quoth_the_raven
Corpse
Author's Notes: So Zan and I had this idea to write a joint fic together! It takes place in the episode Committed, and we're going to add our own plot after the episode ends (what you didn't see). Zan wrote Grissom's POV, which is in bold, and I wrote Sara's (normal font), and Brass' (which is in italic). Enjoy!
So I wake up this morning- same old routine. I'm sitting in the kitchen drinking a warm cup of coffee; the good stuff, not that fake stuff the state provides for local law enforcement. Unfortunately I didn't get up early enough- or go to bed late enough- in order to get first dibs at the Krispy Kreme, so I had to settle for some pastries that I picked up at the local supermarket.
I'm sitting at the table reading the newspaper sipping my coffee and eating my breakfast; I try to savor these few moments I have in the mornings to myself before the sound of my cell phone going off calls me back to the station, or to another crime-scene.
Today the sound of my cell phone ringing was unusually early. I picked up my phone and headed back to the station to conduct a few interrogations regarding some assholes picked up off the Strip the night before. If you want my god-honest opinion, their alibis sucked- each and every one of them. The case was solved in a heartbeat- boom, boom, and boom- Suspect cracks, cops arrest them, and they’re taken off to booking.
Now don't get me wrong, I love my job, but there are those days when even a dedicated homicide detective such as myself has had quite enough of the same old thing from time-to-time. I'm not giving some psycho on the street permission to commit some freakish crime of some sort, I just wish that now and again these guys that we've caught before who have been released for good behavior, or are on parole can get it through their thick skulls that if it didn't work the first time, it's not going to work the second time.
Finishing up the case, I looked down at my wristwatch just in time to see that I could grab an early dinner- even though it was about 10:45-and hopefully before I got another call to a new crime-scene.
Just as I was about to take a bite of my dinner plate at the local Denny's down the street, the shrill shrieking sound of my cell phone interrupts my meal; god I need to change that ring tone. With a sigh I pick up my phone and answer it as I always do- calmly and professionally. It was Gil- I figured his shift must've been starting- and I listen to what he has to say, figuring that I'm just going to another hit-and-run scene, or a robbery of some sort.
He tells me we're going to Desert State Hospital. Well, that was a surprise.
I left some money on the table, got in my car and drove off. The pitter-patter of rain drops hitting the windshield surprised me; I wasn't expecting it to rain now, let alone any time soon. I heard a crack of thunder in the distance as I pulled up to the hospital- how fitting. This place definitely left a lot to be desired. Blindingly white outer walls, tiny windows, gated fence around the place topped off with a cantina.
I got out of my car and headed to the entrance where soon Gil and Sara Sidle met me.
And then we walked inside.
I am privileged enough to have an office, with a door, and a desk… which is covered in mounds of paperwork for me to complete. I am privileged enough to have shelves, with jars of unique scientific items, and books… which help me find the answers to solve extremely difficult cases… when they come up. And most importantly, I am privileged enough to lead an exceptional group of individuals, each with their own unique identities and personalities, who help make the Las Vegas Lab one of the best labs in the country. It is my job, as supervisor, to figure out which CSI is best equipped to handle which case, and to encourage him or her to follow the evidence to the truth. As always, this is something that is easier said than done.
Walking into the lab, I can’t help but frown at the weather. Rain… thunder… lightning. I know that it will probably be a slow night, and for that, I am truly thankful. I think. With rain comes a decrease in crime, and with a decrease in crime comes the “opportunity” to do paperwork. And although I do not consider paperwork to be the most important part of my job, Conrad Ecklie, my boss, certainly does. So I suppose that every once in awhile, I need to appease him.
Sitting at my desk, I sigh, as I get to work. Performance reviews, evidentiary files, case notes… all important, but all… tiring. Frowning, I glance up at the clock. 12:30. The night is young, and my eyes are… well, they’re not old!
Grabbing a new file, and opening up to a clean page in my notebook, I almost jump, as my phone rings. Without hesitating, I immediately pick it up, biting my lip. “Grissom…” I say. “Where? Desert State Hospital? Okay… we’ll be there in thirty minutes. Yes, I understand. Thank you,” I add, immediately hanging up, and thinking things through.
