(no subject)

It was around the time that the mechanics asked for more money, claiming that he had given them two thousand dollars less than he had, that Vyvyan realised he was really in trouble. No money, and his ice cream van held hostage. Things were looking pretty desperate. Not only that, but the snow had melted around his bike shelter in Lake Mead, which was now freezing again.

When he got back to the bike shelter after his unsuccessful trip to the garage, he found Duster unresponsive. Which was just what he needed right now. He poked the creature a couple of times, but the eye remained closed. Was he dead? Did things like him hibernate? Duster had never eaten anything as far as he'd seen, and Vyv had no idea what actually powered him. In the end, he wrapped Duster up in as many warm things as he could find, just in case that revived him.

It was just as he finished doing this, that there was a knock on his shelter.

He couldn't teleport without standing, and the shelter wasn't tall enough. Cautiously, he opened the door.

"Hi." a man with a beard peered at him. "Mario Cornetto, right? I brought you a new coat."

Vyvyan opened the door and blinked at him. He hadn't had a coat since he lent it to the kidnapped kid. This was a good coat too, thick and warm.

"Yeah, I'm Mario. Who are you?"

"Gil Grissom. Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"A cop?" Shit.

"No, I'm a scientist." Grissom said. "I've been investigating the kidnapping of Jessica Jarvis." He held up a picture of the little girl Vyvyan had helped the other day. "I'm afraid we had to keep your coat as evidence, but we were concerned you might be cold, and possibly hurt."

Vyv emerged from the shelter and accepted the coat. "Thanks."

"Jessica said you were shot in the arm. Has anyone taken a look?"

Vyvyan looked down at his arm, where the dried blood was still on his shirt. He hadn't dared reset, with nowhere to run to.

"It just nicked me, I'll be okay." he said. "I'm not a suspect, am I? Because I was just here..."

"No no, actually I was wondering if you might be able to help me." Grissom said. "Do you think you could ID the two men?"

Vyvyan looked at him. He seemed kind, or at least curious in a non-threatening way. But he was law enforcement, and Vyvyan had no idea how good his fake paperwork was, even though the crooks who got it for him had assured him it was indistinguishable from the real thing. This guy probably had databases and stuff.

"I want to help." he said. "But I can't be seen in court. There's people who want me dead. I... I upset someone in the casinos."

"Even if you could take a look at some pictures for me that would be a great help." Grissom said.

"Oh, yeah I can do that." Vyvyan said.

He lit his little stove. Grissom sat with him, showed him some pictures and asked him some questions. He swabbed Vyvyan's arm.

"Mario, if I took you to get a new shirt, could we have that one as evidence?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Vyvyan had sized Grissom up by this point, and decided he should be able to fight him off and get away if he needed to. If Grissom had been from CLIFF, he'd probably have neutralised Vyvyan by now. Cautiously, he locked the bike shelter and followed the CSI to his car.

"Mario, I'm not from Immigration." Grissom said, as Vyvyan warmed his hands on the heater. "And I'm not interested in how you came to the US unless you want to share that. So you don't need to worry about that."

Vyvyan glanced at him, but said nothing. Grissom continued.

"I am however concerned for your welfare. How old are you, honestly?"

"Twenty one." Vyvyan said, automatically. He had no idea how old he was; physically, he was pretty sure he was stuck permanently eighteen, chronologically he was probably nearer thirty, but he'd made sure his fake ID here was old enough to buy alcohol.

Grissom glanced at him over his glasses, rather dubious, but let it slide.

"How would you feel about us trying to arrange to get you into a shelter? Get you off the streets."

"I just need my van back." Vyvyan said. "They demanded more money."

"Explain that to me." Grissom said. Vyvyan told him how he'd been able to support himself with the ice cream truck, until the storm, and how the garage had taken all his money and then refused to give his van back. Grissom frowned, then pulled up outside a Wal-Mart and got out his wallet. He handed Vyvyan a couple of notes.

"Go get yourself a new shirt, but don't be too long about it." He glanced at his watch. "We're going to go get your van back."

Suddenly having a cop - or whatever Grissom was - on his side was looking rather attractive. Vyvyan raced to get the shirt, then came back to the car. He tried to give Grissom his change back, but the CSI wouldn't hear of it. Then, they drove around to the garage. Grissom led the way.

"CSI Gil Grissom, Las Vegas Crime Lab." He held up a badge, with a grim inspection. "I'd like to speak to the person in charge."

The mechanics looked somewhat nervous. Vyvyan watched anxiously. A person in charge eventually materialised.

"I want to see his van." Grissom indicated Vyvyan. "And all the paperwork, receipts, anything you had him sign."

The man looked at Vyvyan, and shrugged.

"Never seen him before, sorry. We don't have any van."

Vyvyan felt his stomach drop. He went out to the back, but the van was gone. Along with the rest of his stuff. He sat down on a chair and put his head in his hands. After what felt like a long time, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Mario?"

"I swear, I had a van. It was my livelihood."

"I believe you." Grissom sat next to him. "Did you have any insurance to cover theft?"

Vyvyan shook his head.

"Come on, I'll help you file a police report."

"I can't. I've taken too many chances today already." Vyvyan said, standing up. "I told you. People want me dead. Thanks for all your help though."

Grissom dropped him back off at Lake Mead, unable to persuade him to let them try and get him into a shelter. Before he left, he left Vyvyan his card, and told him to call him if he felt he was in danger.

He checked on Duster - who had not recovered - then lay in his sleeping bag trying to work out his next move. He couldn't stay here. Grissom seemed like a nice guy, but he was still law enforcement. He counted the change in his pocket - nine dollars - and wondered if he could buy something to sell with it.

Early the next morning, there was another knock on his shelter door. He opened it, and found Grissom with another stranger.

"I didn't tell him, he already knew where you were from his daughter." Grissom said. "This is John Jarvis. He's just reminded me something this morning that might be relevant to you."

"Mr Cornetto." John offers him a hand. Vyvyan comes out and shakes it. "I'll come straight to the point. When Jessica was kidnapped, I put up a fifty thousand dollar reward for her safe return."

"You got a bank account, Mario?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah." Vyvyan said, bewildered, as the girl's father handed him a cheque for fifty thousand dollars. He stared at it. It was more money than he had ever seen in his life.

"There's going to be another storm again today." Grissom said. "The forecast is very bad. You're going to be in trouble in there. Are you sure I can't persuade you to let us get you into a shelter until the cheque clears?"

Vyvyan shook his head.

"Thank you." he said to John. Then to Grissom. "I'll go where I went once before during a storm. Thanks though."

Grissom nodded.

"Well, we'll leave you to it. But you've got my number, if you need it."

Ten minutes later, Vyvyan had gathered his things and set off. Perhaps, just perhaps, if the two men didn't land him in any more trouble, he could turn this around.