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Title: Sons of September
Author: *bright
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers : Mentions from episodes throughout the series,set at end S6/start S7, spoilery up to that point.
Pairing: Nick/Warrick and team.
Category: Case-file, AU (covert, established N/W relationship, no wife), Angst and H/C.
Warning: Religious aspects, mentions of terrorism and bigotry. Violence and mentioned abuse.
Summary: Some cases just hit too close to home.
Author's Note: I battled with this one, thinking it might not be proper to write about such an issue as religion and bigotry. I have nothing against religious people, nothing at all. I only wanted to show that fanaticism can occur in any religion, given the right circumstances. And a huge Thank You to both 
sunhawk and mb_tech_net for sorting it out and making it readable.
Disclaimer: Me own zip and nada, ‘cept an over-active imagination. The characters in this fic that do not belong to Bruckheimer and his gang, are mine and are totally fictional, with no ties to any living or dead namesakes.
Prologue
He sank to his haunches in the dark alley, surrounded by over-filled dumpsters, flies and a reek of cat urine and doves' spilling. The hand was relatively small and pale, despite its swollen state as it peeked out from under a mountain of garbage stuffed into dirty, happily colored plastic bags and leaking paper sachets. The hand looked like one of a young teenager and that made him grit his teeth. He wondered who had let this young person down that bad that it was even possible for him or her to be found dead in an alley like this one? Who had let this happen? His jaw tensed and he had to regulate his breathing to calm down and not rise and kick the plastic bags out of the way to drag the body out. There was no dignity in this kind of death, it was the ugliest kind possible, any way you looked at it. Were it an OD, a suicide or a murder, it all boiled down to the same; it shouldn't happen to such a young person. It should probably not happen at all like this. But the fact was that someone had let this young person down in the worst way possible. Leaving him or her under a heap of garbage. He was just so damned tired of seeing this, this waste of human potential and betrayal of decency.
“You ok, Nick?”
He rose and nodded in Warrick's direction- Captain Brass, standing behind the tall CSI, was watching him intently. He grinned, flashing them what they expected to see. “419s really should be labeled with an expiration day; LN and LS.”
”Huh?” Brass wrinkled his brown.
“Lemons needed and lemons superfluous. Just so one knows.” He looked back at the DB, now finally able to look at it like it was a mere object for investigation. “We better get this photographed and moved so Super-Dave can take a better look. Someone did pronounce, right?”
“Kind of obvious this one, a LN for yours truly.” Brass smirked. “Must have been here for days and the upstanding citizens didn't react before the stench got to them. I guarantee that a couple of these fine folks have stepped over this DB on numerous occasions.”
“Just what I ordered.” Warrick retorted dryly. “Check out the amount of flies here, having a Vegas Mardi Gras. I hope they shit on the plates of the good folks around here.”
Nick cast a glance in his partner's direction. He was, as usual, hiding his utter disgust behind witty remarks and sarcasm. His remark did make his stomach clench; insects were something he'd rather not connect with on a personal level. That part he gladly handed over to his boss, Gil Grissom, the bug-man.
“I thought Griss had a similar case a couple of weeks ago?” He asked the sturdy detective. “Why didn't he take this one?”
“Has a seminar for the Cadettes in the morning. Needed to find his lecture notes. It's not certain he won't show up when he hears about the fantastic crawly material around here. Told me you two should start on it, he might take the case back so you better follow protocol on this one and not mess up.”
“When did I ever mess anything up, Jim?” Warrick asked gruffly, loading his camera with a new memory-card.
“Want me to make a list, Brown?” The detective's eyebrows rose to an inquisitive arch before he turned on his heels and walked away.
Warrick merely grinned and shook his head.
Nick remained looking at the hand, transfixed. Flies walking over the swollen skin, laying eggs in the crevices, making the body theirs. Marking their habitat like the body hadn't once belonged to a person, someone that had dreams and fears, just like anybody else. Now that was all gone and what was left was being reclaimed by nature; a cruel but inescapable fate.
“You ready, bro?”
Nick snapped out of his personal twilight zone of insects crawling over skin and shrugged his shoulders. The question brought him back to the alley, the stench and the grimness. It only took him a second to bury the emotions in the safe place, he'd been perfecting ever since he'd been pulled out for the box. He was used to it by now; he'd learned not to relate, to shut off. His grin never far away, ready to be pulled out when needed. “Never for scenes like this one, but we better get going, following that protocol.”
“Got lemons to spare for when we get back? Like a truck-load of them?” Warrick muttered, adjusting the collar of his west .
And Nick smiled; following the protocol.
|| Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 |
| Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 |
| Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 ||