When the CSI cracks a 30-year-old case something happens that no one has anticipated! The suspects, now full fledged criminals, really don't want to be found and they know the CSI has the evidence to put them away for good. But after a series of freak accidents the CSI is unable to function and is shut down, the evidence sent to another crime lab. By the time these accidents are connected to the case… it's too late!

Note: Thanks jake! It has been months of careful preparation and research. Now I think my text is finally ready for the press, or at least my most important critics. Ha ha! Anyway, as always I would like to dedicate this short story to my fans, my relatives, close friends and everybody who willed me to succeed! Hope you all like reading it as much as I did writing it. Also, after viewing the last two episodes I realized I had to change some things so please be patient with me as I go back to correct some mistakes. I furthermore wanted to thank jake and other CSI chat room members for answering my questions on earlier shows (mainly season one) and for running a pole for who the most beloved CSI character was. As you will find out Greg won. Grissom, who I was voting for, got second place though! Yeah! Sarah got third, but the rest will be held confidential. Bye for now from your favorite amateur author and artist,

Brianna Clark

Greg Sanders, CSI lab technician, crept silently to his car. Glancing over his shoulder before turning to unlock the door he caught not even a momentary view of movement from the dark, practically abandoned building. Why no one but Grissom believed him he couldn't even guess, but he knew the accidents where some how linked. Now what accidents do I, the author and narrator, speak of? Well, to begin with there was the attack on Catherine Willows, CSI blood splatter analysis. Then there was the hit and run accident with Warrick Brown, CSI audio/visual analysis. And then there was the man and the green car that Sara Sidle, CSI materials and element analysis, claimed had been following her around. Still, it could just be coincidence but Greg wasn't so sure. Suddenly a hand dropped heavily on Greg's shoulder; he jumped and whirled around, coming face to face with a certain Gil Grissom. "What are you so jumpy for?" he asked, grinning. Greg sighed. "Oh it was just you! Sorry Grissom." Grissom laughed, "No sorrys needed but you still didn't answer my question." Greg shrugged and finished unlocking his door. "Well, I got to get going." Grissom nodded. "Be careful." Greg drove off.

The loud buzzing of an alarm clock woke Greg up the next morning. He groaned as he gazed at the flaring red numbers, bleary-eyed. He'd slept through the dumb thing again! Quickly shucking on his clothes he sauntered sleepily out to his car. Climbing into the vehicle he buckled his seat belt and drove to the crime lab. "You're late, again." Said Sara, looking up from paper work as she passed him in the hall. "Yeah, yeah." He grumbled and kept on walking. Catherine stood in the center of the hallway arguing with some man in police uniform. "Excuse me, ladies." He said, shoving past. The policeman, who was defiantly a man (and Greg knew it) gave him dirty looks. "Hay G!" Nick called, giving Greg a high five and a wink. Ever since the accidents started the local police had been a pain and now no one cared about rank, they just wanted revenge!

"Greg." Grissom called. Greg turned around. "Yes?" he asked. "You said you wanted to go out on the field again? Well, you've got it. Be ready in 15 minutes." Greg stood gawking as Grissom walked away. He knew they where now short of people because of the "freak accidents" but he didn't know they where that desperate! Greg met with Grissom and Nick Stokes, hair and fiber analysis, 15 minutes later.

"Come on." Grissom said, leading the two down the dark alley beside a desolate looking parking garage. Grissom and Nick's flashlights lit the way. Greg walked slightly behind them, hands shoved in his pockets and collar up high about his neck, trying to keep warm in the cold temperatures. A twig (if there are such things in the city, I a farm girl wouldn't know) snapped behind them and they all whirled as one to face what ever made the noise, no one (or thing) was there. "What are we looking for anyway?" Nick asked, becoming slightly confused and a bit afraid. "Some one, anonymous as usual, called in and said something fishy was going on down here." Nick blinked, "And they sent us out here to check it out?" Grissom nodded and it was obvious he was holding something back. "You brought those glow sticks, right?" Nick nodded. The group then descended down into a manhole. "Ugh! What's that smell?" Nick gagged. Greg held his nose, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did he gasped in terror. Dead things, both humans (well, three to be exact) and rats, littered the floors. Staggering back he bumped into Nick who dropped his flashlight and the glow sticks. As Nick reached down to get the fallen flashlight he lost his balance and as he fell grabbed for what ever stood near, which was Greg, and pulled them both below the surface.

