| Title: Ambient Sound 01: Call It By: TriplePirouette Category: GSR UST- Song Fic Spoilers: um, don't think so- nope Disclaimer: They're not mine- I'm a poor college student having fun... take pity... Distribution: please ask first :) Summary: Calling it might be harder than anticipated. GSR-UST Song Fic Author's notes: This is the first of a series of short fics based on song lyrics. The lyrics in this (as you'll see) are to John Mayer's "Love Soon." It's a great song- download it. Time frame is anywhere you want it to be... Thanks to Leslie for being awesome! :) And special thanks to Kelly for BETA!! YAY! Feedback PLEASE at: [email protected] I love anything constructive! I'm new at the CSI stuff, so any tips will be appreciated! Blatant flames, however, will be disregarded and used to roast s'mores.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This was how Grissom learned. After all, all of the facts stored in his brain had to come from somewhere. His brain would pick up little background facts; tiny bits of information that he would store, sometimes without his knowledge, and when he needed them they would pop up. He always trusted what his brain told him, even if he wasn't quite sure why. Sometimes his brain would produce one of those things he had stored unconsciously and he would have no idea what it was or why it had pop to the forefront. It was those times, like now, when his brain had pulled something completely out of left field, that sent him off researching to learn something new. So, Grissom sat in his office after shift, the morning light spilling in the closed blinds, staring at his computer, searching Google. For the life of him, Grissom couldn't remember where he had picked up that line, or even why it had wanted to come tumbling out of his mouth. But he was damn glad he stopped it when he did. At least until he could find out what it was, that is. Maybe once he knew more about it, he'd add it to his usual vocabulary, though this didn't quite sound like Shakespeare. Grissom clicked on a link and watched a web page pop up. ~beginning of shift~ Grissom was thinking about bugs; ants, in fact, as he was driving to the crime scene. Sara sitting in the passenger seat, hummed along to the radio and watched the desert landscape zoom by. It seemed one of the trees behind his townhouse was infested with a particularly virulent species. The rest of his neighbors were complaining about it, trying to get it exterminated. Sadly, he realized that his neighbors would probably win this little battle, not everyone was as excited about insects as he was! He decided the best thing to do would be to get a sample when he got home before a mass ant genocide could take place. Before long they had pulled up to the crime scene, a quaint house at the end of a cul-de-sac that would have normally been a quiet place to live. Tonight, however, the red and blue lights of the cop cars and coroners vehicles that had invaded the circle of pavement made it a daunting and creepy place to be. Grissom parked the Tahoe by Brass' car and sighed. "Ready?" he asked as he turned to Sara, catching her taking a deep breath. "Yup." She tried to smile. "Are you sure? You look..." He seemed concerned; this wasn't quite the normal Sara he was used to. She cut him off. "Yeah. I just... We've been doing so many murders on the strip and stuff lately, and this place looks so... normal. The kind of place you would want to settle down in and let your kids ride their bikes out in front of the house while you're washing dishes. Sometimes I forget that murders don't only happen to sleazes on the strip." She looked down at her hands, hoping he understood. She hadn't been assigned a db in a long time, never mind one that wasn't a coked up stripper or high gang member. "You're right. It's a shame." Grissom looked out of the windshield to the house with the police milling on the lawn. It did look so normal, so sweet. There would be a master bedroom, and rooms for kids, and a kitchen and den and an office. Perhaps there was a swing set in the yard and... Grissom shook his head in an effort to rattle the thoughts from his brain. Going there now would not help him at all. It was a crime scene- he didn't need to make things up- he needed to let it talk to him. He looked over at Sara, who was staring at him. "You'll be ok, though?" Sara looked back at him, and let the question seep into her on all of the levels his voice had suggested: personally, professionally, and emotionally. It wasn't every day Grissom showed such compassion toward her, and she'd take all she could get. "Yeah," she smiled at him, "I'll be fine." She turned, and opened the door, getting out of the SUV and reaching in back for her kit. Grissom smiled to himself. He could tell from her answer she would be just fine, but he also knew that for a second there she was very nostalgic, and almost depressed even. It would be