Work Text:
Title: Extraordinary People
Author: Saryn
Category: comedy/ semi-angst
Summary: Six different lives try to escape boredom on the dullest night the CSI HQ's has seen in a while ? Halloween.
Disclaimer: Attention! Role Call! Brown, Grissom, Sidle, Stokes?.and Willows? Okay, listen up you guys! You are the creations of one Anthony Zuiker, so report to him after this assignment!
Authors notes: This story occurs after Growth and OFF etc. etc. I realize that I've made a major error here?Sara talks about Nick's "Funky Monkey" ice cream, and yet that story (PPBwEN) occurred after Christmas in this CSI alter world. And we all know that Halloween comes before X-mas. Ugh?what was I thinking? Anyway, can you forgive me, or just pretend that Sara is addicted to the stuff?? :D
The music that Greg is listening to, btw, is the very cool "Burn" by The Cure. Unlike Grissom, I actually DO like this song. :D
Extraordinary People
By Saryn
"I love you!"
"I love you too!"
The two men ? one still a boy, really ? hugged and cried while the CSI's in the break room each individually responded to the display.
Catherine Willows, watching the performance, snorted, while Sara Sidle looked up at her in shock.
"How can you respond like that Cath?" she whispered incredulously, glancing around and taking in the other responses.
Warrick and Nick, who were like two peas in a pod at times, had found the entire revelation hilarious, and were not even trying to conceal their massive grins.
Grissom, like always, was unreadable.
"Who choose this movie again?" he asked tactfully.
"Greg! He loved Judith's Guest's book?thought we should give the film version of "Ordinary People" a shot" Warrick supplied.
"Oh."
Grissom wasn't very verbose these days. Less than usual, it seemed.
"It's a good movie!" Sara's resounding voice cut through the silence of the room.
"It's sappy" Nick argued.
"It won the 1980 Academy Award for BEST PICTURE" she contended.
"And "Dances with Wolves" ALSO won some friggin' Oscar!"
"Nick?I liked "Dances with Wolves," Catherine pointed out.
"Well did you like "Titanic"?"
The room became very quiet.
"Point made," Nick Stokes boasted triumphantly.
"Point taken!" Sara said in anger.
"Enough! Is there something else we can all agree to watch, or am I going to have to assign make work projects?" Grissom had taken on the role of referee, it seemed. Four voices immediately assailed his ears.
"Halloween!"
"Friday the 13th!"
"The Exorcist!"
"What about Beauty and the Beast?"
The last suggestion caused everyone to turn and stare at Nick in amazement.
"Beauty and the Beast?" Sara giggled.
He started fidgeting. "Yeah?it's?scary."
Warrick, Catherine, and Sara began to laugh, while Grissom actually SMILED. God forbid he should actually express too much enjoyment in this situation?but a smile was a start.
"Scary?", Warrick coughed, waiting for Nick's response. Even Grissom seemed to want to hear this?
"Well I saw it when I was younger?" he started cautiously.
"It came out when you were 22, Nick!" Sara chortled.
The moment was disrupted as the doors to the break room swung open, and in tottered a very little person.
"Mommy! I can't find my pumpkin bag!"
Lindsay Willows was dressed up as a fairy princess. Her face was caked with glittery powder, and her hair had been curled. Delicate, pointed elf ears sat atop her normal ones, and she wore a taupe lace dress.
"Hey Linds! You look beautiful!" Warrick commented.
"You'll freeze to death in that dress" Nicky mumbled. Sara and Catherine gave him an aggravated look.
"This is coming from someone who found "Beauty and the Beast" frightening, so I wouldn't put much stock in that remark" Sara snickered.
From somewhere in the room a phone began to ring. Grissom reached across to answer it as if on impulse, yet, he was too enthusiastic, and hit the base with his elbow as he jumped for the plastic receiver.
The entire thing plunged to the floor, and the cord was pulled from the jack.
"Good one Grissom!" Nick guffawed. He seemed to be on everyone's case now. Penance for their teasing, perhaps...
With incredible persistence, Gil Grissom ran around the oak table, grabbed the cord, and re-inserted it into the outlet. He happily picked up the still ringing phone, while Sara smiled at him almost lovingly from across the room. Her gaze had fallen on his now turned back, as she perused his form.
Warrick, who had caught her expression, meet Nick and Catherine's eyes. The trio each gave a knowing grin to the other. Sara and Grissom may have been oblivious to one another's infatuation, but it was all too apparent to the rest of the world.
*********
*Why is she so tired these days? Must be all that extra energy spent pining after Grissom*
Warrick had glanced over at his `fallen' comrade. Sara was slumped over in her seat, as he drove down the I-95. Her brown tresses had a slight curl, as she had not had the time to blow dry them straight that evening. Ever since her 15-year-old niece had come to live with her, she had very little opportunity to use the washroom for any extended period. Opportunities such as those did not avail themselves all too often?not with a teenager in the house.
