Lab Space - for HoratioCaine

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Bruce remained silent for the ride to the lab, watching out the windows of the car, and checking behind them on occasion as if he were concerned they might be followed. He was doing his best to keep nearly a decade of habits to a minimum, but there was only so much he could do to stifle what had become instinct.

Eventually he settled for crossing his arms and using the side mirror he could see to keep an eye out for trouble. He was noting every turn they took, but he had never been to this part of the city, which meant that if he ran he would be blind.

The area they are heading into is a nicer neighborhood, and eventually he notices a building down the road with police cars pulling in and out of the lot. He perks in his seat, eyes rapidly scanning the scene they are approaching. He's nervous, that much should be almost painfully clear. He'd duck and hide his face, but he needs to see if any of the faces recognize him so he can react appropriately before he's in the confined space of the building.

Comments

[horatiocaine]

H was mostly silent as well for the trip. Driving the silver Hummer expertly through the streets of Miami.He could tell from the man's body language and the way he kept watching behind them that he was thinking they might be followed. Horatio kept an eye out as well, but so far, nobody was visibly following them.

He pulled into a parking space reserved for his team and led Bruce into the building.

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Bruce kept his head down a bit as he walked with Horatio into the building. It was pristine and the recent architecture lent itself nicely to making the place feel very little like a police station, and more like a corporate building.

As reluctant as he was to do it, Bruce removed his hat when he entered, just as everyone else seemed to do and ran a hand through his hair briefly. It was matted, and he could hear Betty telling him it was too tight again.

Bruce was nervous and alert as he looked around, glad to see at least a couple other individuals with a similar nervous nature, mostly those who were handcuffed but at least he didn't stick out too much. Quietly he followed Horatio's lead, wherever he was taking him. He'd mentioned a lab, but he'd never been to a CSI lab, so he was honestly expecting little more than a dark closet with a scope tucked away in a corner, surrounded by shelves of evidence.

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Bruce was in for a surprise as far as their working space was concerned. H led them to the right side of the building and through a set of glass doors into the forensics section. The space was very open, all glass windows and balconies overhead with the Florida sun streaming through. On either side, they pass the various labs. Miss Boa Vista at her cold case desk...DNA...trace...firearms...

He wasn't taking Bruce to lock up, he was going for one of the interrogation rooms. Even those seemed open due to very few walls and lots of windows.

"Have a seat, Bruce." He knew Calleigh would be along shortly with a kit. H preferred to stand.

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Bruce's neck is turning left and right, he's struggling to take in everything and his feet slow down against his will when they pass by DNA. He doesn't lose more than a half-step on Horatio, though it feels like he's stopped long enough to be behind by a few feet at least. A pair of quick steps brings him right back to Horatio's side and then they enter the interrogation room.

It's nothing like what he expects either, with the windows and sunlight streaming in. He looks around noting, of course, that there's only one way in or out. He wrings the hat in his hands a bit, further adding curvature to the bill and then he turns at the offer for a seat.

"Oh, thanks." He looks at it, as if he might actually sit, and then just stands near the chair instead. He keeps right near the table, always alert but at least he can watch the door. Horatio is waiting for someone and Bruce can't help but worry who it might be.

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Bruce is definitely one of the most skittish people they've had in here. And the first not to cry lawyer at the first sign of trouble. But Horatio could guess why.

"My people will be along soon. I would like to talk about who it is that's after you."

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There's nervous-Bruce and then there's worried-Bruce. Worried-Bruce goes still, a watchful gaze fixed on Horatio, shortly before he calmly looks up and around again, searching the room for cameras. In a room this modern, he's now expecting everything to be hidden behind false panels and windows.

He's not offering information willingly, Horatio's going to have to ask the right questions. Even then, he shouldn't be surprised to receive silence for most of his inquiries. Bruce is a Federal Fugitive, a reputation usually reserved for some of the most brutal and violent people, and in a strange sort of way, he almost fits the stereotype.

[horatiocaine]

"Okay..." Clearly Bruce wasn't ready to talk about that yet. Strange that he would be so nervous in a police station of all places. One would think this the ultimate safe place.

