Title: Burning Memories
By: Jesika
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Spark Of Life
A/N: I know that because of the HIPAA law you're not required to inform your employers of what medications you're taking, but for the sake of this story, lets just kinda ignore that.
A/N 2: I know the team was split before the "Spark of Life" episode, but for the sake of this story, it didn't happen. The joys of it being fiction.
Summary: Maybe he’s just not cut out for this job. Set after "Spark of Life".

***

"Rumor has it you used to be a pretty funny guy."

It's the phrase that's been repeating itself in his mind for the past several days, since the case ended and those images of charred flesh started to become just that, images. He isn't sure they were ever real to begin with, that it was some sick and twisted joke that his mind was playing on him.

He tried not to look through the windows of the burn unit and see himself laying there, feel the pain of the second degree burns outlining the numb third degree burns. He asked the doctor questions regarding the pain, remembering hearing those same words leaving a few of his colleagues lips while he was laid up in the hospital, his back too painful to lay on and his side not much better.

The advice given by Sofia Curtis to rid himself of the images didn't work, but instead he found himself kneeled in front of the toilet, dry heaving with tears streaking his cheeks, trying to force the images out of his head any way possible. Since then he's been insomniac, sitting in the middle of the floor of his living room staring at dead space, knowing that if he were to close his eyes it would just make the images come harder and faster.

The first two days after the case closed he had off, and the past two days he's called in sick, too drained to talk to Grissom himself and opting to leave the message with Judy at the front desk. His answering machine blinks a high single digit, the count coming out to one message from his mother, two from Sarah, one from Nick and Warrick each, and the most recent coming from Grissom himself, telling the tech to call him right away regarding his sick days.

He thinks that with his luck he won't have any sick days and that Grissom is calling to fire him, so when the phone rings again he lets it be, remaining stark still in his spot on the carpet while the answering machine clicks over, his bosses voice immediately flooding the room.

"Greg, this is Grissom, I need you to call me immediately. The others have informed me that they've been trying to contact you with no luck. Call me when you get this."

The machine cuts off when Grissom hangs up, and Greg slowly pulls himself off the ground, allowing the blood to flow back to his legs for a moment before walking in the direction of his bedroom, the apartment dark as he moves through it with ease. He feels like the walls are closing in on him, that the air is being pulled from his lungs, and in record time he's fully clothed and walking out the door to his apartment, his hair in an unkempt mess, a style that might have been seen on him before he became a CSI.

The moment he steps out of his apartment building he stops to take in a deep breath, gaining a breath of fresh air for the first time in almost a week, and he savors it for several moments before walking out to his car, knowing that any moment now at least one of the CSI's will be showing up looking for him, to make sure he's okay if not to fire him.

He doesn't think he can handle talking to any of them right now, answering any of their questions, and if he thinks about it enough he'd realize that he doesn't want to talk to anyone, not until he can figure out all of the thoughts running through his head. He realizes that running will cost him his job, but at the moment he's not sure he wants it anymore, not sure he wants to see anymore burned flesh or the other nightmarish things he has been exposed to since becoming a CSI.

He thought it would be the best thing for him after the explosion, thought he could handle anything as long as he wasn't locked up in the lab all day, but the only thing its done is taken the fear and paranoia he had before and added anger and depression on top of it. He didn't think it would be this hard, he's been around CSI's long enough to know that you can't let it get to you, but he still managed to fall victim to it, his psychiatrist prescribing him anti-depressants to add to the anxiety medication and sleeping pills he's been taking since the explosion.

The car pulls to a stop before Greg can really fully register the fact that he's been driving for the past half hour, and his thoughts are conflicted as he stares through the windshield at the hospital in front of him, his hands beginning to shake despite the medication he took only a few hours prior to leaving his apartment. He knows what's here, why his subconscious brought him here, and he's reluctant as he pulls himself out of the car and walks into the hospital, keeping his head down to avoid having to talk to anyone that might recognize him.

Soon he's standing outside the window of the burn unit, his face a mere inch from the glass as he watches the continuance of the debridement, realizing it could take a while for them to remove all the charred skin.

As he watches the process in front of him, he feels the sting and tingle in his back, trying to fight back the images of laying in a hospital bed with nurses and doctors picking at the dead skin, pulling it away only to replace it with the skin of a dead person. The thought of having someone else's skin attached to him still sends a shiver down his spine and brings the taste of bile to his throat, but he manages to suppress the urge to throw up by concentrating on the person in front of him, not paying attention to the person stepping up beside him to join in with looking at the woman.

"After all she's done, I still can't force myself to hate her. She's the love of my life, and now-"

Greg doesn't look away, doesn't pay attention to the flat palm of Neil Matthews pressed against the glass, longing to touch his wife. He doesn't hear the words either, doesn't move to acknowledge that words were even spoken to him, instead he continues to stare, tries not to look at the face because every time he does, he sees his own two years ago, etched in agony and pain while no one was around to witness it other than the doctors and nursing staff.

He felt alone, really alone. The only time one of the others came to visit was to question him about the explosion, make him repeat the smell of plastic, the feel of his body crashing through the window before he lost consciousness on the hallway floor. He thought he could hear familiar voices talking to him while he was in drugged induced sleep, but he couldn't be sure of whether they were real, or just voices filtering in through his subconscious.

For almost the first twenty-four hours after the explosion there was a faint ringing in his ears, and when he thought he heard his name being called he would turn to the voice, only to find his room empty. After the first several times he gave up, wouldn't even bother to open his eyes when he thought he heard his name was being called. When the doctor or one of the nurses came in they would gently touch his arm, and that was the only time he would ever bother to open his eyes.

Neil Matthews watches the young CSI stare in through the window of his wife's hospital room, takes in the pain etched across the young man's face, and he silently leaves his spot near the window to give the CSI some time alone, realizing that with all the death and brutality the young man sees in his line of work, that sometimes he just needs to take a moment to himself.

On his way out of the burn unit he passes an older man standing in the doorway watching the CSI, not giving much thought to it as he walks over to the elevator to return back to the cafeteria for more coffee, for more time to convince himself that it's alright to still love his wife even after all that she's done.

Greg faintly notices the departure of the older man, but he continues to remain in his spot, his eyes still fixated on the debridement still in process even after the newly abandoned spot next to him is filled once again. The person smells faintly of latex and sweat, and Greg doesn't bother to acknowledge his bosses presence, even after he hears his name being called.

"Everyone's been trying to get a hold of you. You shouldn't be here."

"No one should have to be here."

He can't find the energy or voice to verbally respond to Grissom's statement, so he merely shrugs his shoulders, a movement so small that it's almost missed by the older man.

"If you needed some time off, you only had to ask, not lie to Judy about being sick."

Grissom realizes how bad he is at human interaction when Greg ignores his statement and continues staring through the glass, and he considers calling in Catherine, maybe even Nick to handle this. They've both always been good at dealing with people in awkward situations, and he's almost convinced himself to pull his cell phone out of his pocket to call one of them when he suddenly stops his hand mid reach, turning to the sound of Greg's voice.

"Why did you put me on this case, put me in charge of collecting evidence from her?"

Grissom doesn't think he's ever heard someone sound so defeated, so drained of life, and he can feel his fingers wrap around his phone as he stares at Greg, the younger man's eyes still cast to the woman on the other side of the window.

"You can't let yourself get attached Greg."

"You don't get it."

"I guess I'm just not cut out for this job. "

Greg finally moves from his spot, avoiding Grissom's eyes as he turns around and makes his way over to the door. He expects Grissom to try and stop him, but the older CSI only watches in shock as Greg leaves, waiting until the younger man is out of sight before he turns back to the window and sees what Greg was looking at, the image of a young lab tech laying in the bed covered in burnt skin resurfacing in his memory.

***

He should have known someone would be waiting when he returned to his apartment, should have known Grissom would call in reinforcements the first chance he could get. The oldest CSI is definitely not good in situations such as these, and it seems as though Catherine has decided to step in on behalf of Grissom's emotions, leaning against Greg's door with her cell phone pressed to her ear.

The young CSI considers leaving before she notices him there, but Catherine turns her head before the thought is even finished, the older woman snapping her phone closed right away and turning her body so she's completely facing the younger CSI.

"Greg-"

"Grissom send you? That didn't take long."

Catherine can hear the unusual emptiness in Greg's voice, can tell what Grissom meant by the fact that the young CSI sounds defeated. Although he's wearing sunglasses that cover his eyes, she's positive that if he were to remove them, she would see the look of emptiness that she's seen in so many burned out CSI's before. It's never an easy thing to watch, someone crumble in front of your eyes, and it's even harder now with that fact that she's known Greg since he came to Vegas, known the young Californian lab tech turned Vegas CSI.

She had her doubts when he first mentioned that he wanted to get out of the lab and become a CSI, not that she didn't think he could do it, but she knew what it could do to him. For the past six years she's gotten used to the goofy lab tech that listens to his music too loud and has a new hair style every other week, now she stands in front of a young CSI looking beyond his years.

