Title: Revenge of the Chess Captain

By: brat64

Pairing: gen

Rating: PG

A/N: Well, I haven't really written a one shot story in a while. And this would be my first CSI fic; it just popped in to my head when I was watching an episode of CSI where Greg told Sara that he was captain of the chess team.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, so don't sue. :D

Summary: Greg 'reunites' with a bully from his past.

***

Greg looked at the police officer again, wondering why he had to be the one to go in. He was just a lowly lab tech after all. He had no business being in the room. He sighed and knocked. Not that he was nervous, though he did hope Grissom didn't rip him a new one.

He heard a mumbled response to his knock from behind the door, and entered, closing it behind him.

"What is it Greg?" Grissom looked down, seeing that Greg held a print out. "If you needed something, why didn't you page me?" He asked. Brass was standing there as well, looking at him; he and Grissom were questioning a suspect.

"I did, like twenty times. You said that you wanted these as soon as possible." Greg detected a slight defensiveness in his tone but ignored it. Grissom sighed, and checked his pockets for his beeper.

"I must have left it some where." He apparently decided not to dwell on it much at the moment, because he went on; "Alright then Greg, what did you come up with?" Just as Greg opened his mouth to answer, another voice sounded. A voice that was full of laughter and mock.

"Greg Sanders!" Greg froze... why did that voice sound so familiar? His gaze was locked on Grissom and the voice sounded off again. "Come on Greggors! Don't say that you have forgotten me already." Grissom's gaze traveled to the man that he was questioning. Greg's followed. He hadn't paid any mind to the man sitting there, wanting to get in and out as quickly as he could. Who he now saw sitting there made him wish that he had never gotten out of bed, some 19 hours ago.

"Brendan Mazall." The young man broke in to a wide grin. Greg's skin crawled.

"Aw, so honored that you remember me Sanders." Grissom looked back to Greg.

"Do you know him, Greg?" Before Greg could answer Brendan spoke up.

"Course he does! He used to do my homework for me in high school!" Greg's eyes went wide, and he glared at Brendan. He clinched his fist around the paper with out noticing it. Brendan could tell that he had gotten to Greg, and so went on.

"Yeah, the good old days huh Sanders? I got all the girls, you played chess, I played foot ball, you joined the science club-" Greg started to interrupt him.

"You know what-" but stopped himself, which only made Brendan laugh all the harder.

"Oh, that's great! All these years and you still haven't got the balls to stand up to me!" Greg took a breath. Brendan was right; he was a grown man now, and not some scared little kid. He turned back to Grissom, ignoring him.

"Anyway." Grissom was looking at Brendan, but let his gaze slowly travel back to Greg. Greg could see Brass out of the corner of his eye, and was glad that he was focusing on him also. "The blood on-"

"Say, Sanders?" Greg took a deeper breath-closing his eyes, and thought that he felt the paper tare under his fists assault on it. "If you don't mind I'm try-"

"Do you remember that time that you stood up to me? That one time?" Greg opened his eyes and looked at him, figuring if he listened that it would be over soon, and he could hid out in his lab the rest of the night and prey that Brendan grew a third eye or something.

Brendan shot a look at Grissom, and Greg thought that the jerk must have figured out that Grissom was his boss, and wasn't going to pass up the chance to embarrass him. Though Greg couldn't figure out why he wanted to do that.

"Well?" Brendan asked, and went on when he realized that Greg wasn't going to speak to him. "Broke your nose didn't I? Free bleeder this one, never tried to stand up to me again. Did whatever I told you." Greg glared.

"Yeah, only because you were a year ahead, and too dumb to pass on your own. I didn't want you to fail and have to be stuck with you for another year." The words slipped out in an angry torrent, and after they were out there he felt an irrational surge of fear course through him.

What is wrong with you? He demanded of himself. It's been years since you have even thought of him!

It was true, but upon seeing his old high school bully he'd slipped right back into the old role. The same was true of Brendan, or he was just a prick like this all the time. Brendan's face had darkened at his last statement. Greg suddenly realized something; he had thought that Brendan could do nothing to him now, but sling words that is. It wasn't like he could beat him up on the bus, or in the boy's room. But he could still sling words, and now Greg realized that he could bring up some very embarrassing moments that he really didn't want Grissom-or Brass for that matter, to hear.

"Why don't you shut your mouth Sanders?" Greg blinked at him. Really wishing that he were still asleep in his nice cozy bed at the moment. "I can't believe this, I figured you would grow out of your dork faze once we were out of high school, I mean you can't stay a science dork forever. But here you are, still the dork that you were back then. Do you still play chess to Greggors? Have little chess meetings in your apartment, or do you still live with mommy?" The words had left the room silent. Greg turned to Grissom, not bothering to keep his anger checked.

"The blood on the knife is the vic's, as is the blood on the sheets, the blood on the carpet however is different. You're going to have to find me something to compare it to." He slammed the crumpled up paper down in Grissom's hands. He turned to storm out of the room, but stopped suddenly. Stupid, he decided suddenly. Stupid to be afraid of someone who had already degraded him in front of his boss, and not to mention Brass. He turned around and walked up so that he was standing a little ways from Brendan. He leaned down and placed his hands palm down on the table.

"You know what, I may have been a dork in high school, but now I have a great job in the Las Vegas Crime Lab, am making oodles of money, have a great apartment, and am currently dating a model. You on the other hand, were a dumb jerk in high school, and now you're a dumb jerk in the real world. A dumb jerk who is sitting here being questioned by the police. And what ever it is, I really hope that you did it, and you get a whole lot of years in jail." He stood up straight.

"Who's the dork now?"

The look on Brendan's face was enough for him, a mix of hate, shock, and dumbness. Greg turned and walked calmly out of the room, feeling better about his day than he had when he had walked in. Before the door closed he vaguely heard Grissom say, with a smile in his voice, that he would need a sample of Brendan's DNA.

 

The End