Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
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A staring contest ensued that lasted almost twenty minutes. Gil never
flinched, but Sawyer grew more and more restless and uncomfortable.
Finally, he made the first move, just as his interrogator had
intended.
"What do you *want*?" he barked. "You can't keep me here much
longer, you know. God... you drag me out of my house, throw false
charges at me, lock me up with... with real criminals... I tell you
what, my lawyer's in the process of suing all your asses into the
next century!"
Grissom grinned lightly.
"Brett..."
"Yeah? What?"
"I don't understand this. I've looked at your background
and... I just don't get it. How does a good man, with an education
and no previous criminal record, wake up one day and decide that
destroying someone else's life is no big deal? I really hope you can
explain it to me, because... it just doesn't make sense."
"You're the one not making sense. I don't know what you're
talking about."
"Oh? Then you deny the charges?"
"Damn right I deny them. I did nothing wrong."
"You do admit you know Greg Sanders."
"He's a friend. So?"
"Do you have nasty, derogatory names for all your friends?"
"What?"
"When I introduced myself you said..."
"That? It's a nickname... a joke. He works with other
people's blood every day, but show him a drop of his own and he acts
like a little girl... so his nickname's bitch."
"You drugged, raped and beat another man. What does that make
you?"
"I didn't... I would never do that! You're sick!"
"You know, you can skip the cry of the righteously indignant
and go straight to remorse and confession if you'd like. Inevitably,
that's where we'll end up, but I prefer the shortcut."
"I didn't rape anybody."
"Since he wasn't aware and fighting back, I'm sure you don't
*think* you did. Did you even know you'd used too large a dose?"
"Dose of what?"
"The drug you put in Greg Sanders' drink."
"I never drugged anybody in my life! Where are you getting
this?!"
"You're saying it was your fellow rapist that did the
spiking?"
"Well it wasn't me!"
Sawyer paled, realizing too late that he had slipped. In
response to Grissom's next question, he back-pedaled into total
denial, though his mind was screaming that even one mistake was too
many. Grissom, however, had a game plan and while he noted and filed
away the error and the physical response from his suspect, he let it
slide and continued on as if he had noticed nothing strange.
"Who made Greg's drink?"
"What drink?"
"He was never at your house."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you."
Grissom smiled thinly and tilted his head towards where Brass
stood, leaning quietly against the observation window.
"Jim. Could I have that item I asked you to bring? And a pair
of gloves, if you happen to have any with you."
"Sure." The older man replied, handing over a small evidence
bag and the requested gloves. Grissom handed one glove back to him.
He wanted to question the move, but Gil's eyes asked him to trust and
he readily complied. Grissom laid the bag on the table, sat back and
initiated another round of silence, forcing Sawyer to come up with an
answer.
"A watch. I'm quaking with fear."
"You should be. It was found in your nightstand."
"Uh-huh."
"You're saying it's yours?"
"I bought it two weeks ago. Paid over a hundred and fifty for
it at a jeweler on the strip."
"And if I could produce ten witnesses that have all seen Greg
Sanders wearing this watch over the past month?"
"They'd all be liars." Sawyer asserted, his face
darkening. "I know my own watch, don't I?"
"I'd think so. Tell me, Brett, is there anything special
about your watch?"
"Special? Like what?"
"You tell me."
"It's a watch. It doesn't make coffee or cook a roast."
"Funny. Nice wit."
Gil picked up his half of the set of gloves, took his time snapping
it on and adjusting the fit and carefully removed the watch from the
bag. He then held it over his shoulder. "Jim, would you put that
glove on and do me a favor? Take a good close look at this... and
give me your observations."
"Okay... it's not three-dollar, convenience store junk... but if it
cost one-fifty I'm Wayne Newton. And I'm not. Case looks to be real
silver, though I can't be sure. And on the other side..." he said
turning it over, "... an inscription. Doesn't make much sense. It's
just... lines of capital letters. DGU, then DGI under that... the
last one is IBIY."
Grissom accepted the watch back, returned it to the bag and slipped
the bag into his own pocket.
"What does that mean, Brett?"
"How do I know? My... my girlfriend did it. Some stupid woman thing."
"Something... romantic maybe?"
"Could be."
"Then why wouldn't she tell you what the letters meant?"
"I don't know." the other responded slowly, rising anger evident in
his tone.
"Wrong answer."
"Hell with you! You know so much, you tell me what..."
Sawyer's words petered out as Grissom began to smile. "You're
*trying* to make me mad. Bastard..."
"Occasionally, when the need arises. Now if we can get back to you?
What I'm trying to find out is why you don't know the meaning of the
inscription... if the watch is yours."
"It is and I'm *not* letting you run a head game on me! You've got
no more idea what that watch says than I do!"
Gil smiled wider and addressed his colleague again.
"Jim, would you call Catherine at the hospital and ask her to join
us?"
"Absolutely."
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"He wants... why? But can't you... oh. Okay. Yeah, I'll be there. He
understands I don't want to be away for too long.. Yeah. Right. Bye."