"Grissom didn't have to send me, we've all been worried about you. We know this case was hard on you, especially with what happened in the past, but-"

"Don't, there are no buts about any of this. I don't know what Grissom thought he was going to get out of sending me there to run trace on that woman, but he has no right to send you, of all people, to try and do- whatever it is he's trying to do. Maybe if it weren't for your inability to do your job correctly, I wouldn't be here in the first place."

The words catch them both by surprise, Greg looking shocked by his own comments as he watches Catherine take a step back, as if the words delivered a physical blow to her. He thinks he should apologize for going over the line, but the more he thinks about those images, about charred skin and months worth of pain, he realizes that he's finally able to be truthful with himself and Catherine about the explosion.

Every morning when he looks in the mirror, sees the scars that lick up his back and neck, he can't help but blame the older woman for her recklessness. He's managed to keep it to himself since it happened, trying to reassure her that it's not her fault, but in reality it's no one's fault but her own. Now he's stuck in this world where just the sight of the burn victim at Desert Palms sends the nerves in his back into a painful mess, the sleeping pills becoming ineffective against the nightmarish images that plague his mind again after so many years.

"Greg, I- I don't know what to say. We talked about this, when I came to see you in the hospital you told me everything was okay, that we were okay. Why didn't you just tell me straight forward instead of keeping it inside for so long?"

"It was easier. I was in pain, physically and mentally, I didn't need someone hanging around me constantly apologizing, looking for redemption for their actions. I didn't need you walking on glass around me at work because you thought I would blame you. It was just easier."

She doesn't know what to say, how to respond to that, and the only action she can take is to turn around and take a deep breath, feeling the tears springing in the corners of her eyes. Somehow she knew she wasn't the right person for this job, the right person to reel Greg back to reality and back to CSI. They've never had any sort of relationship between them other than the one of two colleagues working together, so she knows she's right in thinking that maybe Nick would be better at this job than she would be.

"I'm sorry Greg, about the accident, about you thinking you couldn't tell me straight forward. I think it's best that I just go, but you need to call Grissom, let him know how much time you need off; he wants you to see the departmental psychologist before you go back out into the field."

Catherine forces it out, trying to get away before Greg sees the real effect that his words have had on her. She doesn't bother looking back when she finally departs from the doorway, and Greg doesn't make a motion to stop her, instead watching her quickly walk off in the direction of the elevators, his words still lingering heavily in the air.

--

He doesn't know what to think of the silence, of the darkness that surrounds him as he walks through the hallway of the unfamiliar apartment, checking each room as he passes until he reaches the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. The steady rise and fall of the lump under the pile of blankets signals the deep unconsciousness of the ex lab tech, and the older CSI watches for a moment, hand poised near the light switch, ready to bathe the room with artificial light.

After a moments hesitation he decides to let Greg sleep on, instead moving further into the room to carefully get a picture of his surroundings as he's been trained to do, his gaze immediately catching on the pill bottles sitting on the nightstand with a bottle of water.

He approaches the side of the bed carefully so as not to wake Greg from his sleep, and he uses his peripheral vision to watch the continuous rise and fall of the material mass while picking up each of the bottles, inspecting the prescription printed on each before setting them back down, his frown deepening with each new prescription.

Two of the four pill bottles have dates that exceed the Matthews' case, and the other two are more recent, signaling to the CSI that Greg has been to the doctor within the past week. He pushes that bit of information into the back of his mind for the time being while he opens the bottles, carefully pouring the tablets out into his hand and counting them before returning them back to their original place, satisfied that there is a strict amount of pills missing from each bottle, meaning Greg hasn't taken any more than he was prescribed.

For a split second he's unsure of just exactly why he would even consider anything like that, like the young CSI taking his own life, but then he recounts the information given to him regarding the encounters Grissom and Catherine had with the ex lab tech. They both seemed put off by the behavior presented by the younger man, and they begged him to try and get through to him.

Greg shifts in the bed and the CSI stiffens, closing his eyes and hoping he hasn't been caught. Upon reopening them however, he finds himself face to face with a very angry looking lab tech, one hand fisting the pillow under head and the other buried somewhere underneath his body.

"Nick?... You guys just don't give up do you?"

"Do you really expect us to just sit by and watch you go through something like this alone? We're family Greg."

The young CSI rolls his eyes and turns over on the mattress, putting his back to Nick as he lets out a deep breath. He knows that at the first chance he gets, Nicks going to run to Grissom and tell him about the medications, give his superior even more reason to fire him. He's actually quite surprised that he's made it this far without anyone finding out, anyone realizing that the Greg that existed before the explosion has been replaced by one that lives his life out of prescription bottles.

After the explosion his psychiatrist placed him on the four prescriptions he's currently on, but with time he was able to discontinue two, while decreasing the doses of the other two. Since the Matthews case, however, he's ended up back where he was over two years ago, his life becoming more controlled by the doctor's prescription pad than his own hands.

"Greg, you know you can't shut everyone out like this. These are proof that things aren't okay, and we're not just going to leave you to deal with it by yourself."

The young CSI can hear Nick pick up one of the prescription bottles, hear the small pills clanking against the plastic sides, and he suddenly turns back over and grabs the bottle from Nick, catching the CSI off guard. Nick falls backwards from his kneeling position until he's sitting on the ground, watching Greg pull the drawer to the nightstand open and push all the bottles inside before closing it again.

"You have no right to come into my house and go snooping through my stuff. None of you have any right to be getting into my business, you never cared before and I sure in hell don't want any of you to care now. I told Grissom I'm not cut out for this job, that's it, that's the end of this and any other discussion anyone plans on attempting to have about it with me."

"Like hell we don't care-"

"Don't even try it. I work in the same lab as you, I know how many bets both you and Warrick have started on me, for one stupid thing or the other. All I am to anyone around there is a game piece, someone to be used, and I'm done with it. If this is what Grissom was trying to get out of sending me back to my past memories, then you can tell him he won, I quit."

Before Nick can respond, Greg's gone, nothing left in his wake but a mess of strewn blankets piled up at the end of the bed. He knows that he should probably go after Greg to make sure he's okay, but with the amount and types of medications the ex-lab tech is on, he knows there's so much more to this than anyone originally thought, and he hates that he's going to have to go to Grissom about it.

The fact that Grissom didn't know about the medications in the first place is a bad sign, considering that type of information is supposed to be constantly kept up to date in the personnel files. A CSI taking the type of medications that Greg is currently taking, Zoloft and Vicodin, who has been taking these types of medications for this long of time, is supposed to be kept under careful evaluation to make sure he can handle being out in the field.

If Grissom knew about these medications and never mentioned them to anyone before putting Greg out in the field as a CSI, he's putting his and the younger CSI's career on the line, especially if something were to happen and the courts were able to prove Greg's mental status unstable or that he were abusing the use of pain killers.

The sound of the front door to the apartment slamming closed brings Nick out of his thoughts, and he knows that an update to Grissom can wait. Instead he quickly pulls himself to his feet and rushes out of the room, cursing loudly as he trips on something in the dark hallway, the CSI managing to catch himself before he can fall completely to the floor.

By the time he makes it past the front door and down to the parking lot, Greg's car is gone, leaving Nick to curse loudly after the younger man, his anger at the situation flaring as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and dials his supervisor's number.

***

"Are you telling me that one of your CSI's has been on a myriad of medications for over two years now, and you're just now finding out about it?"

"As far as I knew, Conrad, those medications were discontinued once he stopped seeing the departmental shrink after the explosion. I got the report from Dr. Perkins first hand and he said he took Greg off of all medications."

"Do you know what this means Gil, do you know how much trouble we could be in if this gets out? All of the cases that Sanders has worked on, before and after he became a CSI could be called into question. Where is he at now, I want him in my office right away."

"We're still trying to find him, he left before Nick could stop him."

For once Gil Grissom could understand the amount of anger behind Conrad Ecklie's words and actions, he himself angry for the news he just recently received on his youngest CSI. He never thought that sending Catherine and Nick to talk to Greg would end up with these results, and he himself wishes that Greg were standing in front of him right now, wanting to know why exactly Greg lied to him about taking any medications and effectively putting both of their jobs on the line.

He remembers specifically asking Greg during their interview before his CSI promotion whether or not he was taking any prescription medications, remembers stressing to the younger man how important it is to inform him if he is. Although not many people care to give out that kind of information, as a CSI, dealing with cases that cause stress and other problems that come with the job, the department is very adamant about knowing these things, wanting not only to protect it's staff, but the department as well.

"I want you to track down the doctors that prescribed these pills, and I want Sanders in my office by the end of the day. Your job is riding on the line here Gil, get it done."

Ecklie leaves no room for argument, holding the door to his office open as soon as the last words leave his mouth. Nick is standing just outside the door when Grissom steps out, and he knows by the look on his superiors face that he's pissed off.

"Find him, now. And I want Warrick to track down the doctors that prescribed him those meds, get any information he can from them. I need to know how long Greg can go without them."

Nick doesn't even think about protesting the demand, intent on not angering his supervisor anymore as he takes off down the halls of CSI in search of Warrick, knowing that this could be one of their toughest cases yet. Not only does it involve one of their colleagues, one of their good friends, it also involves digging into said person's personal life, bringing things forth that Greg has so adamantly tried to keep a secret.

