CSI fic
Well, here is ch 1 of my CSI fic. This has been up on WMTDB for a while, but since I have my own journal now, it'd be wierd not to have my own fic!
Fandom: CSI
Rating: R
Pairings: eventual Nick/Greg Grissom/Sara
Warnings: slash, angst, rape/non con
This is my very first CSI fic, which will have multiple pairings, descriptions of rape, murder, and other squicky things. Just pre-slash for now- the couples will not be establishing themselves for now, just lots of lovely UST! Timing is round about Season 6, only significant cause, no doubt, Grave Danger will be referenced. Also, I’m British so mind any UK slang, spellings, or lack of US knowledge that may creep in. Anyway, please review, I’d love to know what you all think of my first venturings into CSI territory!
The wind whipped her hair around her face, flickering the flame of her lighter as she struggled to light her cigarette. The neon glow of the casinos gave her skin an eerie sheen, the dancing lights reflecting in her eyes. As she took a deep drag of her cigarette, she looked around impatiently for her ride, once again checking her phone for messages she knew wouldn’t be there. This was, she swore to herself, the last time she arranged for her neighbour to pick her up from work. As she ran her hand through her short, dyed blonde hair, she barely noticed the figure stepping out from the alleyway that ran down the side of the casino, barely looked up as his soft voice asked to borrow her lighter. As she rummaged in her bag for the lighter, she barely noticed the man raising his arm, but it was too late. She did notice the blinding pain in her head as his fist crashed down onto the back of her skull, her last thought as she slid into unconsciousness was that maybe it really would be the last time she would arrange for her neighbour to pick her up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Grissom suppressed a wince as he slipped under the yellow crime tap surrounding the body found a few yards from the Strip, partially covered by hastily thrown trash; they had been lucky to find her before the rats did. Gil stood back for a moment, waiting for David to confirm what they all already knew: he had struck again. Multiple stab wounds to the torso and raped while she bled to death. There would be semen, a match to the other two victims, but useless thus far, with no suspect to compare it to. He was getting more daring too: the first victim had been found out in the desert, the second in a large park. This time, an alleyway. With each hit he was getting closer to people, risking more. Grissom glanced around at his two co-workers, who were already working the scene. CSI Level 3 Warrick Brown, the tall, lanky, black man who had grown up in Vegas and the younger CSI Level 1 Greg Sanders, previously genius lab tech, now shaping up to be a genius CSI, so long as he could get his nausea under control. Greg’s normally cheerful face was pale and sombre as he stared at the body of the formally beautiful woman, lying dead in the alley. David stood up with a sigh
“Time of death is estimated to be between ten and fifteen hours ago.”
Grissom glanced at his watch. The digital display flashed eight o’clock, the beginning of what would appear to be another double shift. “Meaning she was killed some time between five and ten o’clock this morning.”
Warrick looked up from where he examining the victim’s purse. “We’ve got an ID- Driver’s license. Vic’s name was Lucille Matthews. Looks like she worked at the casino round the corner, she’s got a parking stub for the car park.”
“A ticket, but no car.” The grave-shift supervisor let the question hang in the air for a moment as he pondered its implications, his face thoughtful behind his short beard.
“Car is in the shop,” Warrick replied, holding up the receipt he had found. “Looks like she wasn’t due to pick it up till the day after tomorrow.”
“So perhaps she was waiting for someone when she was killed?” Greg spoke up from where he was taking photos of the crime scene.
“That’s merely speculation at this point, even if it is fairly reasonable,” Grissom responded vaguely, his mind already past the issue, focusing more on what needed to be processed. Greg shrugged, his shaggy haired head already back behind the camera, as he focused on wall behind the victim.
“Check out these blood patterns,” Greg indicated the splashes of blood over the walls and around the floor surrounding them. Grissom took a step towards them, peering through his glasses as he committed the patterns to memory. “Signs of a struggle” he murmured, almost absently.
“Looks like she fought back,” Warrick commented, as the body was zipped into the body bag, before being wheeled into the waiting ambulance ready for Doc Robbins to analyse.
“Exactly. Could be she left something here for us to find. You two stay here and continue to process the scene. I’ll head back to the lab and see if we can get anything from her body.”