Sighing, I once again frown. On most nights, this is where I would analyze the strengths and weaknesses of my team, choosing the best person for the job at hand. Glancing down at my desk, I lightly tap my pen on the folder, as I think. Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders, or Sofia Curtis. Which one do I want to bring with me? Although all three criminalists are capable, and I would trust my life, or rather, my death… in all of their hands, the Desert State Hospital is not the type of place that I would want to bring any of them. Greg, with his youthful exuberance, tends to be unpredictable, and… unpredictability can set off people in a mental institution. Sofia, with her strength in analyzing, is better off in the lab. And as for Sara…? Well, I worry about her… a lot. For many different reasons. On many different levels.
So… despite the fact that Desert State Hospital is known for housing the criminally insane, and the sexually violent predators, I decide to have Sara accompany me on this particular case. I only hope that my doing so does not harm her in any way.
As a rookie, I was told a lot of things before I went out in the field as a CSI. I was told to always have a firearm on me, for one, and something else that I was told was to expect the unexpected. At the time…I’m not sure what my problem was. I had seen a lot of things in my lifetime- all of it even before I became a CSI and went into this line of work- so I must’ve thought nothing would surprise me. Maybe I was just young and naïve, or…maybe I was just being stubborn, as always.
I knew what I was going to encounter in this profession would not be happy or cheerful, and I knew that the discussion of how my day was would be a rather morbid discussion at the dinner table. So…if I knew what to look out for, why did I have so much trouble with cases? I knew why…and I knew there was a perfectly understandable reason for it, but…for now I’ll settle with Grissom’s theory- I’m just empathetic. For now, that’s a good enough answer for everyone else.
Grissom just called me about fifteen minutes ago and told me we had a homicide at Desert State Hospital. I’m driving along the interstate at about twenty miles an hour, and at the moment I’m not sure why exactly I’m going so slow- because of the sudden rainstorm, or because I just really don’t want to go to this place? Unfortunately the road is unusually empty tonight and all the lights I hit were green.
I drove up to the hospital and tried to compose myself before I entered the building. This looks so similar…so similar to the building they took her to.
Before getting out of my car, I take a deep breath and tell myself, “It’s just empathy.”
Eager as always, I walk up to the entranceway of the hospital, glancing at my surroundings. This place reminds me of a prison… no, worse than a prison. The walls are white and stark; the reception area is sterile; and the use of doors with very tiny windows is just… constricting.
But when I get to the hospital, Brass is already waiting for me, and we exchange pleasantries… although really, what can be so pleasant about standing in the middle of a building, with criminals that even the jails don’t want, having the power to roam the building at will?
Okay, that thought makes me a little bit uneasy. Glancing over my shoulder, I scan the room, just… to make sure. And then Sara arrives. She looks…nervous to me. I don’t know why, but… I feel like she is just… scared. I’ll have to keep my eye on her.
I walk up to the entrance to the hospital and meet up with Brass and Grissom. Not really making eye-contact with either of them, I take a look around at our surroundings.
Looking over at the doors of the hospital entrance, I take a look inside through the clear glass. There appears to be almost three or four barriers blocking the area where the actual inmates- patients…- are located. Gates on the doors…why are there gates on the doors? This isn’t supposed to be a prison…though I realize that all of the patients here are criminally insane and sexually violent predators.
I frown as a man walks out of the building to show us inside and escort us around to ensure we’re safe. I didn’t mean to, but I double-checked my holster on my hip to make sure my gun was still in place. Good, it was.
We walk through the glass doors leading inside and I am immediately assaulted with some stench- both foreign and yet familiar to me. It smells like many things…the actual smell was like a mixture of dirty and clean laundry thrown into one hamper, but I could tell this foul odor was just a cover-up for what lie beneath the surface. It smells like anger…violence, confusion, fear, lies, and insanity.
Well, that was a surprise, wasn’t it? I ask myself.
After passing through the doors leading to the hallways the patients inhabited, we round a corner leading to one last door. I felt a bit vulnerable…maybe even a bit frightened. As soon as we walked through this door, who knew what lay ahead.
