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10 March 2008 @ 07:40 pm
Bindings [CSI; Grissom/Catherine]  
TITLE: Bindings
PAIRING: Grissom/Catherine
SPOILERS: "What's Eating Gilbert Grissom?" (5x06)


"Toner?" Grissom's right eyebrow arched, peeking up over the edge of his wire rims as he regarded the CSIs standing above him.

Sara nodded, leaning on his kitchen table with her hands, while Greg nodded in unison beside her, hands in his pockets. "From an industrial-sized copying machine," Greg added.

"So he does work there, but not where we thought he was working."

"Right," Sara chimed in. "We were looking for a professor getting involved with his young coeds, when really we should've been looking for someone working in a student center, or copy union, or even a bookstore."

"Well so, what's being done about it?"

"Nick and Warrick are on it," Greg replied, taking a seat at his supervisor's kitchen table, ignoring the slightly surprised look Grissom gave him for making himself comfortable. "They're at the WLVU campus right now--"

The trilling of Sara's cell phone against her hip interrupted Greg's verbal report, and she shot an apologetic look to both men before turning away to answer. "Sidle..."

"Me," came the Texan drawl on the other end.

She smiled slightly at the sound of his voice before getting down to business. "Find anything?"

"A suspect. Warrick and I talked to one of the Student Union guys, and found out there's a guy working there who not only uses the copy machine frequently... but he uses their binding machine to, get this: bind his comic books."

Her jaw went slack for a moment. "That's him..." she murmured softly.

"Yeah. A Kevin Greer, the kid says. His shift ended about fifteen minutes ago."

Sara checked her watch. "Just in time for the evening classes to let out."

Nick's chuckle traveled through the airwaves, caressing her auditory senses as he replied, "Boy, that's spooky -- I said the same thing, myself. Sair, should you and I be pickin' out china patterns?"

She rolled her eyes, lip unconsciously curling in a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. So what's going on now?"

"Brass is getting a warrant and then he's on his way to Greer's, to see if he's there."

She nodded, though she knew Nick couldn't see this gesture. "I'll let Grissom know."

"Okay, but hey -- remind him he can't be there. He was susp--"

"I know he was, Nick," she hissed, taking a few more steps away from Grissom and Greg. "Do you honestly think that's going to keep him from being there? Mobley couldn't even keep him from working the Strip Strangler case. This is Catherine, for God sakes."

"Right. Well Warrick and I are heading back from the lab for now. We got samples of the binding and toner; we need to make sure they're a match to the comic books. Wanna grab Greg and meet us there?"

"Okay. I'll see you soon." After disconnecting with her partner, Sara slowly spun on her heel to face Grissom and Greg, who were staring expectantly at her.

Greg was the first to speak. "So?"

"They've got a suspect. Brass is getting a warrant and heading to his house as we speak."

Those were the magic words to spring Grissom into action. He stood abruptly and fished his keys out of the pocket of his windbreaker. "Call Brass and tell him to wait for me, that I'll meet him there," he replied in one rushed breath while he made haste for the door. "I gotta be there."

Sara grabbed his arm as he passed her, spinning him to meet her eyes. "Grissom..."


He leveled her with his eyes, and in a matter of split seconds held a silent conversation with her that resulted in her releasing his arm and nodding, taking a step back. "Go."

He was out the door practically before she finished uttering the single syllable, leaving her and Greg to exchange looks behind his back.


"Kevin Greer, open up! Las Vegas police!" Jim Brass shouted, gun poised at the ready while he pounded on the door with his elbow. He turned over his shoulder to Grissom, who was looking quite antsy behind him. He couldn't help but feel the wave of sympathy that came over him in that moment.

He'd worked with Grissom for over a decade and knew too well the stricken look on his face when cases would get to him. Well, this case went above any other in the past... as did that stricken look, so he spoke slowly and carefully to the agitated supervisor. "Now Gil, I know that this is Catherine we're looking for, and I know that you need to make sure she's okay, but please remember to let us get in there first and clear the premises before you go bursting in."

"I got it, Jim," Grissom snapped.

"I don't think you do. You're not even supposed to be here right now, anyway. Atwater suspended you from the case, so if you go barging in there and end up getting injured, he's gonna have my head. Just stay cool."

"Fine," he relented, and seemed to calm a little... though his fingers were drumming double-time against his thumb.

After knocking again and receiving no answer, Brass tried the knob, startled a bit to find that the door swung open easily. He immediately brought his gun up again, aiming it in every direction before taking a step inside. He pointed his gun at every corner and, upon finding the living room empty, he nodded Grissom and the accompanying officers inside.

"Mr. Greer?" Brass called, keeping his gun outstretched as he moved toward the kitchen. "Jim Brass, Las Vegas PD. We need to speak with you, Mr. Greer..."

A loud mechanical noise sounded from one of the back hallways, and after exchanging a look with Brass, Grissom began moving toward the sound. While moving past numerous closed doors, the image of Catherine in the drawing came back to Grissom, and he paused. "Jim, you go follow that noise."

"I'm on it. What are you doing?"

Grissom pointed toward the doors. "I need to find Catherine. Have the rooms been cleared?"

Brass shook his head. "No. So draw your gun. And dammit Gil, be careful."

"I know."

Grissom watched briefly as Brass started on his way, before turning his attention to the closed door at his left. His eyes then wandered to each door down the short hallway... what appeared to be two bedrooms and a bathroom. He looked once more at the door to his left, a narrower door than the rest. Probably a linen closet, he idly mused. So why was it calling to him so much?

He looked to the pair of officers that had accompanied him and Brass inside, and nodded toward the hallway. "Check each of these rooms, please," he softly commanded, and they obliged with nods before drawing their guns and going about their work.

Grissom's hand went to his gun, holstered at his hip beneath his windbreaker. Very rarely did he have to draw his gun, but in this case... under such delicate circumstances... it was absolutely necessary. He unsnapped his leather holster, drawing the gun out slowly before taking the safety off. He extended it slightly in one hand and reached for the closet doorknob with the other.

When the door swung open and something tumbled out, Grissom jumped back. He was then in for the shock of his life as his eyes took in what was before him. Catherine's body laid crumpled in the fetal position at his feet, her wrists bound with packing twine and her mouth gagged with duct tape. Dried blood was crusted around her nose and in her beautiful strawberry-blonde hair.

The pain never registered as he dropped to his knees before her, gathering her limp body in his arms. "Catherine..."