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CSI Season 2 Episode 19 --Stalker

CSI Season 2 Episode 19

--Stalker

When we went into work, Nick and I stopped by Gil’s office. We had a discussion last night at his place about doing the right thing – telling the department that we were in a relationship. In my previous place of employment, they would have reprimanded me for seducing a coworker. Then I would have been demoted. Nick reassured me that this wasn’t the case here – that numerous coworker’s had relationships within the department.

Nick had rubbed my back as I tried to calm my breathing. I was worked up just by asking him what if they split us up. Moved us to a different shift, because then we wouldn’t be able to see each other. Nick shook his head, his crooked smile enveloping his face.

“That won’t happen, darlin’,” Nick reassured me, his Texas drawl soothing my frayed nerves at the aspect of telling Grissom that I was involved with one of his best CSI’s. I knew that Nick valued the opinion of Grissom as well, so that was also nerve-wracking.

“But how do you know?” I stressed, looking at him as I bit my lip. Nick laughed, not unkindly, but used his thumb to release my lip from the abuse of my teeth.

“Do you know how many of the lab has been together?” When I shook my head, Nick elaborated on the number of relationships he knew of, as well as how they were treated once it came out.

When we knocked on Gil’s door, he was bent over looking at something through a magnifying glass. He looked intrigued to see us at his door, both requesting an audience at the same time. Gil motioned to the chairs at his desk, wordlessly, and waited to see what we were going to say.

“We’ve been dating,” I blurted out, unable to keep it a secret any longer. Nick gave an awkward chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Is that all?” Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought someone was confessing to a crime. Needing help with hiding a dead body or something.”

“I didn’t want to be in any type of department violation,” I told Gil who nodded, as Nick was chuckling.

“See, I told you!” Nick pointed out.

“I see no issue with two of my CSI’s dating,” Gil remarked, already losing interest in this conversation and looking down at the bug he was studying. “I will make a note of it for your documents with the Crime Lab.”

“That’s it?” I asked, a little shocked at the handling of a relationship. Nick had validated this point and to see it occurring was honestly a little shocking.

“Yup,” Gil nodded, opening our files and putting something in the documents. “The only issue would be if you two were supervisor and subordinate. Then you wouldn’t be able to do the other’s evaluations.”

“Wow,” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Who knew?”

“I tried to tell you!” Nick smiled at me, as he shook his head, good-naturedly. “You’ve been panicking since our fourth date.”

“Well,” I tried to explain, but finally gave up. Gil gave us both a rare smile.

“Get ready, we have a 419 – it’s going to require all of us to handle the evidence,” Gil said. We both nodded and went to the locker room to get ready.

Once we were finished putting our holsters on, getting the guns loaded, and grabbing our credentials, we both exited the locker room and went to the breakroom where the others were waiting for the assignment of the night. I looked at our coworkers before taking a deep breath.

“Before Ecklie or someone says something – Nick and I are dating,” I told them. They all grinned, Warrick slapping Nick on the back, congratulating him. I rolled my eyes as Gil came into the room.

“We’ve got a 419,” Grissom said. We all got out of our seats and grabbed our gear, along with jackets. Nick had to wear a leather jacket as his clothing wasn’t at the drycleaners the other day. I had laughed at them handing someone else his clothing and told him that was the reason I do my own laundry. I doubled with Nick while Catherine and Gil were in the lead, getting to the scene first. Warrick and Sara were still back at the lab.

“It’s going to be a long night,” I told my boyfriend who nodded his head as we drove to the crime scene. He had grabbed my hand with his, entwined on the console as we listened to music on the way to scene. Once we were on the scene, Catherine and Gil went up to get the preliminary photos. Nick wanted to talk with the detectives on scene.

I grabbed my kit from the trunk and went up to the apartment building. I walked in as Grissom was coming out of the bathroom. I was looking around the apartment and my eyebrows were furrowed.

“So, has anyone seen this dog?” Gil asked, looking around the apartment and listening for any sound of the dog.

“Dog bed, dog bowl, dog food ... no dog,” Catherine remarked as they noticed the dog paraphernalia all over the house.

“Someone killed the dog?” I gasped, staring at the senior members of the team with horror. They both shrugged, not confirming or denying it. “People I get, but a dog?”

“Neighbor lady called 911 because she heard the dog yelping,” Gil stated. I sucked in a breath.

“Are we sure it’s not hiding somewhere? Or that the cops didn’t let the poor animal out when they kicked in the door?” I asked, looking around the apartment. “Here, boy!” I whistled, trying to find the dog.

“Triple locks on all the doors. Every shade drawn. State-of-the-art alarm system,” Catherine looked at the alarm panel on her wall. “As far as we know her place was perfectly hermetically sealed until the cops batter-rammed their way in.”

“Prisoner in her own home?” Gil asked, standing there looking at the aforementioned safety features.

“Maybe she was agoraphobic?” I suggested, standing in her living room.

“So, how did he get in?” Catherine raised an eyebrow as she looked at the locks.

“A better question -- how'd he get out?” Gil questioned.

“Maybe he’s with the dog?” I sneered, looking under the furniture, trying to see if the dog was hiding underneath the couch. The dog bed was small – indicating that this wasn’t a golden retriever. “The dog bed looks sort of small. This dog couldn’t be more than 25-30 pounds. And there is no fur all over the home. I think it’s a hypoallergenic breed. Or this woman keeps vacuuming a hundred times a day.”

Gil walked into the living room behind me. He was still searching for a way that the assailant could have gotten in or out of the home. Gil pushed the gauzy curtains out of the way to reveal that the windows were covered in silver.

“Aluminum foil,” Gil said, shining a light on the silver material covering the windows.

“Keeps the sunlight out,” Catherine murmured also looking at the foil lined windows.

“God knows one needs to in Vegas,” I groused, still checking under the furniture, flashing my light around. “The dog couldn’t have just disappeared!”

“Keeps the eyeballs out, too,” Grissom stated as Catherine announced she was going to process the bedroom. She left the room while I was still poking under the furniture and trying to entice a dog. The door opened and Nick came in. He raised an eyebrow at my wandering around the living room, randomly whistling.

“Did you finally lose your marbles?” Nick drawled. I huffed at my boyfriend.

“I wish!” I called out. “The victims dog totally vanished. No one can seem to account for the dog that prompted the 911 call!”

“You’ll find him, darlin’,” Nick soothed, knowing my soft spot for animals, walking down the hallway. He stopped after a moment, looking at the scene in the bathroom. Gil watched him for a few moments, before turning to point out a random spot to me. After a few moments, Gil left me on my own in the living room.

“Sorry, Nick,” I heard Gil say in the bathroom. “You've been staring at this girl for ten minutes. Do you know her?”

“No,” his voice was faint.

“Why don't you go do the bedroom? I'll get the coroner in here and finish up in the bathroom,” Gil took pity on Nick.

“Sure,” I heard footsteps go down the hall to the bedroom. I left the living room and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. Very few hiding places, but I still checked.

Catherine and Gil came up behind me in the kitchen. There was nothing. This was absurd. A canine doesn’t just disappear into thin air. It had to be here somewhere.

“Find anything?” Catherine asked, unsure why I was pouring all my energy into the missing dog. I turned to look at her, a murderous look on my face.

“Nothing at all,” I sighed. “Absolutely nothing. Why not leave the dog?”

“Why don’t you go back to the lab with Nick when he’s done processing the bedroom,” Catherine suggested. I blinked but nodded.

“Someone will find the dog, right?” I implored, pleading with my bosses. They both nodded, even though they had already guessed that the dog was probably deceased along with the victim. I went back to poking around, but eventually gave up as Nick was finished processing the bedroom.

“You alright?” I asked him as we put the evidence and kits into the back of the Yukon. Nick had been really quiet after he walked into that crime scene.

“Yeah,” Nick said, though his voice didn’t sound sincere.

“If you need to talk, I’m all ears,” I winked at him, pulling my red hair from the tight bun. I massaged my scalp as I got into the passenger seat, a headache forming in my temples.

“You alright?” Nick asked, a little concerned at the pained look on my face. I nodded, reaching into my pouch to pull out some Excedrin.

“Headache,” I muttered.

“Something about that scene,” Nick muttered, and I left him to muse about the scene. For some reason, the body rattled him. He didn’t know the victim, but there was something familiar about it.

By the time that we made it back to the crime lab, my headache had subsided to a lesser roar. It made it so that I could think. Nick grabbed the evidence from the back of the Yukon and then we entered the building. He stopped by the A/V lab to pick up a file and then we walked to find our coworkers – Warrick and Sara so they could help us in our quest to figuring out what had happened to the poor lady.

On our way to the breakroom, where Archie had advised the missing CSI’s were located, Nick noticed the latest issue of the newsletter posted on the bulletin board. We had an internal newsletter called “Crime Stopper”. This month, Nick was featured on the front cover, complete with inaccurate facts. I stifled a laugh as Nick ripped it off the clipboard, irritated at the issue.

“Don’t,” he warned, crumpling up the paper in his hand. I shook my head, holding up my hands in innocence. I had totally read through that paper – which even included Nick’s Alma Mater and the name of the fraternity he belonged. It was cute, but the others were using it as a way to tease their friend.

As we approached the breakroom, Nick and I could hear the laughter and giggling coming from the two CSI’s in the breakroom. They were sitting at the table, reading over the newsletter, laughing. It was totally absurd. Nick smiled, shaking his head at their antics.

“Who wrote this?” Warrick asked. Sara couldn’t contain her laughter.

“You're kidding me, right?” Nick asked, throwing the balled-up newsletter from the bulletin board into the trashcan.

“Nick Stokes, Crime Stopper,” Warrick read from the paper, deepening his voice. I snickered and Nick laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You went Hollywood on me, man.”

“And I quote, "in his off time, he enjoys creating and inventing toys." That's fascinating,” Sara said. “What kind of toys do you make, Nick?”

“I don’t know who got that information, but I can confirm that Nick doesn’t invent or create any type of toys,” I interjected.

“I thought I got my hands on all those departmental newsletters,” Nick reached down and picked up the newsletter. “Where'd you get those?”

“Greg,” Sara and Warrick said in unison.

“Yeah, that figures,” Nick’s jaw twitched in his annoyance. “All right, listen, Grissom wants us to divide and conquer. Blond hair for you, Warrick.”

“I do love a blond,” Warrick stated, holding up the bag of evidence containing the blonde hair inside.

“Sara, you're on phone records,” Nick put a folder full of phone records on the table in front of Sara who pulled a face.

“Yay,” Sara said, her tone dry as she looked down at the records she would have to comb through. Nick turned and left the room, crinkling the newsletter on his way out.

“Hey, I wasn't done reading that!” Warrick protested.

“Yes, you are!” Nick tossed the balled-up newsletter into the trash can as he left the room. I followed after him, waiting a moment, since he hadn’t given me an assignment.

“What about me?” I asked, trotting after him, questioning on how I could be of assistance to this case.

“You, my darlin’,” Nick winked at me, knowing how much his Texas drawl and pet names made me swoon, “are on a mission to see cause of death. Can you check with Doc Robbins to see if he has a COD?”

“Sure,” I smirked, walking around him. “I’ll find you when I get the results!” He nodded, continuing on his way after I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

I hated the coroner’s office. Doc Robbins and David were really nice, but it was extremely cold down there. I grabbed my fleece jacket and went into the autopsy room. Grissom and Catherine were with Robbins.

“Nick sent me down to see if we had a COD?” I asked, shivering inside the fleece jacket. Robbins usually took pity on me, sparing me a lecture, once he had caught my lips turning blue from hypothermia before.

“COD is asphyxiation,” Robbins said. “Petechial hemorrhaging, cyanosis. Oh, and she’s a natural blonde.”

“So someone died her hair?” I asked, reaching up to my own head of red hair. Robbins nodded, pointing at my natural-colored red hair.

“She wasn’t sexually assaulted either,” Catherine stated. I sighed.

“So torture, just to torture someone. Did you guys find the dog?” I asked and both Grissom and Catherine shook their heads.

“Dog?” Robbins asked, but I wasn’t up for chitchatting about the dog.

“UGH!” I groaned, leaving the morgue. I went upstairs, still shivering in my fleece jacket to find Nick fumigating the plastic bag.

“Find out anything?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at my obvious state of frustration.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “No one has found the dog yet!”

“Sunshine, I meant - ” Nick was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the lab door. We both looked up to see Greg.

“Heard you were looking for me?” Greg didn’t look like he wanted to be here. It looked like he wanted to be elsewhere but wanted to get it over with. I figured that Warrick told him that Nick was ticked.

“Greg. Come here. I want to talk to you for a sec,” Nick stated, looking down at the plastic bag. He put his clipboard and the pen down at the side, as he waved Greg into the room. Greg hesitated at the door.

“Come on,” Nick cajoled, waving him over. Greg finally relented, walking over to Nick’s side where he was standing looking down at a glass tank.

“What's up?” Greg asked. Nick reached over with his left hand, slapping him on the back, then gripping at the base of his neck.

“Stop invading my privacy, man, I don't like it,” Nick stated, not mad, but trying to get his point across. “I'm just trying to do my job around here. I don't need the extra attention.”

“Okay. But, I mean, you are the one who's doing the "Forensic Spotlight" in the,” Greg choked up as Nick tightened his grip. I hid my amusement as Greg winced in pain at his comment. “Department newsletter.”

“I didn't do anything, man,” Nick insisted, not letting up on his grip. “Someone from the community wrote a letter of commendation. Public affairs ran it. Cool?”

“Cool,” Greg grimaced, nodding his head. Nick finally let go of Greg’s shoulder, patting him on the back in understanding. Greg raised his eyebrows as Nick walked around the other side of the tank with his clipboard.

“So, uh,” Greg sighed, moving his shoulder subtly in a bit of pain from the neck pinching, “what are you fuming?”

“Plastic bag from the crime scene. I'm trying to get lucky -- see if I can get some prints off it,” Nick told the analyst. He opened the top of the tank and fanned the fumes. Greg was staring at the front of the plastic bag.

“Did she die of suffocation?” Greg asked. I gasped.

“How did you know?” I asked. Nick stared up at Greg, really amazed that was the only answer he was giving. Greg still stared at the plastic bag in the tank. After a moment, Greg looked up at Nick, since he didn’t get a response. Nick finally determined that Greg saw something. He walked around to the side of the tank where Greg was looking. I got off my chair and joined the two men, just to see the outline of Jane Galloway’s face on the plastic bag.

After several deadend leads that the CSI and Brass pursued throughout the day, Grissom finally called it quits with the rest of us. We departed for our homes. Nick pressed a kiss to my lips as he made sure that I was secure in my vehicle. I promised to call him once I got some sleep and then I left the Crime Lab.

I walked in my apartment, dropping the keys in the bowl by the door. I dropped my kit onto the closet floor, before walking into my living room. There were several messages on my answering machine.

“Hey Aria, just wondering how ya were doing? Give me a call sometime – Bobby,” I saved that message, having missed my surrogate uncle. He lived in South Dakota and owned a junkyard. As a kid I used to love tinkering in his yard, whenever my mom would take me to visit. Then when she married my stepfather, he forbid us from seeing Bobby.

The next message was a telemarketer. I deleted that message, before going into the kitchen. I searched high and low for something to eat – finding a few frozen meals. I preheated the oven. As I waited, I turned on the television. I watched a documentary about Egypt until my oven beeped. Then I put my food into the oven, and walked to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once I had finished the shower, I slipped on a pair of silk pajamas and wandered to check on my food. I figured it had to be done, pulling the meal from the oven. I ate most of it, discarding the rest into the trash can. I sent a quick message to Nick, wishing him a good night, before I threw myself onto my bed, and fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up at a reasonably late time. Once I had managed to drag myself from the comfort of my bed, I went to the bathroom – got a quick shower, before applying my makeup. Once I was finished, I went back into my room and dressed for another day of work. I always loved the height that wearing heels provided, but it wasn’t feasible when we spent sometimes upwards of 24 hours on our feet.

I was wearing a pair of light green dress pants, a darker green long-sleeved top, and I pulled on my brown combat boots. I also decided to wear my brown leather jacket to pull the outfit together. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/647322146460814169/) I grabbed my phone, seeing that Nick had messaged me, advising he was on his way to pick me up.

I sprayed myself with my perfume, before turning off the lights. I didn’t bother with breakfast, as we had a routine. There was a little bakery on the way to the lab, where we picked up breakfast and our coffee.

“Hey!” I pulled open the door before he could knock. Nick whistled as he saw me in my work attire, my cheeks coloring at his teasing. “Nick!”

“Sorry, baby,” Nick leaned down for a kiss, before I pulled the door shut, locking the deadbolt. “I’ve never seen you in a leather jacket.”