A smiling blonde woman with a kit in hand (and a rather large handgun on her hip holster) is coming in. "Calleigh, I want to process for trace on his clothes. Anything unusual. And then Mr. Beckett can work on his statement." H stands aside slightly so she can have room to work. Her smile warm and friendly as she pulls out tape cards to pick up any trace on his shirt.

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Every fiber of Bruce wants to protest, and he can't hide the brief flinch when she comes near him with the tape. She'll pick up trace hairs on his clothes, his DNA, and while he's never really given his hair much thought, it's only now he realizes it might betray him.

"Uh, sorry." He mumbles and then goes still as he lets her gather what she needs. Rejecting the sampling now would raise too many red flags, so right now he can only be content in the fact that his hair didn't contain the amounts of gamma radiation that his blood does. The genetic structure would certainly be an interesting discovery for Horatio's people, that much he's certain is going to show up, but that should be the end of it. If they try to get blood samples though, or swabs, he's going to have something to say about that.

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"No problem. First time?" Calleigh asks with a smile, trying to put him at ease.

H watches from the side, fingering his sunglasses in his hands. When she's done, he resumes questioning. "Did you have any other interaction with the man we were after since you moved in?"

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"Y-yeah." Bruce mumbles, watching how she goes about the work and then when she leaves, his eyes follow that sample kit in her hands. He's still holding his hat to his chest like it might provide some protection when he registers that Horatio is addressing him again.

"No. Only that one time in the hall. I heard about his temper from one of the other residents, but it seemed like I wasn't the only one going out of my way to avoid him."

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"Anyone you notice that didn't try to avoid him?"

H was looking for other accomplices.More people that might talk.

Bruce still looked like he was too nervous to sit. "I assure you, you're safe here, Mr. Beckett."

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"Not that I can say for certain." More that Bruce had gone about with pseudo-blinders on. Whatever it was, he'd tried to ignore it. "There...if he was dealing with drugs, the people I dealt with typically didn't want to get involved."

Bruce can see that his nervousness is making the situation worse, so with a reluctant sigh he pulls out the chair, the feet scraping lightly on the floor before he sat down. He finds himself staring at the tabletop and wondering how much leather Ross would chew to be in Horatio's shoes. He doesn't look any more calm than before, but he appears less like he's about to run the second the door opens, at least. He'd really like to voice his contrary opinion to Horatio, but it would give away too much.

"There was, one issue with a resident though..." He's scraping up every moment he can remember in a whirlwind of cases. "One of the tenants looked like he got into a fight, but no one would give any answers. I didn't press for details. I don't have a name, but I wrote the room number down in my notebook."

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Now that might be something. "Man or woman? Did you get a good look at them?"

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"Male, somewhere between 35 and 40 years of age. Mostly just some fresh contusions around his face and knuckles. I think he had brown eyes. I'm pretty certain there might have been some bruising to his ribs as well, with the way he was walking, but he wouldn't let me see." Bruce is trying to cooperate. Horatio had given his word earlier about taking care of Bruce's loose ends and maybe being open about the man's case would deflect the personal questions, and make him release Bruce. He's really grasping at straws right now.

"That was, uh, sometime between four and seven days ago. I wouldn't be certain I could recognize their face. I was pretty sleep deprived at that point."

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"I see. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to write out that statement and sit with one of our sketch artists." Horatio was not going to let any lead get away.

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Bruce gives a flustered sigh at that.

"I'll write down the statement, but I can guarantee your artist is going to wind up with a hybrid of every male between 35 and 40 that I saw in a three day period. I can't even tell you how many people I saw in that time frame without looking at my notebook. I was dealing with a minor epidemic of the stomach flu that was working it's way through the neighborhood."

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"I...will take what I can get." The shades going back on.

Five minutes later, Bruce is sitting with one of the techs and their computer, working on a sketch. They've returned Bruce's things from the crime scene. H is off across the hall, getting updates from his other people. But he promised to be back soon.

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Having his notebook is helping, but Bruce's details on the 'patient' only go so far as the physical injuries, though it helps him mention a few details which, as long as Horatio follows up before they heal, should help him pinpoint the subject even with an inaccurate sketch.

