takes a deep breath and pulls her hand out slowly, empty, feeling her skin go hot.
"I thought about keeping it," he whispers. "But I think you'll look better in them."
She laughs, feeling giddy and unprofessional, secreting away her pair of forgotten underwear at a crime scene, in front of everybody.
They're silent again, and then he brushes his fingers across the back of her hand. "I'll see you tonight."
"Okay."
He leaves and she can breathe properly again. She takes a second to compose herself, then turns around, looking for Don with her assignment.