“…keep your kits locked and closed when not in use.” I hear the man speaking to us as I come back to reality. “Ms. Sidle, best if you remove the vest. New uniforms upset them.”
I sighed and set my kit down near my feet. Now that’s just one more layer I’m without; less protection.
After removing my CSI vest the door opens and we walk into the hallway.
I have to admit, the longer we spend in the hospital, the more uncomfortable I become. The air just smells… stagnant; like sweaty socks that haven’t been washed in months, mixed in with something clean smelling… disinfectants? I wonder to myself. Must be. With a frown, I nod at Sara, and follow both her and Brass down the corridor to one of the main hallways.
We don’t get very far, however, as I hear people shuffling down the hallway. A lot of people, actually… what’s going on? Are they…moving the…patients for some reason? I shrug, as our guide tells us to stop, and put our backs against the wall... it’s standard procedure, he tells us. But…put our backs against the wall? Why is that a standard safety procedure…? Do I even want to know why? My guess is that I probably do not… again, it probably has something to do with the caliber of the residents in this… facility.
I frown, as our guide tells Sara something about removing her vest. But I don’t want Sara to remove her vest. Her vest keeps her safe, and… without it…that is just one less layer that she’ll have against… well, whatever. But then I frown. Honestly, Gil, Sara doesn’t need any protection… I tell myself. She’ll be fine here… So with a sigh, I watch as she does what the guide says, leaving her discarded uniform behind. Great.
In hindsight, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to bring Sara on this case with me. She still looks… terrified. She’s trying to hide her fear, I can tell, but she keeps moving her jaw… and when she moves her jaw, or bites her lip, she’s scared. And her fear makes me nervous. Very, very nervous.
I’ll have to keep my eye on her.
“Oh, uh…could you actually stop here and put your backs against the wall, please,” the man from before tells us. As if for reassurance, he tells Brass, “It’s, uh, standard safety procedure.” Soon doing the same, we looked on as a line of people headed past us, not unlike a line of train cars.
Keeping my kit held in front of me, I look at each person walking by- all male, none that approximately looked the same age as another. One of the patients looks over at me and tilts his head back in the air, sticking his tongue out of his mouth and moving it in an obscene gesture. I just stared at him for a moment- I needed to reassure myself that he was there, I was here. I was safe, Brass and Grissom were right beside me and I had my gun.
“Jake, put your tongue in your mouth,” I hear someone- obviously a hospital employee- say. The row of patients finally disappears around the corner, but this Jake guy apparently saw something he liked because he didn’t stop looking at me. I take a deep breath. I think I held my breath as the patients walked past us, but this Jake guy apparently saw something he liked because he didn’t stop looking at me.
We walk down the hallway into an empty room where we’re introduced to the Desert State Hospital staff.
“This is Captain Brass,” our guide- actually the hospital administrator- introduces Brass. “Dr. Grissom and Ms. Sidle are from the Crime Lab.”
And so it began.
Standing in front of the hospital administer, I try to focus on what he is telling me. But my attention is still back on Jake, and what he did to Sara while he and his fellow patients walked down the hallway. I mean, he stuck his tongue out at her! He actually stuck his tongue out at her, and did something with it that would have made even my mother blush. I glanced over at Sara while Jake was… staring at her, and I frowned. She looked...uncomfortable, at the very least. I wanted to reach a hand out to her, to tell her that it would be okay, but… knowing Sara, she would not have appreciated the gesture. So I said nothing. And I did nothing.
So here we are, speaking with several of the hospital’s staff members. As the nurses are talking, I can’t help but take another look around… and I notice that Sara is doing the same thing. Although this is a hospital, I frown, as I was once again compare the patients to inmates. In fact, I perk up with interest, as I hear Jim ask if the patients are locked in their rooms at night, and I bite my tongue, as I hear the hospital administrator claim that the patients all have free rein… okay, so these people, regardless of what they have done, are better off than inmates. Interesting.