“I’m full of surprises,” I threw back at him and he chuckled, opening up the door of the Yukon. I slid into the passenger seat. Once Nick was on the way to our bakery, I noticed something seemed off. “You okay?”

“What?” Nick seemed startled that I spoke for a second. “Yeah, just something odd.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, careful not to pry too much. He shrugged as we arrived at the bakery.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Nick denied, opening up my door and then we went inside. I accepted his inability to talk about it for the moment.

“If you want to talk, you know where to find me,” I told Nick who nodded. Once we each had our food and drinks, it was time to return to the crime lab. I was in and out of the locker room quickly, while Nick hung around to talk to Warrick. I figured, he was unloading the situation with his best friend. I was happy Nick had someone to confide in, if he didn’t want to talk to me.

I found Catherine and Sara in the breakroom. They were looking over the files and the information that Sara managed to find about Jane Galloway.

“What about Jane’s work history?” Catherine asked, filling up a cup of coffee. She sat down and I joined the two as they discussed the information.

“Secretary at a brokerage firm. About three weeks from the day of her death she took a leave of absence,” Sara advised – my eyebrows furrowed.

“Is that the only one?”

“Yes,” Sara confirmed.

“Medical records?” Catherine asked and Sara looked down at the paperwork in front of her.

“She saw Dr. Slater. Had a prescription for valium and librium.”

“That’s some heavy prescriptions,” I stated. “Anxiety?”

(SARA shows the report to CATHERINE who takes it and looks at it.)

“Severe anxiety due to personal reasons,” Sara handed the report to Catherine who took it to look over the information as well. “One day back from leave, Jane quits her job. No notice. Hotel receipts show she checked into the Monaco for two nights.”

“The hotel?” I questioned, taking the receipts from Sara. Then I handed them to Catherine.

“A week before that she goes on a frightened woman shopping spree,” Sara told us, showing us the receipts to multiple hardware stores. Something was off about this whole situation.

“Hardware shop receipts for locks. Locksmiths. Alarm installations. Phone screeners. The voice on her answering machine—electronic,” Sara read off the information that she could gather about Jane’s whereabouts in the weeks leading up to her death. “She changed her telephone number. She cancels all but one of her credit cards.”

“No paper trail?” I questioned. “No personal way to distinguish herself either.”

“It's as if she's trying to make herself disappear,” Catherine stated, shaking her head as we looked over the evidence.

“Make no mistake. Jane Galloway was being stalked,” Sara stated, voice confident in this answer. All of us could agree – this was textbook stalking behavior. “Emotional terrorism at its finest.”

“And her boyfriend had an alibi?” Catherine asked, disbelieving. It was rare that stalking came from an outside source – like kidnapping.

“Here's the, uh, worst part. Uh, I ran a phone check on all her incoming calls. Guess where they were coming from,” I exchanged looks with Catherine before we took the phone records that Sara was handing over.

DATE / TIME / PLACE & NUMBER CALLED 4/16 / 2:44 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0146 4/16 / 2:56 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0198 4/16 / 5:15 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0287 4/16 / 5:18 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:18 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:18 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:19 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:19 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:19 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:20 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:20 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:20 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:21 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:21 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:21 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/16 / 5:22 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0188 4/17 / 10:48 am / Summerlin, NV 555-0173 4/17 / 04:16 am / Summerlin, NV 555-0189 4/17 / 3:43 pm / Las Vegas, NV 555-0132 4/17 / 12:04 pm / Henderson, NV 555-0173

“Wait – isn’t that her own phone number?” I asked.

“Inside her house.” The realization dawned on Catherine who knew that she had to get this information to Grissom and Brass right away. We overlooked something at the crime scene.

“Good work – Sara keep digging. Aria, you help her.” Catherine gathered the phone records and left the room with her coffee. Sara and I got to work, combing through more information about Jane Galloway. I was in charge of making sure that the prescriptions wouldn’t cause some type of psychosis or hallucinations. Though with the evidence that we had gathered – I was confident that wasn’t the case.

We were working on the situation, when suddenly Sara got a phone call from Catherine. Catherine advised us to get a list of utility companies that Jane had and send all the addresses. We would all be out gathering information.

Catherine ended up with the carpet installation. Warrick and Nick were in charge of the Luna Cable company. Sara was going to talk with the appliance delivery. Grissom was talking to the gas company, and I was to talk with the alarm company.

Unfortunately, the alarm installer didn’t know anything. He couldn’t even remember Jane’s name, just that he remembered putting in the state of the art alarm system for her. He said she was strange, but most single women in Nevada were worried about their safety, so he chalked up her nervousness to that.

I had just thanked him for his assistance and was walking away when I heard my phone ring. I grabbed it out of my pocket, expecting it to be asking if I had found anything. Only for Warrick to tell me that Nick was being transported to Desert Palms Hospital. I dropped the file onto the passenger seat and flipped on the sirens, before peeling out of the parking spot.

My heart was pounding as I raced to the Desert Palms Hospital after Warrick had called to tell me that Nick had been injured. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the loud thumping in my chest as well as my hands shaking on the wheel. I don’t think that I was alright to actually drive to the hospital, but I needed to be there.

Once I had parked the SUV, haphazardly, and not entirely in a space, I rushed into the Emergency Room doors. One of the nurses took pity on me, asking me why I was there.

“My boyfriend – Nick Stokes – was just brought in? He’s part of the police,” I explained, my heart thumping.

“I think your friends are over there,” she pointed out Warrick and Brass who were pacing a length of hallway. I thanked her, ears whooshing with my heartbeat as I tripped over my feet in my haste to get to them.

“Whoa,” Warrick steadied me before I could barrel right into him. “He’s alright,” Warrick soothed.

“Are you sure?” I asked, heart still pounding loudly behind my breastbone. It almost hurt, it was beating so fast and felt like it was hitting against the bone.

“He woke up before the paramedics got there,” Warrick gave me a light smile. Just then the rest of the team rushed into the hospital, reaching our side.

“What happened?” Grissom demanded.

“He was pushed out of a window,” Warrick explained. “I didn’t see anyone leave or enter the apartment.”

“Are you sure he’s alright?” I questioned. Catherine turned her attention to me.

“Honey, you need to sit down,” she urged, forcing me into a seat. “You are as pale as a ghost. Put your head between your knees.”

Catherine forced my head down between my knees, as I attempted to steady my breathing. It took me a while to calm down, the rest of the team offering support and comfort without discussing anything else. Brass had to leave as they were searching for this Nigel that threw Nick out of a window.

Finally, the doctor exited the room that they had Nick sleeping. Sara and Catherine both stood as she came out to give us an update. I didn’t trust my legs to support my weight, depending on the information that we would receive.

“Concussion, two cracked ribs, sprained wrist, five stitches to the forehead,” she explained his injuries to us. “It could have been a lot worse.”

“But he's going to be all right?” Warrick asked the question that was stuck in the back of my throat. When the doctor nodded, I cried.

“He needs rest,” she stated, looking back at the unconscious Texan lying in a hospital bed. “But I don't see why he can't go home relatively soon.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Grissom thanked the doctor who left since she didn’t have anything further to state. Warrick was upset, while Sara sat next to me, rubbing my back.

“Damn it,” Warrick hissed, sounding upset and frustrated. “Grissom, this guy was right there. I could have had him.”

“You helped out Nick. That was the right thing to do,” Grissom reassured Warrick who didn’t look convinced.

“Doesn't feel like the right thing,” Warrick grumbled.

“If you hadn’t helped out Nick, I would have shot you Warrick,” I warned the man, who looked chagrined to have even stated that. I wiped the tears from my eyes. It had been too long since I had to sit beside someone that I loved, that I cared for, and had so much uncertainty about their injuries. The last person was my brother.

“You know, Nick was alone,” Catherine mentioned, making the blood in my veins run cold. “The Stalker could have killed him and didn't.”

“Yeah, I wonder why. Let's go back over there,” Grissom stated. Catherine stood up, walking down the hallway. Warrick started to follow the two CSI’s.

“I'm going with you.” Grissom shook his head, putting a restraining hand on Warrick’s shoulder as he turned to leave.

“No, no. You need to calm down a little,” Grissom ordered. “Talk to Nick when he wakes up.”

Sara and I remained in the hallway beside Warrick who didn’t look pleased at the orders from Grissom. I was relieved that they didn’t want me to go with them – but I think Catherine knew it would take me kicking and screaming. Just then, my phone started to ring.

“I’ve got to take this,” I stated, looking down at the unfamiliar number on my screen. I sighed, walking down the hallway away from prying eyes and ears.

“Hello?” I answered the phone to be met with the familiar rough voice of my brother.

“Aria,” he sounded relieved to have my attention.

“Why are you calling me?” I asked him. He sighed, letting out a burst of air.

“Dad’s missing,” my brother stated. I rolled my eyes. Apparently, that was the reason that my brother wanted to call me, have a reunion. All over our father.

“Uh huh,” I wandered back down the hallway when Sara appeared at the end of the deserted and secluded space, waving me on. “Dad’s missing?”

“Yes!” My brother insisted as I entered the hospital room where Nick was awake – groggy and confused but awake.

“It’s Dad,” I rolled my eyes. “You know what he’s like. He’s found himself some Jim, Jack, and Jose along with some blondes. Dad will stumble home like he’s always done at some point. No need to send out any sirens.”

“Aria, I know you and Dad didn’t get along - ”

“Didn’t get along?” I echoed, a bitter laughter forcing its way out of my lungs. “You mean the same man that told me if I wanted to go to college, I better not grace his doorstep any longer? That same father?”

“Alright, so he said some things,” my brother attempted once more.

“No, he’s said a lot of things. Namely how I was dead to him for choosing a different career. I’m sorry, but I can’t argue about this right now. My boyfriend was injured, and I need to take care of him. I’m not helping you track down Dad, when he’s not even missing,” I said firmly into the phone, taking my coworkers off guard. They weren’t used to this side of me. I was usually the nice one – bending over backwards to help out anyone with their situation.

“Aria,” my brother pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “But find someone else, Dean.” I hung up on my brother, turning to the other members of my team and my boyfriend. “Sorry about that. How are you feeling, Nicky?”

“Sore,” Nick groaned. “What’s wrong with your dad?”

“Nothing,” I waved him off. “He’s off on a bender.”

“Are you sure you don’t need to go?” Nick groaned, but I shook my head, a smile on my lips.

“How could I leave you all alone?” I countered, not wanting to go into my family dynamic. The reason why I was left with my stepfather for years, barely seeing my father after my mother found out the truth of the matter.

“Thanks,” Nick smiled, as the guys started to talk between each other for a while. Sara gave me a concerned look, but I shook it off, content to sit in the uncomfortable hospital chair and watch Nick grow more aware of his surroundings.

The doctor came in while Nick was awake – she explained all of his injuries. I think Nick was a little overwhelmed by the information coming his way. He just nodded his head in response, which is when I knew that he wasn’t comprehending most of what the doctor had just thrown Nick’s way.

“When can I go home?” Nick asked.

“I can release you now that you are awake,” the doctor promised. “Will someone be staying with him?”

“I will,” I raised my hand. “Nick’s my boyfriend. Warrick and Sara will have to return to the lab.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll explain what needs to happen. Follow me?”

I followed the doctor into the hallway where she explained his injuries in full, along with the instructions to follow once he was home. I accepted all the paperwork for his injuries along with the responsibility of taking care of Nick. Once she was done, she left to get the discharge papers. I went back into the room, smiling at the scene of the CSI’s talking and laughing together. Finally, the doctor came back with a wheelchair.

“Now, these painkillers are the real deal, okay?” The doctor stated, handing over a prescription of opioid painkillers. “Don't overdo it. Plenty of rest. No work for at least a week.”

I nodded, understanding the situation. I took the medication, tucking it under my armpit. I would be monitoring Nick – ensuring that he ate with the meds, and that he only took them when absolutely necessary. We didn’t need Nick spending time in rehab over an opioid prescription. Nick was sitting in the wheelchair. He had wanted to walk out, but with his ribs, he could barely walk around to get dressed.

“Will do, thank you, doctor,” Sara stated, while I was still a little emotional. The Doctor finally turned and left. I grabbed the wheelchair handles as we started down the hallway towards the parking lot.

“The gloves, you find them?” Nick asked, disregarding what the doctor had just said about his work restrictions. I shot a glare at Warrick who actually humored him.

“Catherine thinks he might have got away with them,” Warrick avoided looking at me and my murderous glare. “But, uh, Grissom did find some wacky video collection.”

“Of what?” Nick demanded, interest the case well known. I sighed, but thankfully, Sara stepped in, knowing that I was going to snap at him.

“Now, did you not just hear the doctor?” Sara told Nick and I nodded my head, though he couldn’t see me as I was pushing his wheelchair. “You're supposed to rest. We're on it, okay?”

“Yeah, relax, Ironside,” Warrick joked, finally, stopping the information dump that he was providing to the workaholic in the wheelchair.

We had gotten home, Sara helped me get Nick into the car. When she was done, I gave her a smile as I handed Nick the prescription that the hospital had filled. Nick took it, letting me shut the passenger side door. I knew that it killed him that I was doting on him – since Nick was the perfect gentleman. He insisted on always shutting my door, everything that a gentleman would do.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you guys?” Sara asked, genuinely concerned with Nick’s inability to move. I shook my head.

“We’ll be fine. Grissom needs all the help he can get on this case,” Sara nodded, understanding that Grissom and Catherine needed help. Plus Sara was a known workaholic. “Especially now that he’s down two people.”

“Alright,” Sara smiled. “But call me if you need anything.”

“Sounds good,” I gave her a hug. “Thanks for being there.”

“No problem,” Sara waved and walked off to her own car. I got into my car and looked over at Nick who looked terrible. He seemed to be in a lot of pain and was trying to hold off on how terrible he felt.

“When I get you home, I’ll make something to eat. You shouldn’t take pain killers on an empty stomach,” Nick nodded, groaning as the car jostled his ribs. I sighed, pulling out of the parking space and then out of the hospital. Thankfully, the ride from the hospital to Nick’s house was relatively short, especially since it was really late.

Nick was leaning against me as I helped him up the walkway to his house. Then he handed me the keys, which I dropped onto the counter along with his prescription. Nick motioned for the bottle which I handed over, going into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water.

“You’re the best,” Nick sighed, taking two pills and setting it down on the counter. I lifted it up and read the instructions.

DESERT PALMS HOSPITAL (NAME) STOKES, NICK (FILL DATE) 4/17/02 PHONE NO. 555-0190 TAKE ON TO TWO TABLETS ... EVERY FOUR HOURS. VICODIN (EXPIRES) 04/17/03 (REFILL) 0 (BY) 11/17/02

Nick shuffled along to the sofa holding his ribs with his arm, where he settled down with a groan. I clucked my tongue in sympathy. I knew how painful broken ribs could be. Especially with the rest of his injuries; though he was no stranger to injuries. A former football player, but it had been several years since his playing days.

“Do you want something like a sandwich or do you think you want a meal?” I called out to Nick. He just groaned. “Nicky.”

“Can we wait for dinner?” Nick asked, more or less pleaded. “Just until the pills kick in and I can actually focus?” I nodded my head, exiting the kitchen.

“Sure. I’m going to wash my face and change my clothes, okay?” Nick nodded as I walked down the hall of his house. I had some clothes in one of his drawers, but I was definitely going to steal one of his shirts. Some nights, it was too exhausting to drive us both home – therefore, Nick would just let me crash at his place. He was too much of a gentleman not to trust; plus the two of us were usually exhausted from working doubles.

I giggled, grabbing one of his extra-soft LVPD shirts. He had discarded it a couple of days ago; which meant that it still smelled like him. I also grabbed a pair of my bike shorts. I went into the bathroom, peeling off my work shirt. I grabbed a washcloth and then washed my face and down my arms. As I was trying to get some of the day dirt off of my body, I heard knocking at the front door.

“I’ve got it!” Nick said. I quickly toweled off, opening the door. I didn’t bother with the LVPD shirt, as I was wearing a sports bra. It covered more than most bikini’s. I walked into the living room where a man I recognized from this case was standing in the middle of the room.

“I saw this house. I saw this house; I saw the number I saw the street name. Something is wrong here. Something terrible is going to happen here,” Morris Pearson stated. The hair on my arms stood up as I stood in the living room.

“Sir,” Nick tried to get his attention, but the psychic was just standing there, looking around. He had been right about everything else in this case – including the breakthrough of the stalker watching Jane from her attic.

“I can feel it,” he murmured, the hair on my arms rising at his words.

“Sir. Sir ... You're going to have to leave,” Nick was standing at the door.

“Please, please, listen to me!”

“Get out of here!” Nick yelled, having enough.