When Horatio returns, Bruce is rubbing at his eyes, glasses in hand. He's tried his best, even though he feels like he's done nothing but frustrate the tech and take up their time when they could have been working with a more valuable witness.

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Horatio comes in the glass door, hands resting on his hip and badge. "Any luck?" He can see the image is only a partial on the screen, the tech shaking his head. "Okay, we will have to try again when we find the suspect." Even if Bruce couldn't ID him on sight, he could identify the voice and injuries. "Thank you." He dismisses the tech, leaving the two of them again.

"Mr. Beckett, I want to know what kind of government work you're involved in." He's deadly serious about this. They just ran his prints off a beaker in his homemade lab and no one could access the results. H wanted to know before anyone showed up and told him to stop investigating.

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Bruce shakes his head as the tech leaves, mumbling a meek apology. He pockets his glasses, and starts to close the notebook in his lap when Horatio's question makes him freeze.

He doesn't know how they connected him to the government, but he figures either fingerprints or DNA had a hit somehow. The fact that he isn't already in handcuffs though leaves him confused, and nervous.

"I..." He debates lying, he also considers the idea of rushing Horatio and trying to escape from an entire building of police, but both ideas are doomed to immediate failure. Instead of finishing his sentence, he shakes his head.

He can't even manage to turn and look at Horatio as he holds his book closed. He thumbs along the edges of the pages nervously, keeping his head down.

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H takes a step closer, not letting Bruce have the chance to avoid this.

"You're hiding something. And I will find out eventually, but right now the best thing you can do is be straight with me. I can't help you if you don't."

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"Letting me walk out without any further questions would be the best way to help me." Bruce finally looks up at Horatio with a sigh. It's clear from his expression that he knows that exact sequence of events is the last thing Horatio is going to let happen. Bruce knows all too well the lure of a mystery, an unanswered question.

He still wished Horatio could curb his inquisitive nature just this once. Bruce's greatest secret is one he still thinks is best left hidden.

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Quite a mystery too. A practically homeless guy who is a doctor and has his identity shielded by the united states government. Something else was going on here and H was determined to find it out.

His phone rings though, cutting their conversation short. "Excuse me." The tone suggests don't go anywhere, H opening his phone to answer it. Blocked number, he smirk at the display. "That was quick."

Hitting the answer button, "Horatio."

The voice on the other end is very official. Bruce will only hear H's side of it. "Yes, sir....I happen to be conducting a police investigation...." The voice didn't sound happy about that. "I couldn't say..." He's not giving Bruce or any information up just yet.

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Bruce literally jumps when the phone rings, and then there's that terrified look again before the officer even opens his phone. He watches Horatio closely, straining to hear the other side but failing, hoping that it's not the phone call he thinks it is, but any hit on a database and he's certain someone would be getting in touch quickly.

He swallows a lump in his throat, feeling his heart speed up as a pit opens in his stomach. There was the Hulk, barely more than a low whisper this time, but there and gaining force as Bruce grows more nervous with Horatio's words. He takes a calming breath, but it's only so effective as he keeps his eyes focused on Horatio.

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"Well we all have problems..." Horatio didn't take kindly to being talked down to. Or being out of the loop. He can definitely read Bruce's reaction as fear.

"No, I don't think I will be jeopardizing this case so you can chase a mystery man. You want my results, you get a warrant for them." He snaps the phone shut with finality.

He almost looks amused behind his eyes. "That...was the army office in New Jersey." H gives Bruce a space of time to reply before continuing. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

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Bruce gapes at Horatio a minute, trying to process what just happened during that phone conversation. H had clearly balked at something, but how much of it was a show for Bruce, and how much of it was real? He inhales, he hadn't been holding his breath but it still felt like it.

"I, I can't. I can't drag anyone else into this. People will get hurt. Please..." Bruce stood up to Horatio, looking him in the eye pleadingly. "Let me go."

Ross is going to be on his way, Bruce is starting to edge into panic because if Ross was in New Jersey, he had a few short hours to get moving. As he stands before H, his eyes waver between the man, and the door behind him. He needs to leave, but he's unwilling to force a physical confrontation yet. Ross doesn't need the help, and Bruce wants to get out of this situation with his clothing and the CSI station still intact.