Warrick is sitting in the break room finishing up his paperwork when Nick finally finds him, the older CSI looking up at the entrance of the Texan. The look on Nick's face is a mixture of guilt and uneasiness, and Warrick closes the folder in front of him, pushing it aside when Nick closes the door to the break room behind him.

"We've got a new case."

The statement causes Warrick to raise an eyebrow, and Nick suddenly doesn't feel so good about telling Grissom about the pills, knowing that he really had no place no matter how worried he was about the younger CSI at the time.

He hands over the folder that he's been holding since before Grissom entered Ecklie's office, and watches as Warrick's expression goes from curious and confused, to what looks like a mixture of anger and sympathy as he flips through the pages that list the medication information, and other background information on Greg.

"You broke into Greg's apartment and went through his stuff? What were you thinking man, he's had enough on his mind and now he's turned into our next case?"

The thought that the look of anger in Warrick's eyes was directed towards Greg quickly proves otherwise, and the guilt that Nick holds becomes even worse, his gaze averting for a split second before returning to the file that Warrick has now closed.

"He wasn't acting like himself, I was worried about him; I didn't think this would happen... Grissom wants you to find out who prescribed these medications, and I he wants me to have Greg back here by the end of the day."

"No", it's a simple word followed by the sliding of the file back across the table as Warrick stands up, brushing past his friend and over to the door.

"You find out what you can about the medications, I'll find Greg. You're the last person he probably wants to see right now. I'd strongly suggest you start thinking of ways to apologize to him for all of this, we both know what's going to happen once Ecklie gets a hold of him."

Warrick leaves without another word, Nick remaining standing in the break room with the file sitting in front of him. He now wishes he would have never agreed to check on Greg in the first place as he picks up the file and leaves the break room, a part of him hoping that Greg doesn't come back, knowing that he'll be to blame for the younger CSI getting fired.

--

"Greg Sanders? He was here last night. I thought it was a little odd, considering he stopped coming here after his promotion out of the lab. He used to come here quite often, just hang out and enjoy the atmosphere, but last night he was hitting the bottle pretty hard. That's not normal for him, and when I asked him about it he said something about a case he just finished working on, something about fires and scars."

"How long have you know Greg?"

Warrick leans against the bar, glancing around the place while the owner thinks about the question. This is one of the nicer places in town, one of the more classier clubs, and Warrick isn't too surprised to find out that Greg used to hang around here. It seems like the type of place where you can just let loose without worrying about constantly getting hit on and having to deal with too many drunk patrons.

"I've probably known him since he moved out here to Vegas. He's a good kid, has a good heart, it was hard seeing him like that last night. It looked like he was ready to give up, he just sat at the end of the bar ordering one drink after the other. Finally I cut him off and tried to call a cab for him, but the second I turned my back he was gone. I ran outside the second I noticed him missing, but he was no where in sight."

The owner looks unhappy with himself for not trying harder, but at least he tried. Any other owner or bartender would have just cut him off and thrown him out, but this guy seems to actually care about the missing CSI, something Warrick is grateful for.

"Do you know where he might have gone? Has he ever mentioned other places he might hang out?"

"There's a coffee shop down the street he used to go to after he left here, usually with a group of friends. You might want to check there, otherwise, this is really the only other place I know of him hanging out at other than his apartment."

Warrick thanks the owner for the information and leaves his card behind before heading towards the door, stopping with his hand on the door handle as he thinks of one other question, the owner looking at him as he turns back around.

"Just one more thing. Did Greg ever mention an explosion to you?"

"Explosion? Not that I remember. There was a point where he didn't come around for a few weeks, and when he came back he seemed... different. A little quieter, a little more reserved. That's about the same time he started talking about moving out of the lab. I figured something happened at work, but I didn't pressure him about it. I saw the news about an explosion at the crime lab, but I didn't pay too much attention to it."

"Alright, thanks for the help. Call me if you hear from him or think of anything else."

Warrick leaves the club feeling like he's really gotten no where, his search for the past several hours leading him to one dead end right after the other. Although he's learned several things about Greg that he never knew before, it doesn't seem to be helping in his search any. It seems that after Greg became a CSI he cut off all ties with his former life as a lab tech, including his old hang outs and friends.

The walk to the café isn't too long, and Warrick is greeted by a young girl standing behind the counter as he walks in, the small business occupied by only a few customers keeping to themselves.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Warrick Brown with the Las Vegas crime lab, I was hoping you could help me find someone, he might have been in here last night."

Warrick pulls the picture of Greg out of his pocket and hands it over to the girl, letting out a sigh of resignation when she shakes her head, informing him that she's never seen him before, and she was the only one working the previous night. He informs her to call him if Greg happens to stop by, and leaves the small café, walking back to his Denali to head back to the lab.

Grissom calls him into the conference room as soon as he walks through the front doors, and he knows his supervisor isn't going to be happy with his lack of progress.

When he enters the conference room, Nick and Catherine are sitting down, Grissom standing next to the door, waiting to close it as soon as the last CSI on the case enters.

"I need an update, how far are we so far?"

"My only lead so far is that he went to a club off the strip last night, one that he used to hang out at quite often before he got out of the lab. Everyone else I talked to says they haven't seen him in months."

"Did you check with the hospital"

"The hospital and Mr. Matthews. The last anyone saw him around there was when you found him there."

"Alright, I want Catherine with you, time is winding down. Nick, what have you gotten so far."

"I found the doctor who prescribed him the Vicodin. He said he prescribed it after the explosion, but he hasn't seen Greg since his follow-ups once he was released, which has been almost two years. The other medications were prescribed by a Dr. Michael Towner, a psychiatrist who has his own private practice. He wasn't very forthcoming with information due to the fact that I didn't have a warrant to obtain Greg's medical files, but he did suggest that we find Greg right away and give him his medications back, or the consequences could be dire."

The last few words come out in almost a whisper, and the room falls silent, Warrick watching Nick avert his eyes away from everyone. The statement causes everyone in the room to realize that the search for Greg is not really about finding him to punish him for his secrets anymore, it's to protect him from doing anything harmful as a result of their mistakes, their inability to see that one of their colleagues hasn't been okay for the longest of time.

***

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It's our only option. We've already asked everyone we could think of, and it has just lead us to one dead end after the other. Maybe at least doing this we can get some clue as to where he might be hiding."

Warrick glances at Catherine before averting his gaze back to the day planner in his hand, the CSI feeling extremely uncomfortable looking through Greg's things without the ex-tech's permission. He can hardly bring himself to do it just to try and find a clue, he doesn't know how Nick could have done it without any reason. The thought that Nick could be so thoughtless and careless has Warrick puzzled beyond belief, unsure of what drove his colleague to such behavior that he's never exhibited before.

"Is there a possibility that he might have went back home to San Francisco?"

Catherine looks over Warrick's shoulder into the address book, the page flipped open to reveal the famous Papa Olaf's address and phone number. Greg talks about him so much that it could be their only idea at the moment, and when Warrick fails to respond to Catherine's question, the younger CSI too deep in thought, she pulls out her cell phone and punches the long distance number in, turning away as it begins to ring.

After several moments Catherine gets a recorded message that the number is no longer in service, and she sighs in defeat as she turns back around, finding Warrick still standing in the same position, the address book still resting in his glove covered hand, his eyes not really concentrating on the pages in front of him.

"Hey, Warrick, what are you thinking?"

The CSI snaps his head up, forgetting for a moment that he's not alone, and he shakes his head before putting the address book back next to the computer in Greg's home office, trying his best to put everything back where he got it from instead of leaving things strewn out like he normally would.

"It's nothing, I just- what do you think Nick was thinking by snooping around here in the first place? If he would have just stayed out of here-"

"It was Grissom's idea Warrick, he was worried about Greg and he wanted me to come talk to him. I tried my hand at it and got nowhere, so he asked Nick to come by. Granted, he didn't tell him to go snooping around the way he did, but maybe it's better that he did, that we found this out before anything happened."

"Before anything happened? Catherine, something is about to happen, if it hasn't already, and it's not because he's taking some pills. It's because someone he thought he trusted invaded his privacy, and now he doesn't have the one thing that might be keeping him going."

Warrick can't stand to be in the apartment any longer, can't stand to have to try and make his colleague see something that she should already get. He turns and leaves the room without waiting for a response from Catherine, and he doesn't bother stopping until he's out the front door and standing by the Tahoe, trying to keep his anger in check for the sake of keeping from losing his temper too much and snapping at Catherine any further.

"Rick-"

"Just give me a minute."

Catherine stops several yards away from Warrick, the younger CSI's hands pressed flat against the side of the SUV as he bends his head down and closes his eyes, trying to get rid of the anger, trying to think of something that will help them bring Greg home and put an end to all of this. The fact that they're actually having to search for him, that his name is actually on a case file is something that Warrick is still trying to grasp, and having Catherine and Nick as insensitive as they have been makes things all that much harder.

When he feels that he's finally got a reign on his anger, Warrick straightens back up and turns to Catherine, the woman looking at him with worried eyes.

"I have a feeling we're not going to find him this way. Wherever he's at, it could be too late, we need more insight from the psychiatrist. I'm going to take a trip to the doctor's office and talk to him, I'll drop you back off at the lab on the way over, you can fill Grissom on all the leads we don't have yet."