~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sara resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she and Catherine pulled up outside the apartment building. A woman had called, hysterical that her husband had disappeared at some point in the two weeks she had been away. Missing Persons cases were hard to work at the best of times, but with a potentially two-week delay, chances were the trail would already be cold. She hadn’t wanted to accompany Catherine on this case, she’d wanted to join Grissom on the new victim of what was turning out to be a vicious serial killer. But with Nick due to give evidence in court first thing in the morning, Grissom had decided to remove her from the serial killer case and put her with Catherine. Sensing her frustration, Catherine has been mostly silent on the journey over. Seeing the muscles in Sara’s jaw working over time as she clenched her teeth, she weighed up whether she should try to talk to her partner.
“Let’s just get this done, ok?” Sara stated before Catherine could open her mouth.
“Sure,” she raised her eyebrows; glad to be released from the potential argument. She’d wanted to go on the serial killer case too, but missing persons didn’t generally find themselves. Ringing to be let into the apartment, she could feel her impatience growing as the seconds stretched out. Finally they were buzzed into the building, and found themselves knocking another door. It was flung open violently, by a sobbing woman, a crumpled tissue shredded in one hand.
“Mrs Turner?” Catherine clarified.
The woman nodded, unable to speak in between hiccoughing sobs.
“Mrs Turner, I’m CSI Willows, this is CSI Sidle, could you tell us what you know please?”
The woman wailed and grabbed Catherine’s arm, propelling her through the apartment. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sara shrug before following the pair though to the bedroom, noting the mess the apartment was in. Old takeaway containers and empty beer cans littered the living space floor, along with clear nicotine stains up the walls. The smell of cigarettes, old sweat and alcohol was pungent in the air. Wrinkling her nose in disgust she entered the bedroom and saw the pool of blood oozing out from the foot of the bed. The woman, Mrs Turner she inwardly corrected herself, had calmed down somewhat, her sobs quietening to heavy breaths. Sara got the swabs out to get samples, making it clear to Catherine that Mrs Turner was her problem while she processed the scene.
“Mrs Turner,” Catherine began, gently leading the heavyset woman out of the bedroom. “If you’d like to come this way, CSI Sidle can do her job while we talk about what happened.”
Mrs Turner nodded, stumbling slightly as she wandered out into the living room. She sat clumsily onto the sofa, not noticing the hem of her sweater landing in a congealed tub of salsa dip. Tortilla chips crunched underfoot as Catherine took a step towards her, she considered sitting before deciding better of it.
“Mrs Turner,” she began again, starting when she was interrupted by the soft voice.
“Lisa.”
“Ok, Lisa, can you tell me what you know?”
“I don’t know, I went away for two weeks, back to England, you know, I wanted to see some friends, my family. I never really wanted to come to America, there’s always too much crime here,” her voice broke off with a whimper. “We’re not even supposed to still be here,” she wailed. “Our visa expired months ago, then he started inviting his family over, made it clear we were staying. Now I come home to find this.”
Catherine sighed. “Mrs Turner, do you know why your husband may have left, or anyone who may have had a grudge against him?”
The woman’s eyes darkened slightly, her fists slowly clenched over the already shredded tissue. “That bitch,” she hissed. “It’s her, I know it’s her.”
“Who?”
“His ex. I didn’t even know she was living here in Vegas, or I’d never have agreed to come here. He left her for me you know.”
Inwardly sceptical, Catherine tried not to let the doubt show on her face. Mrs Turner was certainly no beauty; it seemed hard to believe a man would find her so irresistible. It was at that moment Sara came back from processing the bedroom.
“Mrs Turner, do you know what could have happened to your husbands clothing? Or the sheets from the bed?”
“What, Why?”
“They’re all missing.”
“No, sorry.”
“Mrs Turner,” Catherine interjected. “Do you have any form of contact for this ex?”
“Just her name and where she works in Vegas.”
“That would be great, thank you”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Got anything for me Doc?” Grissom wandered slowly into the morgue, watching the doctor moving from between the various tables to the victim found earlier that evening.
