"Tell me, Kenneth," she said, finally removing her gaze from the stars that seemed to float above her. She picked up her skirt, the colour a brilliant white like the visages of the moon. "Why bring me here, in the middle of the night?" she asked, treading lightly with the man beside her, the bottom of her bare feet tickled softly by the sand.
"Emma…" Kenneth sighed happily. He took a brief glance to the outwardly, dark waters, barely able to discern the faint traces of waves quietly crashing against one another. "You said you missed it."
"I did." She paused, looking at the man warily before turning her attention forward once more. "I won't deny it, but only because it was your initial suggestion to come here before summer ends."
"But I only did so because I wanted to see the beauty of the beach you always talk about." He extended his arm to the direction of the ocean, gesturing to the moonlight reflected on the water. "And prove to you that it pales in comparison to your own."
"I'm not some sort of love-stuck girl strung along by your whims, you know." Emma turned her head to the side, hoping to aid the dark in hiding what was quickly becoming a blush. "You obviously have nothing better to do than try to flatter me." She glanced over her shoulder, somewhat quickening her pace to evade the man beside her.
"But is it working?" Kenneth asked tentatively, picking up in his pace until he was behind Emma. He sighed when she came to a stop, carefully wrapping his arms around her and placing his chin on her shoulder.
Emma rested contentedly against his chest, taking a soft inhale and peering up at the face above her. "You're lucky my father tolerates you…even approves of our engagement."
He lowered his head to kiss her cheek gently, reaching out for her hand and running his fingers over a small ring. "As much as I strive for your father's approval, it's yours that matters to me the most."
She snorted softly, muttering beneath her breath before she chose to answer. "Then you're lucky I find you irresistibly endearing." Kenneth laughed against her skin, his breath sending warmth throughout her body.
"Only because you compel me to be so."
"I hope you don't expect me to fall for your charms every time."
"No…just for the rest of our lives."
"Is that supposed to entice me?" Emma turned around in his arms, moving to hold his cheek in one hand; caressing it gently.
"Only if you agree that it means forever."
Greg was barely able to carry himself into the room, feet trudging heavily against the tiled floor. He ignored the stares of Sara and Grissom, too preoccupied with trying to reach the chair beside the female CSI. He'd figure how to deal with their expressions after he sat down.
Something that seemed harder than it should have at the moment.
"Autopsy room is that way," Sara said, pointing past Greg and directing him to the right.
"Thanks, Sara." Greg sighed heavily when he finally made it to the chair, plopping himself down and for once not minding that the techs from Day switched out the more comfortable ones, again. At this point, a chair was a chair…and more importantly, someplace to sit.
"You do look dead on your feet," Grissom added, glancing briefly at Greg before burying his head in some papers.
Greg snorted, rolling his eyes as Sara turned to face him.
"Well," she started, taking a closer look at Greg. She peered at him suspiciously as the back of her hand met his forehead. "You're definitely not hot."
Greg pushed her hand away. He knew nothing was bothering him physically – nothing that could deter him from work at any rate. "As if you don't put me down enough, already."
"Greg, I'm serious. Look at me." Sara gazed at the young man pointedly, grabbing a hold of his chin and pulling him towards her. "This isn't about not passing your-"
"No," Greg interrupted, purposely blinking in an attempt to get the vestiges of sleep out of his eyes. Seeing even Grissom's concerned gaze, he backed away from Sara, slightly swivelling in his chair.
"Are you okay to go out in the field?" the older man asked. The papers he once held were now on the table as he looked at Greg, eyes almost penetrating the younger man.
"Sure." Greg made sure to emphasize the eagerness in his voice, not wanting to worry his colleagues any further; especially since Grissom seemed on the verge on sending him home. He already knew what was wrong with him but didn't think it was enough to actually garner true concern.
And after failing his first proficiency test, he didn't want to ruin any more opportunities at finally becoming a CSI. It wasn't like he had many of those left, anyway.
Greg reached over to grab the stack of papers in front of him – presumably copies of the ones Grissom and Sara already had. "Besides…we don't have anybody to cover for me right now." Even if Greg wasn't officially a CSI, they really couldn't afford to disregard any extra help with the recent case.
Investigating a homicide was one thing, but seeing the beginnings of a serial killer is something different all together.