Catherine opens her mouth as if to protest, but the look on Warrick's face forces her to keep quiet, her gloves coming off her hands as she climbs into the passenger side, unsure of whether or not she's seen Warrick this upset with any of his colleagues before.

--

"I've already told the other guy that I can't disclose any of my patient's information unless I get a warrant, so unless you have one, I suggest you leave me office before I call the police and have you escorted out."

"Dr. Towner, I want to believe that you care about your patients, but the way you're acting, it's starting to make me think otherwise. I'm not asking for any specifics about why Greg sees you or what you talk about, I just need some ideas of where to look for him. You said that we need to find him as soon as possible and yet you won't help us."

Warrick has to clench his fists at his sides to keep from reaching across the desk and wrapping his hand around the Doctor's neck, the older gentleman trying his best to keep from letting any information slip while being harassed by the CSI. They've been arguing for the past twenty minutes, and Warrick feels that he has gotten no where, the Doctor keeping himself occupied by paperwork while trying to get rid of the man with too many questions.

He could have easily called security by now and gotten rid of the CSI, but he really doesn't mind the other man being here, giving him a chance to see just how far Warrick is willing to go to find Greg. The fact that his patient has someone that cares about him this much, it makes him realize that maybe Greg doesn't see everything he should when looking at his coworkers.

Despite how much this man in front of him might care for Greg though, he knows that patient/doctor confidentiality is one of the things his clients can always rely on, and he's not going to break that unless he's forced to by law.

"Have you considered that Mr. Sanders doesn't want to be found, that as long as you're looking for him he's going to do everything in his power to keep from being found? Or maybe he's right in front of you and you don't even realize it; your ability to solve puzzles must not be that good if it has taken this long to figure out that something is wrong with one of your co-workers."

Warrick is on his feet before the last word even leaves the older man's lips, and the doctor jumps from his seat as Warrick is grabbed from behind, the CSI turning around to find out who has stopped him from hurdling the desk to get to the Doctor.

"Rick, don't waste your time on him man, he's not worth getting suspended for. Lets just get him what he wants so we can be done with it."

Nick is caught off guard when Warrick pushes him away, the younger CSI stumbling back and barely managing to catch his footing. He's startled by the look in Warrick's eyes, and he takes several steps back when the other CSI starts walking towards him, the men moving until Nick's back finally hits the wall.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do, you're the reason we're having to deal with him in the first place. If you would have just gone to talk to Greg like Grissom asked, and stayed out of his stuff, we might not be searching for Greg right now and ramming our heads against a brick wall with every clue we get."

There's a heavy silence in the air as the two men stare angrily at each other, the doctor continuing to remain standing behind his desk while watching the CSI's, his hand poised above the phone in case he needs to call for police.

"I didn't know things would get this out of control, I thought I was helping him when I told Grissom about the pills. I thought Grissom would maybe talk to him and let up on Greg, maybe he would see how wrong he was by sending Greg to deal with the Matthews case and at least apologize. I didn't realize he would send us out on a witch hunt so that he can be fired by Ecklie. Do you really think I would want all that to happen?"

His voice starts out strong and loud, coming back at Warrick, but it tapers off at the end to a quiet whisper, his eyes gazing at a spot somewhere behind Warrick, trying to avoid the older man's eyes.

"You knew what would happen to Greg, Nick, you were almost there yourself after the Nigel Crane case. You told Grissom for a reason, you wanted something to happen, and I can't even imagine what it would be. How could you betray him like that?"

"Maybe- I don't know, I wasn't thinking clearly. I saw how he reacted to the Matthews case, maybe I was thinking he wouldn't be able to handle the job, but I sure in hell didn't want him completely fired from the lab. I thought that to the most, Grissom would suspend him for a few days and put him back in the lab instead of the field."

The doctor slowly eases himself back into his chair as the voices reach normal range again, and his years worth of psychiatry experience kicks in as he watches the two men arguing, noticing that Warrick is slowly beginning to break, his eyes still holding anger but his fists relaxing at his side and his nostrils flaring just a little less than they were moments before.

"I can't believe you would do that to him. We all have our trouble cases, we all have to deal with shit that sometimes we can't handle, that's no reason to do this to someone. Of all the people that would do this-"

"I'm not perfect, Rick."

"You got that damn right."

Another silence falls on the room, and Warrick slowly lowers himself into one of the seats in front of the doctor's desk again, letting his head fall into his hands as he tries to fight off the oncoming headache. He can't believe that one case is capable of having this severe of an effect on their team, that it's able to test friendships that have survived through some of the worst cases to date.

The doctor doesn't look much phased by the two men arguing in front of him, a faint trace of amusement hidden on his face. He knows that having one of his patients missing isn't a subject to be amused about, but he feels that Greg's words are finally getting a life of their own, the words he's spoken about his colleagues and the type of attitude they have towards him.

Part of the amusement however comes from the fact that there's only one question either men need to ask him to end this case, and yet they're too focused on placing blame that they're not thinking about it, and the doctor knows that it's their loss. He knows that the one thing standing in the way of their case now isn't the fact that they keep hitting dead ends, it's that they can't seem to get along long enough to use their basic CSI training.

It's probably for the better, the doctor thinks, because he knows this isn't the kind of thing Greg needs to deal with at this point in time. He doesn't need the guilt trip provided by Nick for telling Grissom, or the blame game by Warrick, he needs time and space to figure everything out in his head, just as he did after the explosion.

Granted, he needs his medications as well to help him get to the place he needs to be, but the doctor knows that at this current time Greg is safe without them, that he's safe where he is right now, with someone he trusts.

***

"One of your friends came around here asking about you earlier, how are you feeling?"

Greg doesn't open his eyes, knowing that his head won't be able to deal with any light as he fights away the nausea. He hasn't had a hangover like this in years, and he knows he's going to be dealing with it all day as he turns on his side and buries his face in the couch, his knees pulling up to his chest in hopes that it'll stop the dull pain in his stomach.

"They're not exactly my friends. What did you tell them?"

'That you came around last night to get drunk, but left before the club closed."

Greg chances opening an eye to look at the man kneeling in front of him, and he reaches out for the aspirin that's being offered, forgoing the water and swallowing the pills dry.

"You know you can get in trouble for lying to them."

"Yeah, but I figured you wouldn't want to deal with them right now, you were pretty messed up last night. Some woman tried to take you home with her, but I managed to stop her and drag you back here. And if you'd like for me to continue covering for you ass, I'm going to need to know what's going on. I feel like I'm hiding a fugitive back here. So what did you, kidnap your bosses bug collection or something?"

Mumbled words escape Greg's mouth, the younger man wishing that he can avoid this conversation, but when the other man doesn't move from his spot, instead pulling up a chair, he sighs loudly and rolls onto his back, taking a deep breath before starting from the beginning.

--

"What have you got so far?"

Grissom falls into step beside Warrick, a case file held loosely at his side as the two men head to the end of the hallway, stepping into Grissom's office where the supervisor closes the door behind them.

He knows that time is quickly winding down, and if he doesn't find Greg before the next few hours are up, that this could only get worse. Ecklie is always trying to find a way to get Grissom, and it looks like he's finally found it, getting an added bonus by firing Greg as well.

"I went to talk to the psychiatrist, he still won't give us anything. I think he knows where Greg is, but he won't give us any information until we get a court order."

"A court order is out of the question right now. If we were to do that, it will make this case official, and then we'd all be in trouble. I want you and Nick to keep an eye on this guy, if he goes anywhere, I want you to follow him."

"Isn't there something else we can do Gris? This all seems a bit extreme for a guy that was just trying to take care of himself. I could see him getting in trouble for not taking the meds or seeing the doctor, but don't you think that it's better that he's taking them?"

Warrick sits in the chair in front of Grissom's desk, knowing that it's a slim chance that they can get out of this with both Greg and Grissom's jobs still intact. He knows that you're supposed to inform the supervisor if you're taking the type of meds that Greg's on, but he also knows how much Greg wanted to get out of the lab. Since the explosion he seems more apprehensive about being in the lab, going near the fume hood when there's chemicals placed under it.

"He should have told me what was going on, we could have worked something out so that he could remain in the field, but he didn't, and now there's a possibility our other cases can be effected by it."

Warrick sighs and runs his hand over his face, feeling completely helpless. He and Greg have never really been friends outside of the lab, but he knows that Greg's an excellent CSI, the younger man catching on to most things faster than any other CSI trainee he's come in contact with.

Despite the fact that he let a simple stupid mistake mess him up on his first proficiency, he put everything he had into his second chance and proved to everyone that he's more than just a lab tech, and now all of that could be stripped away from him because he didn't want anyone to know that he wasn't dealing with the explosion and it's after effects as well as they thought.

"Believe me Rick, I don't want to be having to do this either, but he knew the protocol."

"And you're just going to let Nick get away with illegally searching Greg's place? He didn't have a warrant, he had no reason to do that and yet you're sending him out there to find Greg. The least you can do is take him off this case, I think he's the last one Greg would want to see right now. He's the one that started all of this mess."

