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jedibuttercupPG, CSI + Pern; Grissom-centric gen. 1200 words, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kerravonsen.
It turned its head then to look at him, slitting open multiply-layered eyelids to fix him with jewel-bright, faceted eyes; Gil had never seen anything like it.
Title: Pausing To Wonder
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: K+/PG
Spoilers: CSI post-Season 9; very vague spoilers for "The Two Mrs. Grissoms"
Summary: It turned its head then to look at him, slitting open multiply-layered eyelids to fix him with jewel-bright, faceted eyes; Gil had never seen anything like it.
Notes: Forkerravonsen, who once requested a drabble on the theme "Gil Grissom and a live Pernese fire lizard." Set in CSI-verse, with very vague handwavium as to the mechanics of the crossover.
It was late evening when Gil finished his daily video chat. It usually was; long hours spent excavating and dating ancient mass graves were satisfying on a professional level, but rather limited the window of time available for him to keep in touch with his loved ones.
He smiled to himself as he thought of the warm, tender look on Sara's face as they'd signed off, careful fingertips pressed to each of their screens. They had built what might be termed a 'commuter marriage', pursuing separate careers under separate names in separate hemispheres, but the distance didn't make their relationship any less loving or meaningful than a more standard marriage might have been. More, perhaps, given their natures. He'd never have settled for a partnership that limited either of them, and neither would she, not after all they'd been through; so they'd worked out a balance between deep connection and autonomy that worked for them. He wouldn't take back a single moment of it, even the days-- and nights-- when he most missed working and sleeping alongside her.
He closed the laptop with a yawn, then paused to listen curiously as some type of avian began chirping in the near distance outside his tent. It didn't sound like any of the winged creatures he'd seen recently, though he hadn't spent much time bird watching on this particular trip. Still, he thought he could discern a certain amount of distress in the calls. He lingered in his seat a moment longer, hand resting on the warm plastic of the laptop's cover, then got up and strode over to the flaps of the tent.
He nudged the tough fabric aside, squinting out through the sharp lines of molten light and deep shadow cast by the swiftly setting sun. The tent had been pitched in a clearing not far from the Incan ruins he'd come to assist in investigating, and the site hadn't yet seen enough reconstruction to clear away the enveloping jungle, so there were a lot of potential places the strange bird could be hiding. Truthfully, he wasn't expecting to see anything-- but he never had been able to repress his curiosity.
And in this case, it seemed, it had paid off: once his eyes had a chance to adjust to the variable quality of light outside, a brilliant blue disturbance drew his attention to a spot on the other side of the clearing, just at the base of a worn, intricately carved stone pillar. The chirping sounds issued from that area: feeble, now, and clearly distraught. Gil drew his wireframe glasses from his shirt pocket and hooked them over his ears, then patted down the pockets of his khakis until he found the gloves he'd worn for the excavation that day. Then he crossed the clearing slowly, hoping not to startle his unexpected visitor.
The avian's color puzzled him, and its size puzzled him even more; he could see wings, at least two handspans wide, fluttering weakly in the grass, but the largest bird he knew of with such vivid coloration in the Andes was the Great Sapphirewing hummingbird. That species grew to only six or seven inches overall in size: large for a hummingbird, but small in comparison to the flyer he'd found-- which might not even be a bird at all! On closer approach, it had become obvious that the iridescent blue tint belonged not to feathers, but skin, or perhaps very fine scales. He knelt cautiously next to it, heedless of grass stains on his knees, and laid a cautious hand on the creature's smooth side.
It turned its head then to look at him, slitting open multiply-layered eyelids to fix him with jewel-bright, faceted eyes. Gil had never seen anything like it; it would have to be some type of lizard, but not one he'd ever heard of before, and with those wings-- an impossible, magical word came to mind. He shook his head, gently extending the creature's wing to check for damage, and felt along its side and other limbs; it didn't struggle, just watched him, beak half-open, for all the world like a pleading pet.
"Amazing," he murmured, then frowned, concerned about its apparent passivity. He'd found no injuries, but there was a grayish undertone to its coloration didn't seem natural, and he was getting a distinct impression of exhaustion and voracious hunger-- that, and a sudden urge to shiver. The shadows were lengthening toward full night, and whatever had happened to the little beauty he supposed it would need food, but he wasn't sure why his subconscious had decided on tired rather than ill. Regardless, his subconscious had a point.
