Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
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"Look, just shut up about it, wouldya, Sidle? I'll go when I
have the time."
"Hey, I understand. We all feel a little sick when we see
what they did to him, but..."
Nick turned his most intensely angry gaze on Sara and her
words petered out.
"You don't understand. Leave it there, 'cause if you can't...
we're gonna have a problem."
"Got it. Officially backing off."
"Good. Now, can we get moving on this? We've had this warrant
for an hour and I don't feel like givin' Mrs. Carstairs any more time
to think about our visit the other day."
"I'm sure all she's been thinking about is that grin you
threw her." Sara tossed out as they moved into the building, followed
by three uniformed officers.
"What?"
"Please! You do it every time. Beautiful female suspect,
gotta keep her from getting suspicious before we have our evidence
together. Bam, out comes the "I'm just a sweet, non-threatening,
gorgeous hunk of cowboy" smile and her guard drops faster than a
mosquito at a reptile convention."
Nick made a half-turn away from the opening elevator doors,
crossed his arms on his chest and confronted Sara face to face.
"I do not do that."
"Hey, whatever you say, Nicky. Next time the situation comes
up an' I'm the one with the camera...." she teased as she stepped in.
He followed a few seconds later, his expression rapidly darkening.
"I don't flirt with suspects. Not even pretty ones." he
insisted.
"Did I say it was flirting? So you've got an incredible
smile. It's a tool you use to get the job done. Whatever works...."
"Yeah... maybe." he murmured, his mind suddenly far away.
When they reached the second floor a minute or so later, Sara
tried to keep the teasing going, but Nick didn't respond. Silent, he
moved directly to the door of the apartment and knocked. When it
opened, the shock on the face of Sheila Carstairs was clear.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"Ms. Carstairs? Nick Stokes from the Las Vegas crime lab. We
met before?"
"Oh... Oh, yes. Well, I don't know what more I can do for
you..."
"You can wait in the hall with these officers while we search
your apartment."
"I don't think..."
"We have a warrant. If you'll step aside..."
Dumbfounded, the woman sidestepped into the hall, allowing
Nick and Sara to enter. Throughout the hour or so it took for the
pair to collect all the evidence they needed, the younger woman tried
repeatedly to re-establish the easy rapport they usually had with
each other, but her partner refused to even speak, remaining distant
and close-mouthed. When they'd finished, Nick left first, directing
one of the officers to bring Sheila Carstairs to the station for
questioning. Sara watched him go with a confused expression, but soon
trailed behind, reaching the SUV a few minutes after he did.
"Nick, say something, damn it. I wasn't trying to bust your
balls. I was playin', you know... bein' me."
"I know, Sara. It's not really anything you did. Sometimes...
I think too much. Let it go, okay?"
"Yeah... okay."
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THIRTY MINUTES LATER: THE STATION
"Whoa. Twenty-three cards already." Warrick commented softly,
looking through the pile of envelopes designated for delivery to Greg.
"And at least half that many e-mails. I think my printer ran
for forty minutes straight. I may have to replace the cartridge."
Grissom replied, neatening the stack of papers and adding them to the
cards.
"Still nothing on who might have attacked Greg?"
"No. No leads yet."
"And he doesn't remember anything?"
"I haven't asked him and I'm not letting anyone else do it
either."
"We need a starting point at least. I know he's still
hurting, but if he can give us that..."
"No. The first move has to be his. He'll let us know when
he's ready."
"And if the bastards vanish in the mean-time?"
"I highly doubt they will. This assault feels personal, Warrick. They
could have dumped him in the street or chosen not to move him at all.
Instead, they left him in the most degrading condition imaginable and
made sure he'd be found. That's a grudge. "
"And if they're sick enough to do it that way, they'll wanna stick
close to see his pain."
"Advantage to the good guys. Once Greg is able to look at what's left
of his memories from that night, if he can give us anything helpful
his attackers probably won't be hard to find."
"The only problem will be keepin' half the department from beatin'
the perps heads through the floor." Warrick said grimly as he
gathered the cards and notes and rose to his feet.