Gil doesn't say anything right away, instead letting his eyes focus past Warrick, and the other man turns to follow his supervisor's gaze, finding Nick in the doorway with a videotape hanging loosely at his side.

Nothing is spoken between the three for several moments, and Nick finally takes a step into the office towards Warrick, handing the tape over to the CSI before silently leaving with a hurt look in his eyes, closing the door behind him.

Warrick stares at the door for a brief moment before he flips the tape over in his hand, reading the label on it as a look of confusion crosses his face, not recognizing the name of the restaurant, but the date following it that of the previous night.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure, it looks like a security tape to a restaurant; might be a lead in Greg's case."

Warrick stands up as he's speaking and Grissom does the same, both men leaving the office and heading straight to Archie's lab, the tech stopping what he's doing when they walk in and Warrick hands him the tape.

"We need to take a look at this, you got a few minutes to spare?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"We'll see soon enough."

Archie pushes the tape into his VCR and the video comes up on the screen, the confusion clearing from Warrick's eyes as he realizes what the video is from, his finger pointing out a figure at the bottom of the screen entering the club.

"This must have been taken from across the club Greg was at last night, there's him going in. Fast forward it Archie and let's see what happens when he comes out, see if he's with anyone. Maybe we finally got the lead we've been waiting for."

Grissom and Warrick watch closely as the tape is sped up, patrons going in and out of the club unaware of the camera watching their actions. The time continues on quickly until Archie sees a familiar face and pushes the pause on it, the three men looking at the picture confused as if they don't understand what's on it.

"He never left the club. You said the owner is a friend of Greg's, right?"

"Yeah, said he's known him for a few years now. He told me that he tried to call a cab for Greg, that he only looked away for a minute and Greg was gone."

"I think it's time to go question the bartender again, it looks like he's hiding something... or someone."

--

"You really think they're going to fire you just for not telling them about the medications?"

"They came here looking for me didn't they? Chances are Conrad Ecklie already knows about it and sent Warrick here after me."

Greg's hangover has gone from a massive headache to dull stomach cramps that have forced him to lay on his side with his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes closed as he tries to fight back the bile that's been trying to come up since he first came to on the couch. He knows it was a bad idea to drink that much, but he also knows that it could have been worse had he taken his medication that day, not that he would have to worry about that if Nick hadn't snooped through his things in the first place.

He was tempted to go back to the hospital burn unit after leaving his apartment, but he was at least smart enough to realize that it would be the first place anyone checked. He knows it isn't a good idea to hang around there so much, dwell on what happened in his past, but it's the only thing that's consumed his thoughts since he was assigned to the Matthews case, to Tara in particular.

The club owner watches the faintly changing expressions on Greg's face, realizes that the younger man didn't stop coming around because he moved on to a better job, but because his job was tearing him up, turning him into something that he shouldn't have become. The lines of depression are clearly etched on Greg's face and his voice reflects that emotion, his arms tight around his legs as he tries to push himself back into the couch, like he's trying to hide from everything.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this."

"So don't."

Greg opens his eyes a slit to see if his friend has gone mad, instead finding the older man looking as serious as ever, his eyes focused solely on Greg.

"If this is what this job is driving you to, all these pills and psychiatric appointments, then why bother with it? You got a degree at Stanford, I'm sure there's plenty of jobs out there that you can get that don't keep you up at night thinking of explosions and burnt skin. This person, the person here last night, this isn't you, this isn't the Greg I knew before you stopped coming around here, and I don't think this job is worth everything you're going through."

Greg closes his eyes again halfway through the speech, his body sinking further into the cushions of the couch. When he first became a CSI it was about getting out of the lab, away from his fear of the fume hood, but soon it transformed into much more than that. He felt like he was making more of a difference out in the field instead of being locked away in the lab, and although most days he still needs the aid of sleeping pills to help him sleep, he's glad that he became a CSI.

"I've worked too hard to just give up like this."

"Like you said Greg, how much longer can you do this? How much longer until the anti-depressants and anxiety medications don't work anymore, until your alarm clock comes in the form of nightmares of dead people and things you can't change."

There's a moment of silence followed by a loud pounding on the Club owner's office door, the noise startling both men as Grissom and Warrick are suddenly standing only a few feet away from them, neither men looking the least bit happy about realizing that Greg was in the club the whole time.

"Gentlemen, unless you have a warrant, you're trespassing."

Grissom doesn't hear the words spoken by the club owner, instead focusing on his CSI that's curled up on the couch, eyelids squeezed closed like he's trying to make himself invisible. The emotions playing on Greg's face look so raw, and Grissom suddenly feels guilty for ever sending Nick over to the youngest tech's apartment in the first place instead of dealing with the situation on his own, as a supervisor is supposed to do when they realize that something's not right with one of their CSI's.

***

The halls in front of Conrad Ecklie's office are deserted except for one lone figure, the CSI night supervisor trying hard not to focus on the raised voices coming from behind the closed door of the assistant director's office. It's been going on for a while now, and Greg's voice only seems to be getting louder, something Grissom never thought he'd hear from the younger man.

Gil feels like he's a kid again, sitting outside the principal's office after getting in trouble for trying to take the science classes bug collection home. It's obvious to anyone that walks by that things aren't going well with Greg in there, and although he knows it might sound the same once he himself enters the office, he hopes it won't end as bad as he expects.


When the door finally slams open and Greg steps out almost an hour after being sent in, Grissom stands up to say something but is almost pushed off balance by the CSI turned lab tech, so many emotions present in Greg's eyes that it's hard to decipher each.

Grissom tries to grab Greg's arm before he can take off, to say something to calm the younger man down, but soon the two men are flanked by Ecklie on one side of them calling Grissom into the office, and security guards on the other side, ready to escort Greg to the locker room before making sure he leaves the building. The measure seems a bit extreme, and Grissom silently watches Greg push the men away from him before storming off in the direction of the locker room, the men's absence leaving Ecklie and Grissom alone in the hallway.

Although Gil wishes he could put this meeting off longer, he soon finds himself sitting in the chair Greg was in just moments before across the desk from Ecklie, his hands resting in his lap as the assistant director opens the personnel file in front of him.

"Mr. Grissom, I suppose you already know why you're here, so why don't I just cut to the chase."

"You fired him."

Ecklie was expecting the question and all the anger behind it, so it doesn't effect him much as he shakes his head, his eyes meeting with Grissom's after a moment longer of looking at the file, not really paying attention to what's in it but using it more as a scare tactic, to make Grissom more nervous than what he already is.

"As a matter of fact, I didn't get a chance to fire him, he resigned his position as a CSI and lab tech, which is good for you I suppose."

It catches the supervisor off guard, to say the least. He could have never expected Greg to give up on the job he fought for so easily, and he doesn't understand how he could gain any benefit from Greg quitting.

"Now if we can stay on track here Grissom, I've been looking over your personal file, and it seems that there have been some major problems with your team and their ability to do their job correctly. Although I'm sure where the problem lies, I have decided to start an investigation to correct the errors. Until the investigation is complete, I'm putting you on unpaid suspension, and I will be supervising the remainder of your crew."

Grissom isn't sure what makes him more upset, the fact that Ecklie's starting an investigation into his ability to do his job, or the fact that he's going to be in control of the night shift. He knows he should be relieved that he hasn't gotten fired completely yet, but the fact that he's still being suspended makes it feel like the same results. He's never been forced away from his job like this before, with the risk of completely losing it, and as much as he's addicted to his work, the thought of being kept away from it is something he's not sure he can deal with just yet.

"Mr. Grissom, do you have any questions before you go?"

Hundreds of them, he thinks, but he can't seem to make his voice work for the first time in his life. He knows he should try to fight it, but the image of Greg curled up on the couch at the club, that look in his eyes, Grissom knows he screwed up and it's his fault that Greg's gone.

He wants to go find the younger man, apologize for letting this all get so far out of hand, but he doesn't even know where he would start. Gil Grissom and personal talk have never gone hand in hand, but he thinks that it's something he's going to have to conquer soon, very soon, because he finds himself standing up and walking towards the door, unsure of whether or not the meeting is actually over but no longer really caring. All that seems to matter right now is finding Greg and at least trying to make things right between them.

The steady flow of traffic through the hallway seems to have returned when the CSI steps out the door, and despite the fact that Grissom's sure he can hear Ecklie calling his name behind him, Gil only keeps moving in the direction of the locker room, finding his CSI's standing just outside the door talking quietly amongst themselves.

They look worried, as they should, and although they turn questioning eyes to Grissom when they seem him coming, the supervisor ignores it and pushes open the door to the locker room, his feet remaining in their spot momentarily as he watches Greg empty his locker into the trash, the box sitting on the bench behind him remaining empty.

The two security officers are standing near Greg silently watching the younger man, like they expect him to pull a gun on them or something, and Grissom clears his throat from the doorway, finally making his presence known as the two men finally look up at him with questioning looks on their faces.

"Do you mind giving us a moment alone?"

"Sorry sir, we've got direct orders to escort Mr. Sanders until he's out of the building."