something he'd have to think about later, though. He followed her lead, getting out of the truck and taking his kit with him, trailing behind her and entering the crime scene. After getting all the information they could from Brass, who was still trying to corral a few rookie officers, they headed into the house, and up to the master bedroom. Once there they began their familiar crime scene dance. Sara pulled out the camera and began snapping shots here and there- locating points of disturbance and logging them on film. Grissom worked slowly, taking in all of the scene and stopping here and there, picking up a fiber or hair, tucking it in its proper envelope, and filing it away to be analyzed later. They had finally side stepped their way to the middle of the room and the master bed On top of the sheets lay a woman, fully dressed. If they hadn't known better they would have said she was just taking a nap after a long day at the office. But she wasn't asleep, she was dead, pronounced by the coroner not half an hour ago. They just stood there, looking at her. Grissom spoke first- they were the first words spoken since they had arrived at the crime scene, "What do you think?" He didn't move, but kept staring at her. Sara, also standing as still as a statue from some deep reverence she felt, replied softly, "There are a few points of disturbance: hall, doorway... but nothing that looks like a trail, or like she was attacked. It could just be some damage- she does have two young boys..." Grissom turned to look at her, questioning. "Family portrait in the hall way." He nodded at her. "Brass said husband was rattled... but who wouldn't be if you found your wife dead in your bed?" She took a deep breath. "Well, shall we?" Grissom nodded and they started to process the body. After documenting and pulling all they could from the body, the coroner removed it. Then they began to process the bed. ~~~~~ Sara closed her kit and looked around the bedroom one more time. The bed had been processed. Several samples of seminal fluid had been found and the sheets were bagged for trace. Grissom was taking one last look at the master bath, but walked into the room as she was standing up. He walked up to her, pulling his gloves off. They looked each other in the eyes. The last hour had been hard, processing the house of such a seemingly normal family and few if any clues to the undeterminable death of the mother. It had made him feel a deep longing. The husband and father was just about his age. He was successful, had two sons, one pre-teen, one about to turn ten. Processing the house had made Grissom wonder what might have been if he had made a few different choices in his life. Especially, he thought, if they had pertained to the beautiful brown eyes staring back at him. Sara smiled at him. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. She could see the regrets running behind his eyes as plain as day. The same ones had been running through her head as well. She wanted to reach out to him, but there was nothing that could be done. So, she turned her mind to work, the only viable escape for either of them. "So," she said, "wanna call it?"Grissom opened his mouth to answer her, but closed it quickly. A confused look took over his features as he tilted his head and he became introspective. "Well?" Sara asked. She could tell he was thinking, and very hard at that. Grissom was thinking hard, but not about the case. As soon as the words "wanna call it" had come out of her mouth, Grissom's brain reacted with a line out of no where, one that he couldn't even recall ever hearing. He had shut his mouth instantly, not wanting to risk the words slipping out without being able to back them up. He forced himself not to say them as every fiber of his being told him to let them tumble out of his mouth. He took a second, then said very carefully, "There's nothing to call. Let's head back." With that, Grissom headed out of the room and out to the Tahoe. Vaguely aware of Sara following behind him, Grissom wondered what would have happened if he had actually said what he wanted to. "Wanna call it?" Sara had said. "Yeah," He would have said, "I'm calling it love soon." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was a song. "Love Soon" by John Mayer. Where the hell he'd heard it, he didn't know, but what was even more baffling was why the line would have popped up in his head, and at that moment! It wasn't a particularly romantic moment, or even an emotionally charged one. It was just... a moment. Grissom leaned back in his chair and brought a hand to his mouth, reading the chorus again. You can cross the line whenever you want to I'm calling it love soon close your mind and waste some time if you have to I'm calling it love soon it's not about you now it's what we are Grissom's hand moved across his jaw and up to pull on his ear lobe for a few seconds before going back to his chin. "It's what we are..." he mumbled to himself. What were they? As he began to ponder this a soft knock came on his door. "Come in," he called. "Hey Griss," Sara stepped just inside the door, closing it behind her. "Just came back from Doc Robbins. Our DB tonight died from natural causes. Heart attack." Grissom sat back in his chair, listening as she continued. "While he was working on the autopsy I called around, she left work early, wasn't feeling well and called a neighbor to pick up the kids after school, said she just needed to rest." She paused, watching as Grissom's face never changed. It was almost as if he wasn't hearing her at all, but was regarding her with a very disconcerting intensity. "Well, anyway, we can wait for the stuff to get back from trace, but the case seems open and shut to Doc Robbins and me." "Good." Grissom sat forward. "See? I told you there was nothing to call." He smiled at her. "You knew?" Sarah was confused, and sat in the chair across from him. "No," he stated simply. She smiled at him, a smile big enough that it went to her eyes. "Are you playing games with me Griss?" Grissom looked down at the computer screen again. Let's bypass the bullshit and move on because the minute hand moves faster than you think it does and by no fault of yours and by no fault of mine the bottom line is laying in the bed that we've been playing in tonight "Not anymore Sara." She looked confused, but he ignored it. He stood. "Shift's been over for a while. What do you say we go get some breakfast," he took a deep breath as he stood and offered her his hand, "And talk about ants." She stood and took his hand, "Ants?" "Yeah," he said and smiled, "Ants." "You know, ants are classified as a type of wasp," she said as he led her out of the door. Grissom chuckled. "Yes, I know," he said, a grin spreading ear to ear as he walked in step with her. "And I hate bees." Sara looked up at his smiling face. "Therefore, by extension, I hate ants." They continued walking down the hall to the double doors that led to the parking lot. He opened the passenger door of his Tahoe for her. He walked around to his side and got in. There was a time when he was ready to let go of her for her own good. He wanted to smack himself. Only Sara would tell HIM that ants were classified as wasps. He may have had regrets, but the minute hand moves fast, like the lyrics said. �No more regrets,' he thought. As he started up the car the radio jumped to life on the light listening station they had been listening to on the way back from the crime scene. They never really listened to the radio- it was just ambient sound that filled the silence as they each usually retreated to their mental sanctuaries. But now Grissom wanted to talk to Sara, so he reached out to turn it off. Her hand caught his wrist and his eyes shot up to hers. Grissom forgot to breathe for a second. "No, Leave it on, I love this song." He listened to what was on- it was an acoustic guitar that he didn't recognize. But he did notice that she didn't let go of his wrist, instead let her fingers slip to his so that they were barely holding hands. That's when he heard the words. A huge smile spread across his face. Regretting the loss of contact, he slipped his hand from hers and shifted out of park. Driving out of the lot, he sang along in his head while Sara hummed quietly. She was looking out the window again, but he could see the reflection of a smile on her face. Your mother complains that you need a man you haven't mentioned me yetand all of your friends don't know who I am I've been your best kept secret I understand I wasn't part of the plan a dollar short, a minute early but I am your man so come on and face it so come on and face it it's time that we say it Sara practically jumped out of her skin when Grissom joined in on the chorus. Though his singing was barely above a whisper, he was singing the words nonetheless. She just stared at him, surprise written across her face. When he stopped before the next verse, he could feel her eyes on him. "What?" he asked. "You like John Mayer?" "I like... good music." This time, when his brain coughed up a quote, he said it, "�Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.'" "I like that. Who said it?" "Victor Hugo." "Oh." She stared at him for a second then turned back to her window, knowing they were nearing the diner. She hummed along for a few seconds. Then turned back around as they pulled into the parking lot and he shut off the car, silencing the radio. "Hey Griss?" she asked as they got out of the Tahoe. He turned his head to her and quirked an eyebrow as he guided her to the entrance. She smiled broadly. "Wanna call it?" He just smiled back and leaned a little close to her till his lips were barely brushing her ear, "It's what we are." He stated it so simple and clear, all she could do was keep smiling as he led her into the diner. Home CSI E-Mail Me |