"Mmmm. One reason I'll be keeping strictly out of the way when
they're brought in." Grissom mumbled, head down as he focused on
paperwork.
"Yeah.... if there was any situation I can see you givin' somebody a
beat down, it'd be this one."
Gil looked up with a small smile.
"Don't spread it around. I have a reputation to think about."
"Icewater in the veins. Gotcha." he confirmed, turning to leave and
halting to listen to the end of an argument.
"Brass an' I can handle Carstairs. Take the time an' go see him
before you get another assignment. If it gets busy, you might not get
a chance."
"Grissom'll kick my ass if he finds out."
"If you were playin' miniature golf or goin' for ice cream, yeah, but
not for this. He'll understand an' you know it."
"Nick's right, girl. Take lunch a little early. Trust me, seein' his
face when you give him these... it'll be worth it." Warrick urged,
handing her the collection of support and good wishes he
carried. "Tell him more are comin' in every day."
"Wow. Maybe..."
Looking at her watch, Sara realized how close to lunch it actually
was and that decided her. Smiling at the men, she stepped around them
and addressed her boss.
"Grissom? If it's okay, I'm gonna head out for lunch a few minutes
early. I thought I'd go see how Greg's feeling... deliver his cards
and stuff."
"How are you and Nick coming on the Carstairs case?"
"Evidence is being processed, the wife's in a room waiting on Brass
and Nicky to talk to her."
"Look solid?"
"Rock of Gibraltar."
"Okay. Go ahead. No more than two hours, though."
Sara's eyes widened at the doubling of her normal lunch period.
"Thanks. I'll make it up at the end of shift." she responded,
grinning.
"That's fine. Tell him we miss him."
The further shock of the stoic Grissom making such a statement
threatened to knock Sara over backwards, but she recovered quickly.
"Yeah... I will. Thanks again." she said as she backed away.
"No problem."
--------------------------------
THE HOSPITAL
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?" Greg answered, a weary grin lighting up his face.
"Cheese"
"Cheese who?" he bantered back as Sara moved to his side.
"Cheese, aren't you outta the hospital yet?"
Greg squeezed his eyes shut and laughed quietly until tears of joy
rolled down his face.
"Man.... that's gotta be the worst one I've ever heard." he finally
replied, looking at her through a squint and swiping at his cheeks
with his hands.
"Hey I made it up on the spot. Gimme a little credit for comin' up
with anything at all."
"True. Hey, it's really good to see you. What's all that stuff?"
"Yours is what it is. Get-well cards, notes, e-mails... you'll be
busy for a while." she warned, carefully depositing the pile on his
bedside table. He pulled one or two out and examined them briefly
then stared at the rest.
"Wow. This many people care if I kicked the bucket or not? Cool..."
"Greg!"
"I didn't mean... that came out wrong. I was just surprised, that's
all. I guess you never know how many lives you touch until something
like this happens, huh?"
"No... I guess you don't. Grissom sent a personal message of his own,
by the way."
"He did not."
"I know, hard to believe, but he said to tell you that we miss you."
Greg paused then repeated himself.
"He did not. Wait, he really did?"
"Yeah, God's honest truth."
For a long moment, Sara was silent, privately examining her thoughts
and pondering whether she had the courage, or foolishness, to speak
them out loud. Eventually, she breathed deeply and shoved her usual
reticence aside, sensing that Greg needed to hear what she was
thinking, even if her instinct was to keep it to herself. "What you
said about touching people... it's true. You may feel invisible,
or.... or two inches tall sometimes... and I'm sorry if I ever made
you feel that way, but... you're not. You're one of the best I've
ever seen in the lab and what you do... it makes a difference.
There've been cases where DNA was all we had, and you... you kicked
ass and gave peace to a lotta victim's families. A bunch of the cards
and stuff are from them. I guess they saw in the paper.... wanted to
tell you how they felt. So don't ever think nobody gives a damn,
okay? You got all the proof you need." she finished, slapping the
stack of paper.
"Sara..."
"Anyway, I've only got about another hour. Let's open some a'these
up, huh? See what people have to say."