“Nicky! Listen to the man!” I finally interjected, believing that this man knew something. He knew too much about details that were never released to the public. This man knew about the dog.

“Listen to me!” Pearson turned to look at Nick. They stopped screaming at each other.

“I saw the address. I saw this address!” Pearson implored. Nick took a step away from the door.

“You saw my address?” Nick asked, sounding unsettled. Morris Pearson continued to walk further into the living room. I wrapped my arms around my bare stomach, wanting to run back to the bathroom for the shirt.

“Yeah, but that's not it, that's not it. I saw, I saw ... I saw crashing,” he was desperate, trying to state what he had seen in a manner that would make sense. Morris was trying to interpret what he was seeing. “I saw ... falling and crashing-- I saw somebody seeing through the back of his head. I don't know, I don't know ...”

Morris continued to mumble as he walked around. But suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to look at Nick.

“Green tea! Green tea! Does that mean anything to you? Green tea?” Nick and I both shared a look. It didn’t mean anything to either of us. Neither of us were very big tea drinkers, though I enjoyed a cup every now and again.

“I don't know,” Nick shook his head. Not only did he have to deal with this, but he had to deal with a concussion. His phone rang.

“Just ...” Nick stopped whatever he was about to say and answered his phone. I moved around Pearson to Nick’s side. “Hello?”

“Who?” Nick asked, looking over at me.

“Yeah, well, I'm not alone,” Nick responded.

“Your psychic's here,” Nick told who I assumed was Grissom on the other end. Then Nick hung up the phone. He looked over at me, grabbing our weapons out of the hidden compartment by the front door. Our service weapons were back at the station, but these were our personal handguns.

“Mr. Pearson,” Nick cocked his Glock 19, handing me my steel Colt M1911A1. I took the gun in hand, feeling the familiar weight, before cocking it as well. Pearson was out of our sight. Nick motioned to the hallway. “Mr. Pearson. Mr. Pearson ...”

Nick and I walked down the hallway. Nick took the lead, even though he was injured. At this point, I assumed the Vicodin was kicking in, as most of his pain seemed to take second burner. He checked the first door, nothing. Then he looked at the backdoor, but it was still locked and chained. I waited; gun drawn as Nick looked outside.

“Mr. Pearson, you back here?” Nick called, checking the other rooms. We heard the floor creak before a thud was heard.

I pointed up at the ceiling and Nick nodded. We pointed the guns at the ceiling and walked towards the living room. My heart sank as I realized it wasn’t green tea as in the drink, but rather the floor. A green T in the center of his rug. I touched Nick’s sleeve and pointed. He let out a breath at the sight, now realizing that whatever Pearson had seen was about to occur right here.

We both stood still in the living room, listening. The sounds were still coming from the ceiling. We both had our guns trained on the ceiling and all of a sudden, the ceiling caved in. A body hit the floor in front of us as debris sprayed everywhere. Nick dropped his gun while I had plaster dust in my eyes. I heard another thump but couldn’t see well due to the tears welling in my eyes. I still had my Colt in hand.

“Oh, man. You got to ... you got to watch who you let in here,” a male said. I blindly pointed my gun at the location of where the voice was heard. “Guy was snooping around all over the place. You know, smart move. Spare gun.” The male sighed, as I just blinked the dust out of my eyes, getting a clear look at the intruder.

“Put your gun down or I shoot Nick in the face,” I sighed, and set the gun down on the floor. My eyes were finally clearing up. “Ah. Keep it right by the phone, right? Right next to your address book and, and take out menus.”

Nigel Crane, the suspect in our Jane murder, gathered up my gun and then went to the front door. He secured the front door, drawing the chain and locking the door.

“Cops are on their way,” Nick said as I stood in the living room beside him. I took in a deep breath, knowing that I would have to fight this man. I squared my shoulders, planted my feet. He went to the window and pulled the blinds down.

“You wearing my clothes?” Nick sounded sickened. I did as well – knowing that I stole Nick’s clothes for comfort. What was this guy doing? Apparently, he was assuming the identify of his victims. And that explained where all of Nick’s clothing had gone.

“Oh, yeah. I'm ...” Nigel Crane seemed proud of his deviance. “You know, I-I-I picked these up at the dry cleaners and I ... I hope you don't mind. It's just that ... I'm sorry I, I just get a little confused about what's yours and what's mine.”

“You know what? I'm a little confused here myself,” Nick and I were both confused as to who this guy was and why he was trying to assume Nick’s identity. “Uh, why don't you refresh my memory. When did we meet?”

“Sports package,” Nigel Crane sounded incredulous as he snorted. “Hundred fifty channels. I-I-I even threw in a few movie channels. Free. We-we-we talked, like, forever. I mean, it's like I knew you my entire life.”

“You installed my cable.” Nick stated, brain working on overtime. I kept myself partially hidden behind Nick’s muscular body. I didn’t like the way this man was watching me, in my partial state of undress.

“Yeah. The ... the minute I met you I knew we connected. Because you told me what you did and I knew exactly what you were talking about, because ... that's what I do. I do it, too. You know, I observe people. I-I-I notice everything about them. I watch them. All the time.”

“Like you watched Jane Galloway?”

“Jane was cool. But, um, it would have never worked out between us, you know. Never. I mean, she had a boyfriend, and she was kind of stuck up. And you know what, she would have totally, totally gotten between us. So, you know, consider that a gift,” Nigel stated. “Though you have a girlfriend.” I swallowed deeply. This man was seriously unhinged and this might end badly for us.

“A gift?” Nick spat.

“Yeah. Prom night. Your date. Melissa.” Nigel smiled, looking proud of himself. “Bent over the toilet puking her guts out. Is that ringing any bells, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nick sounded freaked out.

“You know, I mean, Jane's hair was the wrong color but, you know obviously, I fixed that. Because I know how much you love redheads,” he pointed out. I felt my face flush as he motioned for me to come out. “Like this lovely specimen. You know, you ... you mentioned her name in your sleep.”

“You watch me sleep?” I felt sickened. I had slept over a couple of times at Nick’s house, used his shower since he installed the cable. He looked down at the dead psychic on Nick’s floor.

“You, um ... you want to open him up?” Nigel sounded eager, crouching down over the body. “Hmm?”

“No, no, it's, uh ... it's not our job,” Nick shook his head as he crouched down to be on eye level with Nigel. “You should know that. It's the coroner's gig.”

“Are you humoring me, Nick?” Nigel asked, sounding outraged.

“No,” Nick shook his head, voice soft.

“You know ... we made friends that day and every time since you just blew me off,” Nigel was definitely unhinged. I wondered how much longer it would take for Brass and the uniforms to come here. “Do you know that? You just completely blanked me. You are so self-absorbed.”

“Nick is not self-absorbed!” I interjected. Nigel sneered at me.

“I was right in front of your face,” he laughed. He stood up, getting more upset. “Manners, Nick! Manners!”

“ey, now, Nigel, now we got a D.B. here, huh?” Nick was trying to placate the man, buy us both some time. “You're going to help me with the crime scene, right?”z\

“No, no, I'm going to ... I'm going to ...” Nigel pointed Nick’s gun at my face. “Give you a brand-new one. I'm going to do better than that. I'm going to give you the best you ever had. Stand up, Nick, Aria. Stand up.”

Nick and I both rose to our feet. Nigel grabbed a hold of me, pulling me into his side. I shuddered at the feeling of his unoccupied hand trailing over my flesh. I really wished I had put on that T-shirt right now, as Nigel’s hand pet my abdomen.

“Nick, you know what a nine-millimeter slug does to a skull at close range? You know?” Nigel Crane held the gun in front of Nick’s face. My eyes filled with tears.

“Yeah,” Nick swallowed hard.

“Blow it right apart, right? Brains like strawberry swirled whipped cream, everywhere. And you,” Nigel pointed the loaded weapon back at Nick. “You'd have to scoop that stuff up, right? Yeah, little pieces of skull and bone and brains. All in individual baggies with the victim's name on the label.”

“ You know I don't want to disappoint you, Nigel, but this isn't the first time I've had a gun in my face,” Nick took a determined step towards Nigel.

“How do you want this to end, Nigel?” Nick asked.

“How do I want this to end?” Nigel echoed Nick’s question. “I want you to be able to remember my name.” He jammed the gun into the side of my head. Nick lunged for the gun, the two of them struggling for the gun. Shots were fired into the ceiling.

Just then, the door burst open, battering ram through the front door. The door crashed open and Brass along with several officers rushed into the house. Their guns were drawn.

“Get down! Get down!” It was a chaotic scene. Nigel kicked me hard in the face, while struggling with Nick. I let out a grunt, feeling my cheek split open, hot blood spilling down my face. Nick managed to get possession of the gun, holding it up to the ceiling. He took a step back, pulling me back with him. We watched as they handcuffed Nigel Crane.

“Hey,” Brass said to the both of us, he put a hand on the side of Nick’s neck. The two of us were emotional at the fact that some strange man was able to violate the house. We were breathing heavy, both of us shaking with anxiety. “It's, it's done. All right?”

“Yeah,” Nick said, looking for all the world like this wasn’t done, struggling not to cry. Nick pulled me into his arms, running his hand down my back as he looked at Brass who called for some paramedics to attend to my cheek.

We were taken to the police station, where Nigel Crane sat at the interrogation room table. He was just muttering the same line over and over again ‘I am one, and who am I?’. It was honestly pretty eerie to stand in the observation room, seeing him mutter to himself.

Nick had his arm around me, reassuring himself that Nigel Crane hadn’t actually shot me as he had threatened. Catherine, Grissom, Warrick, and Sara were with us, watching this bizarre man have a complete meltdown.

“Why me?” Nick murmured. “Why us?”

“I don't think it was about you, Nick. Or Jane Galloway, for that matter. I think it was more about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. His premise is that social beings strive to belong. In Nigel's mind, Jane Galloway was someone he could control which was okay for a while but you ... you were someone he could actually become. See, Maslow's Fifth Tier of the Hierarchy is Self-Actualization.

“The problem for Nigel is that you would have to die in order for that to happen. Or else he would,” Grissom stated, making the hair on my arms stand on end. “He would have shot Aria and then himself.”

“Twenty-five years to life, Nick. It's over,” Sara stated, I turned to look at her as she sat on top of another table.

“It's not over for me or Aria,” Nick murmured. “It's over for Jane Galloway.”

“Well, we should get back to the lab,” Catherine stood, putting a hand on Nick’s shoulder and one on my back in comfort.

“Yeah,” Grissom agreed, standing up. Warrick and Sara also stood, moving towards the door. They all left the room, leaving Nick and I standing in the middle, watching the madman that tried to kill me and might have killed Nick in his own home. As it was – Nick’s house was now stained with the death of Mr. Pearson.

#csi vegas #csi cbs #sara sidle #warrick brown #nick stokes #nick stokes x reader #original character #gil grissom #catherine willows #jim brass #stalker #fanfiction

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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 1 year

Text

insecurities. ( gil grissom x reader )

You were enjoying a romantic meal for two that night. Gil proved that on top of being a top CSI, he was also talented in the culinary arts and you ate dinner over candlelight, music playing in the background but all you could focus on was each other. You were starting to believe luck was on your side that night as you were left undisturbed but your date night came to an abrupt end when his cell phone rang while you were sitting on the sofa. His left arm was around your shoulders, his hand on your cheek as his lips met yours with knee-crippling passion. But the second Catherine's ringtone sounded through the living room, it was all over.

You pulled away from his arms as Gil moved to pick up his cell phone on the coffee table and rolled your lips, hiding your disappointment with curiosity as he recounted Catherine's details of the crime scene so far. He ended the call after informing Catherine he was on his way and turned to you, his eyes sympathetic while he told you about the crime scene.

"Two skaters saw a man fall from a roof."

"I'll get my coat." You rose from the sofa, picked up your cell phone, and carried it to your purse, placing it inside before walking to the hallway to retrieve your jacket.

Gil drove to the lab to pick up your kits and you covered your dress with an official jacket. As you grew closer to the crime scene you turned your head that was resting on the rest, smiling softly when you noticed he kept glancing at you since you left his place.

"What? Do I have lipstick on my face?" You pulled the mirror down and checked your make up, looking at Gil when he shook his head.

"No, you look fine. I mean you look fantastic." Your smile grew as you pushed the mirror away, sitting back. "I know this is not what either of us had planned for tonight -"

"Comes with the territory." You understood what he was trying to convey, and knew he couldn't predict when a new case was called in. Since he hired you, there was always something there between you, and what started as attraction became something not quite love until you knew there was no other way to describe how you felt about each other. And while you imagined tonight ending differently, you didn't train to be a CSI because of the glitz and glamour that came with the job. "We can reschedule."

Gil nodded, and while he was also disappointed tonight came to an abrupt halt, he was wondering how he would be able to focus on the crime scene while you were wearing that dress.

Nick and Warrick arrived on the scene after Catherine, and Nick remarked how they had beaten Grissom to the crime scene as he was usually the first one to arrive. When Gil parked outside the yellow tape, the two turned to watch as you both got out of the car, sharing a glance at your dress.

Nick smirked as Gil held up the tape, allowing you to duck under before following. "Were you on a date?"

"No, I picked her up on the way." Gil replied before you could sass Nick who assumed he hadn't understood the implications in his question.

You followed Gil to the body, glaring at Nick who wiggled his eyebrows at your outfit, and while you wore a baggy CSI jacket over the dress, the fit around your thighs provided enough hints of the flirty dress underneath.

"Warrick, I want you to photograph down here, before moving onto the roof," Gil ordered, heading towards the building. "Y/N, you're with me."

You followed your boyfriend of two months, biting back a sigh, as you couldn't shake how quickly he shot down Nick and wondered if your relationship would ever be known to the team.

The feeling that he wanted your relationship to be kept hidden stayed with you for days as you worked the case and after following the evidence was proven to be murder. The team working to identify the killer. You suspected that something had been overlooked, something so small that it seemed insignificant which is why you spent over an hour examining Warrick's crime scene photographs, scouring every pixel with a magnifying glass.

Nick entered the room where you were working, photographs organized neatly on the table, and he looked at the photographs for a moment before he spoke. "Grissom wants to see you."

You sighed, sitting back. "It's probably about the particles on the victim's shoes." You looked at Nick with a pleading expression, "Can you deliver the report? I really think I'm onto something."

Nick nodded, "Sure." He observed as you retrieved the file from the table behind you. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" You sent him a small smile as you handed him the file.

"You seem a little off. Since we got this case you've not been acting like yourself. If its about what I said at the crime scene -"

"I know you were kidding." You sighed, "I was on a date when I got the call. And I haven't had the chance to talk to him about what is going on between us. I mean, I thought I knew, but now I'm not so sure."

Nick sent you a friendly smile, "Talk to him. And if he isn't serious then I can list on two hands how many guys asked if you're single."

You shook your head, laughing lightly. "Thank you."

"Anytime." He walked away and you sighed as you lowered your gaze to the photographs. You hadn't spoken to Gil about anything but the case and you knew you had to confront him eventually, but right now, you focused on the photographs of the scene, hoping to find the answer you were looking for.

Less than ten minutes later Gil entered the room where you were working. You raised your head, raising an eyebrow when he closed the door. He turned around and approached the table.

"We need to talk." He held up the file in his hand and you sighed, predicting what was to come. "Since when is Nick your delivery boy?"

"He was doing me a favor. I'm onto something -"

"No, you've been avoiding me." Gil corrected. "I want to know why."

You sighed, setting the magnifying glass on the table, and walking over to him. "What are we?" You asked. "I mean, is it as serious for you as it is for me?" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, so you continued, "At the crime scene, you shut Nick down. Like you never want anyone finding out about us."

"Do you want people to find out about us?"

You threw him an aggravated glance, "Don't answer my question with another question."

Gil nodded slowly, "I reacted that way because I didn't think you wanted anyone to know we are dating."

It was your turn to feel confused. "Why? Why would you think that?"

"In these walls, I'm your boss. We both know what people would think."

You stepped closer, shaking your head, "I don't care about that. I've never cared."

"Really?"

You nodded, wetting your lips nervously. "Does it bother you?"

He shook his head, and you smiled softly. "So...it doesn't matter if anyone sees us kiss right now?"

Your smile grew when he stepped closer, shaking your head. "If you don't I'd be disappointed."

Gil mirrored your smile, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. You placed your hands on his jaw, leaning into his chest when he rested his hands on your waist.

Nick walked down the corridor, pausing when he noticed you and Grissom, grinning when he realized Gil was the man you were talking about. He tapped the paperwork off his hand as he left, shaking his head with a smile. It was time to inform Greg that he owed Catherine thirty dollars after the blonde had hinted at your romance weeks ago, but no one believe it could be true as you and Gil were both very private about your life outside work and now he understood why.