Sighing, we all follow the staff members to isolation, where I watch them restrain Kenny, the man who had been found covered in Robbie’s blood. But something isn’t right. There’s something wrong with his clothes…
We walk into a room where I hear pained grunts and screams. Kenny, one of the patients at the hospital, was being restrained by one of the side-techs and nurses…as well as some leather straps that ran across his chest and around his ankles and wrists.
I watch this man struggle…struggle for his freedom, and I can’t help but feel a bit more uncomfortable than I had already. For at this moment, it’s not this…Kenny guy I see being restrained. It’s my mother. It’s not his voice that I hear…it’s hers.
Snapping back to reality, I go back into CSI-mode. “How did he get those wounds?” I ask, noting several bloodied-scratches on his arms.
“He suffers from Redfield-syndrome,” Leon- judging by the name on his nametag- informs us. “Gets off on blood.”
I turn around and shoot Grissom a look and I instantly know what he’s thinking. Those wounds were obviously not sustained during a struggle, and there is no blood spatter on Kenny’s clothes. This man is definitely not our guy.
In fact, there’s something wrong with more than just Kenny’s clothes. His wounds appear to be… self-inflicted, and as a result of the restraints themselves. Not something that he could have received from a struggle.
But before I can ask a question to that effect, Sara beats me to it. “How did he get those wounds…?” she asks the hospital’s employees.
And I listen to Leon’s answer about Redfield-syndrome, before glancing over at Sara. Again, interesting, I think, as she tosses me her own look.
So now it’s my turn to ask a question. The clothes… they still bothered me. “He was wearing these clothes when you found him?” I ask… just to confirm what I already assumed.
“Yes,” Nanette Faber, one of the nurses, simply replies.
Nodding at Sara, I silently ask her to follow me outside of the room. We have a lot of things to discuss, and… I’d rather do it with her, alone. “There was blood spatter all over the victim's room…” I finally say to her.
“Blood but no spatter on Kenny's clothes,” she replies.
I inwardly smile, because I know that Sara is thinking along the same lines as I am. “I'm not sure this is our guy…” I admit.
Looking around, Sara returns her gaze to me. “Locked unit. Finite number of suspects.”
I can’t help but give a small smile, as I stare down the hallway. “Crazy or not... here we come.”
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED
So I wake up this morning- same old routine. I'm sitting in the kitchen drinking a warm cup of coffee; the good stuff, not that fake stuff the state provides for local law enforcement. Unfortunately I didn't get up early enough- or go to bed late enough- in order to get first dibs at the Krispy Kreme, so I had to settle for some pastries that I picked up at the local supermarket.
I'm sitting at the table reading the newspaper sipping my coffee and eating my breakfast; I try to savor these few moments I have in the mornings to myself before the sound of my cell phone going off calls me back to the station, or to another crime-scene.
Today the sound of my cell phone ringing was unusually early. I picked up my phone and headed back to the station to conduct a few interrogations regarding some assholes picked up off the Strip the night before. If you want my god-honest opinion, their alibis sucked- each and every one of them. The case was solved in a heartbeat- boom, boom, and boom- Suspect cracks, cops arrest them, and they’re taken off to booking.
Now don't get me wrong, I love my job, but there are those days when even a dedicated homicide detective such as myself has had quite enough of the same old thing from time-to-time. I'm not giving some psycho on the street permission to commit some freakish crime of some sort, I just wish that now and again these guys that we've caught before who have been released for good behavior, or are on parole can get it through their thick skulls that if it didn't work the first time, it's not going to work the second time.
Finishing up the case, I looked down at my wristwatch just in time to see that I could grab an early dinner- even though it was about 10:45-and hopefully before I got another call to a new crime-scene.
Just as I was about to take a bite of my dinner plate at the local Denny's down the street, the shrill shrieking sound of my cell phone interrupts my meal; god I need to change that ring tone. With a sigh I pick up my phone and answer it as I always do- calmly and professionally. It was Gil- I figured his shift must've been starting- and I listen to what he has to say, figuring that I'm just going to another hit-and-run scene, or a robbery of some sort.
He tells me we're going to Desert State Hospital. Well, that was a surprise.