Tonight they had a 426 and 419, which Grissom had reluctantly assigned Sara to handle ? with Warrick in tow, for good measure.
He had noticed her fatigue before she had even met up with him in the Tahoe, and he'd told her that he would wake her up once they reached the scene. He had known from the outset that the drive was minimally an hour ? more tonight, given the adverse road and weather conditions ? and she hadn't argued.
He turned the radio off, and turned to glance at her as they passed under the bridge. The darkness in the car increased, and the small orange orbs from within the tunnel rhythmically flickered over the window. The result was hypnotic. Glancing at Sara, Warrick noticed how the small forms passing outside the vehicle, as well as the rain on the glass, caused small shadows to float over her skin.
For a brief moment, the result was as if she was injured, as the shadows made it appear as if she was laden with small bruises. Her face was covered in a fine spackling of darkness, and he grimaced, when he recalled that she *had* been attacked not too long ago. A feeling of protectiveness, concern ? and of love assailed him. He realized he did, in fact, love her, in a strictly platonic way, and yet, she had somehow managed to become of great importance to him.
She was now another member of his extended family ? much like Grissom, Nick, and Catherine were ? and had ceased to be the goal oriented, aloof newbie in his mind's eye.
As they Blue SUV emerged from the underpass, the allusion ceased, and Sara turned in her sleep. Warrick brought his thoughts back to the road, and chastised himself for such morbid thinking - on Hallow's eve, no less.
******
A young girl was huddled on a street curb. Her arms were wrapped around her body and she shook lightly.
Shock.
Sara glanced up at Warrick, her eyes full of compassion, and Warrick decided to use his senior status to delegate responsibility.
"Sara?I want you to process the 419. You know what to do?I'll take samples from our 426 vic."
Sara gave him a wry look and piped up.
"Are you giving me orders now, Warrick? Did Gris put you in charge yet again?"
Warrick just rolled his eyes. He knew that Sara had been going stir crazy in the office with the typical paper make-work that bombarded any CSI when the nights were slow. That had been, for the most part, the reason Grissom had let her handle the field case; yet, any case that had carnal elements associated with it always shook her up.
Warrick didn't want his friend to get too emotionally wrapped up in a case, hence, he had opted to question the witness. It made sense to him?
*So why does she have to argue?*
"Please Sara?I've got a headache." He moaned.
It wasn't really a lie, but it caught Sara's attention.
"Gris gets headaches, I get headaches?.even Greg gets caffeine withdrawal cranial pain?but you don't get?"
"Sara!", he cut her off. "Please. I'm tired. I don't want to argue. Please."
*********
Nick Stokes drummed his fingers along the base of the leather steering wheel rim. After having been chased out of the lab by Gris, for listening to No Doubt's "Keep on Dancing" for the bazillionth time, which his supervisor had referred to as `distracting', he had decided to put his frazzled, hyperactive energy to good use.
Now, he was swerving around a "No U Turn" bend, after having returned from some Starbuck's outlet with caffeine-laden products. The little kid in him had also indulged in buying a half dozen-gingerbread jack-o'-lantern and ghost treats for his colleagues. Halloween came but
once a year, after all.
The cappuccinos and lattes had started to produce a sweet, milky aroma that wafted throughout the vehicle, and he resisted the urge to down the whipped creamed concoctions without delay. His stomach grumbled in the darkness, and he involuntarily blushed.
**********
>>don't look, don't look
the shadows breathe
whispering me away from you
don't wake an eye to watch her sleep
but know that you will always sleep
this trembling drone
dazzled burn like gold
every night i burn
every night i call your name
every night i burn
every night i fall again?>>
He had made it to the lab in record time, but found that even his hollers couldn't be heard above the clamor of whatever Greg had decided to dub as `music' these days.
"GREG!"
Perhaps it was the timbre, or perhaps his voice had just risen alarmingly within the last few seconds, but the young lab technician almost fell out of his seat in shock, and turned to look at Grissom in astonishment.
"Where's the fire, Gil?"
"What do you - ??don't call me Gil?what do you think you are doing?!", Grissom panted, nearly exhausted from having to deal with not one, by two, overly exuberant protégées that evening.
"Listening to my stuff?it helps me concentrate"
"This is a place of work", Grissom replied sternly.
"C'mon! It's Halloween! Have a heart!", the near-scowl on Grissoms face caused the young man to ramble, "?AND?we don't even really have anything to do." At Grissom's look, which screamed `there is *always* something to do', Greg added, "Not really!"