#gil grissom #gil grissom x reader #csi crime scene investigation

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lucidlivi · 1 year

Text

Unholy

Warning: mentions of violence, sexual innuendo, mentions of sex, and mentions of std

"well it looks like our priest here wasn't as godly as he appeared." Nick said looking at the body in front of us.

Nick and I were working a case on the strip. A priest was found in his office, his pants pulled down to his ankles and missing a significant part of his lower region. He was stabbed repeatedly and left to bleed out.

"that's a lot of rage, someone wanted this guy to suffer and I think I know why." I said.

I picked up the condom still in its wrapper showing it to Nick. I opened one of the drawers of his desk, the action making empty condom wrappers fall out. A smirk spread to Nick's lips.

"so you're telling me our priest was going to get it on before he was butchered?" Nick asked shaking his head in disbelief.

"a priest who was a sex addict." Nick said finding more hidden boxes of condoms.

"this priest gets more action then you do Nick." I joked.

You'd think with the way Nick looks he'd be a total man whore but that was the farthest thing from the truth. He was reserved and sweet. Which was only one of the reasons I was insanely attracted to him. Nick and I were partners, we got each other like no one else did. It was getting harder day by day not to let my feelings for him slip out. Nick was about to respond when Greg walked in to help us process the scene.

"wow that's a sight." Greg said grimacing at the bloody corpse.

"our priest here had a little problem." Nick said throwing a box of condoms at Greg, causing me to laugh, even though Greg caught them.

"I could use these more than you." Greg said tossing the box on the ground by his feet.

I cackled as Greg made the same joke I had only seconds earlier.

"you know i'm not as holy as i've led you all to believe." Nick said shrugging his shoulders.

I couldn't help the intense blush that spread to my cheeks as the intrusive thoughts entered my brain. I quickly coughed to try to cover up my uneasiness.

"sure whatever you say buddy." Greg laughed grabbing his camera to start photographing the scene.

"here's the difference between me and you Greggo, you'll screw anything within two feet of you, I reserve that for the special ones." Nick said, and for a second I thought he'd glanced my way.

"I can't help woman find me attractive and throw themselves at me." Greg shrugged.

"you attractive? please I could have way more woman if I wanted." Nick argued back. He wasn't wrong but of course I wouldn't tell him that.

I rolled my eyes, they fought like an old married couple.

"will you two shut up now and help me." I said looking at them.

Greg looked at Nick and smirked.

"alright settle it then." Greg said staring at me.

I looked at him confused. He was definitely backing me in a corner here and I didn't like it one bit.

"hypothetically of course, who would you want to sleep with, me or Nick?" Greg asked eyeing me.

"bold of you to assume, i'd sleep with either one of you." I said raising my eyebrows at him.

"that's why it's hypothetical, duh." Greg said.

"Greg leave the poor girl alone." Nick said glaring at Greg. I gave him a silent thanks.

we were all quiet as we finished processing the scene. I'd found a notebook containing the names of all the woman our unholy priest slept with in the last couple of months. I looked at the last log entry. It was from last night. I was finished collecting my evidence and was about to walk out. Suddenly I got a bold rush of confidence.

"Nick." I said glancing at the both of them.

I could see the wide grin Nick now donned.

"what?" Greg asked seeming to forget about his previous question.

"I'd sleep with Nick." I said closing my kit and leaving the scene.

I didn't know if they noticed but I intentionally didn't say hypothetically, because truth was if the opportunity arose I just might.

"hell yeah suck it Greggo!" I heard Nick scream in his thick texan accent.

It was later in the day and Nick and I were visiting the multiple ladies who had the honor to make it on the priest's list, 16 in total. It was all the same story, they came to him for advice and he'd talk his way into their pants. He made them feel special, like they were the only girl in the world and after he got what he was looking for, he'd drop them. No wonder someone wanted him dead. The last woman we'd interviewed was extra spiteful when she spoke about him.

"you think she could be our killer?" Nick asked as he hovered over me looking at the file on our suspect.

"would you blame her? he was totally sexualizing her!" I said quickly turning around in my chair.

I couldn't help the nerves that shot down my body as the heat from his radiated not far from mine. Our faces were just mere centimeters apart. I'd never been nervous about Nick being close to me before but now I had to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat. Maybe it was because I'd never thought of him in such an unholy way before. Nick furrowed his brows as if he was deep in thought. He didn't seem to notice the proximity of our bodies, but it was all I could think about. Nick finally snapped out of whatever daze he was in and looked down at my red face. He cleared his throat looking down at my small but plump pink lips. He was about to say something when Greg's annoying voice made us jump.

"that's right ladies and gentlemen aids." Greg said throwing another file in front of me.

"our priest had HIV?" I questioned opening the autopsy file from Doc Robbins.

"yeah, and get this, those condoms we found, well he wasn't the one wearing them, 16 woman visited a local clinic over the last couple of months, each one testing positive for human immunodeficiency virus, and I think if you compare my list to the one you found in his office you'll find that they're the same list." Greg said.

I was looking over the report from the clinic and sure enough every single woman we'd talked to today had been on that list. Not one of them mentioned having HIV or Aids.

"take a look at this, our priest suffered from 16 total stab wounds, a coincidence, I don't think so." Nick said pointing out the COD.

"16 angry woman, 16 stab wounds, 16 killers." I said picking up my phone to call Brass.

Captain Brass and his team started bringing in our woman. He'd brought 15 in telling us he was unable to locate the last woman we'd spoken to, she'd somehow evaded them. They were out currently looking for her. None of the women were talking.

"okay clearly our last suspect is the mastermind behind all of this." I said slamming the door of the interrogation room after another failed attempt at a confession.

"we'll find her." Nick said squeezing my shoulder.

"I think I already did, her credit card was just used to check in to the La Playa, a little run down motel just off the strip" Hodges said handing us a map.

"let's take a trip then." Nick said throwing me my vest.

Nick and I arrived at La Playa quickly, the air was eerie. Nick marched in to the front office with me hot on his trail. The person behind the check in desk was an older man, clearly intoxicated.

"well hello there, looking for a couples room for a little off duty lovemaking." the man said winking at the two of us.

I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks as it wasn't the first time in the last few hours that I'd had that exact impure thought about my partner.

"not exactly, a Allison Wyatt just checked in here, we need to know what room you rented to her." Nick spoke with authority.

I couldn't help but notice the creepy lustful stare the man was giving me. Nick must've noticed it too, he grabbed my wrist pulling me slightly behind him, my body now out of view of the drunken man.

"Allison Wyatt where is she?" Nick asked again slamming his fist on the desk.

His one hand still held me behind his back, and normally I would've protested the protection as I prided myself on being an independent woman but somehow when Nick did it, it felt right.

"room 116." He said giving us a map of the motel layout. It was a small square block of rooms with a pool directly in the center.

Ironic, 116. Nick quickly pushed me closer to the door, making me go first, and staying directly behind me so the creep couldn't get the good look he was anticipating. I blushed as Nick's hand brushed the small of my back. We reached room 216, and could hear rustling inside. Nick placed his hand on his firearm.

"stay behind me." He ordered looking down at my small stature.

I swallowed the lump in my throat nodding my head slowly. It was completely inappropriate but I couldn't help the heat that rushed through my body at his demanding tone.

"Allison Wyatt this is the LVPD we're coming in." Nick said kicking the door in effortlessly.

As soon as we were inside we saw her sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

"Nick." I gasped quietly directing him to look down.

there were at least four gas cans discarded in the bathroom and we were standing right in the gas soaked carpet.

"Allison you don't want to do this." Nick said lowering his gun as we noticed the matches in her hand. If she lit one, this place would go up in flames in seconds.

"why don't I, there's nothing left for me." She said opening and closing the box almost as if she were taunting us.

"because he got what he deserved." I said disobeying Nick and going to stand in front of him.

Nick went to move his arm to pull me back but Allison gave him a warning look not too.

"you bet your ass he got what he deserved, that bastard ruined me, he ruined all of us. do you really think a man is going to want to touch me now? I went to him because I'd finally got the courage to leave my abusive ex husband, ha out of the arms of one abuser into the arms of another. He used me. After he finished he went to the bathroom to clean up, I rifled through his drawers and found that I was just another notch in his bedpost. I also found a note from his doctor. It had a positive test result for HIV, that bastard didn't even use a condom. I decided that I would be the last woman he'd ever hurt. I let his secret slip to the 15 others, and boy were they angry. I seduced him, and then I cut it off so he couldn't use it to hurt anyone anymore." She said as a few tears fell from her eyes.

"that's when you took turns stabbing him." Nick said trying to take a step forward but once again receiving a warning look.

"he ended us, so we ended him." She said tossing a knife on the ground at my feet. It was covered in blood.

"I understand why you did it. He was a sick man. He abused his power and hurt a lot of people. But he can't hurt anymore and we can help you so you don't have to hurt anymore either." I said taking a step towards her.

She scoffed giving me a look.

"there's no help for me, I'm already burning."

In a quick second she struck a match. Before I could process what was going on, I was being tackled out of the room. Flames engulfed her body, the heat causing blisters on my skin. Nick rolled off of me, his shirt catching flames. Nick quickly discarded his shirt, jumping in the pool. I did the same, the cool water calming my burning skin. I was having a hard time treading water because my skin was sore.

"come here." Nick said grabbing my hand and dragging me to his body.

He held me as I wrapped my legs around his waist. I blushed as I ran my hand down his bare torso.

"thanks for saving me." I said smiling at him.

"hypothetically if I kissed you right now what would you do?" Nick asked brining his forehead to rest against mine.

I bit my lip darting my eyes from his down to his lips. I quickly closed the space between us, latching my lips on to his. I was now feeling a heat throughout my body for a very different reason. Nick moved a hand, gripping my head to bring me closer if that was even possible. Our lips moved in sync, a passion and hunger I'd never felt before. I wanted more of him, all of him. Nick pulled away slowly, his lips swollen, probably matching mine. He looked at me with lustful eyes.

"I think we're going to need that room now." I purred in his ear.

let's just say the crime wasn't the only unholy thing that happened that night.

#nick stokes #csi #csi las vegas #greg sanders #sara sidle #gil grissom #nick stokes x reader #nick stokes imagine #warrick #csi cbs #george eads #george eads x reader #jack dalton #hodges #crime #reblog #like or reblog

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judgementdaysunshine · 2 years

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i would like to request Y/N being betrayed in a way. Maybe it's something like the Melissa Winters case, where Sara's friend betrayed her, or like Empty Eyes where Sara is holding the killer's hand, thinking he's innocent and wanting to comfort him, hoping his life can be saved, only to find out he's guilty. Or any other form of betrayal is fine. But, that happens, and Y/N is so hurt to the point of crying. Gil takes her home, and they cry in his arms. He holds them tightly, not letting them go, comforting them, letting them know that he is always there for them and he will never leave them. He will never abandon them, never turn his back on them, never betray them.

Absolutely dear!

Not your fault

Pairing: Gil Grissom x Fem reader

Description: After being betrayed by a childhood friend, you breakdown with gil by your side

Warning: Minor swearing and emotions

You walk into the interrogation room trying to keep tears back "What the hell?! It's you and it's been you the whole the time!" you yell as your friend Lisa sits across from Catherine. "You did all this and you knew who killed my mom and never told me! You covered it up and slept with him anyway!" you walk over to her as she looks at the table "Look at me damn it!" you yell tears flowing down your face as catherine put her hand on your shoulder "I'm sorry.." lisa says trying to hug you, "That doesn't take back what you did! That doesn't easily make me forgive you for any of this!" you say shoving her away as Warrick and Gil run in grabbing you as catherine calls a officer in to handcuff lisa "We've known each other since we were 3 we were friends you were there when she died and when me and my siblings went to live with my uncle and you've been around me all this time this past while knowing who killed her!" you yell and sobbing being taken into gil's office by him and warrick "It's okay we're gonna get her we're not giving up on this there's enough evidence to arrest her as an accomplice". You tremble and cry as warrick walks out to talk to catherine while gil gently grabs your arm helping you up "I'm getting you out of here so you don't have to see her being questioned about this" he says as you walk out to his car looking at the floor of the car as gil looks at you for a minute seeing how broken and defeated you were, you walk behind him as you go in his house standing in his room and he hands you clothes to change into walking out of the room to get you water while you change and try not to cry on the floor as he walks back in handing you the water while you sit on the bed drinking it slowly as he sits beside you. "You're hurting just get it out it's okay" he says as you put the water down looking at him as you just breakdown "I should've seen it I never thought out of all people it had to be someone I know especially her" you say as he gently grabs moving you to have your head on his chest with his chin on your head as you ran his hand in your hair and using the other to rub your back as you sob against him, you calm down as he whispers to you still holding you against him no longer trembling "I will never do that to you ever i will never abandon you, betray you, turn my back on you, or hurt you ever" he says as you slowly fall asleep as he kisses your head falling asleep holding you tightly knowing that you will always have him to be with.

#csi x reader #gil grissom x reader #csi #gil grissom

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 2 years

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No work, only make out - Gil Grissom x Reader

(A/N: Very short vignette. Contains non-sexual biting.)

You were sitting at one end of the couch, your elbow on the armrest, your arm holding your head, squeezing it slightly to soothe the ache. You sighed, for you were struggling to read the paper your other hand was holding out in front of you, your eyes tired. The rest of your body also ached from fatigue. The lack of sleep combined with the stress was too much for you.

Gil dutifully trotted over, having sensed your distress like he always did. He sat down next to you. Without a single word, he pulled the paper from your hand and put it on the coffee table, then gathered you into his arms. Immediately, he started pressing kisses on your neck, sometimes nipping or sucking lightly, especially on your carotid arteries.

Your eyes fell shut in relief as you let out a long sigh, the harsh stimulation on your pulse points bringing your numb body back to life, and waking your mind up a little. You let yourself stretch as much as you could, until your hands came up to hold his face, and made his intense blue eyes meet yours, now with new life in them. You brought his head down so you could kiss, your eyes closing as your lips met. You practically breathed him in, like he was the very sustenance you needed to live.

Gil kissed you back just as heavily, if not moreso, moving on the couch so that his body could press yours down, knowing that you needed this. When you parted for air, he went right back to kissing your neck harshly. Sometimes, when he got tired of kissing, he massaged your neck with his fingers. It was not quite as effective, but it was enough to keep you feeling good until his mouth and teeth could return to your flesh.

#gil grissom x reader #gil grissom loving #gil grissom #billy petersen loving #billy petersen #william petersen #csi #c-v-c-e fic

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dorkofclanlavellan · 2 years

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CSI Masterlist

Gil Grissom

Greg Sanders

Nick Stokes

#csi #gil grissom x reader #greg sanders x reader #nick stokes x reader

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2kmps · 2 months

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BOUNTY

hot outlaw x engineer!reader | 2.8k

story summary; shortly following the death of your mother, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate offspring of a railroad tycoon with insurmountable wealth and power meant to inherit it all. after a hasty departure from home to begin your journey across the continent of san-am, your train is stopped and boarded by a mysterious man in black tatters who claims to be there kill you.

story warnings; mentions of death, mention of bodily fluids and excrement, heavy worldbuilding, mentions of conspiracy to murder, kidnapping, neo-western setting, old-west slang used, usage of unique slang, not really proofread or edited, concept piece for a much larger project.

if you enjoyed, please interact & reblog this post!! ❣️

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel.

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into.

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car.

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat.

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps.

And then, there was silence.

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather.

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins.

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim.

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded.

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.”

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders.

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others.

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?”

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut.

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead.

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said.

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them.

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: so, this is a concept piece to a very large neo-western project I'm currently in the process of outlining and fleshing out. most things mentioned in this little oneshot will not be present in the final piece, the quality will, of course, be substantially better.

jericho is an outlaw with an extremely complex background story and will definitely be one of the more interesting characters I've ever written. he's not necessarily the sort of man you want entangled in your life, but he's loyal to a fault once you have his trust. his personality tends to revolve around "taking things as they come", which is a great nuisance to those around him. he likes a good challenge, strong liquor, and good medicine.

here's a brief glossary if you're interested:

san-am: the continent where events take place. no one knows what it used to be called because most historical documents have been lost. it's divided into five territories with a "capital".

grimerise: the central hub of commerce, home of the governing bodies. it's a large city dead center of the other four territories. mc was born and raised there. the university of san-am is also here.

st. corpus: the industrial heart of san-am, found down south near the seaboard. mc's father lives there.

"gris": currency in this world. its components are coins and bank notes. it is a relatively new thing to come about because the bartering system is still the preferred method of trading.