“Some things of interest,” Doc Robbins replied, easing himself past a microscope to stand at the top of the table, near the victim’s head. “Same as before, a blow to the back of the head subdued her prior to the stabbing and sexual assault. We have some epithelials under the fingernails, also several defensive wounds around the arms and wrists. There was some semen, which I sent to DNA for analysis. My guess is it’ll match the DNA found on the other victims.”
“Which is no good without DNA to compare it to.”
“Quite, but will make the case tighter when you do find a suspect.”
“I hope so,” Grissom murmured. “Anything else?”
“One thing. A difference from the other to victims, this one didn’t actually die from the stab wounds.”
“So what killed her?”
“Asphyxiation. You can see the bruises around her mouth and nose, my guess is he held his hand over them, probably to keep her quiet, and the lack of oxygen killed her before the blood loss could.”
Grissom’s brow furrowed in thought. “So he’s getting more daring in his locations, but adapting his MO for the new surroundings.”
“That would be my guess, yes.”
“Can you tell me anything about the weapon used?” Grissom could feel himself getting desperate, a feeling he hated, but couldn’t deny. This man had managed to evade them for two weeks now, raping and killing a total of three women now. There seemed to be no connection between the women either: The latest victim, Lucille Matthews, was 37 and had worked as a waitress in the casino, covering the late night shift, working from 10 o’clock at night until 7 o’clock in the morning, Tuesdays through to Saturdays. The previous victim, a pretty young auburn haired girl named Kacey Jones, was due to graduate from UCLV this summer. The first victim, Ana-Lucia Ferreras, 29 years old, worked as a nurse. No noticeable connection, no understandable reason why these particular women had died in such brutal circumstances.
“Nothing new from the other cases,” Doc Robbins was sympathetic, he could understand his colleagues’ frustration at being unable to catch the killer, and he shared it himself. He was tired of seeing these young women on his slabs. “The weapon was a sharp blade, probably a kitchen knife, just like the others.”
“A weapon of convenience, no traceable registration, no distinctive characteristics.” Grissom’s voice trailed off as he stared at Lucille Matthews. “He’s not done yet. He is going to strike again, and soon.”
“Then I suggest we’d better catch him.”
Beta’d by the fantastic ItGlitters, who really helped boost my confidence for my first CSI fic (I know I keep saying that, but I’m actually kinda excited about it!!)
Fandom: CSI
Rating: R
Pairings: eventual Nick/Greg Grissom/Sara
Warnings: slash, angst, rape/non con
This is my very first CSI fic, which will have multiple pairings, descriptions of rape, murder, and other squicky things. Just pre-slash for now- the couples will not be establishing themselves for now, just lots of lovely UST! Timing is round about Season 6, only significant cause, no doubt, Grave Danger will be referenced. Also, I’m British so mind any UK slang, spellings, or lack of US knowledge that may creep in. Anyway, please review, I’d love to know what you all think of my first venturings into CSI territory!
The wind whipped her hair around her face, flickering the flame of her lighter as she struggled to light her cigarette. The neon glow of the casinos gave her skin an eerie sheen, the dancing lights reflecting in her eyes. As she took a deep drag of her cigarette, she looked around impatiently for her ride, once again checking her phone for messages she knew wouldn’t be there. This was, she swore to herself, the last time she arranged for her neighbour to pick her up from work. As she ran her hand through her short, dyed blonde hair, she barely noticed the figure stepping out from the alleyway that ran down the side of the casino, barely looked up as his soft voice asked to borrow her lighter. As she rummaged in her bag for the lighter, she barely noticed the man raising his arm, but it was too late. She did notice the blinding pain in her head as his fist crashed down onto the back of her skull, her last thought as she slid into unconsciousness was that maybe it really would be the last time she would arrange for her neighbour to pick her up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Grissom suppressed a wince as he slipped under the yellow crime tap surrounding the body found a few yards from the Strip, partially covered by hastily thrown trash; they had been lucky to find her before the rats did. Gil stood back for a moment, waiting for David to confirm what they all already knew: he had struck again. Multiple stab wounds to the torso and raped while she bled to death. There would be semen, a match to the other two victims, but useless thus far, with no suspect to compare it to. He was getting more daring too: the first victim had been found out in the desert, the second in a large park. This time, an alleyway. With each hit he was getting closer to people, risking more. Grissom glanced around at his two co-workers, who were already working the scene. CSI Level 3 Warrick Brown, the tall, lanky, black man who had grown up in Vegas and the younger CSI Level 1 Greg Sanders, previously genius lab tech, now shaping up to be a genius CSI, so long as he could get his nausea under control. Greg’s normally cheerful face was pale and sombre as he stared at the body of the formally beautiful woman, lying dead in the alley. David stood up with a sigh
“Time of death is estimated to be between ten and fifteen hours ago.”