I left some money on the table, got in my car and drove off. The pitter-patter of rain drops hitting the windshield surprised me; I wasn't expecting it to rain now, let alone any time soon. I heard a crack of thunder in the distance as I pulled up to the hospital- how fitting. This place definitely left a lot to be desired. Blindingly white outer walls, tiny windows, gated fence around the place topped off with a cantina.
I got out of my car and headed to the entrance where soon Gil and Sara Sidle met me.
And then we walked inside.
I am privileged enough to have an office, with a door, and a desk… which is covered in mounds of paperwork for me to complete. I am privileged enough to have shelves, with jars of unique scientific items, and books… which help me find the answers to solve extremely difficult cases… when they come up. And most importantly, I am privileged enough to lead an exceptional group of individuals, each with their own unique identities and personalities, who help make the Las Vegas Lab one of the best labs in the country. It is my job, as supervisor, to figure out which CSI is best equipped to handle which case, and to encourage him or her to follow the evidence to the truth. As always, this is something that is easier said than done.
Walking into the lab, I can’t help but frown at the weather. Rain… thunder… lightning. I know that it will probably be a slow night, and for that, I am truly thankful. I think. With rain comes a decrease in crime, and with a decrease in crime comes the “opportunity” to do paperwork. And although I do not consider paperwork to be the most important part of my job, Conrad Ecklie, my boss, certainly does. So I suppose that every once in awhile, I need to appease him.
Sitting at my desk, I sigh, as I get to work. Performance reviews, evidentiary files, case notes… all important, but all… tiring. Frowning, I glance up at the clock. 12:30. The night is young, and my eyes are… well, they’re not old!
Grabbing a new file, and opening up to a clean page in my notebook, I almost jump, as my phone rings. Without hesitating, I immediately pick it up, biting my lip. “Grissom…” I say. “Where? Desert State Hospital? Okay… we’ll be there in thirty minutes. Yes, I understand. Thank you,” I add, immediately hanging up, and thinking things through.
Sighing, I once again frown. On most nights, this is where I would analyze the strengths and weaknesses of my team, choosing the best person for the job at hand. Glancing down at my desk, I lightly tap my pen on the folder, as I think. Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders, or Sofia Curtis. Which one do I want to bring with me? Although all three criminalists are capable, and I would trust my life, or rather, my death… in all of their hands, the Desert State Hospital is not the type of place that I would want to bring any of them. Greg, with his youthful exuberance, tends to be unpredictable, and… unpredictability can set off people in a mental institution. Sofia, with her strength in analyzing, is better off in the lab. And as for Sara…? Well, I worry about her… a lot. For many different reasons. On many different levels.
So… despite the fact that Desert State Hospital is known for housing the criminally insane, and the sexually violent predators, I decide to have Sara accompany me on this particular case. I only hope that my doing so does not harm her in any way.
As a rookie, I was told a lot of things before I went out in the field as a CSI. I was told to always have a firearm on me, for one, and something else that I was told was to expect the unexpected. At the time…I’m not sure what my problem was. I had seen a lot of things in my lifetime- all of it even before I became a CSI and went into this line of work- so I must’ve thought nothing would surprise me. Maybe I was just young and naïve, or…maybe I was just being stubborn, as always.
I knew what I was going to encounter in this profession would not be happy or cheerful, and I knew that the discussion of how my day was would be a rather morbid discussion at the dinner table. So…if I knew what to look out for, why did I have so much trouble with cases? I knew why…and I knew there was a perfectly understandable reason for it, but…for now I’ll settle with Grissom’s theory- I’m just empathetic. For now, that’s a good enough answer for everyone else.
Grissom just called me about fifteen minutes ago and told me we had a homicide at Desert State Hospital. I’m driving along the interstate at about twenty miles an hour, and at the moment I’m not sure why exactly I’m going so slow- because of the sudden rainstorm, or because I just really don’t want to go to this place? Unfortunately the road is unusually empty tonight and all the lights I hit were green.
I drove up to the hospital and tried to compose myself before I entered the building. This looks so similar…so similar to the building they took her to.
Before getting out of my car, I take a deep breath and tell myself, “It’s just empathy.”
