Silenti Viscus
folder
CSI › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,095
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
CSI › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,095
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own CSI, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Silenti Viscus
AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, it's a rather quick-moving story. It doesn't really give much for plot development because it was originally written for a CSI Het OC/Grissom challenge. Unfortunately, I went WAY past the world limit so I decided to post it here. I added a few bits and pieces to help round it out a bit, but I'm pretty sure it's choppy and hard to follow. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome! There's not really any action in the first chapter; just the whole setting up thing... Smut will come, I promise!!!!
PS. There's a minor involved, so beware.
PPS. The title means "Dead Flesh" or "Dead Heart" in Latin...
<><><><><><>
"SILENTI VISCUS"
The police cruisers cast their flashing lights over the house, illuminating the bright yellow tape spread everywhere. Gil Grissom gripped his evidence kit a little tighter as he saw a small girl huddled in one of the black-and-white cars, wrapped in a blanket and her older sister’s arms. The older girl GrisGrissom’s eyes, then looked away in shame or embarrassment.
Catherine Willows stood next to Grissom as the two seasoned CSIs surveyed the scene. She too saw the daughters in the patrol car and was struck by how much the little girl looked like her Lindsey.
The house itself looked pretty inconspicuous. It was in a prosperous suburban neighborhood, blending red bricks with green ivy. It looked like something out of a movie, with its large glass windows and wrap-around porch. Except in the movies, the front windows usually weren’t shattered and spread across the lawn.
Warrick Brown approached the other two, a camera in his gloved hands.
“Hey,” the dakinnkinned man greeted the other two.
“Hey,” Catherine replied, still sweeping her eyes over the yard.
“We’ve got two 4-19s in the master bedroom. Cops ID’ed them as Jonathon and Marianne Devlin,” Warrick filled them in as the group headed under the tape and up the front walk.
“Mom and Dad?” asked Catherine, nodding towards the cruiser.
“Yeah,” Warrick sighed. “The older girl was raped, but the little one seems to be okay.”
“Jesus.” It was Catherine’s turn to sigh. The blonde turned to talk to Grissom, but found his attention focused on the older sister. “Earth to Grissom?”
“Yes?” Grissom replied distantly, still staring at the teenager.
“We have a crime scene to process. You can worry about the kids later,” Catherine chided as she and Warrick headed into the house. Grissom stood a minute longer, watching the delicate way that the older sister wrapped her arms around the younger girl, gently rocking her and softly singing to her.
<><><><><>
Sara Sidle found herself babysitting again. Grissom had ordered her to keep track of the two Devlin girls, especially the older one. This explained why Sara found herself sitting in the patrol car with the girls, offering them hot chocolate and a shoulder to cry on.
“Do you want to tell me your names or do you want to wait?” Sara asked the older girl carefully. The teen looked up, her blue eyes icy cold with a sort of sad detachment.
“I’m Alise and this is Tracy,” the teen answered tersely. She stared at the house for a moment before turning back to Sara.
“That man with the gray hair and the glasses… Who is he?” asked Alise.
“His name is Gil Grissom and he’s the head CSI. Why?”
“No reason,” Alise lied, her eyes lingering on the front door.
<><><><><>
The interrogation room was dark and unbearably lifeless. Grissom felt almost guilty that the teen had to be interviewed in here, but procedure was procedure. Jim Brass looked at Grissom for a moment, nodding. Grissom nodded back and sat down across from the brunette.
“Alise? My name’s Gil Grissom and I’m with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I need to ask you a few questions about what happened the other night.”
“Sara said that you were mean,” Alise responded, a small twinkle in her carefully guarded eyes. Grissom gave her a small smile in return.
“I’m the boss; I have to be.”
“Oh.” Alise cleared her throat and met Grissom’s eye. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Do you know who raped you?”
Immediately, Grissom regretted his straightforwardness. Her eyes dropped back to the stainless steel table, and she began wringing her hands in her lap.
“Yes and no,” she whispered. “I don’t know his name, but I recognized him from school. I saw him once or twice in the hallways.”
Her eyes suddenly locked with Grissom’s again.
“Did he kill my parents?”
“We don’t know yet.” Her eyes dropped again. “But we’ll find the person eventually.”
Alise smiled at him and Grissom stood, preparing to leave. As he and Jim headed out the door, Grissom felt a hand on his arm. Alise jerked her hand back and rubbed it ruefully, as if touching him had burned her somehow.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, before letting the two men leave. Grissom watched her through the door’s small window and saw her anguished crying.
“Something’s up,” he said to no one in particular.
“Say something?” Brass asked, stopping for a moment.
“No,” Grissom remarked before heading on his way.
<><><><><>
“Greg, please tell me that you got something for me,” Catherine nearly begged as she entered the Trace Evidence lab.
