TITLE: Spellchecked
a Denuo tag to Spellbound
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Nick/Grissom
ARCHIVE: yes
SPOILERS: Spellbound
DISCLAIMER: CSI belongs to CBS, Alliance Atlantic, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony E. Zuiker and whoever else claims rights. We don't. Nu-uh! We just play with 'em.
The Denuo universe was created by Lara Bee and myself
Macx's Voice of Warning (aka Authors' Note): English is not our first language; it's German. This is the best we can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize <g> The spell-checker said everything's okay, but  you know how trustworthy those thingies are....
 
 
 

He stood in what was left of the psychic's shop. The crime scene had been released, the yellow tape removed, and there was only the dark, ruined room. Gil Grissom stood silently, letting his eyes adjust to the twilight. Potions and powders, shards of glass and wood littered the ground. Every step was accompanied by a soft crunch of something under his soles.

A young woman had died in this place. Their victim, the person he spoke for as a criminalist, and they had caught the killer. It had been a senseless killing, something that could have been avoided, like many times. Grissom didn't think much about sense when it came to his job. It never led anywhere but dark, morose thoughts.

He also rarely returned to crime scenes.

This time he had, and for a very specific reason. The victim had been a psychic, a woman with alleged paranormal powers, and as a paranormal himself who knew so much about this world, Grissom wanted to know more. He had worked this case with Greg, and while they had bantered back and forth about psychics, there had been a serious tone to it.

Had Sedona Wylie been a paranormal hiding in plain sight? Or had she been a fraud?

Even the book he had found with her 'predictions' could be nothing more than simple cover.

Grissom had no psychic powers himself, something he was thankful for. He knew what kind of magic was out there. He knew how painful it could be for the individual in question. He was a Phoenix. He had no visible powers. That was why he had help along in form of the most powerful of magical beings out there - a shaman.

Grissom watched as Conrad Ecklie scanned the shop, a mild frown on his forehead. He still wore his suit and tie from work, and it made him even less a shaman in many eyes. Shamans weren't wildly dressed individuals, with paint in their faces, ear piercings and native garb. They came in all shapes and sizes, and all professions.

"There is something here," Ecklie finally broke the silence, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the emptiness. "Residual powers."

"And there should be."

Grissom turned abruptly, surprised and slightly shocked by the new voice. He looked into the wrinkly face of an old man, who was white haired and wearing glasses. He was slightly hunched over, resting his weight on a cane.

How had he been able to sneak up on them?

Then again, looking at how calm Ecklie appeared, the shaman had probably felt him.

"Morris Lanner. Call me Morrie," the old man introduced himself, smiling toothily.

"Gil Grissom," Grissom introduced himself.

"Know who you are, Mr. Grissom. I saw you here before. You're with the police, right?"

"Crime lab," Grissom confirmed.

Ecklie was silent, just looking at Morrie, who returned his close examination calmly.

"And you're no normal magic-user," Morrie told him. "You're one of 'em higher ones. Shaman?"

Ecklie nodded slowly. "I am. Did you know Sedona Wylie."

"Oh yes, I did. We talked often. After closing hours. All the time. She was good, really. Foresaw her own death. Too bad that."

Grissom tilted his head, intrigued. "You knew her well."

"Ever since she was a little kid. Good girl. Very talented."

"You're an ally," Ecklie stated.

Morrie nodded again. "All my life."

"How did you know who I was?" Ecklie wanted to know.

The old man grinned toothily. "Seventy years of experience, my friend. Met a shaman once. You're a secretive bunch, but you can't really hide when you're out in the open."

Ecklie frowned a little, but he didn't press on.

"You'd have liked Sedona. She might have been a little standoffish, but that was just her. Good girl. Talent, too. It's a shame."

Grissom nodded. "Every life lost is."

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" Grissom asked pointedly.

Morrie wagged a finger. "It's not nice to answer a question with a question. But I'll be polite and answer yours anyway: I wanted to see if I could clean up a little. Sedona loved her shop, even though it was a front, and I came here often for a cup of coffee or some tea when she wasn't in the mood for the black stuff. She was a sweet kid and I'd hate to see what little is left break, too."

Grissom looked around while Ecklie slowly crossed the front room and entered the back. There was really hardly anything left unbroken, but some bottles were still intact and there was probably a lot in the back room.

"In case you're wondering how much is real, this is all for show, Mr. Grissom," Morrie told him. "It usually is in these cases. A good cover is everything. Belief is all that is needed."

"The placebo effect."

The old man chuckled. "Yes. Exactly."

*

Ecklie let his powers touch the remnants of what little magic had been wielded in these walls. Sedona Wylie hadn't been very powerful, but she had been here long enough for a powerful witch or wizard to feel her shadows. Or a shaman. Still growing into his powers, Ecklie had become more and more adapt at using the magic at his disposal. He had cracked and then blown away the shields Nandi had laid around him to give him time to get used to his powers before he told the paranormal world that he was the heir to Caine's  powers. The episode in the slot canyon, saving Nick and himself from a flash flood, had torn apart what little protection he had still had from Nandi's shields.

Whoever was aware of him now, maybe Caine's killer did know, too. He would realize that his plot to create an imbalance among the shamanic community had failed. Nandi didn't believe that the killer would now hunt Ecklie. He would seek either another victim or try something else.

They still didn't know it was either.

So for now, Ecklie could stretch his magical feelers, touch his full potential, and work as a shaman would.

There was a strong coil of energy near the table where Sedona had held her readings and séances, and he smiled. There were no ghosts. Those were a myth. But Sedona had been clairvoyant and those powers had been strongly used just before her death. She had truly foreseen it.