Eager as always, I walk up to the entranceway of the hospital, glancing at my surroundings. This place reminds me of a prison… no, worse than a prison. The walls are white and stark; the reception area is sterile; and the use of doors with very tiny windows is just… constricting.
But when I get to the hospital, Brass is already waiting for me, and we exchange pleasantries… although really, what can be so pleasant about standing in the middle of a building, with criminals that even the jails don’t want, having the power to roam the building at will?
Okay, that thought makes me a little bit uneasy. Glancing over my shoulder, I scan the room, just… to make sure. And then Sara arrives. She looks…nervous to me. I don’t know why, but… I feel like she is just… scared. I’ll have to keep my eye on her.
I walk up to the entrance to the hospital and meet up with Brass and Grissom. Not really making eye-contact with either of them, I take a look around at our surroundings.
Looking over at the doors of the hospital entrance, I take a look inside through the clear glass. There appears to be almost three or four barriers blocking the area where the actual inmates- patients…- are located. Gates on the doors…why are there gates on the doors? This isn’t supposed to be a prison…though I realize that all of the patients here are criminally insane and sexually violent predators.
I frown as a man walks out of the building to show us inside and escort us around to ensure we’re safe. I didn’t mean to, but I double-checked my holster on my hip to make sure my gun was still in place. Good, it was.
We walk through the glass doors leading inside and I am immediately assaulted with some stench- both foreign and yet familiar to me. It smells like many things…the actual smell was like a mixture of dirty and clean laundry thrown into one hamper, but I could tell this foul odor was just a cover-up for what lie beneath the surface. It smells like anger…violence, confusion, fear, lies, and insanity.
Well, that was a surprise, wasn’t it? I ask myself.
After passing through the doors leading to the hallways the patients inhabited, we round a corner leading to one last door. I felt a bit vulnerable…maybe even a bit frightened. As soon as we walked through this door, who knew what lay ahead.
“…keep your kits locked and closed when not in use.” I hear the man speaking to us as I come back to reality. “Ms. Sidle, best if you remove the vest. New uniforms upset them.”
I sighed and set my kit down near my feet. Now that’s just one more layer I’m without; less protection.
After removing my CSI vest the door opens and we walk into the hallway.
I have to admit, the longer we spend in the hospital, the more uncomfortable I become. The air just smells… stagnant; like sweaty socks that haven’t been washed in months, mixed in with something clean smelling… disinfectants? I wonder to myself. Must be. With a frown, I nod at Sara, and follow both her and Brass down the corridor to one of the main hallways.
We don’t get very far, however, as I hear people shuffling down the hallway. A lot of people, actually… what’s going on? Are they…moving the…patients for some reason? I shrug, as our guide tells us to stop, and put our backs against the wall... it’s standard procedure, he tells us. But…put our backs against the wall? Why is that a standard safety procedure…? Do I even want to know why? My guess is that I probably do not… again, it probably has something to do with the caliber of the residents in this… facility.
I frown, as our guide tells Sara something about removing her vest. But I don’t want Sara to remove her vest. Her vest keeps her safe, and… without it…that is just one less layer that she’ll have against… well, whatever. But then I frown. Honestly, Gil, Sara doesn’t need any protection… I tell myself. She’ll be fine here… So with a sigh, I watch as she does what the guide says, leaving her discarded uniform behind. Great.
In hindsight, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to bring Sara on this case with me. She still looks… terrified. She’s trying to hide her fear, I can tell, but she keeps moving her jaw… and when she moves her jaw, or bites her lip, she’s scared. And her fear makes me nervous. Very, very nervous.
I’ll have to keep my eye on her.
“Oh, uh…could you actually stop here and put your backs against the wall, please,” the man from before tells us. As if for reassurance, he tells Brass, “It’s, uh, standard safety procedure.” Soon doing the same, we looked on as a line of people headed past us, not unlike a line of train cars.
Keeping my kit held in front of me, I look at each person walking by- all male, none that approximately looked the same age as another. One of the patients looks over at me and tilts his head back in the air, sticking his tongue out of his mouth and moving it in an obscene gesture. I just stared at him for a moment- I needed to reassure myself that he was there, I was here. I was safe, Brass and Grissom were right beside me and I had my gun.