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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showers || csi vegas ; g.sanders

A/N: Is this my second filth post of the day? Yes. Yes it is. Do I care if that makes me a filthy little whore? Nope, not at all. I'd apologize for this but honestly we all know I'm not sorry. This is what happens when I start thinking about the contamination shower episode from Vegas... And Greg, unf. Anyway, enjoy or whatever.

Pairing ; Fem!reader x Greg Sanders

Tag List ; @beardedbarba @uncrownedmox and @justmeandanoverdrive are the only three people currently on my csi taglists. If you'd like to add yourself or wanna be on it, let me know or add yourself by going through the little link below.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules / fandoms and some of the characters I write for || requests ; open - anything but pro wrestling is on the table ; headcanons / nsfw alphabet / fluffy alphabet only.

I do not consent to have my work reposted elsewhere. I also don't consent to having my work reworded/rewritten and reposted. But rebloogs and likes are nice and make me happy.

18+ only. Minors, absofuckinlutely not. Go find fluff. Also if you're not into p in v -unprotected, body fluids, nudity, peeping on someone whilst showering -mutual ofc, biting/marking, dry humping, teasing and kissing, well... you don't need or want to read the rest of this.

“Everybody out. The scene’s been contaminated, it’s a biohazard.”

On the outside you remained calm and professional but on the inside… You were panicking a little. Sara Sidle must have noticed because she nudges you and leans in close. “Relax. This has happened before. We’ll have a decontamination shower, they’ll send us home for the rest of the night to monitor ourselves and that’ll be that.”

“Wait.. Run that by me again, Sidle?” you blink as the brunette’s words settle over you. You’re still the new girl on the team, you barely know anybody save for Sara and you damn sure aren’t prepared to get bare assed naked in front of your co-workers.

If it happens at all, that’s at least a five year on the team mark. Not five fucking months into your new job.

Sara laughs. “A shower. It’s not a big deal, okay? I’ll go first with Grissom.”

It made sense because they were married.

But then you realized that this left you to go in with Greg Sanders and the realization had you swallowing hard. Gulping. Your gaze fixed on the taller male as your eyes darted around the room in search of him. Your cheeks were burning hot because unfortunately, imagining Greg naked was not something totally new to you, but..

Seeing him naked wasn’t something you ever really stopped to consider happening. Now, no thanks to a contaminated crime scene, you were about to.

,, And, your mind served up it’s usual dose of torment, he’s about to see you naked too. In what world is this not about to make things just a little more awkward between you both?”

But Sara said it wouldn’t be that bad and she hadn’t steered you wrong yet. Maybe there were partitions. By the time Grissom and Sara finished their decontamination shower and you were being led in with Greg, you had yourself convinced that everything was going to be just peachy.

Except, of course, it wasn’t.

The tent set up offered no privacy at all. And the officer escorting you had to give you a nudge. “Go on. We need those clothes. Your emergency contact is on the way with a change of clothing.”

You took several shaky breaths and your fingers were shaking so hard as you stripped down that you fumbled it up on more than one occasion. And of course, the clasp of your bra would choose today to get stuck and refuse to budge.

“Goddamn it.” you swore under your breath.

The harsh and frantic whisper caught Greg’s attention and he gazed at you a second or two. You struggled with the clasp a second or two longer and finally, the garment fell to the pavement.

“Shit.” Greg’s sharp intake of breath as he spun around to face away at warp speed stung more than a little but you shoved it down. As the water beat against your skin in sharp bursts, you turned. And as you turned, you tried not to let your eyes linger on Greg standing not even four feet away in a similar state of undress.

But a droplet of water dripped from chestnut colored hair and rolled down his nose before settling on his lips. And while you were fixated on that, your eyes happened to catch on the sparse darkness of his chest hair. And naturally, what would happen next but your eyes darted just a little lower. You were just grateful that Greg was squeezing those magnetic brown eyes of his shut tight right now. You turned away when you were told and squeezed your own eyes shut to combat the steady beat of water hitting your body from at least two different angles as it moved up and down. You took long and deep breaths as you stood there.

The baggy clothes he normally wore hid away muscular shoulders. Biceps. A hint of a six pack and the happy trail that you hadn’t dared to stare any lower than and now thanks to the shower you were both enduring, those things about him were burned into your brain and you just knew in the depths of your soul that you were never going to look at him the same way again.

If anything, the infatuation you felt had grown.

And seeing him like this left quite a few questions lingering in your head.

Questions that wouldn’t ever have an answer -or so you thought.

Greg’s softly muttered obscenity got your eyes fluttering open but not all the way. Enough to know that the intent gaze you were feeling right now wasn’t just from the biohazard team. Greg was looking right at you. Trying to do it covertly, of course, but the fact remained. He was looking and this meant that you were no longer the only person guilty of sneaking a peek when the other wasn’t aware and that… That made you feel so much better, way less dirty than you felt when it was you who were doing the staring at him earlier.

His tongue dragged the outline of his mouth and when his eyes settled on the little cartoonish ghost stick and poke on your shoulder, the slightest hints of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. But then his eyes did the same as yours, they went lower.

Because of course they did, it couldn’t be helped.

By the time his eyes were making a trail back up your body -slow and intent, really taking in every inch you couldn’t help but notice it, the water pressure was dying down to a trickle. One of the biohazard team held out a towel to you and you took it, wrapping it around you as you took a deep breath to pull yourself together and made your way out to the second tent where a change of clothes was waiting.

Your friend must have been the one to bring clothes by and drop them off because you saw your favorite shirt on top of the pile of clothing left for you -your faded and thin Rob Zombie concert tee. As you rushed to tug up your underwear and then your jeans, Greg dressed quietly across the room but you could feel it, his eyes lingering, burning into you.

You glanced up. He managed that adorable little half grin that always made your heart melt just a little more every time he did it. You stuck out your tongue because it seemed like the current situation was in need of something to lighten the mood a little.

The tension was palpable. Thick enough to cut with a knife or pluck out of the air with your hand and hold it.

You plucked the red bra off the top of your shirt and began to put it on, grumbling when you realized that your fingers were still kind of shaky, making the clasp a pain in your ass all over again.

And maybe it was your inner antagonist at play, but you wandered over and you tapped Greg’s shoulder.

Greg turned around swift enough that your bodies just barely grazed. His breath caught and he tensed just slightly. You took a shaky breath and gazed up at him. “Can you fasten me?” you asked, squirmy under his intent gaze. Your arms crossed over your tits to at least attempt covering your upper body.

Greg’s mouth opened and closed for a second or two. Then he chuckled and motioned for you to turn facing away. You slipped the bra onto your body and Greg’s bare chest brushed against your bare back for just a split second before shaking hands fastened the dual clasps at the back of the garment.

And when you whirled around it put you body to body all over again because of course, you did it fast. You locked eyes with him and your teeth tugged at your bottom lip. “Thank you.” you managed to mumble before walking back over to the side of the tent where your favorite pair of thick soled boots were waiting. You sank down onto the stool and tugged on the shoes and for a few seconds you kept sitting there as you tried to pull yourself together.

And you tried and tried. But it wasn’t happening.

Greg was waiting in the SUV you’d ridden to the scene together in and the ride back to the station was quiet. Filled with that smothering tension. You did your best to keep your eyes trained on the buildings and trees as they whizzed past in your window and Greg focused intently on the road stretched out ahead, his knuckles white against the wheel.

“Welcome to the team, I guess.” he joked quietly. You laughed and the laughter died away leaving behind heavy silence that lingered just a little too long all over again. As the SUV pulled to a stop in the garage, Greg killed the engine.

“On the bright side, we get some extra sleep.” he mused. You glanced over, your brows raised in question. “Hm?”

“They’ll make us go home and monitor ourselves just to make sure we didn’t get too much exposure to whatever they found.” Greg shrugged as he got out of the SUV. You hopped out next and it just so happened that he’d walked around to your side, apparently to open your door for you. It was this sweet little habit he’d developed. As you settled on your feet you found yourself body to body with him for the second time in a day and you gulped.

You tried not to picture him, his chest under the baggy t-shirt he wore. Your finger raised, growing a mind of its own as it dragged over the top of the design on the soft fabric. If you’d been looking up at him you would’ve seen the way he gulped and if you’d been looking a little further down you’d have seen him straining hard against the baggy faded blue jeans. But you were practically staring a hole through his chest as you tried not to recall the muscles lurking beneath or the true broadness of his shoulders. Or, better yet, the way he towered over you like he did.

You failed miserably at all of the above. Eyes trained to his chest as your mind spun out of control.

“Your cell phone is ringing.” Greg chuckled quietly.

You were dragged back into the moment by your cell phone blasting a slowed down version of Do I Wanna Know” and you shrugged, unable to do much else. The ringing died away and you finally managed to look up and meet his gaze.

His eyes settled on the faded logo on the front of your shirt, once a vibrant red and now more rust in color. As brown eyes darted over the words Rob Zombie, he grinned to himself, eyes lingering a second or two before he looked up, right at you. “You like Rob Zombie?”

You laughed softly. Nodding.

Neither of you noticed that you were migrating closer to each other until your back met the side of the SUV with a soft smack and you found yourself trapped between Greg’s towering frame and the door at your back.

Not a word was coming out of either of you.

That ever-present tension between the two of you seemed to grow even heavier, suffocating. Almost too much to breathe.

“Do you wanna..” he trailed off, shaking his head at himself. He was distancing from your body a little and you pouted about it. He seemed to be talking himself out of saying whatever it was he’d been about to say or ask. You reach out and grab hold of his belt loop, pulling him in close all over again.

“If you wanna ask me something just do it. It.. Can’t get much more awkward than it already has, can it?” you were only partially teasing. A soft laugh bubbled up from deep inside and he grinned a little, shaking his head. “It can’t.” he admitted as he took a deep breath. Fidgeting and shuffling worn sneakers against the pavement. “Do you wanna.. Maybe grab a bite to eat? Sara’s already gone, I can take you home.”

Your heart was beating so loud you could hear it echoing, banging around like a drum in your ears. If it beat any faster it might just vacate your chest entirely.

“Yeah.” you grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Greg’s grin was brighter this time. Less shy. He seemed to stand a little straighter, you couldn’t help but notice it. This made him even taller and if you didn’t secretly want to climb the man like a tree already, you definitely do now.

“I know this great place, their ribs are to die for.” you groan at the thought as you say it and he laughs. As you’re walking over to the spot where he usually parks, you bump against his side and your hands brush. You don’t dare look at him when you do it but you graze your pinkie against his.

Brown eyes dart down, fixed on your hands as they brush against each others with each step taken. He doesn’t say anything about it and neither do you. For almost a split second he’s teetering on the borderline, he’s wondering if maybe Sara and the rest of the team weren’t… onto something when they pointed out the way you two seem to just drift together.

And then, to top it off, his mind chooses to replay his dream from the night before and the glimpses he’d stolen of your perfect body, dripping wet in the impromptu decontamination shower earlier. If he were braver he’d probably go for it, he’d probably at least try acting on the magnets pull to you he feels lately.

Your hands brush again and this time you slip your pinkie through his just for a split second. He nearly chokes on his goddamn tongue when it happens and he tries to tell himself it had to be an accident but you’re not letting go.

He aims the key fob at his car and the headlights blink. As always, he stops by the passenger door, opens it for you. You find yourself body to body with him and neither of you are making a move to separate. All you can do is stare up at him while you replay the shower over and over again.

One of you had to do something. You remember a half joking conversation between you and Sara earlier in the month. The one where you admitted that maybe you were attracted to Greg. The one where she told you that if it were true, you were going to have to be the brave one, clue him in.

And you were just so fucking tired of holding back. Fighting the pull because it was consuming, stronger than you ever dreamt you were.

You snag a finger in his belt loop and use it to pull him against you and it happens so fast that at first he thinks he’s hallucinating, that he had to have dreamt the whole thing. But then your hand is fisting the front of his t-shirt, fingers tugging at soft and worn fabric. And you’re raising up on your feet to close the distance between your mouths. And every last bit of restraint he was hanging onto by a thread is gone. Snapped in half by the softness of your lips meeting his clumsily.

His hand settles on your hip, fingers digging against the side of your shirt as the tips graze right against soft flesh when the action causes your shirt to ride up. His other hand catches in the hair at the back of your head and it tangles in soft, wet locks to tug. To pull your mouth in deeper. His tongue parts your lips without much effort because your mouth practically falls open to allow it and when you give that quiet little purr it’s all he can do to shift a little just so you don’t feel the exact second that all the blood in his upper body rushes all the way down south.

But you feel it twitching. Growing. Pushing against the front of his jeans and poking against your clothed mound and the feel of it has you biting his lip. Rubbing against him just to get a little closer. The kiss breaks and you’re both light headed. You’re practically clinging to the man as he gapes down at you and drags the back of his hand across his reddened lips.

“I,uh… Fuck.” he mumbles quietly, closing the distance between your mouths all over again. You melt into him even more and your arm winds up thrown over his shoulder, your hand cradled against the back of his head as his tongue traces your lips and then your teeth before connecting with your tongue, massaging. Gentle. A little clumsy because somehow you manage to knock your teeth against each other and the resulting jolt leaves you both bristling at impact. But the kiss deepens again and it’s deep enough that you’re lightheaded and the parking garage is spinning. You nearly forget to breathe a second or two and your nails drag lazily over his scalp and it sends a shiver through his entire body. His hands leave your hips and settle on your ass as he plucks you off your feet and your legs circle his waist.

Food is long forgotten by this point.

When the kiss breaks and you pull away this time, you surprise yourself when the words leave your mouth. “Greg, I… fuck.” you squirm against him just to get a little friction going as you toy with his t-shrit because you’ve barely got the boldness to say what you’re about to, let alone look him in the eyes while doing so. “What? Hey, c’mon.” he coaxes as he sits you on the hood of his car and steps between your legs so that he can grip your jaw and make you look at him, “Talk to me.”

“Fuck me.” you breathe the words out and you’re torn between wanting to simply disappear on the spot and wondering what he’ll say.

He growls quietly. “You wanna go home with me, kitten?” he questions.

“Mhm.”

He chuckles quietly. Brown eyes blacked out in lust when they meet yours again. “You.. want me to fuck you, hm?”

“Please?” you add the word as you tilt your head. The sight of your neck exposed has him staring. Licking his lips. He bends into you and his mouth locks against unmarked skin, you can feel the first bruise starting to form.

“I wanna make you feel good, kitten.” he mumbles the promise against your neck in a husky whisper. “I’m gonna.”

“I bet you are.” your head falls back as his mouth moves lower. Latching against skin sporadically until your neck is littered with hickies, big and small in size. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you back there, y’know.” he admits it quietly. Just a hint of his usual sheepishness seeping through as his head dips down and his forehead settles against your clothed tits. He breathes in deep as if he’s struggling to control himself.

“We gotta get outta here, kitten.” he glances up at you after a failed attempt or two at self control. “If we don’t the security cameras are gonna have some real entertainment. Because I’m not gonna be able to hold it together much longer.”

You whimper in need when he bucks himself against you after pulling you towards him a little closer. He scoops you off the hood of his car in a rush and you’re carefully deposited into the passenger seat. He even leans across and fastens the seatbelt while stealing another deep and biting kiss with your hand caught in his hair, tugging at it to tug his mouth into yours as deep as it’ll go. One of his hands settles between your thighs and you gasp, arching yourself towards it, desperate to feel more of his touch.

“As soon as I get you alone..” he promises, his lips breaking from yours as he reluctantly shuts the door on you and makes himself walk around, getting into the driver seat. As soon as he’s in the car and buckled in, his hand is between your thighs again, squeezing the insides. Massaging. You melt against the passenger seat and your breath comes in short and shaky pants. The closer he gets to your throbbing, needy sex, the more you squirm and try to rock against his hand as it wanders.

When his hand settles against, cupping you and rubbing, his hand pushing against your clothed cunt, you whine out his name. The sound of it goes straight to his cock and his hand grips the wheel tighter, knuckles paper white with strain of his grip. “Fuck.” he groans out, “You’re so warm, baby. I bet you’re dripping right now.” he bites his lip and shifts around again as the car slows to a stop beneath a red light down the block from the apartment complex he lives in. It’s a good thing too because if he gets any harder his cock is going to burst. Just the thought of what’s about to happen sends an electric thrill racing through his entire body.

The car comes to a stop in his assigned space outside the building and he’s unfastening your seat belt. Pulling you over the center console and into his lap with his hands and mouth all over you as he bucks himself into you with reckless abandon. Your head falls back as you meet the clothed thrusts eagerly, whimpering and whining, your hands catch in his hair as his head rests against your tits and he takes several deep breaths as if trying to restrain himself all over again.