"Please lower the volume of whatever that is?if I can hear it, you know it's too loud", Grissom mumbled, before Greg's statements caused him to pause.
"You didn't have to scream at me Gris. If I wasn't so dedicated to my job?I'd be out trick-or-treating right now."
Grissom actually laughed, and forced himself to exit the room without comment. He didn't want to know whether the 27 year old technician was serious or not.
*************
After having gone over the results of the 426 and 419 that Grissom had sent Warrick and Sara to process, the entire group retreated to the break room as they attempted to stave off boredom.
"It's amazing, isn't it? Usually Halloween is one of our busiest nights! And we have nothing to do!", Nick marveled, and received a short nod from both Catherine and Gris in exchange.
A kerfuffle between the other members of the group brought Grissom out of his reverie.
"Give me my cookie?give me my cookie?yes?no I want the ghost!"
Grissom rubbed his temples. He tried to remind himself that he was dealing with forensic scientists. Yet, sometimes, he felt like he was trapped in a very warped "Romper Room" episode, sans muppets - where children had morphed into the shape and size of adults, and played dress-up for ten-hour periods.
"Thanks Nicky! Nah?Greg?the ghost's mine"
Sara and `Greggo' now battled it out over some hardened cookie dusted with fine icing sugar and glaze, while Catherine quickly stole her Latte away from Nick, and handed an Espresso over to Grissom.
"Hey! Where's ours? I'd like a latte too! A mocha latte!", Greg piped up.
Warrick shook his head. It was as clear as crystal china that neither Greg ? nor Sara ? needed anything that contained sucrose or caffeine. They were lucky enough to be sitting in the break room eating cookies, given their tendency to fall into hypomanic states.
The brunette, who had won the battle, and now sat contentedly nibbling on her treat, glanced slyly at Nick, before whispering, "Ya know?Warrick?Greg?we could always make our own. I do happen to have a rather large tub of Funky Monkey in the break room?"
Grissom, who was feeling rather subdued that evening, and didn't want petty banter to ruin the group mood, spoke as a way of breaking the tension that he felt proliferating between Nick and Sara.
"Do you guys know the legend of the jack-o-lantern?", he asked nearly inaudibly.
At the various looks of curiosity and interest, he continued.
"The jack-o'-lantern comes from an old Celtic tale. There is a legend of a blacksmith named Jack who played a trick on the Devil, making the Devil climb a tree and then trapping him in the branches. The legend explains that Jack, a spiteful character in life, was turned away from heaven when he died. But having made no friend of the Devil, Jack was turned away from hell also. As Jack left the underworld, he dropped a hot coal into the center of a turnip he, fortuitously, happened to have carried along. Jack, of course, was doomed to walk the Earth forever, carrying his own hellfire in a hollowed-out turnip?"
***********
At ten after 2:00, Grissom had decided that ? barring some major event ? there was no reason to force his CSI's to languor throughout the halls or the dim and lifeless labs.
In fact, he mused with some humor, Warrick looked just as dead as a banshee, and Nick, who tended to revert to `fanciful antics' when he was bored, had shocked Sara twice in one evening by `falling asleep' under a sheeted gurney. He had then, supposedly, `awoken' with a start as the youngest CSI had run by the morgue to grab old assay scores from the dayshifts processing lab at the end of the hall.
Waiting until his team had grabbed their gear from the locker room, and had convened at the East end doors, he proceeded to clock out early, and to make note in his entry log and the docket, before coding in the security password that alarmed the building.
The six individuals, who had found with some dismay that the night had been too slow to even use `overtime' as an excuse in this scenario, stepped out into the street and ambled on over to the adjoining parcade.
Sara, chuckling to herself, slowly backed away from the group when she realized that her Beetle had been impounded after she had left it for more than 15 minutes in a reserved section of a company parking lot. She'd have to take the bus tonight.
*Nothing like doing some `individual' investigative work, Sidle*
At Grissom's probing look, she explained the situation to him. He, in turn, almost eagerly offered a ride.
"No, really Gris. That's okay. I'm out of your way!"
Gil Grissom had paused, obviously trying to come up with a rebuttal that would change her mind, when a very disruptive detonation of prankster egg-and-toothpaste mix mushily sailed through the air, and hit the already tired Sara.
"God damned kids!", she shouted. "It's not even HALLOWEEN anymore!" she screamed into the blackness. She was shortly rewarded with the sound of hooting and giggling from not too far away, and she grimaced.
"These better not be rotten" she scowled.
"I guess that bus ride is out!" Nick hollered from the distance, after witnessing the air-attack before entering his truck.
Grissom, who awkwardly tried to help pull the stringy, gummy mess out of her hair and off her clothes, sighed with defeat.
"I guess that invitation is also out of the question!" Nick quickly added, before he swiftly and intelligently deposited himself into the drivers side of his Tahoe and slammed the door.