Greg smiled and allowed her to slide out of the way of any more
emotional conversation.
"Yeah. Okay..."
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NICK:
"You do know why you're here, Mrs. Carstairs?" Brass intoned as he
leaned against a wall just behind Sheila Carstairs. The positioning
was intentional; she would be forced her to turn if she wanted to
look at him, but he could study her without moving an inch. The
gambit placed him in power, if only by a slim margin. With Nick's
help he would soon widen that gap, however.
"It's not Mrs. I told you..."
Nick spoke next, turning her attention back to him.
"We know the truth. We looked at the landlord's records. You might as
well give it up."
"Give what up? I don't know what you're talking about."
"We found these under the edge of the baseboard near your balcony."
Nick said, tossing a small evidence bag on the table between him and
his suspect. "Colored handblown glass... just like the candleholders
in your apartment."
Sheila Carstairs glanced down at the bag and then back up at Nick.
"So I dropped a candle. What about it?"
"One, I could see that being an accident, but three? That adds up to
pissed off." Brass questioned, slowly walking up behind her, now. She
began to feel hemmed in and glanced rapidly back and forth from one
man to the other.
"What are you trying to say..."
"You tell us." Nick continued. "We know what to make of what we
see.... I mean, we can put two and two together and get four just
like anybody else. But it'd really be better for you if you tell the
story."
The woman in front of him stared at him blankly for almost a minute,
then her face dissolved into a mask of fury and regret.
"You don't understand...."
"Talk to me then. Explain what happened."
"Matt... he was an asshole. He liked to think he was such a macho
man.... He brushed my violet candle holder onto the floor and cracked
it. Do you know how hard it is for even a master to create violet?!
And it wasn't a mistake... he did it deliberately because he hated
having so many candles in the house. Passive aggressive son of a..."
"We get the point. Go on."
"He walked out on the balcony afterwards like nothing had
happened.... the holder was already ruined and I was furious... I
picked it up and threw it right at his head. He must have heard me
move or seen me or something... he turned and it smashed into his
side... he yelled something obscene... I was seeing red by then so I
picked up another candle and another... the third one came a lot
closer to the target and he ducked... the damn railings are too low,
I keep telling the landlord... Matt just stumbled and... lost his
balance..."
Nick glanced at Brass, silently asking him to handle the arrest
procedure alone. His friend complied readily and Nick walked out. For
several minutes he rambled, not caring where he was going. When he
looked up again, he found himself in front of the lab. It was
momentarily empty, a rare occurrence, so he stepped through the open
doorway, looking around, but not entirely sure what he was seeking.
He walked somberly around the space, the fingers of his good hand
sliding over tables, stools and counters, his mind locked into an
image of a bleak hospital room and a frail, damaged young man. He
knew the picture wasn't the truth, but he hadn't yet found the
strength to go and see for himself, so his imagination was all he had.
The corner of a black box sticking out from under a computer station
suddenly caught his eye. Moving to check it out, he found it was
Greg's workplace music stash; a small inexpensive CD player and a few
disks nestled into a padded plastic case. Looking over his shoulder,
sure he was about to get caught, Nick rapidly flipped through the
music, stopping when a certain band name and album title showed up.
He had been dying to hear a particular song ever since Greg had been
attacked, and the conversation he'd had with Sara earlier had only
made the craving worse. Of course, he possessed nothing by the group
in his own collection and the radio seemed to be intentionally trying
to frustrate him by also refusing to play the song, even when he'd
requested it.
Though it was a bit of a struggle with only one hand, he managed to
pop the CD in. Replacing the rest he grabbed the player and swiftly
left the lab, headed for the men's room. Once there, he locked
himself in a stall, dropped to the floor, slipped the headphones over
his ears and closed his eyes. By the time anyone missed him, he
thought he might be able to play the song through at least three
times, possibly more. He hoped it was more. As the soft acoustic
guitar notes filtered into his ears, he leaned his head back against
the cool porcelain, willing the rest of the world away, just for a
while.
* No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes....
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through....
When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool.... *
TBC.........