Grissom only shrugged in response, taking the logic in Greg's words and leaving the matter alone for now. Sara still looked sceptical, but Greg ignored it, skimming through the files and deciding to move the conversation in another direction.
"So…" Greg sighed softly, somewhat relieved when Sara turned away to look at the paper in her own hands. "I'm guessing this couple didn't get a chance to have their honeymoon, either."
"You know…." Sara relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. "I'm surprised you're not complaining about me not letting you drive again."
Greg lolled his head to the side, facing her with narrowed, slightly reddened eyes. As much as he liked teasing her, he didn't appreciate it when she decided to return the favour.
Sara spared him a quick glance, wondering if she should honestly approach the subject of his appearance. In truth, Greg did look bad, but apparently not bad enough that Grissom wouldn't let Greg go with her in the field.
Aside from the unusual display of a somewhat subdued personality, one more than two cups of coffee later and Greg was almost like himself. Sara would have probably been more convinced if he actually made the effort to initiate some kind of conversation on the way to the crime scene.
"You really, and I mean really, look like crap," Sara said, trying to get some kind of rise out of the younger man. She rotated the wheel to the right, sighing when Greg only turned in response. His attention was back to the window and his eyes were reflected on the glass as they focused on the light shower of rain outside.
His body language wasn't much different from normal, but the way his concentration seemed to be limited to something outside…it worried Sara. He was by no means ignoring her, but it almost looked as if he was waiting for something.
Something she didn't know about.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sara tried again, hoping he wouldn't try to avoid the question this time. She had been attempting throughout the entire thirty-minute trip and their destination was already in sight.
"Not really…" Greg trailed off, closing his mouth and pausing before opening it to speak again. "They're just dreams…nothing but dreams, Sara."
"I'm guessing they're not your usual kind," she added in hopes that it would encourage Greg to continue. "And if they're bothering you-"
"You'll laugh at me," Greg reasoned, his tone neutral. He rested his elbow against the side of the door, vision still fixed out the window as Sara pulled into a large driveway.
The house was old and unsurprisingly secluded, seemingly almost isolated from modern society. It renewed Greg's admiration of a part of Vegas that many people had forgotten – the one that was beyond the gangs, gambling, and girls.
The architecture was reminiscent of the late forties and early fifties when people were still cynical enough to invest their old money in property that was safe from the casino and the then controversial lavish life Las Vegas had to offer. But he didn't think this part of old Vegas was still around. And any trace of it was more likely found in the form of furniture, memorabilia or some type of collectible.
He never expected to see an entire house.
"Probably," Sara answered, effectively taking Greg out of his musings. She spoke lightly, but he could still hear the concern in her voice. "And you know it's good to talk…sometimes. To somebody, at least." She pulled up the emergency break and moved to turn the keys, taking them out of the ignition.
"Yeah…" Greg said distractedly, eyes still on the large house before them as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He knew Sara had the best intentions at heart, but he didn't feel ready to disclose exactly what it was in his dreams that plagued him. He was more preoccupied with the thought of how trivial the whole thing would be to someone other than himself.
"I mean…it doesn't have to be me, either," Sara said as Greg continued to stare at the house. His hand unconsciously moved to the door handle before he suddenly turned around to face her, genuinely surprising Sara.
"Is…is Nick on this case, too?" he asked, titling his head slightly.
Sara furrowed her brow in confusion, taken back by the almost glossy texture of Greg's eyes. He knew that Nick and Warrick were working the kidnapping case that had nothing to do with their string of double homicides.
So why would he ask about it?
She was unsure as to how to treat the situation and settled on replying slowly, hoping that his dreams weren't the cause of his sudden burst of anxiety. "No…" It would be a lot easier to just blame it on the coffee. "Why are you-"
Then, as if the lustre was never there, Greg's eyes were normal again. Sara put it in the back of her mind, wondering if she was seeing things as she watched him turn away, opening the door and stepping outside of the car. Small drops of rain were trailing down his face as he reached in the back to retrieve his kit, quickly dismissing Sara's curiosity with a peculiar smile on his face.
"No reason."
:insert standard issue disclaimer here:
Because I'm tired of enforcing the fact that I don't own it...it can really get to you, you know?