***********
Her feet hurt. She had walked for over an hour coated with stinky, sticky egg and god knew what else dripping from her form. In frustration, she realized that the rain that could have helped clean and rid her of the mess, had ceased to fall. The rain?the same rain that had been pouring without pause for hours, had finally let up, and so she trudged to her apartment coated in whatever slime had been flung at her.
Upon arriving home, she tenderly removed her shoes and walked quietly to the washroom (as to not awaken Alex) where she bundled up her articles of clothing and pushed them deep inside the hamper.
Pulling the elastic from her hair, she dumped it into the marble sink, and gingerly washed her hands. Flicking on the light, she proceeded to change her underclothes, and clumsily let them fall to the floor.
She then stepped into the shower cubicle, and grabbed some coconut body scrub, after which, she attacked her skin and voraciously rinsed and washed the day's grime away.
Sighing as the dirt swirled down the drain, she appreciated how the green shower curtain had created a mini world of sage ? one that seemed not unlike a rain forest. The dim lights of the washroom, not to mention the smell of pineapple, mango, and coconut from the various bath products, and the humid warm spray of the shower, heightened the effect.
The blaring of a telephone broke her from her aromatherapy-induced trance, and she paused for a moment before debating whether she should attempt to take the call.
As the machine cut in, and Grissom's voice filtered through the apartment, she turned off the stream of water and reached for a terry cloth towel, which she quickly threw around her body before racing towards the living room.
"Gris?"
"Oh?Sara! Good. I was starting to think that you hadn't made it home safely?"
"Shower" she divulged almost instinctively, and she heard the smile in Grissoms next comment.
"Did you get all that egg out of your hair yet?"
"Well?those rotten little hooligans really soaked me?but?yes?"
"You know, many people actually go to specialty spas to get egg based treatments for their skin and hair. Swelling caused by fatigue is alleviated by the albumin and the egg whites?"
"Grissom", she interrupted, "why are you calling me?" She knew she sounded discourteous, and that he had been worried about her walking home ? especially given the late hour ? and yet she wondered if he had also, perhaps, just phoned to speak to her.
Like any good friend might.
"We?umm?have another 419 and an attempted?"
"You are calling me to come into work? Now? It's 4:30?our shift would normally end in a few hours anyway!" She tried to cover up how letdown she felt, and gave a short, ironic laugh.
"Please Sara?it is more appropriate that we handle it. They need a response from a CSI team within a half hour. Evidence is time sensitive. I don't need to tell you that?"
In the calm of her home, Sara groaned lightly, and felt something that she hadn't felt in a long time.
Hurt.
In fact, the response bugged her, because she knew that Grissom hadn't done anything that was?unlike him. She knew, essentially, that she was overreacting.
"Who else will be there?", she asked, her voice strained.
"You and me?I?I haven't phoned anyone else. It isn't a huge deal. They just need a few CSI's to process?"
Sara rubbed her face with her hands. "You needed one CSI?and you phoned me? You knew that I had to walk home, and then get changed and cleaned up! Why would you even think that I'd be available tonight?", she asked piercingly.
There was a pregnant pause, before she heard Grissom's voice ? almost timid to her own ears ? reply, "You are always available."
In anger, she was about to tell him that she might be `delayed' somewhat, when he added, "I'll be there within 15 minutes to pick you up."
"Fine", she choked out, before moving to hang up the receiver.
"Sara! Sara wait!"
She pulled the phone to her ear and wearily asked, "What?"
"I phoned you because you are a very good CSI?an extraordinary CSI. An extraordinary person. You know that I appreciate your dedication and persistence, right?", he spoke faintly.
She felt the low thrum of her pulse quicken, and didn't know how to respond. So she remained silent.
"I'll see you soon", he reinstated before hanging up.
Sara exhaled and released the breath that she had been unknowingly holding, and made her way to the laundry room as she scatteredly searched for fresh clothes. She needed to find something appropriate for yet another day on the field.
Darting once more into the living room, she fumbled for a pen as she quickly tried to leave her young niece a note concerning her whereabouts. In her rush, she felt her waist collide with a glass article on the coffee table, and cringed when whatever she had struck fell to the floor and broke.
As she dropped to her knees to retrieve what had fallen, she was surprised to see potting soil scattered over the parquet floors.
Gingerly picking up the mangled Orchid, she cringed when she saw that the entire pot, which it had been planted in, was now ruined.
Feeling tears brim to her eyes, she forced herself to analyze the actual damage, and consoled herself with the knowledge that the plant itself had not been injured. It was still intact.
It just needed a new base.
Wiping her eyes, she finished dressing, and waited solemnly for Grissom's arrival.
(Fin)