Grissom glanced at his watch. The digital display flashed eight o’clock, the beginning of what would appear to be another double shift. “Meaning she was killed some time between five and ten o’clock this morning.”
Warrick looked up from where he examining the victim’s purse. “We’ve got an ID- Driver’s license. Vic’s name was Lucille Matthews. Looks like she worked at the casino round the corner, she’s got a parking stub for the car park.”
“A ticket, but no car.” The grave-shift supervisor let the question hang in the air for a moment as he pondered its implications, his face thoughtful behind his short beard.
“Car is in the shop,” Warrick replied, holding up the receipt he had found. “Looks like she wasn’t due to pick it up till the day after tomorrow.”
“So perhaps she was waiting for someone when she was killed?” Greg spoke up from where he was taking photos of the crime scene.
“That’s merely speculation at this point, even if it is fairly reasonable,” Grissom responded vaguely, his mind already past the issue, focusing more on what needed to be processed. Greg shrugged, his shaggy haired head already back behind the camera, as he focused on wall behind the victim.
“Check out these blood patterns,” Greg indicated the splashes of blood over the walls and around the floor surrounding them. Grissom took a step towards them, peering through his glasses as he committed the patterns to memory. “Signs of a struggle” he murmured, almost absently.
“Looks like she fought back,” Warrick commented, as the body was zipped into the body bag, before being wheeled into the waiting ambulance ready for Doc Robbins to analyse.
“Exactly. Could be she left something here for us to find. You two stay here and continue to process the scene. I’ll head back to the lab and see if we can get anything from her body.”
~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sara resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she and Catherine pulled up outside the apartment building. A woman had called, hysterical that her husband had disappeared at some point in the two weeks she had been away. Missing Persons cases were hard to work at the best of times, but with a potentially two-week delay, chances were the trail would already be cold. She hadn’t wanted to accompany Catherine on this case, she’d wanted to join Grissom on the new victim of what was turning out to be a vicious serial killer. But with Nick due to give evidence in court first thing in the morning, Grissom had decided to remove her from the serial killer case and put her with Catherine. Sensing her frustration, Catherine has been mostly silent on the journey over. Seeing the muscles in Sara’s jaw working over time as she clenched her teeth, she weighed up whether she should try to talk to her partner.
“Let’s just get this done, ok?” Sara stated before Catherine could open her mouth.
“Sure,” she raised her eyebrows; glad to be released from the potential argument. She’d wanted to go on the serial killer case too, but missing persons didn’t generally find themselves. Ringing to be let into the apartment, she could feel her impatience growing as the seconds stretched out. Finally they were buzzed into the building, and found themselves knocking another door. It was flung open violently, by a sobbing woman, a crumpled tissue shredded in one hand.
“Mrs Turner?” Catherine clarified.
The woman nodded, unable to speak in between hiccoughing sobs.
“Mrs Turner, I’m CSI Willows, this is CSI Sidle, could you tell us what you know please?”
The woman wailed and grabbed Catherine’s arm, propelling her through the apartment. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sara shrug before following the pair though to the bedroom, noting the mess the apartment was in. Old takeaway containers and empty beer cans littered the living space floor, along with clear nicotine stains up the walls. The smell of cigarettes, old sweat and alcohol was pungent in the air. Wrinkling her nose in disgust she entered the bedroom and saw the pool of blood oozing out from the foot of the bed. The woman, Mrs Turner she inwardly corrected herself, had calmed down somewhat, her sobs quietening to heavy breaths. Sara got the swabs out to get samples, making it clear to Catherine that Mrs Turner was her problem while she processed the scene.
“Mrs Turner,” Catherine began, gently leading the heavyset woman out of the bedroom. “If you’d like to come this way, CSI Sidle can do her job while we talk about what happened.”