He opens the door to the car and gets out, you’re still entangled with his body, clinging to him as he carries you to his door. Your back meets the door with a soft thud and you whine when his teeth latch down on your neck leaving a mark behind that stings a little but has you dripping even more. Your legs dig against his side and your hands tangled up in his hair, tugging as his mouth crashes against your own. It’s harder than he imagined ; opening the door with one hand while the other roams your body freely, but he finally manages. He steps into his apartment and the door bangs shut softly behind him. Your back meets a well cushioned brown suede sectional in the living room with the softest rustle just seconds later and his mouth is latched onto your neck, teeth against skin with every intent on leaving a tangible mark behind that he’s been there when he’s done with you.

Your fingers catch in the bottom of his shirt and you whine and whimper as you start to tug it off his body and he’s rutting himself against your thigh as his hands slip up your shirt, the clasp of your bra coming free with one finger slipped beneath the band. Your shirt and bra wind up settled on the coffee table beside the couch you’ve been laid down on and Greg’s shirt winds up draped over the back. You both pause and laugh quietly against each other’s skin when you realize that in the rush, somehow both of you forgot to take off your shoes and now, they’re a very tangible obstacle.

Or are they?

His fingers catch in the waistband of your jeans and he leans down into you again, his mouth conquering yours. You’re unbuttoning his jeans and he’s rocking himself into you in a frenzied pace, grunts and quiet groans filling the air as each thrust of his body into yours makes you warmer, sends you into a fever pitch to meet the thrusts eagerly. He starts to tug down your jeans and underwear after dragging the tip of his thick digit over the lace design and sending a shiver through your body while he’s kissing you all over, his eyes fixed on you with equal parts of adoration and hunger.

Like he’s been wanting what’s about to happen for a while now. It’s all happening so fast and somehow, it’s not fast enough. For either of you, apparently.

Your jeans and panties are around your ankles and he untangles himself from you to let his jeans and boxers settle at his ankles. Neither of you seem to stop to think that maybe just taking your shoes off would be the thing to do, the whole scenario has this overwhelming current of here, now. Before you lose your mind. Need.

He settles himself back between your thighs and his hand circles his cock as he drags it between your folds and sends a shiver racing through your body. Your arms raise and your hands settle on those broad shoulders, your nails dig against his skin just barely. A little harder when he slips the tip in as his finger circles your clit, teasing and drawing a very loud whimper out of you.

He settles on top of you and you whine in need as he sinks deeper. Filling you. He stops when he feels you tensing a little and while he’s letting you adjust he’s kissing you, nipping at any skin he can get his mouth on, playing with your tits as you dig your nails in against his shoulder just a little more and your other hand fists at the cushion below your body. When you start to rock yourself against his length and he sinks in even deeper he growls and both hands grip your hips to bring you to a stop. “Easy.” he groans out against your neck, “Feels so fuckin good, kitten.” he warns as he starts to drive into you all over again. Slower. More deliberate. His hand settled between your bodies as his finger circles and strokes your clit until your stomach is coiled so tight. He laughs quietly. “Feel good, babe?” he asks, biting down on your neck again when you’re too overloaded to speak up and you’re only whimpering incoherently.

“So.” you moan out, your back arching, pushing you up into him as you meet each one of his deep thrusts with your own, “So good, ah - oh god.. Oh.. right there.” your moan is louder, it’s echoing off the walls and shattering the silence, “Greg, oh.. Mmmm.. Faster, c’mon baby.” you beg.

He obliges you and your nails drag down his back, sending a shiver racing through him as it happens. He can feel you pulse around his cock and the way your walls vise him and hold him inside have him so close to filling you up that his hips stammer and he stops to lean down into you as he crashes his mouth against your own, a biting and needy kiss that lasts long enough you’re practically breathing for each other by the end of it. “Fuck.” he groans out, “Fuck you’re takin me so well.” the wet slosh of each deep drive making him just a little more feral every time he hears the sound. “C’mon baby. C’mon.” he coaxes. “You can let go for me. Let me have it all, kitten.”

And you shatter, your orgasm leaves you shaking as it rips through you and tears you apart. You’re clinging to him and moaning, your hips frantic to try and keep up with his sped up pace and the way he buries to the hilt completely and bottoms out a time or two while you fuck yourself up and down on his cock to try and ride out your high. Your nails digging in just a little harder which leads to him, pounding you harder. Faster. Deeper.

“‘M so close. Fuck. Fuck.” he growls quietly as his hips stammer and he tries to slow down, tries to back himself away from going over the edge. “Don’t stop, fuck.” you beg breathlessly as you feel his body tense and he leans down into you much more heavily, “Baby, c’mon. Need it, I-” you clutch at the cushion and his shoulder as your heel digs into his ass when your legs wrap around him even tighter and the new angle has him striking against that one spot over and over with each sloppy thrust, “Wanna feel you, c’mon.” you beg.

His orgasm is blinding, he practically melts against you from above and his mouth buries in the space between your neck and shoulders as he’s kissing you and throbbing, his warm,thick release filling you up inside as the excess pools beneath you. You capture his face in your hands and kiss him til he can’t breathe and he bites your bottom lip.

The ringing of both your phones at once has the two of you sharing a look as the haze begins to wear away for both of you. You finally manage to grasp what you think is your phone but you quickly discover you’ve grabbed his instead when Nick Stokes asks with a shocked tone, “That you, ___?”

“Mhm. What’s up?”

“What’s up with you, hm? Is there a reason you’re answering Greggo’s phone?” Nick taunts. Greg grumbles and takes the phone and hands you your phone. And naturally, Sara is full of questions. So many questions.

You wander up behind Greg and mold yourself against his bare body and he turns to face you, wrapping his arms around. He lowers the phone and chuckles and it’s a cute and almost sheepish sound. “You know they’re going to give us so much hell…”

“And?”

His eyes light up and he bends down, pulling you up as his mouth crashes against yours.

“Can you two concentrate? Stop distracting each other. Wait til you’re off the phone, shit.” the Texan grumbles loudly on the other end of Greg’s call and on your end, Sara is just laughing. “I’ll call you back later, firefly.”

“Later, Sidle. Just like.. Not tonight. I think I’m gonna crash here tonight.”

Hearing you say it brings an even bigger grin to Greg’s face as he pulls you against him even closer. The phone calls are finally done and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Then he smirks at you. “I saw you earlier, ya know… Watching me in the shower?”

“Oh? Well I saw you too. Did you see something you liked, Sanders?”

“Plenty, kitten. And hopefully, it’s all mine now.”

You giggle and lightly swat at his chest as you look up at him and nod. “Definitely.”

#greg sanders #greg sanders fanfiction #greg sanders x fem!reader fanfiction #greg sanders fanfic #greg sanders x fem!reader fanfic #greg sanders oneshot #greg sanders x fem!reader oneshot #// minors dni.#// read all warnings + hashtags c a r e f u l l y #// p in v #// body fluids #// biting and marking #// shower scene #// n*dity #// kissing #// look this is what happens when we let me have an idle hour or two and my brain rots bc i can't stop thinking about this.fuckin.episode

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space-helen · 2 years

Text

Wed

Words: 815

Pairing: Gil Grissom x Reader

A/N: Not proof read but I hope it’s ok

Request: Gil x Reader wedding - @coping-via-clint-eastwood

______________________

All eyes were on you as you approached the altar. A warm shiver fell over your body as you looked up from the floor.

Gil's eyes met yours and everything melted away, the tension you'd built up, the panic, the worry, all gone in an instant.

Giving the man a genuine smile you stopped and felt someone take the flowers from your hands but they were soon replaced with Gil's own hands.

The man gave you a smile of his own as he admired you. To him you looked beautiful every day but right now you looked phenomenal.

Glancing over your shoulder you gave the guests a smile. Eyes meeting each and every one of your team members that you held so dear. A small squeeze on your hands had you bringing your attention back to your soon to be husband.

Gil had to hold back his laugh as he subtly gestured towards the officiant. Realising he was speaking you quickly tuned back into what he was saying.

The ceremony didn't take long and before you knew it you'd said your 'I do's' and the famous words of 'I now pronounce you husband and wife' had been spoken.

In that moment your stomach flipped with joy and the two of you were soon moving towards each other for your first kiss as husband and wife.

Bringing your hands up to his cheeks you quickly kissed the man in front of everyone and could see him blushing as you dropped your hands from his face.

The cheers and whoops from the crowd had you smiling and Gil blushing more. He brought his hand to your cheek and moved forward to place a kiss on your forehead before his hand tangled with yours and the two of you were turning to fully face the guests.

The two of you had opted for a smaller sized wedding, with those who meant the most to you present, but you didn't regret it the slightest. You could feel every ounce of love and support in the room.

Leading the way your husband held your hand as you stepped down the slight platform and offered you his arm once at the bottom. Arm in arm the two of you walked back down the aisle thanking guests as you went.

"We should find somewhere quiet" the man whispered in your ear.

You nodded "a break would be nice"

The two of you were able to find a small room to hide in while the others moved through to the after party room.

Just as you sat down a knock on the door had you laughing "typical".

Gil smiled "come in"

Nick and Catherine were the ones to open the door covering their eyes with glasses in hand "are you two lovebirds decent?" Catherine laughed as she spoke

"Of course we are." They dropped their arms from their eyes and smiled.

Standing up you and Gil gave them both a hug.

As Nick released you he offered you the glass in hand "we just thought we'd bring you a little something to drink before the big party."

You happily took the glass "thank you. How's it looking out there?"

You took a seat in the small room and Gil did beside you.

Catherine smiled at the way Gil looked as you as you spoke "It's getting busy. The rest of the guests sure are turning up pretty quickly"

"Most of them are still in shock that Griss is even dating anyone." Nick said casually.

The group laughed as Catherine turned to Nick "we should probably let these two have some peace before they're hounded for the rest of the night."

The pair swiftly left and the both of you were alone again.

The man wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side, placing a kiss to your head as he did. "You look absolutely exquisite"

"And you look more dashing than ever" tilting your head you placed a kiss to his cheek.

"You seemed really distracted during the ceremony" he enquired, moving a stray hair behind your ear.

"I was just taking it all in, how much we've gone through and that we were finally getting married, taking in how good you looked, trying hard not to make a fool of myself and all that."

His voice was soft "you could never make a fool of yourself."

"I've done it plenty of times and there's plenty more opportunity for me to do so " you tapped the man of his chest "just you wait."

Glancing to the clock in the room you downed the drink you'd been given and stood up.

"We should head in there." You held your hand out to Gil and he took it.

Folding his fingers with yours he gave your hand one last squeeze "here's to the first night of the rest of our life"

Tag List: (open)

Grissom: @coping-via-clint-eastwood

CSI: @storytimewithnetty

#gil grissom x reader #csi x reader #csi vegas x reader #grissom x reader

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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 10 months

Text

scars of the past. ( warrick brown x reader )

gif belongs to me

You were co-workers, and friends then after a particularly gruelling case that ended with Warrick taking you home, made the leap to lovers. The perks of being friends first were you had confided in each other in the last three years, seeing first-hand the emotional baggage you carried around.

Warrick knew you weren't the type to say "I love you" lightly, and when you were cuddling on the sofa in the early hours of the morning, too tired to make it to the bedroom after a long challenging case, he said those words, not expecting you to say them back. And he was fine with that. When you tensed up in his arms, he stated that he just wanted you to know how he felt.

Two weeks later you were working on an experiment and when Warrick gave you advice on how to adapt the usual method, making it a success, in an outburst of emotion you said the three words he longed to hear.

Your relationship seemed to be growing stronger until suddenly it wasn't. You were stunned when Sara suggested over breakfast with the team that you and Warrick should move in together and Warrick had looked at you across the table.

"What do you think?"

It was not how you intended the conversation to happen, and it also awakened another fear inside you. So you dodged the question, "I should get going, I could use a shower."

Warrick glared at Greg when he muttered, "Ouch."

He pursed his lips, glancing over his shoulder to find you practically fleeing the diner, and shook his head as he continued eating. Catherine knew there would be tension after that day and sure enough, in the next few days, more cracks began to appear as Warrick tried to talk to you about moving in together and you always replied that you were too busy to think about it.

Warrick grew more and more frustrated when you refused to discuss your future as a couple amidst Catherine's reminders that your last relationship hadn't ended well. Calling it a disaster wasn't enough.

You entered Grissom's office a week later, the tension between you and Warrick balanced precariously on the tipping point, ready to erupt at any moment. Catherine had tried to talk to you about your aversion to moving in with Warrick and you had brushed off her attempts, taking the blonde back with your feisty manner as you told her not to talk to you while you were working unless it had something to do with a case because she was distracting you.

You inwardly sighed when you saw Warrick sitting in front of Gil's desk and occupying the seat beside him. Warrick sat half-turned in his chair, his elbow resting on the back of the chair, glancing at you now and then as Gil assigned you both to a new case, requesting you hand over any reports for the current case you were working. Although you felt his glances, sitting rigidly in your chair as if it pained you to be near him, you never glanced in his direction.

Noticing the tension between you both Gil raised an eyebrow, looking at Warrick and then at you. "Can you work together?"

"Well, I don't have a problem." Warrick replied.

"Of course." You chimed in at the same time, finally glaring at Warrick when you realized what he said, before looking at Grissom who was sceptical, as he held out the case file.

"I want you to head out there as soon as you hand over your reports."

You nodded, reaching out to take the case file before Warrick could and headed out of the office. Gil looked at Warrick when he stood up with a sigh.

"Are you able to work together?"

"I'll talk to her."

Gil nodded, lowering his gaze to the case file he had been reviewing on his desk before he called the meeting, and Warrick left his office. Twenty minutes later you met each other at the car and Warrick opened the driver's side door, keys in hand, as he asked rhetorically, "Mind if I drive?"

You took a deep breath, muttering, "Not at all," as you climbed into the passenger side.

The drive was spent in contemplative silence. Warrick stole glances at you now and then as he pondered the best way to approach the subject that had created a rift in your relationship, while you kept your eyes on the case file Gil had given you.

There was not much to go on, but the body had been taken and identified.

"Are we just going to -"

"The body isn't there." You spoke up, and Warrick pursed his lips in annoyance. "How can we get a full view of the crime scene without seeing the body for ourselves?"

"It was a botch up. It happens from time to time. The body is the Docs job, ours is to figure out how he died, why and the sequence of events leading up to it."

Warrick parked on the street, and you both took notice of the fancy ride parked in the driveway. "You see that?"

You nodded as you searched for the license while getting out of the car. Warrick held the tape up for you to duck under as you carried your bag and tried to carry the heavy weight of your gear as you scrolled through the details of the man who owned the red Ferrari.

Warrick walked around the car and you turned to look at him when he whistled. "It's a sweet ride."

You held up your cell phone, "It's stolen." Warrick raised an eyebrow at you, and you slowly nodded. "It's a sweet ride." He smirked when you headed inside, following after you.

You took out your flashlight and shined it around the entryway where plants and the sideboard had been knocked to the floor, and the contents of the drawers spilled onto the floor. You found the living room was very much the same, and looked around while Warrick knelt down and opened his gear.

"Someone tore this place apart." You voiced as you entered the kitchen where all the cupboards and drawers had been emptied out, food covering the floor.

You re-joined Warrick in the living room, "Someone was looking for something." You stated. "There's a Ferrari parked outside in the driveway that doesn't fit in with the house. Does this place tell you that he had the kind of money to be buying fancy cars?"

"Maybe he was a drug dealer. Or a gambler." Warrick replied dryly, and you pursed your lips in annoyance, hoping that you could've set your personal issues aside for one case.

"If he's driving a Ferrari, I think he'd live in a nicer house." You set your bag down and began to gear up.

"Maybe he asked his girlfriend to move in with him and she made it look like a robbery."

You glared at Warrick who sighed, before your attention was drawn upstairs when you heard a door closing.

"I'm sorry that was -"

You waved your hand as you stood up. Warrick glanced at the doorway then at you, "What is it?"

"I thought I heard something. I'm going to take a look upstairs."

Warrick stood up and considered following you, but decided against it, believing you needed space right now. He was bagging a bullet he had dug out from the wall when he heard the sound of you calling out, and raced into the hallway, finding you at the bottom of the stairs and the front door open.

Warrick knelt beside you, holding your cheek as you rested your back against the wall, frowning when he saw the blood on your forehead.

"Go after him!" You pushed him into action and Warrick chased after the man who had pushed you down the stairs in an attempt to flee the scene. The red Ferrari was down the street when he made it to the end of the driveway and Warrick sighed as he turned to the house. He returned to help you off the ground, and you winced from the pain in your ribs as he explained that the car was gone.

"Oh, Grissom is going to love this."

Warrick shook his head, "Forget about that. You need to go to the hospital."

"I'm fine."

