Goggled

Disclaimer: Mine no! CBS, Anthony Zuiker et al Yes! Pity :o(
Spoilers: Strip Strangler and LHB
Dedication: To Jac for picking up the slack once again when Aby was too ill to do so And to Vividlyblue1 for giving me back my inspiration
Author's Note: This is a follow up to Strip Strangler but it's set about two years later.The premise being what if Syd Goggle had a friend who had taught Him everything he knew? This is my Challenge Alphabet fic for the Letter R for Revenge.


Chapter 2

Grissom lay in the ambulance trying not to concentrate on the images flashing through his mind. He knew he'd have to deal with what had happened to him but right now he tried to think of anything other than that or the pain he was in, which was considerable. He hoped he could talk Catherine, Jim and Albert into remaining quiet about what had happened to him until he could tell his team himself. He needed to see how they reacted, how they viewed him after this. It would help him understand how to deal with it himself. Although he didn't like to admit, they were very important to him, he didn't make friends easily, the ghost reputation he had at school had stuck with him in his adult life, but the graveyard shift had broken through his reserve. Catherine attributed this to his style, his approach and his teaching methods. They all respected him and couldn't help but like him, especially when he was always there to support them.

One thing he did know but had been unable to vocalise, this had everything to do with Syd Goggle, and not just as the Strip Strangler. God how he hated that title, only an FBI agent like Rick Culpepper could come up with crap like that. Grissom had heard his attacker mutter enough about what a low life hemust be when he had to let a female take care of his problem for him. How he hadn't had the nerve to fight Goggle himself and that now he was going to pay for it.

Gil was glad he had insisted that Albert Robbins accompany him to continue to gather the evidence on the assault and rape. The man had seen enough of the aftermath of Goggle's violent actions and would hopefully be able to identify his trademarks. He'd also hoped Catherine would go with him, but his hopes had nose-dived when Brass had called her back to the crime scene. Maybe it was best she didn't have to deal with him like this she'd done enough already and it hadn't been easy for her he knew that. She thought she had hidden it from him, but he knew her too well, had made it his business to in fact.

'Crime scene,' he thought derisively and snorted, but it was easier to refer to it as that and not as home, the site of his degradation.
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Catherine stalked across the Trace Lab, hands full of bagged evidence, a woman clearly on a mission. She had spent the better part of her shift at Desert Palms Hospital waiting to see Grissom awake and alert. He'd appeared to be both as he'd written her a note before she'd left.

"Don't tell them anything yet," he'd asked noting her annoyance and incredulity, "I want to explain it to the team," the look had changed to one of shock, "I need to do this, Catherine," he'd explained, "I need to see how they react to know where I stand. I can't cope with this if I have to hide it from everyone, not this it goes far too deep."

She'd supposed she could understand it on some level, but it'd still seemed strange, even slightly masochistic, but if it was what Gil needed she would do it. She didn't think any of his people would treat him differently, especially not Sara and the boys. They'd be shocked certainly and very angry but they would never blame Grissom for his own assault they were too smart for that. If anyone else who found out said anything negative about him she knew there would be a very long line forming to adjust their attitude and she would be at the head of it.

Shaking her head to clear it of any doubts and recriminations she approached Greg, here was the hard part. Greg almost hero-worshiped Grissom, it would be hard for him to deal with this evidence once he knew the story behind it, but that wasn't her place. Grissom said he wanted to tell their team and she knew that meant Greg as well. It would just take a little longer to fill him in because he worked different shifts from them.

"I need you to run every test you can think of on these samples," she told him and saw him watching her curiously, an annoyed cast to his features at the thought of having someone tell him how to do his job. Catherine shrugged and continued, "The main donor will be in our database but I don't want you to identify them yet. The guy is one of our own and I want to catch this bastard before Grissom decides I'm too emotionally involved and yanks me from the case."

That should keep him occupied for a while and sounded very reasonable because it was just the sort of thing Gil would do.

Greg seemed about to argue but seeing her face, noticing how red her eyes were and how fatigued she was he said nothing. When one of their own was involved the team became more focused, more dedicated, if that were possible. They pushed themselves well beyond any preconceived limitations and just kept going until they got justice.

"Fine," Greg assured her, "if there's anything there I'll find it," before she could interrupt him he picked up the first bag, the vibrator, and reached for his swabs, "you just went straight to the front of the queue," he told her eyeing the work he'd lined up for this shift, "When I know something you'll know, now go," and with that he shooed her out of his lab.

Resentment flooded her, but Catherine calmed down. You didn't get people to do their best work by looking over their shoulder and the Trace Lab was Greg's domain, he'd every right to kick her out.

Checking her watch she realised the night shift was now officially over and she headed to the locker room to see if any of the guys were back yet. Much to Grissom's chagrin, Catherine had already apprised Sheriff Brian Mobley of the situation and, surprisingly, the man had immediately sanctioned as much overtime as was necessary and agreed that the graveyard shift should handle the case. She'd been ready for a fight that hadn't transpired.

"He may be a royal pain in the ass," the Sheriff had grumbled, "but he's our pain in the ass and we look out for our own. Keep me apprised of his recovery and how the case is going, Catherine. You have carte blanche."

She didn't know who'd been more shocked, her, Grissom, or Brass! But it didn't matter they had free rein to do what ever was necessary on this one and she was going to use it.

In a very weak, scratchy voice Grissom had all but whispered, "Bring Sara and the guys by at the end of shift before you go onto O.T."

Brass and Catherine had shared a look. Grissom hadn't even told them what happened yet and though they needed all the details, they'd been giving him time to get things straight in his mind. They'd both been surprised to see a half smile appear on the injured man's face, briefly. It'd disappeared as he informed them, "I know you need a statement, Jim, but I only want to have to say all of this once," he'd been unable to suppress a shudder at the thought and Catherine had fought down the urge to comfort him. He'd resisted any attempt at physical contact, even fighting down the urge to retreat when she had done the rape and assault kits at the house. She knew he was scared barely holding it together and so she gave him space. "I'd rather get their questions and yours dealt with at the same time if that all right?"

Brass had nodded, "Okay, Gil," he'd reassured his friend, "we'll play it your way as long as we can."

So Catherine found herself in the unenviable position of rounding up the others, fore stalling their questions about Grissom's absence and getting them out to the car.

"Where we going?" Nick asked a hint of fatigue in his voice, "shift's over, Cath." He almost sounded annoyed, "and since we're not all here we can't go for breakfast." It had become an unspoken rule to get Grissom to join them more often. All or nothing.

"Yeah," Warrick added, "why all the secrecy?"

Catherine looked at both men in her review mirror and then glanced at Sara sitting beside her in the front of the car, a curious look on the younger woman's face.

"We're going to see Grissom," she told them, "he's in Desert Palms Hospital."

The three of them started talking at once, demanding to know what had happened, how he was and why she hadn't said anything earlier?

"Hold it down," Catherine roared, "you'll get all your questions answered once we talk to Gil." An awkward, impatient silence ensued for the rest of their journey.

Entering Grissom's room had brought shocked, stunned looks to the faces of the younger members of their team. When Catherine had said their boss was in hospital they had all just assumed that he was ill, but one look at him showed them how wrong they were.

He was hooked up to an I.V. of blood and one of fluids; there were bandages around his neck and wrists. A dressing covered an injury above his left temple, his eyes were blackened, his lower lip split and Sara was sure she had caught sight of a dressing on his chest under his shirt.

"What the hell is going on?" Warrick exclaimed standing at the foot of the bed. With Catherine blocking one side, and Brass the other, there was no way any of them were going to get close to the stricken man.