Nick looked at her curiously.
"Work?"
"No. Brass says Grissom wants me down at the station for a little
while but he won't say why." She explained, gathering her purse and
coat. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Okay." Warrick replied, touching her hand briefly as she moved past
him. "If you have a chance to help nail Sawyer's ass to a prison cell
floor..."
"I'll do it." she vowed, stopping for a moment at Greg's side. "Don't
worry, okay? I won't be gone long. You hang in and keep getting
stronger."
Once Catherine left, another period of deep silence descended on the
room. When Nick finally spoke up, Warrick was so startled he had to
make an effort to stay in his chair.
"Sorry, man ..." Nick said, suppressing a laugh.
"No... it's alright. If I wasn't following some dusty trails in my
head..."
"You too? Which ones?"
"The Adler case mostly."
"Adler..."
"Started out as a Jane Doe." Warrick reminded Nick. "Young black
woman, shot in the head and raped.... left on the side of the road."
"Yeah... I got it now. Sara... she got pretty lost in that one."
"I remember Gris tellin' me he couldn't pull her away from the
missing persons lists 'till she found out who the lady was."
"Sara tried to get the boss to let her stay on scene that time, but
he vetoed her... sent her to the hospital to do the kit. I remember
lookin' up and wonderin' what happened to upset her so bad... God...
how many times did we just gloss over what we shouda been pickin' up
on? What *I* shoulda picked up on..."
"Don't beat yourself up, Nick. You weren't the only one who went
blind. Still... maybe that's part of bein' a survivor too."
"What is?"
"Missin' the signs in somebody close to you. Helpin' them confront
their abuse would just cause a back up in your own mental sewer
line... so unconsciously you try *not* to see."
"You think I... My God. You're sayin' on some level I knew Sara was
in trouble... but I chose to protect myself..." Nick reasoned.
Suddenly shaking, he pushed back his chair and stood, though, to
Warrick, the other man's knees didn't look like they'd hold him up
very long. He rose as well and moved swiftly to support his
distraught friend, bracing him with a strong hand under his elbow and
an arm around his shoulders.
"I didn't say you *chose* anything, Nick... if it happened it was
probably an automatic defense... somethin' you learned to do so you
didn't have to feel that pain over and over every damn day of your
life. You didn't do it on purpose..."
Nick breathed deeply and slowly straightened away from Warrick,
acutely aware of how the last few days had drained him.
"Maybe. Thing is, now that I know... I have to try an' throw her a
rope. No matter what she thinks, ignorin' it only makes it worse."
" *We* have to throw it."
"Okay. *We* have to. First *we* have to find her."
"I'll call Vega, have him put together a low-key search."
"Suggest he start with the lab and the station."
"Right. There are maybe a thousand places she could hide out just in
that set of buildings."
"I'll call Brass. Maybe he's seen her since she high-tailed it outta
here."
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THE STATION:
"You wanted to see me?"
"Yes. Thank you for coming down, Catherine. I need you to look at
something for me... and tell me if you recognize it."
He pulled the evidence bag from his pocket and gave it to her. He was
gratified to hear her gasp of recognition, but his heart also twisted
painfully, knowing the renewed pain Catherine was suffering. "Tell
me." he encouraged.
"This... this is Greg's."
Sawyer, watching his last chance at freedom circle the proverbial
drain, made one last attempt at protesting his innocence. Standing
abruptly, he shouted wildly and lunged forward, wanting the room to
be thrown into chaos. It didn't work.
"That's a lie! She's lying! I told you I bought it two weeks ago!
Bitch wouldn't know enough to pick out something that good for
himself..."
Brass walked over and stood behind Sawyer, placing his hands on the
man's shoulders. His anger was palpable, filling the area around both
of them, and Sawyer reacted instantly. The result was that Brass
didn't even have to apply any pressure to get the suspect quieted
down and back into his seat.
"Stay there... and shut up unless you're asked a question. Clear?"
He got a sullen nod in response. "Go ahead, Grissom."
"How do you know that's Greg's watch, Catherine?"
"I gave it to him as a gift last month. I've been seeing so much
improvement in his field work... and he wants to be a CSI so bad... I
wanted to encourage him."
Gil was now staring at the table, knowing that if he looked at her,
it was likely they'd both fall apart.
"Is there anything special about it?"
"Yeah... I had it inscribed. What I wanted to say wouldn't fit, so I
had them do the initials instead... DGU, DGI, IBIY." she recited.
"Which stand for..."
Catherine swallowed with difficulty, brushed a stray tear from her
face and responded hoarsely, forcing the words out.
"Don't Give Up. Don't Give In. I Believe In You."
When he looked back up at Brett Sawyer, Gil knew the effort and the
time had been worthwhile. The man hadn't completely broken yet, but
he was so close to the edge that it didn't matter.
"Brett? It's your turn."
"You... don't understand. You couldn't possibly... it wasn't supposed
to happen that way... I never wanted..."
"I know. Just tell us the whole story, exactly the way you remember
it...."
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TBC...