"I probably shouldn't move you, but..." he said to himself, sitting back on his heels. Then he stood to head back to the tent; he had a package of hamburger intended for the grill the next day, and a bag of spinach leaves for salad that he could spare. A piteous little cry followed him as he moved; he winced, then hurried, tugging off the gloves again as he entered the tent. Then he dug into the cooler, hurriedly gathered the items he'd selected to tempt the visitor's appetite, and stepped out of the tent again.
Gil had half expected the miniature dragon to be gone again when he emerged-- just a figment of an aging, unexpectedly awed scientist's imagination. But no: it was still there, and he smiled in relieved wonder as he knelt at its side again. It didn't react when he offered the packet of spinach leaves, but its head lifted at the scent of the raw hamburger meat; it lunged the instant he offered a bite.
"Don't choke," he murmured, stroking a soothing finger over its sinuous neck as it chewed and swallowed. "There's more where that came from. But where did you come from, I wonder?"
It didn't answer, just craned its neck toward the package of meat and chirped again. Gil chuckled and tore it another bite-sized chunk, then repeated the process until it dozed off mid-bite, lids drooping over brilliant, whirling eyes as a tiny, hiccupping snort issued from its nose.
He knew he would never be able to bring it home. He knew it was a wild thing. He had no idea what had sent it to him, or what diseases it might carry, or whether it would behave aggressively when more alert. Nevertheless, he could not stop the sudden burst of warm emotion that welled up in him at the sight; so much for objectivity. He hoped it would at least stick around long enough for Sara's next call; he desperately wanted to share this marvel with her.
Gil Grissom come to Peru to help unravel one mystery, only to uncover another; what sort of scientist would he be if he failed to investigate the latter as thoroughly as the former?
He snorted to himself at the justification, then carefully slid his other arm under the recumbent form and stood to carry its slight weight back to the tent. His new friend could have the cot, tonight. Tomorrow, he'd ask a local guide some cautious questions. And then-- they'd see what they would see.
(x-posted at AO3)
kerravonsen.It turned its head then to look at him, slitting open multiply-layered eyelids to fix him with jewel-bright, faceted eyes; Gil had never seen anything like it.
Title: Pausing To Wonder
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: K+/PG
Spoilers: CSI post-Season 9; very vague spoilers for "The Two Mrs. Grissoms"
Summary: It turned its head then to look at him, slitting open multiply-layered eyelids to fix him with jewel-bright, faceted eyes; Gil had never seen anything like it.
Notes: For
kerravonsen, who once requested a drabble on the theme "Gil Grissom and a live Pernese fire lizard." Set in CSI-verse, with very vague handwavium as to the mechanics of the crossover."The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed."
--Albert Einstein
It was late evening when Gil finished his daily video chat. It usually was; long hours spent excavating and dating ancient mass graves were satisfying on a professional level, but rather limited the window of time available for him to keep in touch with his loved ones.
He smiled to himself as he thought of the warm, tender look on Sara's face as they'd signed off, careful fingertips pressed to each of their screens. They had built what might be termed a 'commuter marriage', pursuing separate careers under separate names in separate hemispheres, but the distance didn't make their relationship any less loving or meaningful than a more standard marriage might have been. More, perhaps, given their natures. He'd never have settled for a partnership that limited either of them, and neither would she, not after all they'd been through; so they'd worked out a balance between deep connection and autonomy that worked for them. He wouldn't take back a single moment of it, even the days-- and nights-- when he most missed working and sleeping alongside her.
He closed the laptop with a yawn, then paused to listen curiously as some type of avian began chirping in the near distance outside his tent. It didn't sound like any of the winged creatures he'd seen recently, though he hadn't spent much time bird watching on this particular trip. Still, he thought he could discern a certain amount of distress in the calls. He lingered in his seat a moment longer, hand resting on the warm plastic of the laptop's cover, then got up and strode over to the flaps of the tent.
He nudged the tough fabric aside, squinting out through the sharp lines of molten light and deep shadow cast by the swiftly setting sun. The tent had been pitched in a clearing not far from the Incan ruins he'd come to assist in investigating, and the site hadn't yet seen enough reconstruction to clear away the enveloping jungle, so there were a lot of potential places the strange bird could be hiding. Truthfully, he wasn't expecting to see anything-- but he never had been able to repress his curiosity.