Greg Sanders smiled and handed her a print-out.
“We got a match on the semen from the older girl’s rape kit. It belongs to Alex Dean,” Greg explained as he sat back in his chair gleefully.
“And he’s got a prior for sexual assault, too,” noted Catherine.
“Don’t forget that he used to work for Jonathon Devlin. Apparently he was charged with embezzlement, but Devlin dropped the charges a few days later.”
“Motive?” Catherine wondered aloud before turning on her heel and leaving.
<><><><><>
ssomssom didn’t know why he was here. He’d gotten her temporary address from a contact in Children’s Services with the intent of accompanyinr bar back to the station. But now that he was here, standing in front of the apartment door marked “30B” in broad daylight, he wasn’t so sure. Before he could stop himself, however, Grissom knocked.
He could hear her moving around behind the door, probably looking through the peephole to see who it was before she unlocked the chains and cautiously opened the door.
“Mr. Grissom,” she breathed.
“Hello, Miss Devlin. I wanted to ask you a few more questions, if that’s okay.”
“Please, call me Alise. My mom was Miss Devlin.”
“I thought she was Mrs. Devlin,” Grissom frowned.
“No. Um…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell you this.” Alise looked on the verge of tears.
Words tumbled out of Grissom’s mouth, words that sounded like “May I come in?”
Alise stepped back and let him enter the cool, air-conditioned apartment. She closed the door behind him, still biting her lip and fighting to keep from crying.
“Look, Miss….Alise, anything you know may help us catch the person who did this.”
“My parents were first cousins,” Alise told Grissom, her eyes locked on the soft, cream-colored carpet. “To keep things from getting…out of hand…they kept their separate identities and claimed to just be living together. Then I was born and Dad made up some story about me being the result of a one-night stand or something.” She paused and sat down on the couch, folding her knees up to her chest. Grissom sat in the adjacent chair, notebook in hand.
“When Tracy was born, the family knew that something was up. She looked too much like Mom too be from somebody else. So they disowned us. Things just got so complicated and then they were just starting to get simple again.”
Alise’s self-control broke and her tears started. Grissom was by her side in an instant, offering her his handkerchief and awkwardly patting her back. By the time her sobbing slowed to the occasionally sniffle Grissom’s hand had fallen into a soothing rubbing motion. On an impulse, Alise leaned over and kissed him quickly on his lips. His stubble tickled her and her giggle turned into a hiccup.
For a long moment, the two just sat there, unsure of what to do. Grissom was aware of her rapid breathing and the way her chest fell and rose. She was just as nervous as he was.
“To hell with procedure,” Grissom whispered. He kissed the teen back.
PS. There's a minor involved, so beware.
PPS. The title means "Dead Flesh" or "Dead Heart" in Latin...
<><><><><><>
"SILENTI VISCUS"
The police cruisers cast their flashing lights over the house, illuminating the bright yellow tape spread everywhere. Gil Grissom gripped his evidence kit a little tighter as he saw a small girl huddled in one of the black-and-white cars, wrapped in a blanket and her older sister’s arms. The older girl GrisGrissom’s eyes, then looked away in shame or embarrassment.
Catherine Willows stood next to Grissom as the two seasoned CSIs surveyed the scene. She too saw the daughters in the patrol car and was struck by how much the little girl looked like her Lindsey.
The house itself looked pretty inconspicuous. It was in a prosperous suburban neighborhood, blending red bricks with green ivy. It looked like something out of a movie, with its large glass windows and wrap-around porch. Except in the movies, the front windows usually weren’t shattered and spread across the lawn.
Warrick Brown approached the other two, a camera in his gloved hands.
“Hey,” the dakinnkinned man greeted the other two.
“Hey,” Catherine replied, still sweeping her eyes over the yard.
“We’ve got two 4-19s in the master bedroom. Cops ID’ed them as Jonathon and Marianne Devlin,” Warrick filled them in as the group headed under the tape and up the front walk.
“Mom and Dad?” asked Catherine, nodding towards the cruiser.
“Yeah,” Warrick sighed. “The older girl was raped, but the little one seems to be okay.”
“Jesus.” It was Catherine’s turn to sigh. The blonde turned to talk to Grissom, but found his attention focused on the older sister. “Earth to Grissom?”
“Yes?” Grissom replied distantly, still staring at the teenager.
“We have a crime scene to process. You can worry about the kids later,” Catherine chided as she and Warrick headed into the house. Grissom stood a minute longer, watching the delicate way that the older sister wrapped her arms around the younger girl, gently rocking her and softly singing to her.
<><><><><>
Sara Sidle found herself babysitting again. Grissom had ordered her to keep track of the two Devlin girls, especially the older one. This explained why Sara found herself sitting in the patrol car with the girls, offering them hot chocolate and a shoulder to cry on.
