Race Among the Ruins
Disclaimers: Sadly, the characters herein are not mine. I promise
to play nice and return them when I am done.
A/N: Many, many sincere thanks to my wonderful betas: Danielle,
Gry and Michelle. These ladies are awesome. I must also thank
Muriel whose thoughtful conversation and gentle prodding brought
to light a blatant oversight on my part that needed to be
addressed. I also need to say thank you to Gibby. Her YTDAW
challenge is what set this lunacy in motion. A special thank you to
Lisa and Muriel for all of the encouragement, conversation and
support.
“It was a dark and stormy night.”
Great. That's just...swell, Grissom thought disdainfully. You have all of these magnificent works of
literature, philosophy and theology squirreled away for instantaneous regurgitation and you resort
to quoting Snoopy. That's just fucking wonderful. He continued to berate himself internally, sighing
heavily as his silent soliloquy rambled on, a forceful explosion borne of weariness, loneliness and
frustration. It's not the first time you have plagiarized Charles M. Schulz and it most likely will not
be the last. Sometimes a cartoon character could more precisely summarize a situation than
Shakespeare, Buddha or the Book of Leviticus. Besides, Charlie Brown was one of the good guys,
even if he was a total blockhead. All in all, the fat bald kid was not such a bad role model. Grissom
could relate to Charlie Brown. He was not so sure that he, himself, could always be enumerated as
one of the good guys, but it certainly was not a failure stemming from lack of effort. He had been
trying all his life to be a good man - to do the right thing. Sometimes he succeeded and sometimes...
well, he had some major regrets.
The “dark and stormy night” through which Grissom was cautiously navigating was a roiling inky
black shroud lavishly adorned with harsh pounding rain, gleefully solidifying into sleet. The miserable
weather served as a most fitting companion for his dank mood as he drove steadily, eating up one
slick, wet asphalt mile after another. His mind wandered restlessly. Most of his concentration was
steadfastly committed to the empty ribbon before him, while a smaller, more introspective grey-
mattered gremlin flitted and danced, recapturing the preceding weekend that had amassed one
incredible cluster fuck piled atop another. There was no end in sight...just an endless stretch of lonely
slippery blacktop.
To Be Continued...
Category - Character Study: Vegas: Gil Grissom
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