Mrs Turner nodded, stumbling slightly as she wandered out into the living room. She sat clumsily onto the sofa, not noticing the hem of her sweater landing in a congealed tub of salsa dip. Tortilla chips crunched underfoot as Catherine took a step towards her, she considered sitting before deciding better of it.
“Mrs Turner,” she began again, starting when she was interrupted by the soft voice.
“Lisa.”
“Ok, Lisa, can you tell me what you know?”
“I don’t know, I went away for two weeks, back to England, you know, I wanted to see some friends, my family. I never really wanted to come to America, there’s always too much crime here,” her voice broke off with a whimper. “We’re not even supposed to still be here,” she wailed. “Our visa expired months ago, then he started inviting his family over, made it clear we were staying. Now I come home to find this.”
Catherine sighed. “Mrs Turner, do you know why your husband may have left, or anyone who may have had a grudge against him?”
The woman’s eyes darkened slightly, her fists slowly clenched over the already shredded tissue. “That bitch,” she hissed. “It’s her, I know it’s her.”
“Who?”
“His ex. I didn’t even know she was living here in Vegas, or I’d never have agreed to come here. He left her for me you know.”
Inwardly sceptical, Catherine tried not to let the doubt show on her face. Mrs Turner was certainly no beauty; it seemed hard to believe a man would find her so irresistible. It was at that moment Sara came back from processing the bedroom.
“Mrs Turner, do you know what could have happened to your husbands clothing? Or the sheets from the bed?”
“What, Why?”
“They’re all missing.”
“No, sorry.”
“Mrs Turner,” Catherine interjected. “Do you have any form of contact for this ex?”
“Just her name and where she works in Vegas.”
“That would be great, thank you”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Got anything for me Doc?” Grissom wandered slowly into the morgue, watching the doctor moving from between the various tables to the victim found earlier that evening.
“Some things of interest,” Doc Robbins replied, easing himself past a microscope to stand at the top of the table, near the victim’s head. “Same as before, a blow to the back of the head subdued her prior to the stabbing and sexual assault. We have some epithelials under the fingernails, also several defensive wounds around the arms and wrists. There was some semen, which I sent to DNA for analysis. My guess is it’ll match the DNA found on the other victims.”
“Which is no good without DNA to compare it to.”
“Quite, but will make the case tighter when you do find a suspect.”
“I hope so,” Grissom murmured. “Anything else?”
“One thing. A difference from the other to victims, this one didn’t actually die from the stab wounds.”
“So what killed her?”
“Asphyxiation. You can see the bruises around her mouth and nose, my guess is he held his hand over them, probably to keep her quiet, and the lack of oxygen killed her before the blood loss could.”
Grissom’s brow furrowed in thought. “So he’s getting more daring in his locations, but adapting his MO for the new surroundings.”
“That would be my guess, yes.”
“Can you tell me anything about the weapon used?” Grissom could feel himself getting desperate, a feeling he hated, but couldn’t deny. This man had managed to evade them for two weeks now, raping and killing a total of three women now. There seemed to be no connection between the women either: The latest victim, Lucille Matthews, was 37 and had worked as a waitress in the casino, covering the late night shift, working from 10 o’clock at night until 7 o’clock in the morning, Tuesdays through to Saturdays. The previous victim, a pretty young auburn haired girl named Kacey Jones, was due to graduate from UCLV this summer. The first victim, Ana-Lucia Ferreras, 29 years old, worked as a nurse. No noticeable connection, no understandable reason why these particular women had died in such brutal circumstances.
“Nothing new from the other cases,” Doc Robbins was sympathetic, he could understand his colleagues’ frustration at being unable to catch the killer, and he shared it himself. He was tired of seeing these young women on his slabs. “The weapon was a sharp blade, probably a kitchen knife, just like the others.”
“A weapon of convenience, no traceable registration, no distinctive characteristics.” Grissom’s voice trailed off as he stared at Lucille Matthews. “He’s not done yet. He is going to strike again, and soon.”
“Then I suggest we’d better catch him.”
Beta’d by the fantastic ItGlitters, who really helped boost my confidence for my first CSI fic (I know I keep saying that, but I’m actually kinda excited about it!!)