"You're going to a hospital," Warrick argued. "I'll call Grissom and tell him to send someone over."

You knew there was no point in arguing with him when he was so determined and lowered yourself onto the stairs, wincing in pain as Warrick took out his cell phone.

You looked up at the CSI you admired long before you got together. Your feelings for Warrick began when you were still in a relationship, and although you trusted him more than anyone else, you could never tell him the truth about your ex-boyfriend. But now you felt it was time to explain why you dodged his attempts to ask you to move in with him.

"I don't want to move in with you." You spoke up and he turned to you, shaking his head.

"We don't need to hash this out now -"

"I want to." You took a deep breath, "When my ex and I first moved in together everything changed. He wasn't always like that, but after living together for a couple of weeks he began to change. He was more aggressive, the way he looked at me - it was as if he hated me so deeply it sickened him." You blinked away the tears forming in your eyes, "I couldn't survive something like that a second time. I couldn't stand to watch you start to hate me so much that it destroys you."

Warrick knelt in front of you when you looked down at your hands that were resting on your lap. "Hey, look at me." You met his gaze when he placed a hand over your hands. "I could never hate you."

"What if you do? What if I ruin what we have and -"

Warrick held both your hands in his and gave them a squeeze, lifting his right hand to wipe away the tears that fell down your cheeks. "Your ex was a dick. And every time I think of him putting his hands on you, my blood boils, and I want to kill him. And I swear I could go through with it. Nothing he did was because of you, that was all him. You are a wonderful," a smirk formed on his lips, "sexy, smart woman. And I'd love to spend the rest of my life loving you. I want you to be the last thing I see when I fall asleep and the first thing I see when I wake up. I'd ask you to marry me if I thought I'd get a definite yes." He held your gaze as he continued, "I love you. And I'm sorry for reacting the way I did, behaving the way I have been."

You smiled softly, placing a hand on the curve of his neck. "I love you too."

Warrick heard the sounds of a car pulling up outside. He kissed your forehead before standing up to greet Catherine and Sara who entered the house.

"Are you okay?" Catherine asked, following Warrick to where you were sitting.

"I think I'll live." You sent her a smile. "I traced the license plate but the car was reported stolen three months ago."

Sara asked what the man who attacked you looked like and your brow furrowed in thought, and you grimaced as you tried to give as much detail as possible. Warrick held a hand out to you and you accepted his help to get to your feet.

"I'm going to take her to the hospital."

"Don't worry, we'll handle everything here," Catherine replied. "Let me know what happens."

Warrick nodded and you held onto his arm as he guided you to the car, opening and closing the door for you. When he was behind the wheel, he looked over at you, signs of drowsiness beginning to show from your head wound.

"Can you talk to me?" You asked softly, blinking the spots away from your eyes, your head resting on the headrest.

"What do you want to talk about?" He reached over to hold your hand and you covered your joined hands with your right hand.

"Tell me what a morning waking up with you would be like." You smiled as you looked over at the CSI whose head turned several times, eyes flickering from the road to you.

Warrick chuckled, a smile forming on his lips. "Alright,"

You listened with a smile as he began to list the many benefits of living together and you closed your eyes as you pictured the moments he described. You knew it was time to let go of the past and look into a future with the man you loved more than anyone. He was protective but not smothering, every touch was tender and every kiss was filled with passion. A cheeky wink in the hallway would make your knees feel weak and the smirk that followed, seeing the reaction, made your heart race.

"I'll have to clear out a few things." You spoke quietly as you opened your eyes to meet his surprised gaze.

"I'll take a few days off to help." He replied with a smile.

You mirrored his smile as he brought your hand to his lips, seeing the head wound was making you tired. "Don't go to sleep. We'll be there soon." He turned on the siren and the lights and you observed him as he drove, the lights flickering across his features as he determinedly made his way through the streets, cutting the time in half.

Warrick carried you inside and remained by your side throughout your examination, listening intently when the doctor explained how often you would require pain medication and limited activity until your ribs healed.

He stepped out as the doctor administered the first dose to answer a call from Grissom asking for an update on the state of your condition and when he returned minutes later he knew the pills were working from your goofy grin that made him chuckle.

Warrick guided you back to the car once you were cleared to go and you looked at the sky pensively as he opened the door.

"Limited activity...does that include sex?"

Warrick laughed as you climbed into the car, a pout on your lips. He shook his head as he helped you fasten your seatbelt. "I'm sure we can think of something."

You placed a hand on his cheek, closing the small gap between you, and pressing your lips to his. "I love you."

"I love you too."

When you returned to the lab, walking through the hallways hand in hand before briefly parting while Warrick spoke to Gil and you went to collect your things from your locker, you realized you weren't ready to part with him. Warrick entered the locker room to empty his locker and you looked up at him when he took the bag from your hands.

He held the two bags effortlessly over his shoulder, holding your hand in his left hand and you rested your head on his shoulder as you made your way out of the lab.

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

Warrick smiled down at you, seeing you yawn into your hand.

"You read my mind."

You smiled when he kissed your forehead as you headed to the car. "When we move in together, whose bed are we sleeping in?"

"Yours is much better than mine."

"And bigger." You agreed. "But I still want snuggles."

Warrick chuckled as he raised an eyebrow at your term. The next few days were going to be filled with moments like this, the pain meds lowering your guard a little. "Of course." He held the car door open for you as you got inside. "I can't resist your snuggles."

You sent him a goofy grin after buckling your seatbelt and he chuckled as he closed the door, placing the bags in the trunk of the car before getting behind the wheel.

For the next three days, you were off active duty and when he wasn't out working a case, Warrick was by your side in the lab, or finding reasons to walk by where you were working and wink at you.

Catherine witnessed such a moment when you were working on an experiment together and looked at Warrick then at you as you smiled into your microscope.

"Things seem to be going great between you two."

"I've decided to move in with him. He's coming over this weekend to help move some boxes over." You replied, lifting your head to meet her gaze with a small smile.

Catherine smiled as she touched your arm affectionately. "I'm glad you worked things out. You both deserve to be happy."

You looked out the glass to see Warrick walking with Nick and raised an eyebrow. He pointed down the hallway he had walked down moments before, silently conveying he had come this way just to see you. You shook your head with a smile and from Nick's smirk he intended to tease Warrick.

"We are."

You had finally let go of scars from the past, and Warrick had ridden himself of a few demons of his own. And without it, your relationship flourished. As she watched you leave the lab together that night Catherine swore she could hear wedding bells.

#warrick brown #warrick brown x reader #csi crime scene investigation

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fandomgirlz01 · 6 months

Text

This Can’t Be The End Pt. 3

Nick Stokes X Reader

Imagine on my fandom Instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: No

Style of Writing: Fic (Potential Future Series)

Edited: Yes

Word count: 6,175

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here.

Post Date & Time: December 30th 2023 at 12:27 AM

Summary: Based off of S5 Es24 & 25 When Nick gets kidnapped, the reader is forced to fear the worst for her husband as she and the team work the case with hopes of bringing him home safe.

Third Person Pov:

The computer shows Nick and the countdown that is at 00:00:01. It then clicks off the video and 4672 CARNEY LANE — BOULDER HWY are the words that slide across the screen. Then the words BE THERE IN 20 MINUTES slide onto the screen next before OR DON’T BOTHER COMING slide across the screen too.

Grissom finds himself standing in front of a warehouse that doesn’t look like it’s been used for some time with the bag of money in his hand. He looks around for any sight of anything, but finds nothing out of the ordinary so he takes a step toward the building. He walks up to the building keeping an eye out for anything.

He walks up to the door, grabs the handle and slides the door open. It makes a loud clunking sound as he does, but he pays it no mind. Once it’s open he steps in and takes his glasses off as he looks around the inside.

He sees an SUV parked to his right, but nothing else really. He sets the bag down and reaches around himself to pull his flashlight out of his back pocket. He shines the flashlight out and continues to look around the warehouse.

“Las Vegas crime lab!” He calls out into the void in front of him.

“Through the door!” Another man’s voice shouts out and Gil bends down slowly to pick the money bag back up.

He then starts to walk, shining his light in front of him. As he walks he notices a dead dog laying on the floor with flies buzzing around. He sees other things a dog would need, a bed, food and water bowls.

He sees a box of random things and what seems to be a bed in the corner. He keeps walking and soon makes his way to the door the voice had told him to go through. He walks up a few steps before coming face to face with an older looking man who sits behind a computer watching the feed of Nick.

“Pretty quiet outside,” the man comments as Gil comes to a stop in front of him.

“Almost sounds like you came alone,” the guy continues to taunt.

“I’ve got your money,” Gil tells him and the guy stands.

“Put it down,” the guy commands as he leans on his arms against the table.

Grissom slowly lowers the bag and it makes a light thud as it hits the ground. He stands back up to full straight position before the guy comes out from behind the desk and up to the few steps to the podium he’s on.

“Slide it over,” he commands and Grissom uses his foot to kick it over closer to the guy.

It’s only when the bag stops, maybe about fifteen to twenty feet from him that the man walks down the steps and over to the bag. He uses a flashlight to look down on it and he looks back up at Gil.

“You’re telling me there’s a million dollars in here?” The guy asks and Gil gives a very decisive “yes,” to his question.

“Along with some cute little booby traps? Which is it? A tracker, a dye pack? A…” he asks, trying to figure out if they played any tricks on him.

“Normally, you’d be 100% right, but this time you’re 100% wrong. We want Nick back. No tricks,” Grissom promises him and it goes silent for a moment.

The guy takes a moment before bending down to the bag. He moves it so it’s facing him and unzips it. He digs though for a moment before grabbing a wad of the cash and holding it up to his light. He inspects it thoroughly before starting to chuckle.

“This looks real,” he comments as he holds it up.

“It is real,” Gil proclaims before pausing.

“Where is Nick?” He asks and the guy stands back up dropping the money back into the bag as he does.

“You know, I was under the impression that it was against departmental policy to negotiate with terrorists,” the guy comments, using his free hand to try and motion out his meaning.

“Are you a terrorist?” Gil asks him in a calm tone.

“Depends,” the guy replies in a nonchalant tone before shining the light at Grissom’s face.

“Are you terrified?” The guys asks in a playful tone and Grissom takes a deep breath.

“Look, I really don’t want to talk to you. Where is my guy?” Gil asks in a slightly irritated voice.

“Oh, so… he is your guy, huh?” The man asks in a fake astonished tone.

“Yes, he is. Where is he buried?” Gil asks in a demanding tone.

“Are you two close?” The man asks with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“That’s none of your business,” Gil tells him in a clipped tone.

“What does Nick Stokes mean to you? How do you feel when you see him in that coffin? Does your soul die every time you push that button? How do you feel knowing that there’s nothing you can do to get him out of that hell? Helpless…useless… impotent? How does it feel having to tell his darling of a wife he’s not coming home?” The guy asks again dodging the question with his own million to one questions and Grissom doesn’t respond.

“Good. Welcome to my world,” the man tells him before revealing that he has a bomb strapped to his waist.

“Uh, if I were you, I’d back up a little,” he tells Grissom in a condescending tone, but yet there’s also humor laced in with it.

Grissom takes one, two, no three little steps back and before he has a chance to do anything else the guy presses the button that he’s holding. The whole place gets wrecked with the magnificent boom, windows shatter and wood shards go flying every which way. Once the bomb is done dust over takes the air and starts to rain down along with blood painting the walls.

Grissom wakes and starts to huff for breath as he struggles to sit up. His ears ring and he can feel blood on his face as he looks over the desolate scene in front of him.

Reader’s Pov:

I wake up to someone shaking my shoulder lightly and with a small groan, I open my eyes. The bright light burns my eyes, making me shy away before looking back up to see Warrick standing in front of me. He gives me a small smile as I sit up, the blanket falling from my arm to my lap.

“What’s up, B?” I ask him and he smiles lightly.

“Griss just left to take the ransom money. If we’re lucky, Nicky boy should be home by tonight,” he tells me as his grin slowly grows more and more.

“You mean I’ll get him back?” I inquire softly and Warrick nods.

“Warrick, you better not be playing with me…” I warn him and he shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I promise you mamas that I am not messing with you,” he tells me and I take a moment to let the words sink in.

“Oh, B… you were right, he’s coming home,” I whisper out as tears come to my eyes.

“It’s all just a waiting game now, mama. Once Grissom calls in, we can go get our boy,” he informs me and I can’t help but jump forward and hug him.

“Wait…” I pause before pulling back from the hug.

“How did Gil get the ransom money? I thought the department wasn’t going to pay it out. Did Nicky’s parents put it out?” I question and Warrick shakes his head.

“We’re not really supposed to talk about it… because Grissom insists on it staying anonymous, but you have Catherine to thank… she went to her father and asked for the money…” Warrick explains to me and I freeze as gratitude overflows me.

“Where is she?” I ask him after a moment of silence and he shakes his head.

“She’s in her office,” he informs me and I nod as I get up.

I quickly rush out of the break room and down the many halls I know will take me to her office. I slow down once I see the office and lightly knock on the door. She looks up and smiles when she sees it’s me.

She takes her glasses off and gives a small nod, mouthing a small ‘come in,’ before I push the glass door open. I walk in, closing the door behind me and Catherine smiles softly at me as I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Her walkie-talkie chats quietly from beside her with a sound of static every time someone isn’t talking.

“What do you need, y/n?” she asks me as she folds her hands on her desk.

“Rick… he, uhh… told me what you did. I… I don’t know how to thank you,” I answer her in a choked tone and she smiles softly at me again.

“No need to thank me, y/n. Both you and Nicky are family. I hated seeing you and him in pain,” she explains softly before reaching her hand out to me.

“No. You deserve a thank you. Without you, I wouldn’t be getting my husband back. I… I wouldn’t have made it if—” I start but she squeezes my hand as she cuts me off.

“Don’t even start to wonder. That road can be a dangerous one, y/n. Just think of what you’ll do with all your time off,” she tells me and I give her a confused look.

“Time off?” I ask in confusion and she nods as she pulls her hand back.

“Nick gets time off for mental evaluation after all of this. I assume Griss will make you do the same thing,” she informs and I purse my lips as I nod.

“Honestly, we need the time off anyway. We were hoping to put in for some after these cases finished up,” I tell her and she grins, making me smile too.

“And you guys deserve it. You’ve done a lot of work with no breaks lately,” she muses and it goes quiet with the radio static being the only noise.

“Would you like to—” Catherine starts, but gets cut off with a voice coming over the radio.

“Dispatch, this is Gill Grissom of the crime scene lab. I request assistance at 4672 Carney Lane - - Boulder HWY. There’s been an explosion that needs analysis as soon as possible,” comes Grissom’s voice over the radio and I quickly suck in a breath as Catherine picks it up.

“Copy that, we’re sending units to your location right now,” Dispatch replies and Catherine looks up at me.

“You stay here. Someone will update you if we find anything at all, I promise,” she tells me as she stands up and I nod quickly.

After Catherine and the others leave, I’m left alone so I decide to take a shower and change my clothes. I walk to the locker room and open my locker.

Immediately I regret it when I see a picture of me and Nick on the inside of the door:

I smile softly at the old picture as I look at Nick and me from back when we were still in our second year of being CSI’s. With a soft smile, I find myself mentally thanking Nick’s sister Janet for taking the picture. I reach up and touch the picture as I sniffle.

I sigh and grab my change of clothes and a small toiletries bag before closing the locker. I go over to the shower and grab a towel from the cabinet before setting all my stuff on the counter. I then get into the shower and monotonously go about it.

I stay in the shower until the water runs cold and sigh as I reluctantly turn it off. I make work of getting out and quickly drying off before getting dressed. After I’m dressed, I drop my towel in the hamper and walk back to my locker.

I open it and set my toiletries bag in first before folding my clothes up. I put my clothes into the locker and catch sight of another one of the pictures I have hanging up:

I smile as the memory from college plays in my head and all I can hear is Nick’s laugh. That day was just one of our many lazy days that turned into him forgetting that he had a project to finish for his class. He ended up working on it while I sat reading my book, until I got bored and reached over for my camera that was on his bedside table.

~Flash back~

“Hey, Nicky,” I sing-song to him.

“Hmm?” he hums out, not even looking at me and I roll my eyes.

“Look over here, babe,” I tell him and he takes a moment to lean back in his chair, looking over one last detail before looking at me.

He smiles when he sees me and I grin as I take the picture. He laughs while shaking his head, making me grin even more.

“You and taking pictures of me. Did it at least turn out good?” he asks through his own grin and I pull the camera back to look at the screen.

“Hmm. Yes, it did. That one’s being printed,” I comment, only to giggle when he shakes his head before going back to his work.