There was no familiar and no trace of one. If she had ever had one, it had either left or hadn't been here for a while, which wasn't what familiar usually did. They stayed with their chosen magic-user - or vampire in some cases.

Grissom entered the back room, his presence powerful to a shaman's eye. The Phoenix showed a strong, healthy aura, showing clearly its bond to the Raven that currently wasn't with it.

"Anything?" Grissom wanted to know.

"A lot," Ecklie answered. "The magic is already dissolving, but she used it regularly. There is nothing dangerous or powerful here. Whatever she possessed, it was all for show."

"Smoke and mirrors," Grissom commented.

He nodded.

Morrie entered, sighing sadly. "I think I'll call Cindy. She might put some of that to good use. Shame, shame..."

*

"So she really was a witch."

Grissom nodded, giving Greg a slight smile. "Was your grandmother?"

The younger man laughed and shook his head. "No. She was a nice little old lady, with quite some personality, a load of swear words that could turn a cab driver green with envy, and she made a mean fish and potato soup. Best I ever ate. She liked to pretend." Greg shrugged, playing with his soda. "No one in our family was ever paranormal. At least five generations back. But grandma played the psychic well and she really could read your future from your hand. Mostly she made up outrageous stories, but sometimes... sometimes it was something real."

"What did she read from your hand?" Grissom asked, listening attentively. He had noticed the change in Greg's voice as he had talked about his grandmother, had heard the sadness, the joy, the good memories, and the regret.

Greg smiled. "That I'd be going places, that my life would be interesting and wonderful, that I would meet my perfect match one day, and that my choices would lead me to a future I might never expect. In a way she was right. I came to Vegas not knowing I'd end up working as an ally with my boss. I didn't think for a minute I could stumble across paranormals no one hears of through the normal channels. And I would have laughed at the idea of becoming involved in the Nexus."

"The Nexus wasn't even born back then."

"Yeah. But what are the chances that a guy like me becomes involved?"

Grissom tilted his head. "What are the chances you die and come back to life?"

Greg chuckled. "Exactly. My life is interesting. I wouldn't want to miss a minute. You and Nick... and then Ecklie, which was the much bigger shock. I mean, a shaman? Hell, Grissom, that was as much myth as a phoenix and a Mimic."

The smile stayed, grew a little more into a smirk. "You knew at least. For Nick and me, it hit us unprepared."

"Yeah, I know. But you were lucky. I mean, you two are together. In paranormal ways, too."

The expression in the blue eyes grew warmer with the mention of Nick and the connection the two men shared.

"It's like Ecklie finding Franklin. That guy would go through hell for him."

"We all were very lucky."

And there had been enough pain and suffering before the happiness to last Grissom a lifetime. He didn't want to see Nick hurt, physically or emotionally, and he understood Franklin's protectiveness and his devotion.

Greg raised his soda. "Here's to luck."

Grissom clinked glasses with him.

"Something to celebrate?" a jovial voice asked.

Greg grinned at Nick as the criminalist slid in next to Grissom. He squeezed his lover's knee briefly, giving Grissom a warm smile.

"We're celebrating us," Grissom answered.

"That's always a reason to raise a glass. So, was Sedona Wylie the real thing?"

Gil nodded. "She was. Ecklie confirmed it."

"He here, too?"

"No. He was called by the undersheriff. I think it'll be a long day."

Nick grimaced.

A waitress came, took his order, and a beer was placed in front of him not much later.

They chatted amiably for a while longer, then Nick and Grissom went home, while Greg drove off to meet with a lady friend. Movie date, he explained. Nick just clapped him on the shoulder and chuckled.

"Good luck, Greg. Don't let her get you down."

"Oh, I hope she does," Greg quipped, then disappeared to his car.

Grissom just watched him, a slight tilt to his head.

* * *

They concluded the evening with a lazy moment on the couch, Nick using Grissom's lap as a pillow while he dozed to the gentle caresses of his lover's hand over his hair, down the side of his face, or just resting on his chest. Grissom was watching an old documentary and Nick was only halfway listening in. Something about the mating habits of dung beetles. As the documentary ended, Grissom brushed his lips over Nick's and Nick opened his eyes, smiling lazily.

"Ready for bed?" Gild asked.

He yawned. "More than ready. Man, I didn't think it was such a hard day."

"It was a busy week."

"And I'm on call tomorrow," Nick muttered as he sat up. "The way it is, I'll end up with some freak accident."

Grissom smiled. "Freak accidents are always interesting forensically."

"Right. I'll send you then."

"I'm your supervisor, Nicky. I'm the one to call you and put you on the case."

Nick grinned. "Yes, boss, you are."
 
 

They slid together naturally in bed. Nick cuddled up to the firm body next to him, suppressing another yawn. He didn't feel like reading, just like closing his eyes and hoping that being on call only meant he had to carry his cell and beeper. As much as he loved his job, he liked being home for a whole day once in a while, enjoying the mundane things. Like watching a game, going to the Strip to try out a new buffet or see an interesting show. Maybe drive out to one of the malls, browse around. Go to the lake, relax and unwind.

Yeah, that would be nice. Especially if Grissom wanted to share some of those activities.

Nick smiled as he drifted off, feeling Grissom's caress as the older man read some more pages in an entomology journal he had been going through the past nights before bed.
 

An hour later, Grissom switched off the lights and went to sleep as well, listening to the even breathing of the man next to him. He continued to listen until sleep caught up to him at last.