It usually takes a lot more to make Gil Grissom upset, but he suddenly finds his fists clenching at his sides, wishing that Ecklie were here right now so that he could hit him for treating Greg like he's a criminal. Gil supposes that this is the last thing Greg needs to be dealing with right now on top of everything else, and despite his anger, Grissom tries not to yell when once again requesting the men to leave.

"He's not going to do anything or go anywhere, I just need a few minutes alone to talk to him."

"With all due respect sir, he's resigned his position as a CSI and you're currently on suspension, I'm sure you'll be able to find plenty of time alone to talk to him outside of the lab. Until then, we've been directed not to leave his side until he's out of the building, and we're going to make sure the job gets done right."

It will be too late, Grissom knows it will be too late because right now he has Greg trapped, as terrible as it may sound, but out in the parking lot Greg can easily get away from him and he's really not at the age where he can be chasing people, especially those that are fit like the former lab tech.

Greg doesn't even seem to be paying attention to what's going on around him, his movements automatic as he throws one thing after the other into the trash can. Gil moves towards him to allow the door to finally close behind him, and although his fingers twitch to reach out and grab the CSI's arm, make him stop his actions for only a moment, he can't bring himself to do it, instead trying to ignore the men watching him and finding the courage to speak.

"Greg, I'm really sorry about all of this, it isn't all your fault. I should have noticed something wasn't right and tried to help."

"And done what Grissom, made the images go away, make me forget about the explosion and the scars covering my back? This is something I did on my own, I didn't want everyone to think I was incapable of doing my job, so I kept it a secret. When it came down to it, I knew Ecklie was going to fire me, fire us, so I beat him to it, I quit. Now your job is secure."

That would explain why he gave up his job so easily. Damn.

"I never once thought you were incapable of doing your job Greg, you've gone a lot further than several CSI's I've dealt with in the past. You can't just quit what you've worked so hard for just to cover me, I can't let that happen."

"It's over Grissom, there's no point in both of us losing our jobs if one can be saved. You belong here, this place is your life and I'm not going to be the reason you're forced to leave it."

His voice sounds just about as loud as it did when he was in Ecklie's office, and Grissom is faintly aware of the security guards starting to approach them, getting ready in case they need to jump in. The fact that they're not actually trying to throw Grissom out is surprising enough, but he's not going to complain, not when he knows this might be his only chance to talk to Greg before the younger man leaves for good.

"This wasn't all your fault Greg, I was careless when I sent you to Tara Matthews, I heard what you said to Sofia in the locker room, and I should have caught on then instead of sending you back."

Greg opens his mouth to respond but the door to the locker room is suddenly pushed open, Grissom knowing who is standing behind him without even bother to look back.

"Mr. Grissom, I think you've been working here long enough to know that suspensions are effective immediately, not when you decide they are. What are you still doing here, interrupting my staff with your raised voices?"

Grissom turns around, the anger present in his eyes as he looks at Ecklie, forces himself not to just reach out and choke the life out of the little weasel. His thoughts towards the other man are starting to get more aggressive and violent in nature, and Grissom thinks that if Ecklie doesn't watch his back, he's going to be the target of the first punch from Gil Grissom that's been thrown in almost twenty years.

"I'm talking to Greg, Conrad."

""You can talk to Mr. Sanders off the grounds of the crime lab, that includes out of this building, and the parking lot. Until he's finished clearing out his locker, you can work on finding your way in that direction, I'll even be so kind as to escort you out of the building, just so you don't happen to get lost."

Greg continues to empty his locker out, ignoring everyone around him, and Grissom wonders just when everything seemed to fall apart around him. He supposes it has been happening ever since the lab explosion and he just never realized it, and now he knows the true results of his blindness.

"Greg-"

"Now, Gil. You should be lucky that you still have your job, but the longer you stay here, the more I'm starting to rethink that decision."

Grissom hesitates, lets his gaze shift between Greg and Ecklie. He wants to finish this with Greg, get this all settled, but he's not sure if he can handle losing his job. He wants Greg to fight, to stick up for himself and fight Ecklie to keep his job, but he's not even sure if his words will have an effect on the younger man any longer, not after he participated in the betrayal that left Greg in this position.

Ecklie's about to physically remove Grissom himself when the supervisor suddenly pushes past him, opening the locker room door to be greeted by the group of CSI's still standing close by, still unsure of what exactly is going on.

Grissom's eyes scan the group until they land on the one CSI that wasn't a part of all the charades, and he ignores Ecklie standing behind him as he walks over to Sarah, pulling her aside by the elbow until they're at a reasonable distance from everybody.

"Grissom, what's going on?"

"Greg resigned. I tried talking to him, but-"

"Grissom, if I have to tell you one more time, I'm going to have you physically removed from the premises."

Gil throws a glance over his shoulder before turning back to Sarah, a frown drawn tight onto her lips.

"I'll talk to him, but I can't guarantee you anything."

Grissom thanks her just as Ecklie grabs him by his arm, one of the security guards that was in the locker room moments ago now standing by his side, looking highly annoyed by the CSI's actions. He's not able to say much else before he's pulled down the hallway, a small crowd gathering as the security guard escorts him to his car to make sure he leaves.

***

He's no longer sure where it's safe to go anymore, they've intruded in all the places he's felt comfortable. He considers going to the club, but by now it's packed to capacity and he doesn't want to have to deal with all the people, doesn't think alcohol will cure any of the problems he's currently facing.

It's been a few days since he last took any of the medication, and he can already feel the effect it's having on his body. Although he only takes the Vicodin very rarely, when he feels lingering pain in his back, the other three are taken on a daily basis, his whole world revolving around pill induced sleep, anti-depressants, and pain killers.

The idea to visit his therapist and get new medications also comes as a thought, but he knows they'll also be there, looking for him and trying to get him to come back. He saw Grissom talking to Sarah outside the locker room, and it doesn't take much to know what he was telling her. She's the only one that didn't seem to be involved in the man hunt for him, he wanders why, but he also knows that now she's going to be used as Grissom's tool to try and get to him once again, like he's some criminal on the run.

He feels like he's out of options, out of places to go, but he keeps driving, his eyes heavy. He needs sleep, real sleep that's not alcohol induced followed by a killer hangover, but he doesn't want to get a hotel, can't even really afford one since he forgot his wallet at the club. Instead he finds a road that veers off into a secluded area and heads down it, stopping only when it doesn't continue any further, the area surrounded by nothing but the dark dry desert.

The air is chilly around him when he shuts off the engine and steps out of the car, his eyes easily adjusting to the moonlit darkness as he stands several feet away, hands digging deep in his pant's pockets, searching for warmth. He faintly remembers a case that he had out here once a few months back, and he walks several more feet away from the car, stopping in the spot where he remembers once lay a body of a young woman, raped and left to die, her clothes strewn around her and the dirt tainted with crimson blood.

A sigh escapes his lips and he eases his body down, sitting cross legged on the dry desert ground and letting his eyes scan the vast emptiness around, his surroundings becoming a visual reality of what it feels like in his head right now, empty and lonely. The desert sounds peaceful around him, all the silence away from the head splitting city, but the spot he sits in once held the cries of a dying woman, her bloody fingertips trying to claw into the sand, trying to find her way out of her inevitable death.

It's the way that Greg feels right now, like he's trying to claw his way to safety, but his body is to weak, his mind no longer wanting to put up the fight. He tried to save himself with the pills and the psychiatry appointments, but it was a failed battle, one that ended in more desolate loneliness than before, with no one to trust and no where to go.

The progression is slow as he lays back onto the ground and shifts onto his side, pulling his legs up to his chest in the fetal position and closes his eyes, his thoughts, everything starting to cloud his mind all at once as the days begin to catch up with him. He can feel the tears coming, trying to escape from behind his closed eyelids, and he makes no effort to stop them, curling only further into himself as one sob escapes past slightly parted dry lips, a single cry that's like the calm before a storm.

Within minutes his whole body is racked with loud cries, the lonely CSI taking up such a miniscule space in the vast desert, such a small space in the world he once belonged to that seems to no longer want him.

The silence breaking cries go on for a good while, Greg managing somehow to make himself even smaller, his mind so withdrawn from the present that he doesn't notice a fresh set of headlights turning off or a car door shutting.

Jim Brass didn't know what to expect when he was informed that a car matching Greg's description and plate number disappeared into the desert, the captain keeping the information to himself when he excused himself from the mind numbing phone call he was in the middle of with Catherine. He's been watching with faint interest as Greg was hunted down and thrown into the lion's den, keeping his opinion of the matter to himself on the case that has already made it's way well through the CSI headquarters gossip mill.

Now he stands only a few feet away from the lab tech that he was always quite fond of (but would never admit out loud), watching the young man crumble in on himself, his choking sobs breaking the silence of the desert they stand in. He's glad that Greg doesn't realize he's here because truthfully, he's not sure what to say, instead pulling out his cell phone and stepping behind his car, talking low enough into the phone so that Greg can't hear him.

"I found Sanders, you might want to get out here quick."

He tries to keep the panic out of his voice so as not to frighten the CSI on the other end too much, hanging up the phone only after giving directions to his location and accepting the ETA of fifteen minutes.