~End of Flashback~

“Come home to me, Nicky,” I whisper, wiping at the tear that falls as another picture makes me giggle softly:

I remember that day so well. Nick was working on a separate case alongside Greg and I just so happened to walk by and see them both in really deep thought. Me being me, I decided to take a picture of them and send it to Nick with the text “someone looks a little grumpy :(”. He had immediately looked up to see me after reading the text and smiled at me, making me smile back softly before continuing on my way.

I sigh as I look over all the many pictures I have of us from over the years. Some Janet had taken, some taken by Nick’s brother Shane, as well as his brother Mason, sister Piper, and brother Braxton, all of whom saw me as a sibling the moment me and Nick started hanging around each other. There’s some we took together and some of us just being goofy together:

I let all the memories slowly play out in my head before shaking myself out of my thoughts.

“He’s coming home. He’ll be ok…” I keep repeating to myself in my head. I bite my lip and look over all the pictures one last time before closing my locker.

I wipe away tears that I didn’t even notice had fallen and start to walk to the break room. Once in the break room, I decide I should try to eat something, so I start looking for something that seems appetizing. I find a bowl of leftover spaghetti in the fridge with the name ‘Stokes’ on it in big bold letters. I shake my head at the note I find under it:

Sweets, I know you’ll find this. You better eat it, I know you haven’t had anything at all today. Remember I love you and EAT the damn food please.

~Nicky ^>^

“Even when he’s not here, he’s still taking care of me,” I comment out loud to myself, shaking my head as I give a soft chortle.

I take the foil off the top of the glass bowl and open the microwave. I then set the bowl in carefully and close it before setting it to three minutes.

As it warms it up, I walk back over to the fridge to get my soda from earlier this morning out before walking back over. I then grab a plastic fork from a container on the counter just as the microwave comes to a stop and beeps. I take the food out and walk over to the round table in the center of the room.

I sit down and start to stab at my food, but all of a sudden it doesn’t seem appetizing anymore. I twirl some on the fork and take one bite in hopes it’ll at least taste appetizing, but it doesn’t. I sit there trying to work up to wanting it, but it just keeps looking gross.

I sigh and push the bowl away from me before putting my hands over my eyes. I sit there for a few minutes with my hands over my eyes when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up and see Warrick standing there with a solemn look on his face.

“What happened?” I ask him and he sighs, moving to sit down next to me.

“The bastard blew himself up. Talk about cowardice to end it all,” he chortles in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Griss was lucky and didn’t get hit by the blast. He has minor hearing loss, but unfortunately no Nick,” he continues to explain and I suck in a breath.

“You process the scene yet?” I inquire and he pursues his lips.

“Yeah. Me and Greg worked on the car. GPS wasn’t a lot of help at all. All we got was general information of around where he was,” he informs me and I bite my lip in hopes of holding my emotions back.

“What— what about a body? Did the guy have anything on him?” I question and he pauses a moment as if debating whether to tell me.

“There wasn’t much of a body. He was literally in pieces… and no, we didn’t find anything on him,” he answers me and my face changes to one of anger.

“Did you guys find anything useful at all?! Or did you just quit?!” I angrily seethe out, my hormones completely out of whack and Warrick looks shocked for a moment.

“Mamas, I know you're angry. You have every right to be, but you gotta stay calm or I’m taking you home,” he informs me and I nod as my anger washes away.

“You're right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what just came over me,” I apologize as I put my head in my hands again and sniffle.

“It’s okay, mamas. You're entering the anger stage and not to mention you're probably hungry. I get it. It’s hard when all you want is him here with you,” he sympathizes with me as he pulls my chair to his and hugs me.

“Did you get anything at all, though?” I ask him and he nods.

“Yeah. Sara got a thumb, so we got a thumb print. She just went to run the print to see what we get,” he explains to me and I sigh.

“I just want him home, Rick,” I tell him and he pulls away from our hug to look me in the eyes.

“And he will be, mama. He will be, but for now you gotta take care of yourself, you hear me? He wouldn’t like knowing that you didn’t,” he says and I sigh, shaking my head.

“I hear you. I do, I just…” I trail off and he nods.

“I get it mama, I do. Have you eaten?” he questions and I motion to the bowl in front of us.

“I tried, took one bite and just wanted to throw up. So, no, I haven’t eaten,” I answer and he sighs.

“Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do. Grab the bowl and come with me,” he commands and I give him a shocked look, knowing what he’s doing.

“But B, there’s no food in the lab,” I reiterate the rules of the lab and he shrugs.

“Will you eat if you can see he’s doing ok?” he questions and I take a moment to think about it.

“I mean, maybe…” I tell him and he nods again as he gets up.

“I’m sure Griss would allow it this one time,” he explains as he pushes his chair in and I smile softly at him.

“Ok. Then let’s go,” I agree as I get up and grab the bowl.

“That’a girl. Let me just get myself a coffee, then we can go,” he tells me and I nod as he walks over and grabs himself a cup.

He quickly pours the coffee and adds a little bit of sugar before turning back to me. “Let’s go,” he says as he walks over to me and I nod.

Together we walk through the hallways and some of the labs before coming up to Archie’s computer lab. We see him sitting at the computer, just watching the feed as we walk up next to him.

“How’s he doing?” Warrick asks as he walks up to the chair next to Archie, who looks over at him.

“Hard to say… about the same, I guess,” he replies to Warrick before looking at me.

“Hi, y/n,” Archie greets me with a small sympathetic smile and I give a small one back.

“Hi, Arch. Is it ok if I eat my food in here? I just needed to see him,” I question him and he nods.

“Definitely. Just don’t make it a habit,” he jokes and I smile at him again.

“I promise I won’t,” I playfully joke back and he nods.

“Here. You can have my chair. I’m gonna go get some coffee,” he informs us as he gets up and I send him a thankful smile.

“Yeah,” Warrick agrees as he sets his coffee down on the table as I sit down next to him and Archie leaves.

Once Archie is gone, I finally turn to the monitor and sigh when I see Nick. He just lays there so still, but I can tell he’s still breathing as his chest rises and falls. Warrick reaches up and rubs at his tired eye before holding his balled up fist next to his mouth and looking over at me.

“Eat,” he tells me as he taps my leg under the bench, effortlessly pulling me out of my fixed stare on Nick.

I nod and lift the bowl up before taking a bite. I chew slowly and the food doesn’t taste as bad as before, but it’s still hard to get myself to eat. Nick then turns to the air vent that’s to his left and breathes before the video slowly closes out.

The ‘YOU CAN ONLY WATCH’ pops up again and Warrick quickly moves to click the link again. The video comes back on and Nick mouths something, but it’s hard to make out. I continue to take many slow bites of the food and soon it’s gone.

I set the bowl on the table and Warrick looks over at me, then the bowl. “Good job, mamas,” he praises me and I nod my thanks. He pulls me over and wraps an arm around my shoulder and I lean into it as we continue to just watch Nick in silence.

Again all too soon, though, the video goes off again and Warrick moves to click the link again. Nick mouths more words that are hard to make out and my eyes start to well up a bit. We continue to watch and it’s only a little later that we watch him take out some gum from his pocket. Warrick and I look at each other, intrigued before looking back at Nick as he chews the gum.

He then takes the gun out of his mouth and shoves it in his ears. Warrick and I both sit up a little as we watch in wonder of what he’s doing.

“What are you doing, Nicky?” Warrick voices the question we’re both thinking as Nick lays his head back for a moment.

He reaches down to his side and I let out a gasp as his service weapon pops up. He holds onto the barrel for a moment and then takes it off.

“What are you doing, Nicky?” Warrick voices again as we both fully get out of our chairs.

He turns the barrel to his chin like he’s going to shoot himself and all the air leaves my chest as I quickly turn around. I regret turning around that fast as everything spins and the sick feeling from earlier returns. I close my eyes as I try to regain my equilibrium while I wait for Warrick to react in any way.

“Don’t do it, Nicky!” Warrick exclaims as he continues to watch when I can’t.

“Ahhh!” Warrick shouts and I jump, a sob escaping my mouth.

“You son of a bitch!” Warrick screams out and another sob leaves my throat as I bring my hand up to cover my mouth.

The shock takes over and I slowly start to sink to the ground as all sounds become muffled. It’s only a second after my knees hit the ground that I hear Warrick again.

“Shit. Y/n. He’s ok. Look, mama. Look. He just shot the light,” Warrick informs me as he comes over to me and lifts me up so I’m standing.

“Look at the monitor, mama. Look,” he prompts me and I shake my head.

“Come on. Look. He’s still alive…” he tells me and finally I listen.

I look at the screen to see my husband still breathing and alive, just now he has a glow stick as his light. I let out another sob and turn to Warrick, throwing myself into his arms. He sighs and wraps his arms around me, rubbing my back as I continue to cry.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that. I wasn’t expecting it and I should have. I am so, so sorry mamas,” he apologizes as he leaves a kiss on the side of my forehead.

“I…it’s ok, B. You… you couldn’t have known,” I tell him though my hiccups as he holds my head to his shoulder and sighs.

Warrick’s Pov:

After Nick shot out the light, I held a sobbing y/n in my arms for a few minutes. She cried until she made herself tired and fell asleep on my arm. I carefully carried her back to the break room and set her on the couch.

I make sure her head is on the pillow and then cover her with the blanket she’s been using. She lets out a puff of air and I smile sadly at the girl who’s like my baby sister. I make sure she stays asleep and I’m glad when she does, knowing she desperately needs it.

I sigh as I run my hands over my face. I decide to leave, knowing if she wakes and needs me she’ll come find me. I walk to the locker room and open my locker, but stop before I get anything out of it.

I rub my forehead as my emotions start to hit. It’s then that I remember that only just this morning I had been laughing and talking with Nick in this very spot. I slam my locker closed and sit back on the bench he’d sat on before taking a deep breath.

The tears started to flow and I let them for a while, just taking time for myself. After a few minutes, Catherine walks in and looks at me.

“Griss wants you, me, and Greg back at the scene. He wants us to look for anything else we can find,” she informs me and I rub my face.

“Ok. Let me just get my gear and jumpsuit. I’ll meet you guys there?” I ask and she nods before turning around and leaving.

I take a moment of silence just to try to process everything before sighing and pushing myself up off the bench. I quickly grab all my gear and head out to my car to drive back to the scene.

When I arrive, Catherine walks over to my car and I turn it off before getting out. I walk to the back to get my kit out and she walks with me.

“Greg and I decided that we should split up. Divide and conquer,” she explains and I nod as I pull my kit out and close the trunk.

“Ok. Who’s doing what?” I ask her and she points at Greg as we walk in.

“Greg’s on sifting, I’m taking the car, so that leaves you with mapping,” she answers me and I nod as I set my kit down.

“Well, let’s get to it, then,” I comment and she nods before going over to the car.

I pull out my clipboard and start to map the place as Catherine takes photographs of the car. Greg sifts through all the stuff that we put into the sifting bucket and we all quietly work on our individual projects for a bit.

After a little while of mapping, it seems hopeless and I roll my eyes as I rip the pieces of paper off of my pad. I throw it down to the floor and try to start over.

“Hey. I found a trigger wire,” Greg announces as he holds it up.

“Maybe once we reassemble all the components, we’ll be able to tell where the bomb came from. Maybe…” Greg starts to explain in hope, but I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe if we count up all the damn ‘maybes’, maybe Nick will be alive!” I cut him off, shouting in anger as I kick a container in front of my foot.

“You know what I’m saying?!” I shout as the container lands next to Greg, spilling onto the ground.

“Was that necessary?!” Greg shouts back as he stands up.

“Never mind my clothes. Look at the evidence!” Greg shouts as he motions to his clothes before throwing his clipboard aside as he looks over the evidence.

“Damn it!” I shout as I throw my clipboard down and turn away from him.

I walk off to the side, my anger seething as I try to push it down. I stop just in front of the door as Catherine calls out to me.

“Hey. Warrick. Hey,” she says, walking up to me as I turn around to look at her.

“Hey. How you holding up?” she asks as she rubs my arm ever so slightly.

“I’m not,” I tell her as I take my glove off and cross my arms, only to uncross them.

“I know,” she comments as she reaches up and moves her mask a bit.

“I just can’t help but think that could have been me in that box. You know?” I voice my thoughts to her and suck in a breath of air.

“We flipped a coin for that trash run,” I add on and tears brim my eyes.

“Hey. Nick is not inside a box because of the flip of a coin,” Catherine cuts in before I can continue.

“If that was me, I would’ve… mmm…” I cut her off, my voice rising as I point to my head like I'd shoot myself before rubbing my finger at my forehead.

“Hey. You know what? I know you. I don’t believe that,” she says with her voice rising as she points at my chest and I back away a bit.

“Okay?!” she asks and I look at the ground.

“No. You’re wrong. I wouldn’t have lasted this far,” I tell her and she shakes her head, scoffing lightly in disbelief.

“You’ve taken care of y/n better than anyone else. I DON’T believe that,” she reiterates herself and I shake my head.

“I had to hold y/n as she cried herself to sleep today. That’s something I never wanted to ever have to do…” I tell her and she sighs as I pause for a moment.

“Catherine, if something happens to Nick… If we don’t bring him back in one piece… she’ll be done for. I don’t think y/n can handle it. I promised her I’d get him home,” I inform her and her eyes widen.

“You prom-” she starts, but stops when Greg calls out for us.

“Hey, guys, come here,” Greg shouts and Catherine turns around.

“I found something,” he adds on as we both start walking over to him.

“Look at this,” he tells us once we’re next to him.

He lifts a bottle of liquid and pours it on the dirt. He pours it in a line with it turning the sand a little darker and sets the bottle back down to the side.

“There’s something underneath there,” he comments as he looks up at us.

Catherine is the first to bend down and help him. They start pushing the sand away with their hands and I use my foot. Once we see something else poke through, I bend down with them and together we all use our hands to push the dirt away.

“Oh, it’s got an edge. Right here,” I tell them as I reach for it.

“All right,” I say as we each move around, still moving sand.

“Another one over here,” Greg calls out as we continue to all feel around in the sand.

“Greg, get some crowbars,” Catherine shouts out and Greg immediately jumps up.

He runs off only to come back a few seconds later. He tosses me a crowbar and hands one to Catherine.

“You think Nick could be under here?” Greg questions as we each grab onto our crowbars and start trying to pry it open.

“I don’t know, man. It would have to be at least six feet long,” I answer him as we continue to pry at it.

Finally it starts to open and together we all push the board away to find more dirt. I sink my crowbar into the dirt and start to dig out as much dirt as I can.

“Yeah, but if he buried him lengthwise— and who’s to say he didn’t— he could be,” Catherine explains the way that she thinks he could possibly be below us.

She puts her mask back on before she and Greg help me dig. I quickly race over and grab our shovels. I hand them both one and together we all dig with the shovels as fast as we can.

About halfway through, Catherine and Greg take a break as others come in to take over for them. I keep going in hopes of finding him so I can get him home to his wife. We all keep digging and digging until finally I hit something.

“I hit something,” I announce as I hit it a couple more times with the shovel to make sure.

I throw my shovel to the side and bend down to it. I quickly make work of moving the last little bit of sand aside. I finally get down to it and we can see what’s underneath it all now.

“It’s plexiglass,” Catherine observes as I keep moving sand away.

“Nick!” I yell out in hopes of getting a response.

“Nick?” Catherine yells out after me as we keep going with our hands.

“Nick, hold on there, buddy!” I shout as I keep going.

“Nick?!” Catherine shouts as we finally can see into the box. Only instead of finding Nick, we find a Dalmatian inside the box.

“What?” Catherine says in confusion as we look down at it.

“It’s a dog,” she shouts out and sighs as she starts to rub her forehead. “It’s a dog,” she reiterates herself as she starts to cry.

I huff in anger as I shake my head before standing up and walking off. I shout out as I kick another container in frustration.

“Who’s gonna tell y/n?” Greg asks and I sigh, letting my head hang.

“I will,” I say and Catherine shakes her head.

“No. I’ll tell Griss and he’ll tell her. I still need you to look over this once we get it out of the ground,” Catherine explains and I sigh, looking at her.

“But it’s not out of the ground yet. Please let me go tell her. She’ll need me. I’ll look it over when you guys get it to the lab, but I’m the only one keeping her going. This will deviate her, I need to be there,” I beg Catherine, who sighs before nodding in agreement.

“Yeah. Ok. Go. I’ll let you know when it’s at the lab,” she agrees and I nod, jumping up and getting my stuff.

“Thanks, Catherine!” I yell out to her and she nods, waving me off.

I quickly head to my car and put my kit in before getting in myself. I sit back in my seat with a sigh as I mentally prepare to go tell y/n. With one last deep breath, I start my car up and head back to the lab.

To Be Continued…

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