Title: Simplicity
By: geekwriter
Pairing: Gil/Sara & Nick/Greg
Rating: R
Summary: A CSI: Vegas/Alias crossover for imyourally. Julian Sark in the CSI lab? Oh, yes, my friends. Lots of pairings, some hypothetical violence, but alas, no bubbly. Yet.

They're quite simple, all of them. Ridiculously easy to figure out. The old man loves the young woman, who loves the old man back, and yet they deny themselves. Pathetic, really, the way they make something so complicated out of what could be simple, blameless carnality. The only thing holding them back is a sense of honor, which would make me laugh were it not so damnably pointless. People confound me at times, and as easy as it is to understand their motives, I'll never understand what it is that makes them suffer, makes them punish themselves for their desires. Perhaps it's the Judeo-Christian upbringing that I was thankfully spared.

I'll admit that I was, at first, a bit worried about being found out. Why I was nervous about impersonating Travis Watson, I don't know. The resemblance between us was quite close, and even if it hadn't been, no one at the lab had met him before so they had no expectations regarding appearance. The work was simple, even interesting at times. I've always been fond of poison.

I think it was perhaps the seeming ease of the job that unnerved me. It was so simple, especially once I discovered that the best qualified applicant for the job was my age, my height, my build. I only had to spend a weekend in his company before I had perfected his mannerisms and his bland American accent. It's a pity I had to kill him, since I think if circumstances had been otherwise, we could have had a good deal of fun together. He was quite good in bed. Oh, well. These things can't be avoided, and it was enjoyable while it lasted.

The lab was amusing at first, watching its inhabitants be so completely obvious while thinking their feelings were hidden. Grissom, the old man, and Sara, the young woman, walk around each other and past one another as if there's no longer an attraction. Ecklie keeps a flask of vodka in his lower right desk drawer that he sneaks sips out of throughout his shift. Catherine talks about how much she loves her daughter, but it's all just talk. She spends half her days working and the other half dating inappropriate men. She never spends any time with the little girl she pretends to care so much about. Mia is quite nervous, germ-phobic, in lust with Warrick (though I'm sure she refuses to admit it even to herself), and alarmingly beautiful. I could have a lot of fun with her. When the lab becomes boring, I think of the games we could play, the ways I could tease and toy with her, bending that brilliant, delicate mind until it broke.

Unfortunately, pushing DNA experts to the point of mental breakdown is not in the description for this job, and I doubt my employer would look favorably upon such a disruption in the lab staff. He's a man who appreciates the status quo.

So I do nothing. Even playing with toxins all day became boring after a while. For several weeks I used the lab facilities to create my own poisons, but even that became dull. After all, how many different vials of deadly toxins does a man need? Besides, no one even noticed what I was doing. There I was, growing botulism in plain sight, and no one paid attention. It's really no fun if there's no risk of getting caught.

So I come to work every night and sit in my little glass cubicle and write toxicology reports and watch the people around me. I talk to Grissom whenever I can, flattering him by asking about his collections and impressing him when I can tell him something he didn't already know. I'm quite fond of his fetal pig. I may take it with me when I go. I've always wanted a pet.

When I'll go, however, is a mystery even to me. I'm to analyze the contents of Grissom's office and determine just how many Rambaldi artifacts he has. I said it would be easier just to steal the entire office and determine what was what later, but my employer seems to enjoy torturing me, forcing me to work in that mind-numbing lab forever before I'm allowed to steal the items he wants.

Hodges, one of the other lab techs, wanders into the toxicology lab and starts rambling on about something of no importance. As I smile and joke with him, I imagine popping his eyes out with my thumbs. It's one of the only ways I can bear making small talk. I'm just as bored when he leaves, since there's nothing to do but slog through the work, noting blood alcohol counts and levels of illegal drugs in hair samples. I'm so bored that I'm considering starting up my botulism farm once again.

Then they walk past, the most amusing pair in the entire lab. They don't walk together. They never walk together. They barely speak to one another, barely even acknowledge the other exists.

Greg is younger, a bit wilder, Californian. His style is atrocious. I doubt he owns a single pair of shoes that cost more than $500, and he never keeps them properly polished. I think he styles his hair himself. If he doesn't, he should shoot his stylist. I make a mental note to shoot his stylist for him.

Despite his dress, he's an attractive man. His limbs are long and limber and he seems quite flexible. His lower lip is full and quite perfect for sucking on. I'm not the only one in the lab who has noticed this.

Nick is older, slightly weathered, Southern, obviously closeted. No one else seems to have noticed, though, so perhaps it's not obvious. To me it is. I knew the first moment I was introduced to him that I could have him if I wanted. Even with his love for Greg shining blatant on his face every time they see one another, I could have him if I wanted. Nothing's impossible if you're not worried about playing fair.

And, yes, Greg loves him back. It's both sickening and fascinating, the bond the two of them share. They try to hide it. That's the amusing part. They struggle to hide it, and have done an admirable job of it. I think the only other person in the lab who knows is Jacqui, and she's had years to suss it out. I can't believe an entire building full of trained investigators is so blind to the spark between them. Of course, their training in no way approaches mine. None of them had the luxury I had of being schooled in observation and subterfuge starting in early childhood. Still, though, it's patently obvious. It's written on their faces as plain as if someone had scrawled it there in permanent marker.

I think, quite honestly, that they would die for one another. That's the sickening part. And fascinating. Why one person would risk their own life for the life of another...well, it's beyond me. More religious morality, I suppose, more guilt imposed during their upbringing telling them that other people's lives are more important than their own.

They pass in the hallway, and neither one of them looks up for the longest time. Then, just for a split second, their eyes meet, and it's as if an entire conversation has happened between them. Odd, how strong the bond is. I wonder what it would take for me to break it. Then I realize that I don't want to break it. Not because it's "wrong" or anything so simplistic, but merely because it occurs to me that it would be much more fun to seduce them. At the same time. I could pour champagne into the hollow of Greg's belly and lap it up, lick my way up to his nipples as he gasps Nick's name, stroke Nick's cock in my hand and see who he looks at when he comes, Greg or me. Yes. That would be quite amusing, and it wouldn't be disruptive to the lab so surely there's no way my employer could object, even if he did find out.

With that decided, I watch as Nick and Greg walk away from one another, not turning to watch the other's departure but aware of it just the same. Across the hall, Jacqui sees me watching them and grins, rolls her eyes. She thinks it's as obvious as I do. I can't help but smile back at her. I think, when I go, I'll do my best to spare her life.