Title: Paranoid Walking
By: sephirothflame
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own CSI or anything to do with it except maybe a couple of screen shots and this fic.
Summary: With only the sound of his clock, he checks all the locks and windows once an hour, every hour. Why? Because he was paranoid in the dark.
A/N: Originally written as Greg Sanders, but... I don't think I implied it that well as it could be just about any of them. Right, and this is my first C.S.I. fic... I'm not asking to be forgiven if it's crap, I'm just warning.

No matter how old you are, being alone at night was spooky- especially when you lived alone, in a corner apartment, in a not-so-nice part of the city. When every footfall could be a shady character's, every click be your own door as someone snuck in. It didn't help when you worked with dead people, and knew that some killer's had no reason. Night time was just plain scary.

He'd never admit it to anyone else, but he liked it better when he worked at night, never getting a night-time off. It wasn't so scary, because there were people around. Even at ten to eleven there were people around because they worked there, and walking around the halls so late at night was there job. And he was okay with that. Always a friendly face- and sometimes a not so friendly face- but they were all okay to talk to.

Now, he had no one to talk too. He was by himself, walking through the rooms on the cold tiles and rough carpets, checking windows and doors, then coming back and rechecking the windows and doors again. The only civilized conversation he could have was with himself, though lately it had been more along paranoid conversations.

Was it really a surprise he started to doubt everything? Was it really a surprise he had to get up every hour to check all the locks? To some, maybe, but not to him, because for him it was perfectly logical. Killers come through windows and doors, some invited, some not. And it was especially dangerous in a corner apartment like his, next to the door.

He was jumpy as he finished his rounds, stopping outside his room. The only sound was from the clock in the kitchen. He ran a checklist off in his head. Kitchen, front, bathroom, living room... all windows were locked and secured. It was safe, he dictated at last.

He curled up in his bed, and closed his eyes. Even if he couldn't sleep, the 'tick tock tick' of his kitchen clock would keep him company. He could hear it even now, the world was that silent. And even if it was the same, he'd be up in an hour, checking every thing over again.