After slipping his phone back into his pocket, he's left wondering what to do next, unsure if he should try and comfort the depressed former CSI or leave him be, allow him to get everything out. He's faintly aware that he's putting off the decision, hoping help will get out here before he really has to decide, and it seems to work as another set of headlights pulls up next to the captain's car and shuts off, the CSI getting out from the driver's side.

Jim looks at Greg after acknowledging the presence of the new arrival, expecting him to at least flinch or make some notice of the company he now has, but he doesn't move from where he is, his sobs still as loud as they were when the captain arrived.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Since I got here, I don't think he realizes we're even here. I was going to try and talk to him-"

"The look on your face says otherwise. I've got it from here though, don't worry about it, you can go back to the station."

Jim knows when he's been busted, and he only gives Greg a last glance before turning back to his car, stopping when he hears his name, turning back to the CSI looking at him with a full look of seriousness.

"Do me a favor, don't tell anyone he's out here."

He nods and pauses for a brief moment before turning back, pulling his jacket tighter around him as the air gets cooler out in the desert. He wonders briefly if it's safe to be leaving the two out here alone, but he knows they're both competent adults, making himself feel better by deciding to have an officer come by every once in a while to check on them, to make sure nothing has happened.

The CSI waits until the headlights of the captain's car disappears before carefully going over to Greg, stopping a few feet away to take in the sight of the younger man. The small bag grips tighter in their hand, and they finally build up the courage to move further, getting close enough to kneel next to the shaking body and resting a reassuring hand on the cold arm that's covered by nothing but a thin shirt.

"Greg."

He doesn't respond at first, barely even registers the warm touch on his arm, but after a moment he pulls his face away from his knees, looking through blurred vision at the figure kneeling in front of him, an evidence bag clutched in the small hand, knuckles almost white from gripping it so hard.

"Sara?"

He's unsure of why it comes out as a question, he's pretty sure he's not hallucinating her presence, and she nods her head while slowly lowering herself to the ground, hoping that he doesn't lash out too much at her closeness. She could easily ask him to get up, tell him that laying on the desert floor crying isn't going to get him anywhere, but she knows that his emotions and mind are at fragile state right now and it would be easier for him if she just got down to his level, the evidence bag placed in her lap so it's out of his line of sight.

Greg is more upset at Sara's presence than he's letting on as he carefully pulls himself to a sitting position, a small amount of moist dirt plastered against his cheek and dusted into his clothes, the former CSI not bothering to brush it away as he glares at Sara. They can't even give him one night alone, to figure all this mess out in his head, and even driving out to a secluded section of the desert, they still manage to find him, to make his world even more painful to be in.

"Greg-"

"What more do you people want from me?"

"We don't want anything Greg, we're- I just want to help you."

Help? That's rich, he thinks, his anger building as he pulls himself off the ground, tears still clinging to his eyelashes, his hands shaking and his clothes covered with dirt. Sara follows his movements, afraid of the sudden mood change, of the dark look that's in Greg's eyes. It's not something she has seen before, and she thinks that maybe she should have made Greg take his medications before speaking to him, getting him upset once again.

"How the hell can you be here to help me when all any of you have done is make everything worse? I was fine, I was getting better and then Nick screwed everything up. He's always so fucking starved for attention that he had to ruin my life. I have nothing left now Sara, everything I worked for is gone."

"Because you didn't fight, Greg. You weren't fired, you quit, you're the one that's taking the easy way out by leaving like this."

"So I'm supposed to what, fight for my job and cause Grissom to lose his? You and I both know that his sole purpose in life is that fucking job, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be pinned as the reason he lost it. If he wants me to stay so much then why doesn't he fight for me, like he did for you and Warrick, like he's done for Catherine and Nick?"

He's backing away from Sara as he speaks, away from the CSI and the cars, away from all of it. He's putting distance between himself and the spot where a woman once lay dead, injecting empty space between himself and the shattered remains of his life. Sara knows what he's doing and she moves along with him, like a silent dance moving through the desert, not letting him out of her sight.

"If he cared that much about losing his job Greg, he wouldn't have sent me out here, he wouldn't want you to keep fighting. You can't use him as your excuse for giving up."

"What about Tara Matthews, is that an excuse? I can't get the image of her laying in that burn unit out of my head, every time I think about it I can feel it on my back, I can feel the whole fucking explosion in my body. I can't take these images of dead bodies of all the people that were- are being innocently murdered.

"I'm just not cut out for this job anymore Sara, I was never meant to be a CSI, but I couldn't stand being locked away in the lab anymore, fearing to even go within ten feet of the fume hood. I still have nightmares about it, I wake up smelling things burning."

"I was there Greg, you don't think I've had to deal with it as well?"

"You were there, it's not the same. I was in it, I was the explosion. I laid in that burn unit for weeks while they put some dead guys skin on my back, and then Grissom forces me to go back, to collect evidence from Tara Matthews? How the hell could he do that to me and expect for me to be okay after that?"

Although the sobs are gone, the tears are falling heavily on Greg's cheeks, and somewhere along the way Sara stops walking towards him. She doesn't know what to say, because she realizes that she's not the one that should be here, that needs to be here. This is all directed at Grissom, and although she wants to defend the older man's actions, to make Greg come back with her, she can't.

"I just can't handle anymore of this Sara, I should have never tried."

She knows she should go after him, force him to stop walking away, but she can't get her legs to work, instead staring as he gradually disappears out of her line of sight, the younger man only turning his back to her just before the darkness envelops him like a scene from a movie.

Only when she turns back to the vehicles does she realize that she too is crying, and she tries to wipe away the tears as she climbs in the Denali, discarding the evidence bag in the seat next to her. She tells herself that this is a battle that she can't win, in all reality it's not her battle to fight. Despite that, however, she still feels like she's lost, because she knows that she's not going to be able to go back to work and look any of her co-workers in the eyes, not after they chased away the only life in the lab, the one person that kept everything going and prevented them from becoming emotionless zombies.

Greg doesn't know where he's going, can't really see much around him in the dark, but he knows that he's alone and that's what he needs, no one out here to bother him, no one to try and stop him.

***

Epilogue

Six years, and he's finally looking at the face again, of the young CSI that left the lab because of both of their mistakes.

It's different though; he's aged a lot since then, became skinnier, paler... lifeless. Six years and the young CSI that managed to escape the confines of the lab now lay in a run down hotel, the sheets around him stained with his own blood, his name printed on a label and placed, once again, on a case file.

The CSI kneels down next to the bed, forgetting the officers and other CSI's walking around him, talking about the discovery made by one of the underpaid housekeepers. The opened eyes are empty, lifeless, and the CSI realizes that it's not much different from the last time he looked into them. It's something he can't handle, and he finds himself reaching a gloved hand over the pale face, his actions gentle as he closes the eyelids, lets out a deep breath, and straightens back up again.

"David, get the body back to the lab. Have Doc Robbins clean him up and perform the autopsy."

The coroner hesitates for a moment, still a bit shell shocked at seeing the former lab tech laying here. Although what happened six years ago has become a taboo subject around the lab, it's still well known what happened and David can't help but feel a deep anger at the CSI giving orders from nearby, knowing that it was his actions that ultimately brought them all here.

He doesn't let his anger show, however, as he and a coroner's assistant lay out the black body bag on the bed next to Greg's lifeless form, being more careful than normal as he moves the body and zips up the bag, placing it on a waiting gurney and covering it with a white sheet.

Sara is standing just outside the hotel with Warrick by her side, tears tracking down both of their faces as they watch the gurney being loaded into the van and David disappears into the driver's seat, pulling away from the scene.

The officers that were initially dispatched when the body was found are starting to leave, and soon it's only the three CSI's left at the scene, Sara unable to handle going back into the hotel room as she stays outside, Warrick making sure she's okay before going back inside. The other CSI is still standing next to the bed, his eyes focused on the blood stain covering the mattress and sheets, and he only pulls his gaze up when he realizes he's not alone.

"I'm taking Sara back to the lab, there's no case here." His voice is cold, his lips drawn, and he wants to put as much distance between him and the other man as he can, but the other CSI's response only brings him closer to him, Warrick's hands balled into fists at his side.

"This isn't my fault Rick. I know you that's what you're thinking, that what happened all those years ago is what caused this, but it's been six years, he could have gotten help in that time."

"He did get help Nick, he was getting help when you caused all of this to happen."

Warrick forces himself to back down, to back away, because now the man that stands in front of him could easily take the job from him. He still finds it hard to believe that Nick's the supervisor over the graveyard shift, but he should have seen it coming, the Texan now holding a safe place right in Ecklie's pocket. It's something he needed after the investigation into the shift was closed and Grissom was forced to resign, because from that day on Nick became the enemy, especially after he accepted the promotion from Ecklie.

The older CSI doesn't know why he's still here, why he's stuck around after all of this, he has yet to be able to forgive his former best friend for his actions, and he knows Greg's death will only drive the wedge deeper between them. He leaves without another word, trying to get his anger in check, and he only barely glances back at the hotel as he pulls away, Sara sitting silently in the passenger seat with her head resting against the window.

Nick can hear the sound of the Denali pulling away, and he stands silent in the room for a moment, closing his eyes briefly and hoping that his headache will go away. This is the last thing he needs right now, Greg's death stirring up the past, but he knows he's got to face it.