“Do you want to tell me your names or do you want to wait?” Sara asked the older girl carefully. The teen looked up, her blue eyes icy cold with a sort of sad detachment.
“I’m Alise and this is Tracy,” the teen answered tersely. She stared at the house for a moment before turning back to Sara.
“That man with the gray hair and the glasses… Who is he?” asked Alise.
“His name is Gil Grissom and he’s the head CSI. Why?”
“No reason,” Alise lied, her eyes lingering on the front door.
<><><><><>
The interrogation room was dark and unbearably lifeless. Grissom felt almost guilty that the teen had to be interviewed in here, but procedure was procedure. Jim Brass looked at Grissom for a moment, nodding. Grissom nodded back and sat down across from the brunette.
“Alise? My name’s Gil Grissom and I’m with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I need to ask you a few questions about what happened the other night.”
“Sara said that you were mean,” Alise responded, a small twinkle in her carefully guarded eyes. Grissom gave her a small smile in return.
“I’m the boss; I have to be.”
“Oh.” Alise cleared her throat and met Grissom’s eye. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Do you know who raped you?”
Immediately, Grissom regretted his straightforwardness. Her eyes dropped back to the stainless steel table, and she began wringing her hands in her lap.
“Yes and no,” she whispered. “I don’t know his name, but I recognized him from school. I saw him once or twice in the hallways.”
Her eyes suddenly locked with Grissom’s again.
“Did he kill my parents?”
“We don’t know yet.” Her eyes dropped again. “But we’ll find the person eventually.”
Alise smiled at him and Grissom stood, preparing to leave. As he and Jim headed out the door, Grissom felt a hand on his arm. Alise jerked her hand back and rubbed it ruefully, as if touching him had burned her somehow.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, before letting the two men leave. Grissom watched her through the door’s small window and saw her anguished crying.
“Something’s up,” he said to no one in particular.
“Say something?” Brass asked, stopping for a moment.
“No,” Grissom remarked before heading on his way.
<><><><><>
“Greg, please tell me that you got something for me,” Catherine nearly begged as she entered the Trace Evidence lab.
Greg Sanders smiled and handed her a print-out.
“We got a match on the semen from the older girl’s rape kit. It belongs to Alex Dean,” Greg explained as he sat back in his chair gleefully.
“And he’s got a prior for sexual assault, too,” noted Catherine.
“Don’t forget that he used to work for Jonathon Devlin. Apparently he was charged with embezzlement, but Devlin dropped the charges a few days later.”
“Motive?” Catherine wondered aloud before turning on her heel and leaving.
<><><><><>
ssomssom didn’t know why he was here. He’d gotten her temporary address from a contact in Children’s Services with the intent of accompanyinr bar back to the station. But now that he was here, standing in front of the apartment door marked “30B” in broad daylight, he wasn’t so sure. Before he could stop himself, however, Grissom knocked.
He could hear her moving around behind the door, probably looking through the peephole to see who it was before she unlocked the chains and cautiously opened the door.
“Mr. Grissom,” she breathed.
“Hello, Miss Devlin. I wanted to ask you a few more questions, if that’s okay.”
“Please, call me Alise. My mom was Miss Devlin.”
“I thought she was Mrs. Devlin,” Grissom frowned.
“No. Um…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell you this.” Alise looked on the verge of tears.
Words tumbled out of Grissom’s mouth, words that sounded like “May I come in?”
Alise stepped back and let him enter the cool, air-conditioned apartment. She closed the door behind him, still biting her lip and fighting to keep from crying.
“Look, Miss….Alise, anything you know may help us catch the person who did this.”
“My parents were first cousins,” Alise told Grissom, her eyes locked on the soft, cream-colored carpet. “To keep things from getting…out of hand…they kept their separate identities and claimed to just be living together. Then I was born and Dad made up some story about me being the result of a one-night stand or something.” She paused and sat down on the couch, folding her knees up to her chest. Grissom sat in the adjacent chair, notebook in hand.
“When Tracy was born, the family knew that something was up. She looked too much like Mom too be from somebody else. So they disowned us. Things just got so complicated and then they were just starting to get simple again.”
Alise’s self-control broke and her tears started. Grissom was by her side in an instant, offering her his handkerchief and awkwardly patting her back. By the time her sobbing slowed to the occasionally sniffle Grissom’s hand had fallen into a soothing rubbing motion. On an impulse, Alise leaned over and kissed him quickly on his lips. His stubble tickled her and her giggle turned into a hiccup.
For a long moment, the two just sat there, unsure of what to do. Grissom was aware of her rapid breathing and the way her chest fell and rose. She was just as nervous as he was.
“To hell with procedure,” Grissom whispered. He kissed the teen back.