And in this case, it seemed, it had paid off: once his eyes had a chance to adjust to the variable quality of light outside, a brilliant blue disturbance drew his attention to a spot on the other side of the clearing, just at the base of a worn, intricately carved stone pillar. The chirping sounds issued from that area: feeble, now, and clearly distraught. Gil drew his wireframe glasses from his shirt pocket and hooked them over his ears, then patted down the pockets of his khakis until he found the gloves he'd worn for the excavation that day. Then he crossed the clearing slowly, hoping not to startle his unexpected visitor.
The avian's color puzzled him, and its size puzzled him even more; he could see wings, at least two handspans wide, fluttering weakly in the grass, but the largest bird he knew of with such vivid coloration in the Andes was the Great Sapphirewing hummingbird. That species grew to only six or seven inches overall in size: large for a hummingbird, but small in comparison to the flyer he'd found-- which might not even be a bird at all! On closer approach, it had become obvious that the iridescent blue tint belonged not to feathers, but skin, or perhaps very fine scales. He knelt cautiously next to it, heedless of grass stains on his knees, and laid a cautious hand on the creature's smooth side.
It turned its head then to look at him, slitting open multiply-layered eyelids to fix him with jewel-bright, faceted eyes. Gil had never seen anything like it; it would have to be some type of lizard, but not one he'd ever heard of before, and with those wings-- an impossible, magical word came to mind. He shook his head, gently extending the creature's wing to check for damage, and felt along its side and other limbs; it didn't struggle, just watched him, beak half-open, for all the world like a pleading pet.
"Amazing," he murmured, then frowned, concerned about its apparent passivity. He'd found no injuries, but there was a grayish undertone to its coloration didn't seem natural, and he was getting a distinct impression of exhaustion and voracious hunger-- that, and a sudden urge to shiver. The shadows were lengthening toward full night, and whatever had happened to the little beauty he supposed it would need food, but he wasn't sure why his subconscious had decided on tired rather than ill. Regardless, his subconscious had a point.
"I probably shouldn't move you, but..." he said to himself, sitting back on his heels. Then he stood to head back to the tent; he had a package of hamburger intended for the grill the next day, and a bag of spinach leaves for salad that he could spare. A piteous little cry followed him as he moved; he winced, then hurried, tugging off the gloves again as he entered the tent. Then he dug into the cooler, hurriedly gathered the items he'd selected to tempt the visitor's appetite, and stepped out of the tent again.
Gil had half expected the miniature dragon to be gone again when he emerged-- just a figment of an aging, unexpectedly awed scientist's imagination. But no: it was still there, and he smiled in relieved wonder as he knelt at its side again. It didn't react when he offered the packet of spinach leaves, but its head lifted at the scent of the raw hamburger meat; it lunged the instant he offered a bite.
"Don't choke," he murmured, stroking a soothing finger over its sinuous neck as it chewed and swallowed. "There's more where that came from. But where did you come from, I wonder?"
It didn't answer, just craned its neck toward the package of meat and chirped again. Gil chuckled and tore it another bite-sized chunk, then repeated the process until it dozed off mid-bite, lids drooping over brilliant, whirling eyes as a tiny, hiccupping snort issued from its nose.
He knew he would never be able to bring it home. He knew it was a wild thing. He had no idea what had sent it to him, or what diseases it might carry, or whether it would behave aggressively when more alert. Nevertheless, he could not stop the sudden burst of warm emotion that welled up in him at the sight; so much for objectivity. He hoped it would at least stick around long enough for Sara's next call; he desperately wanted to share this marvel with her.
Gil Grissom come to Peru to help unravel one mystery, only to uncover another; what sort of scientist would he be if he failed to investigate the latter as thoroughly as the former?
He snorted to himself at the justification, then carefully slid his other arm under the recumbent form and stood to carry its slight weight back to the tent. His new friend could have the cot, tonight. Tomorrow, he'd ask a local guide some cautious questions. And then-- they'd see what they would see.
(x-posted at AO3)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 05:59 pm (UTC)I think I'll have about one more chapter's worth of this eventually. The idea does need more closure, doesn't it? =)