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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Completed:
2006-08-22
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13,183
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5/5
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Ghostly encounters

Summary:

A woman is found dead at the MGM Grand. Grissom and Nick are attacked by something/someone they can't see and Gris realizes he needs help. I don't own 'em, don't claim 'em, just having fun.

Chapter 1: MGM murder

Chapter Text

A/N: Okay, I blame my best friend for this fic. I normally don't write het but I've only seen about five episodes and have a basic knowledge of the characters. I needed her help and she doesn't like slash. So I'm not sure how good this will actually be and I'm sorry for any glaring mistakes. Please let me know if I make any and I'll change them. *grin*

 

The MGM Grand stood gleaming in the Nevada moonlight and all the garish neon from its neighboring buildings reflected from its windows. The windows were all closed against the oppressive heat radiating from the ground, muffling the city in an inferno. Behind one of the dark windows the unspeakable was happening. They don't call Las Vegas sin city for nothing after all.
********************

There was no such thing as a quiet night in the CSI labs. If the graveyard team didn't have new cases to investigate they were in their familiar labs working to solve the evidentiary puzzles from the night before.

Dr. Gil Grissom; supervisor, councilor, devil's advocate and sounding board handed out the nightly assignments in his normally calm and precise manner. "Sara, you take Warrick and check out the dump, 419 reported half an hour ago," Grissom said. "Catherine, you've got a solo 410 on the strip."

Everyone paused as loud music thumped through the room as DNA analyst/lab rat/gopher Greg Sanders danced down the hall, white lab coat flapping around his jean clad legs.

"Your turn," Catherine said firmly, fixing Grissom with a pointed look.

"When I get back," Grissom replied. "I've got something a little more urgent than a wayward lab tech. Nick; you're with me on this 419 at the Grand."

"Right, Gris," Nick Stokes replied with a grin.
********************

The hotel room had been secured by the police by the time Grissom and Stokes arrived on scene. Gil stood in the door for a moment, his piercing blue eyes almost unfocused and just listened. He knew the scene and body would tell him everything he needed to know in order to solve the case.

"First DB?" a cocky cop asked, elbowing Grissom in the ribs.

*This should be good* thought Nick, leaning casually against the opposite wall, crossing his long legs. Despite the heat outside, Stokes was wearing a coffee brown dress shirt, black jeans and boots. His sleeves were rolled up and the top two buttons were undone. His CSI badge hung around his neck.

"You're new here," Grissom replied in what his co-workers called his teaching voice. It was soft and drew you in; almost hypnotizing, making you want to hear more. "You wouldn't know anything about listening to the victim. That's important, listen to what the scene tells you, young man, and your case is half solved."

Nick pushed off the wall. "You shouldn't make assumptions, Officer Jonas," he said, making a point of reading the officer's name badge. "Grissom here is the top CSI in the business and not someone you want to insult."

"Let it pass, Nicky my boy," Grissom said softly. "Is the camera ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Fire away." Grissom turned to the officer. "Has anyone been in this room since the call was received?"

Officer Jonas was embarrassed. He'd only been in Vegas for a month and had heard rumors about Gil Grissom. The man was almost a legend and he'd put his food in his mouth. "I did, I had to verify the call."

"The last time I checked, attitude was not a crime," Grissom said softly. "Nor was making assumptions or doing your job. We know you were in the scene; now tell me who else has been in there."

"No one as far as I know," Jonas said. "The hotel called us."

"Then someone from the hotel must have gone into the room as well," Grissom said. "That's purely common sense. How are you doing, Nicky?"

"Something's not adding up, Gris," Nick said. "We got the victim on the bed but no blood around her. There's two pools of blood near the bathroom but not nearly enough for her to have bled out. Also, I can't see any wounds on her at all."

Nick stepped back to get their kits and Grissom took his place in the doorway. The scene was almost too neat, too tidy. There were no footprints leading from the bathroom to the bed as there would have been if the victim had walked or staggered from one to the other. "Nicky, see what the bathroom looks like," Grissom said softly. "I'll see what our victim has to say."

"She's dead," Officer Jonas stated from the hallway.

"And has been for about two hours," Grissom replied. "She didn't fall into bed; she was placed here after she was dead. And whomever placed her here cared about her at some point but most likely doesn't any more. She went out of the evening and....what, Nicky?"

Stokes looked around the bathroom door. "I didn't say anything, Gris."

"Someone just tapped me on the shoulder," Grissom stated softly.

"I've been in here the whole time," Nick said. "Come take a look at this."

Trying to shake the feeling he was being watched, Grissom walked carefully to the bathroom and joined Stokes. "What did you find?"

"I think our vic was killed in here," Nick replied. "I've got blood splatters and a knife."

"Talk it out," Grissom said.

"She's in the bathroom, maybe taking off her make-up," Nick started. "Our perp comes in and stabs her, she goes down and the blood starts pooling under her. Now, rather than leave her on the tile floor, our guy picks her up and carries her to the bed, hence the negative on the footprints or drag marks."

"So why doesn't the suspect leave footprints?" Grissom asked, watching the younger man closely.

Nick stood and walked back into the main room, mindful of where he was stepping. "We've got these two pools of blood just outside the bathroom," he finally said. "What if the body was put down here while our perp took of his shoes to avoid leaving footprints over to the....ow, Gris!"

"What, Nicky?"

"You didn't have to hit me, it's just a theory."

The older man stood from where he'd been examining the bathroom floor. "Nick, in the time we've worked together, have I ever hit anyone? Think carefully, gather the evidence, don't blindly accuse."

Nick could feel his face reddening. Gil Grissom was usually one of the most non-confrontational people he knew. The man used words, past cases and experience to teach, not violence. "I'm sorry, Gris, I wasn't thinking."

Grissom's blue eyes sparkled for a moment. "The day I resort to hitting my friends is the day I retire," he said. "I think we've got some footprints in the bathroom that I'd like to try and lift. Then we'll map and dust....." He broke off in shock as Nick's body slammed into his own, pushing him back into the hallway. "Nicky, what?" Grissom managed to ask, just before a pair of lamps flew out of the room smashed over their heads. The two CSIs looked at each other in shock.
********************

"It's a scientific improbability," Grissom said once they were back at the lab. The coroner managed to move the body but was almost knocked out cold by a chair. Grissom ordered the room sealed off until they could figure out how to finish their investigation.

"Well something's going on in there, Gris," Stokes fired back. "How do you explain what we saw?"

Grissom sighed. "I can't," he said. "I don't believe in ghosts, disturbed spirits, energy, or whatever you want to call it. There has to be a logical, scientific explanation for what happened."

"What happened?" Sara asked from the break room door.

Nick briefly outlined all their, and the coroner's experiences at the hotel. He reported it factually with no embellishments, Grissom noted with a trace of pride.

"You've got a ghost," Sara said when he finished. "A pretty angry one too, by the sound of it."

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Grissom said firmly. "There's no scientific proof they exist."

Sara sighed. "Scientists," she said. "Grissom, you need to read something other than those damn journals." She pulled out her bag and tossed a magazine in Grissom's lap. "I've got to meet Warrick for our autopsy. Check out page 51."

Without a word or flicker of emotion, Grissom opened the paranormal investigative magazine to the middle and stared at the article in front of him.

"Gris?" Nick asked.

"Will you go check on those photos?" asked Grissom, not looking up. "And get them to blow up the ones of the victim and the bathroom?"