“Jake, put your tongue in your mouth,” I hear someone- obviously a hospital employee- say. The row of patients finally disappears around the corner, but this Jake guy apparently saw something he liked because he didn’t stop looking at me. I take a deep breath. I think I held my breath as the patients walked past us, but this Jake guy apparently saw something he liked because he didn’t stop looking at me.
We walk down the hallway into an empty room where we’re introduced to the Desert State Hospital staff.
“This is Captain Brass,” our guide- actually the hospital administrator- introduces Brass. “Dr. Grissom and Ms. Sidle are from the Crime Lab.”
And so it began.
Standing in front of the hospital administer, I try to focus on what he is telling me. But my attention is still back on Jake, and what he did to Sara while he and his fellow patients walked down the hallway. I mean, he stuck his tongue out at her! He actually stuck his tongue out at her, and did something with it that would have made even my mother blush. I glanced over at Sara while Jake was… staring at her, and I frowned. She looked...uncomfortable, at the very least. I wanted to reach a hand out to her, to tell her that it would be okay, but… knowing Sara, she would not have appreciated the gesture. So I said nothing. And I did nothing.
So here we are, speaking with several of the hospital’s staff members. As the nurses are talking, I can’t help but take another look around… and I notice that Sara is doing the same thing. Although this is a hospital, I frown, as I was once again compare the patients to inmates. In fact, I perk up with interest, as I hear Jim ask if the patients are locked in their rooms at night, and I bite my tongue, as I hear the hospital administrator claim that the patients all have free rein… okay, so these people, regardless of what they have done, are better off than inmates. Interesting.
Sighing, we all follow the staff members to isolation, where I watch them restrain Kenny, the man who had been found covered in Robbie’s blood. But something isn’t right. There’s something wrong with his clothes…
We walk into a room where I hear pained grunts and screams. Kenny, one of the patients at the hospital, was being restrained by one of the side-techs and nurses…as well as some leather straps that ran across his chest and around his ankles and wrists.
I watch this man struggle…struggle for his freedom, and I can’t help but feel a bit more uncomfortable than I had already. For at this moment, it’s not this…Kenny guy I see being restrained. It’s my mother. It’s not his voice that I hear…it’s hers.
Snapping back to reality, I go back into CSI-mode. “How did he get those wounds?” I ask, noting several bloodied-scratches on his arms.
“He suffers from Redfield-syndrome,” Leon- judging by the name on his nametag- informs us. “Gets off on blood.”
I turn around and shoot Grissom a look and I instantly know what he’s thinking. Those wounds were obviously not sustained during a struggle, and there is no blood spatter on Kenny’s clothes. This man is definitely not our guy.
In fact, there’s something wrong with more than just Kenny’s clothes. His wounds appear to be… self-inflicted, and as a result of the restraints themselves. Not something that he could have received from a struggle.
But before I can ask a question to that effect, Sara beats me to it. “How did he get those wounds…?” she asks the hospital’s employees.
And I listen to Leon’s answer about Redfield-syndrome, before glancing over at Sara. Again, interesting, I think, as she tosses me her own look.
So now it’s my turn to ask a question. The clothes… they still bothered me. “He was wearing these clothes when you found him?” I ask… just to confirm what I already assumed.
“Yes,” Nanette Faber, one of the nurses, simply replies.
Nodding at Sara, I silently ask her to follow me outside of the room. We have a lot of things to discuss, and… I’d rather do it with her, alone. “There was blood spatter all over the victim's room…” I finally say to her.
“Blood but no spatter on Kenny's clothes,” she replies.
I inwardly smile, because I know that Sara is thinking along the same lines as I am. “I'm not sure this is our guy…” I admit.
Looking around, Sara returns her gaze to me. “Locked unit. Finite number of suspects.”
I can’t help but give a small smile, as I stare down the hallway. “Crazy or not... here we come.”
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TO BE CONTINUED
And ooh, banner talk! ^_^