sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-12 10:35 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-12 10:35 am
Entry tags:
- ao3,
- crossovers,
- csi,
- dexter,
- podfic
Meeting of the Minds; CSI/Dexter, PG.
Rating: PG
Fandoms: CSI/Dexter
Summary: Gil Grissom meets a young forensics expert from Miami and uncovers an intriguing puzzle.
Warnings: None.
Originally Posted 10.14.06
Also available at AO3.
There is a podfic of this available from Reena Jenkins!
***
"Mr. Grissom!"
Gil Grissom heard his name even over the chatter of the crowded reception hall, perhaps because he was standing next to a plaster wall that bounced it back at him. He had learned, over the years, that the left ear picks up patterns and harmonics, while the right ear picks up speech; he turned his head slightly and listened to be sure.
"Mr. Grissom," someone said again, and pushing through the crowd --
No. He didn't push through the crowd at all. He was moving through the crowd like a jaguar, and people were parting before him unconsciously, swaying away, making a path wherever the lantern-jawed young man looked. Gil watched in fascination.
"Mr. Grissom," he said for a third time, and held out his hand. Gil smiled and shook it, noting strong blunt fingers and a firm policeman's grip. "I'm Dexter Morgan, forensics out of Miami PD. I was at your lecture this afternoon. I wanted to introduce myself."
"The pleasure is mine," Gil replied, studying his eyes. Pale, greenish, and very cold. A pleasant, handsome young face, almost boyish -- Dexter Morgan couldn't be more than thirty-five, if that. "I hope you enjoyed it."
"I did," Dexter said solemnly, releasing his hand. "Blood is my specialty, particularly spatter patterns. The work your team's been doing with lasers is really impressive. Out in Miami we're still using yarn and telescopoles."
"Well, there's something to be said for hands-on work, particularly as a trainee. Lasers are tricky business," Gil replied, falling easily into the clipped rhythm of forensic shoptalk.
"So's blood," Dexter answered, grinning cryptically.
Gil realised, quite suddenly, that he was in the presence of a monster. He'd felt this before, over the years, with other cases. Pale men with unruly hair who drew pictures of women strapped up and gagged; tall, muscular fellows who dressed in latex and flayed people alive.
Dexter was more handsome, he was well-put-together and he wore a pressed white shirt, had neatly trimmed light brown hair and straight teeth. His face was animated and Gil had no doubt that intellectually he was truly enjoying their discussion.
But his eyes were flat and cold and took everything in, and Gil could see in them that something about the human race was perpetually gnawing at Dexter, perplexing him.
" -- attention to detail is really admirable. I'd like to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Dexter was saying.
I'll bet you would, Gil thought. But then...he knew a little bit about how perplexing people could be, and just because you were a monster didn't mean you were a bad person. Gil tended to reserve judgement until observation and science had provided him with more evidence.
"I'll buy dinner," he said impusively. "And you can pick my brain for free, Mr. Morgan."
After all, you didn't learn anything about a crime scene unless you were standing in the middle of it.
END
Fandoms: CSI/Dexter
Summary: Gil Grissom meets a young forensics expert from Miami and uncovers an intriguing puzzle.
Warnings: None.
Originally Posted 10.14.06
Also available at AO3.
There is a podfic of this available from Reena Jenkins!
***
"Mr. Grissom!"
Gil Grissom heard his name even over the chatter of the crowded reception hall, perhaps because he was standing next to a plaster wall that bounced it back at him. He had learned, over the years, that the left ear picks up patterns and harmonics, while the right ear picks up speech; he turned his head slightly and listened to be sure.
"Mr. Grissom," someone said again, and pushing through the crowd --
No. He didn't push through the crowd at all. He was moving through the crowd like a jaguar, and people were parting before him unconsciously, swaying away, making a path wherever the lantern-jawed young man looked. Gil watched in fascination.
"Mr. Grissom," he said for a third time, and held out his hand. Gil smiled and shook it, noting strong blunt fingers and a firm policeman's grip. "I'm Dexter Morgan, forensics out of Miami PD. I was at your lecture this afternoon. I wanted to introduce myself."
"The pleasure is mine," Gil replied, studying his eyes. Pale, greenish, and very cold. A pleasant, handsome young face, almost boyish -- Dexter Morgan couldn't be more than thirty-five, if that. "I hope you enjoyed it."
"I did," Dexter said solemnly, releasing his hand. "Blood is my specialty, particularly spatter patterns. The work your team's been doing with lasers is really impressive. Out in Miami we're still using yarn and telescopoles."
"Well, there's something to be said for hands-on work, particularly as a trainee. Lasers are tricky business," Gil replied, falling easily into the clipped rhythm of forensic shoptalk.
"So's blood," Dexter answered, grinning cryptically.
Gil realised, quite suddenly, that he was in the presence of a monster. He'd felt this before, over the years, with other cases. Pale men with unruly hair who drew pictures of women strapped up and gagged; tall, muscular fellows who dressed in latex and flayed people alive.
Dexter was more handsome, he was well-put-together and he wore a pressed white shirt, had neatly trimmed light brown hair and straight teeth. His face was animated and Gil had no doubt that intellectually he was truly enjoying their discussion.
But his eyes were flat and cold and took everything in, and Gil could see in them that something about the human race was perpetually gnawing at Dexter, perplexing him.
" -- attention to detail is really admirable. I'd like to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Dexter was saying.
I'll bet you would, Gil thought. But then...he knew a little bit about how perplexing people could be, and just because you were a monster didn't mean you were a bad person. Gil tended to reserve judgement until observation and science had provided him with more evidence.
"I'll buy dinner," he said impusively. "And you can pick my brain for free, Mr. Morgan."
After all, you didn't learn anything about a crime scene unless you were standing in the middle of it.
END
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