Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, any of the characters or plot lines.
A/N: Okay I've never written a CSI fic before, but after watching Fannysmakin' I just got this idea and needed to write it down. As far as I know Greg's parent's names have never been mentioned so for the purpose of this story I named them George and Julia. Spoliers for Fannysmackin', (season 7). So, yeah, hope you enjoy and all reviews are greatly appreciated. Note: this is just a one shot, so its complete as is.
"Las Vegas PD released a statement earlier this afternoon stating that multiple arrests have been made in regards to three brutal attacks that occurred, within hours of each other, only three nights ago. Being minors, the names of those arrested cannot be released at this time."
George Sanders glanced up from the book he was reading, he had been only half listening to the news report, and shook his head sadly as he tried to grasp the idea of minors brutally attacking people.
On the television the young news woman continued, "Three separate attacks took place. The first taking the life of a father of two, Vasco Ruiz." The reporter paused, while a picture of the man posing with his family filled the screen.
"The second and third victim escaped with their lives, but received extensive injuries." Pictures and names of the other two tourist filled the screen. "During the third attack a criminologist with the Las Vegas crime lab witnessed the attack on his way to analyse a crime scene we have been told was related to the attacks. The criminologist attempted to stop the attack and in the process injured one of the assailants, who later died in hospital. The remaining attackers. . . "
Upon hearing this last announcement from the reporter George put down his book. "Julia," he called out to his wife who was in the kitchen.
She came to stand in the doorway. Before she had a chance to ask why he had called the reporter continued.
". . . severely beat the criminologist and left all three men lying injured in the alley where the attack occured. Both the two victims and the Las Vegas CSI are currently recovering in hospital."
Julia stood with her hand up to her mouth. "My gosh! I wonder if that was one of Greg's friends. . ."
"It's a damn wonder they let those crime scene investigators go places without real cops," George muttered disapprovingly as he reached for the cordless handset. "I think I'll give our boy a call, see if they were close or anything."
Nodding in agreement Julia had only one thing to add, "I'm so glad Greg only works in the lab."
- - - - - - -
A loudly ringing phone caused Hodges to pause and peer into the DNA lab. It was empty, and he absently wondered why, as he headed over and picked up the receiver. "DNA lab, Hodges speaking."
"Uh, hello Mr. Hodges. Is Greg Sanders there please?" an older male voice asked from the far end of the line.
"Greg. . . uh, no, he hasn't worked DNA in a couple of years. I'm sorry," Hodges replied mildly confused.
"Not working DNA? Well then could you transfer this call to where he is working?" the voice on the other end sounded even more bewildered then Hodges was at this strange call.
"Well. . ." stammered Hodges, "I could transfer your call, only it wouldn't do you any good, Greg's not in today. If it is important I could get a message to him for you Mr. . ." Hodges trailed off as he realized he still did not know the caller's name.
"Sanders," came the reply.
"Mr. Sanders. . . Mr Sanders? You're Greg's father?"
"Yes," came the curt reply from George Sanders.
"Whoa. . . uh, didn't anyone call you? Greg's supervisor should have. . ." Hodges rambled.
"What are you talking about?" George demanded worriedly, his voiced concern catching a questioning look from his wife.
"I'm sorry sir, Greg's in the hospital," Hodges blurted, "I could get you the number if you want. It's – uh – St. Anne's Hospital."
George stood loosely holding the phone as the shock settled and he realized the meaning behind Hodges' words. Unsure what to say George simply hung up the phone and held it in his hand starring at it fixedly before he managed to find his voice. "Greg's in the hospital," he whispered quietly, more to himself then his wife, but in the silent living room she heard fine.
- - - - - -
The flight into Las Vegas had been a sombre one. Both of the Sanders were still in shock over the incident. Julia was almost physically sick with worry. She just wanted to be able to hold her son, make sure he was all right. George was also disturbed, but for a different reason. He had heard, and not told Julia, what the newscaster had said before she had entered the room,"The criminologist attempted to stop the attack and in the process injured one of the assailants, who later died in hospital." His son, his little innocent Greg, had taken a life.
Getting help from the front desk they managed to locate Greg's room. They stood together in the hall for a moment before George gave Julia's hand a tight squeeze and together they walked into the quiet, sterile hospital room.
Greg had been dozing lightly when he heard soft footsteps by the doorway. His face was still swollen and he was still rather bruised but physically he felt considerably better then he had a few days ago. Emotionally was another story entirely.
He pushed himself up into a half sitting position and stared stunned at the couple just inside his door way. He had been visited by the team and he appreciated their concern, but he was really not sure he could deal with his mother's overbearing over-protectiveness.
"Gregory," his mother gasped as she saw how swollen his face was and the bandage wrapped around his head. Instantly she was at his side, "Oh, Greg."
His father hung back, standing inside the doorway by still a far distance from his only child's bedside.
Julia was now getting over the initial shock of seeing her precious son in such a state. She took his hand gently. "I was so worried when we heard you were in the hospital, I'm just so glad you're going to be ok," she said flashing Greg a weak smile.
Greg was pretty sure that neither of his parents realized that he had been working out of the lab. They would have been desperately trying to convince him to go back to lab work if they had known. At least Grissom managed to keep shut about that, Greg mused sourly.
"I just can't believe that this happened." his mother spoke softly, more to herself then anyone. Before stroking her hand through a tuft of Greg's hair protruding from the bandage, "You need anything sweetie?"
"Nah," Greg said with a slow, careful shake of his head. "I'm fine really," he protested quietly turning his head away from his mother's eyes that sparkled with unshed tears.
His parents stayed by his bedside for a long time. His mother talking to him, Greg answered as simply as he could. He did not want to talk about the "incident" as his mother had so dubbed it. She was undisturbed by his lack of response, explaining she realize how "traumatized" he must be from the entire thing and they were so lucky everything had "turned out okay and we can just go on." She didn't know the half of it.
Tentatively Julia broached the subject of why he had been there at all. It almost seemed to Greg as if she was afraid of what the answer might be. "Your father called the lab and they said you don't work in DNA anymore. . ." she said trailing off, the question unasked but understood.
"I don't," Greg answered truthfully, "I passed the field qualifications." He had not wanted to tell them. Especially not like this. But he saw nothing else for it but to outright lie. And he had done enough of that in the past few days - after all he had killed a man, there was no way he was "fine."
His mother blinked blankly and his father spoke up for the first time, "You could have told us."
"I didn't want you to worry. You always worry about me too much."
"I'm sorry dear. I just can't bear the thought of you being hurt," his mother said having found her voice after his announcement had sunk in. "I just want to be able to be there, to protect you from harm," she murmured.
"Well, it doesn't work that way," Greg replied wearily.
- - - - - -
Later, as George and Julia prepared to leave Julia bent down and kissed Greg gently on the forehead. "We'll be in town for awhile longer," she told him, "We'll stop by and see you again tomorrow, sweetie."
Greg just nodded and slumped back in the bed. George looked down at the injured young-man that was his son. He had thought that Greg seemed different and as he looked now he was almost certain that the light of Greg's eyes had dulled. As he walked out of the hospital with his wife he felt certain that Greg would never be the same little innocent boy who he had held in his arms and watched grow up. He's taken a life and he'll never fully recover from that. . .