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A small perverse part of Jim Brass wanted to let Crowley and Fisher go at it. An abuser and a child molester. Maybe they would kill each other and save Las Vegas the cost of their trials.
Instead, he made sure they were nice and secure in their own separate cells. He couldn’t have them hurting each other on his watch. It wouldn’t look good for him or his men.
He ignored their lawyers screaming at the district attorney about racism and rights violations. It was all bullshit and everyone knew it. One boy was dead and another was emotionally scarred for life. Both men would pay for their hand in those tragedies.
He slipped inside of his darkened office and locked the door. He saw Gil Grissom laying on the couch. He quietly walked over to him. “Hey,” he greeted softly.
Gil’s eyes were closed but his body was rigid. His hands were clenched at his sides. “Hey,” he ground out.
“Another migraine?”
“Yeah. Nothing seems to help this pounding in my skull.”
Jim touched Gil’s shoulder. “Sit up for a minute.”
Gil kept his eyes squeezed shut against the pain but did as he was told. Jim sat down and he put his head in Jim’s lap. The tension immediately left his shoulders. His analytical mind couldn’t figure out why that happened but the rest of him didn’t care.
Jim started massaging Gil’s temples. “Deep breathes,” he whispered. “Block out everything going on outside. It doesn’t matter right now.”
Gil concentrated on his breathing and Jim’s warm, soothing touch. He lost track of how long they sat in comfortable silence. He sighed in relief as the pain receded and he relaxed. He turned his head slightly to nuzzle Jim’s stomach. “Do you think anyone would believe this if they saw us?”
Jim chuckled. “Not a chance.”
Gil didn’t bother to open his eyes. He took Jim’s hand and kissed his palm. “Thanks.”
Jim ran his thumb over Gil’s jaw. “You’re welcome.”
The silence returned as Jim continued to rub Gil’s temples. He heard Gil’s breathing even out as Gil drifted off. He put his hand back and allowed himself to do the same.