After a few moments he finally manages to look at his surroundings. The room is filthy, take-out cartons littering the floor, empty liquor bottles tipped over, and he never could have imagined the former CSI ending up in one of these places, where they find drug addicts and alcoholics, living in their own filth that they've allowed to pile up around them.

There's not very many personal belongings around the room, mostly just rank clothing that's been worn many times without being washed, and Nick carefully picks up a few shirts, putting them in a small pile in a corner of the room, not really sure what he's doing, his mind not really focusing on his actions.

Soon all of the shirts are piled in the corner and the only two pairs of jeans are sitting on a chair, Nick carefully reaching into the pockets, checking for anything that they might contain before tossing them with the shirts. The heat from outside is causing beads of sweat to drip from his forehead, and Nick wipes them away with the sleeve of his shirt as he takes another look around the room, still unsure of what, if anything, he's looking for.

A trash can nearby catches his attention and Nick picks it up, rifling through the minimal contents before setting it back down, the Texan kneeling down and lifting up the comforter that's fallen over the mattress, looking under the bed as something finally piques his interest.

He lets the comforter fall back over the side of the bed before moving towards the head of the mattress, kneeling down and feeling around on the ground until his hand brushes over what he's looking for, the small spiral weightless in his hand as he picks it up off the ground and holds it. He moves to straighten back up but his gaze finally catches on what he's been trying to avoid this whole time, his vision becoming washed with the dark crimson stains when he realizes he's eye level with the bloodied sheets.

For the first time since he walked into the room and identified the body, Nick finds himself trying to fight the tears. His body is shaking when he finally manages to pull his eyes away, and he slowly lowers himself to sit on the end of the bed where there's no blood, the spiral resting on his knee as he opens it, flipping through several pages of Greg's handwriting.

It's all just a bunch of mindless rambling, nothing really making sense until Nick gets to the last page, the entry in the small journal dated only a few days ago, the handwriting steady and clear as opposed to the other pages.

I still see it when I sleep, feel the explosion against my back, smell the stench of burning flesh. I still see Tara Matthews, her body burned into an unrecognizable state, and sometimes I feel like that, like I became unrecognizable after the explosion. I can't handle it anymore, I want to drown out the images, the sounds of glass shattering around me, but it won't go away, I can't make it stop.

The tears are finally rolling down Nick's cheeks, and he closes his eyes for several long moments, feeling like he can't be here anymore. It's starting to settle in, what's happened, who caused it, and he drops the spiral on the ground as he quickly leaves the room, hands on his knees as he vomits in the rocky parking lot, unaware of the blood smearing from his gloves onto his jeans.

--

He can feel them staring at him, all of them watching as he makes his way down the halls of the CSI lab, their gazes finally dropping when he enters through the doors of the morgue, Doc Robbins looking up as the Texan enters his space.

He left the hotel room several hours ago, when he couldn't be there anymore, and he found himself out in the desert, in the place where Greg's car was towed from after the younger man never returned to retrieve it. He knew it could cost him his job, turning off his pager and phone, but he also knows he won't be missed if he were to be fired, the whole lab already against him for something that happened so long ago.

"Have you - has the autopsy been completed yet?"

Nick almost chokes on his own words and he's surprised to see a fleeting look of sympathy cross the older man's face, the coroner setting aside what he's doing with another body to cross the room. He stops at another body that's covered with a sheet, and Nick steps across the table so he's facing the older man, forcing himself to look at the face when the sheet is pulled back.

"I finished just a little while ago, cause of death is a single gun shot wound to the right temple, I've ruled it as a suicide. I also found skin cells under his fingernails and sent them up to DNA, they've been identified as his own."

Doc Robbins carefully turns the body onto it's side, holding it still as he points out the burn scars on Greg's back, Nick unconsciously lifting his hand up and allowing his fingers to brush over the jagged skin that's been torn open, the scratches littering the former CSI's back where he was scratching at the scars.

"These are the kind of marks I see on addicts all the time, but I ran a TOX screen and it came up negative for drugs or alcohol. He must have really been messed up to do that to himself without anything going through his system."

Doctor Robbins carefully rolls the body back over and after a moment longer re-covers it with the sheet, watching as Nick continues to stare at it. It's quite obvious that Nick is starting to realize his roll in all of this, and although the rest of the lab has turned against him, Doc Robbins can't help but feel for him.

"There's nothing else you can do for this case Nick, it was a simple suicide."

"Has his family been contacted yet?"

"His dad died of cancer when he was younger, and his mother was killed in a car accident a couple of years ago. The only family he has left doesn't live in the states, and they don't have the money to come here, let alone pay the funeral expenses. Luckily a private donor has offered to pay for the funeral arrangements, Warrick's setting them up right now."

"Private donor?"

"Yeah, he thinks it's someone from the lab. Whoever it is, said there's a no holds bar, they'll pay for Greg to get the best funeral."

Nick lets his gaze linger on the covered body before thanking the coroner, turning to leave the morgue and face the rest of the lab that is surely waiting for him to return so they can continue their glares and whispers.

--

He stands to the back, away from the rest of the group as the priest finishes reading a passage from the book he's holding. After one last prayer, the group of mourners begin to disperse, many walking up to the casket to place a single rose, and Nick's slightly taken back by the turn out around him, not realizing that this many people were affected enough by the former lab tech to remember him after six years and be willing to drop everything to say goodbye.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Nick slowly makes his way to Greg's final resting place, stopping in his tracks when he sees a man there he hadn't seen before, the only person left as the cars begin to file away. From the back, he can't really tell if he knows the older man with the graying hair, but as he steps closer, he's surprised to see a face he hasn't seen in almost six years.

"Grissom?"

The former supervisor doesn't seem all that surprised at Nick's sudden presence, the CSI stepping up next to the older man as Gil continues to stare at the flower arrangement adorning the casket, his hands buried in the pockets of his suit jacket.

It's been six years since the Texan took over the older man's job, and although Gil wants to be angry with him, after all this time he can't find the energy. A part of him knew that after Greg left things wouldn't be the same, the lab would be more quiet and serious compared to what Greg made it when he was around.

After the investigation ended and he was informed of Ecklie's decision to let him go, to fire him, Gil felt lost, unsure of what to do. He eventually decided to move back close to his mother, to help take care of her in her old age, and get a job as a consultant for the local police department. It wasn't easy adjusting to normal hours, and even after so long he still has a problem sleeping at night.

"I didn't expect you to be here, we haven't heard from you in a while."

He hasn't heard from him in a while, Nick doesn't realize Jim Brass and Catherine still keep in touch with him through emails and phone calls. Even once, a few years back, he managed to get in touch with Greg. It was shortly after the former CSI's mother passed away, he used his resources to track down Greg's hotel information. Although Greg felt he had convinced his former boss that he was okay, Gil could easily tell he wasn't, could remember the empty tone of his voice, and if he were there in person, is sure he would have seen it in his eyes as well.

"Life's been busy, a lot's been going on, for both of us I'm sure."

"Yeah, the lab-" Nick cuts himself off, because although he wants to just forget what happened six years ago, he knows it won't happen. He feels guilty for taking Grissom's job, taking his life from him, and he knows if he had a chance, he'd give it all back. He's not made for it like Gil was, he misses life outside the lab, misses his friends that have distanced themselves after what happened.

"I'm sorry, about everything that happened. Your job-"

"I made my own decisions Nick, just like Greg made his and you made yours. If you do your job feeling guilty about how you got it, you can't be as effective in it as you should be."

Nick doesn't respond, instead turning his gaze away from the older man, and the two become locked in a silence for several moments. He's not even sure what to say anymore, to Grissom, to his coworkers, in all honesty he wouldn't even know what to say to Greg if he were alive right now, standing in front of him, so he stays silent. He lets his gaze take in the polished black wood covered in a display of white roses, the area around the arrangement sprinkled with the red roses laid down by the mourners.

It feels like six years after this all went down, all the chaos that derailed the lives of the three CSI's, that there's finally an ending. It's not a happily ever after, it doesn't end on a good note, it ends with death and the never ending pain of guilt and regret. Nick knows that tomorrow he'll go back to work, back to the glares and whispers, and Grissom will disappear again. He'll continue to help the victims and their families find closure, while at the same time looking for his own, knowing that with Greg now gone, he may never find it.

Gil would like to say something to ease the younger man's guilt, but he has no words, finally pulling his gaze from the casket to look at Nick, to see the silent tears trailing down the CSI's face. It's obvious that Nick doesn't even know he's crying, the CSI so deep in thought he seems to have zoned out, and the former supervisor decides it would just be best to depart now, not saying anything as he turns away.

The movement snaps Nick out of his thoughts, and he turns just as Grissom walks away, calling out to the older man until the former CSI reluctantly stops and turns back, looking at Nick with questioning eyes, slightly thrown off when Nick asks "You paid for it didn't you?".

"Pardon me?"

"The funeral, Doc said it was a private donor."

Grissom doesn't have to answer, it's obvious by the look on his face, and Nick knows. They have a common bond, there's a reason why they're the last ones here, "I'm not the only one who feels guilty about Greg".

***

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