When Greg came back to his senses he was lying on the hot macadam beside the manhole. There where police milling about everywhere. Nick sat beside him wrapped in a warm, thick blanket and dripping wet. He could hear Grissom get snapped at by some high ranking officer about how stupid it was to go in when they knew the men who done it could still be anywhere near. Greg guessed it was about 9 because the sun was up but it was still dark in the alley surrounded by tall buildings. When the officer left Grissom walked over. "You get home and get some rest. Don't want you sick for filling in for Sara tomorrow." Greg blinked. Another case? Grissom had to be insane! Greg had already screwed this one up big time so how could Grissom possibly justify putting him on another one? "Sara is going up to see relatives. She should be back after tomorrow." Greg nodded but wondered why Sara was taking such a short vacation. Sensing Greg's uncertainty Grissom quickly added, "Family emergency." Then went back to work.

Greg and Warrick Brown got the equipment ready for a long day at a well, yes a well, where a man had been found at the bottom. "Heard you and Nick went for a little swim yesterday morning in the sewer." Warrick teased. Greg snorted "Yeah. Fun. Lots of fun." Warrick laughed loudly, dumping the equipment into the back of his borrowed maroon automobile. "So what's happening with your car?" Greg asked. "The authority is looking at it for paint scrapes. They gave me this hunk of junk in its place." He grinned, patting what must have been a brand new thousand-dollar hood. At the end of the day Greg and Warrick returned to the crime lab. Catherine, who was still too afraid to drive, asked Greg for a ride… and that's when the real action all began!

"Guess what!" Catherine said excitedly. "What?" asked Greg. "We beat the case!" Greg didn't have to ask what case because it was quiet obvious. "The 30 year old one?" he asked, just to make sure. She nodded and sat back, a contented look smeared across her face.

Greg squinted, grasping the wheel tightly. He was tired and it was amazing that he stayed awake at all. Catherine was asleep in the passenger side and all was well, or so it seemed but looks can be deceiving as, all CSI know so well. Greg brought the vehicle to a stop, glancing in the rearview mirror. He gasped. A dark green car was coming up behind them and it didn't look like it was about to stop. Instinctively he grabbed for Catherine, pinning her back, waiting for impact. Luckily, though, the green car slowed and the impact wasn't more than a jarring thud. Catherine was now awake. "Wha… what?" she began, but realizing what had just happened she silenced herself. "Want me to call the cops?" she asked. Greg shook his head as the light turned green and they drove on. They where almost to Catherine's house when Greg glanced to his left just in time to see the green car come barreling at them. He had no time to do anything, just hit the gas. As the green car struck the rear end of Greg's vehicle it flipped it. Catherine had awakened and was screaming her head off which didn't help Greg none. Then all was still. Greg struggled with his seat belt and once he was free reached for the gun hidden beneath the seat. At that moment he saw boots standing near the upturned vehicle and was yanked roughly from the car. He blinked, trying to clear his vision so he could look at whoever had him. Then something hard smashed into his side and he was sent flying, landing hard on the pavement. He was up on his feet in moments and turning back towards whoever it was that had him he saw Catherine, with his gun, holding one of the suspect -now full fledged criminal- at gunpoint. The man bolted like a scared colt. Catherine didn't follow, didn't shoot, she was too weak. Greg walked over to her, putting an arm around her shoulder to help steady her, although inside he wasn't so sure if he could handle the trauma himself. He sighed, gazing at his car, which was now a ball of fire. He shook his head. The far off wail of fire sirens filled the air.

A number of days passed with no incident. Greg had gone to Grissom for the 2nd time, telling him that the accidents had to be connected somehow. He knew Grissom believed him… but the problem was no one else did. Sara returned and a few of the other CSI got the courage enough to come back so Greg was called off field duty… and it was obvious he preferred it in the lab. Not long after that Hodges (the ugly new guy no one likes) began tormenting the younger lab technician. Greg ignored most of it, like usual, but was troubled by the fact that Hodges wasn't being sympathetic like the rest. Shrugging off the feeling he continued working. Grissom noticed this and so did Catherine and Warrick. "I want you to keep a close eye on them." Grissom had warned.

It was dark outside. Greg was working late. Finally Grissom came into the lab and told him to go home. It wasn't long after they left that the dark figure of a man appeared in one of the upper windows, along with a green car driving slowly towards the crime lab, lights off. Within a matter of hours the inside of the crime lab was turned upside down, evidence and equipment alike smashed and destroyed. But whoever it was made one mistake… the alarm went off just as they where leaving. Three in the morning the police arrived. By four Grissom was notified that he was out of a job, along with all the others that worked for him. Making those calls was one of the hardest things Grissom ever had to do. It wasn't fair! What little evidence was left was sent to other crime labs. The 30-year-old case was once again unsolved…

A window smashed. Greg was immediately awake. Looking wildly about he quickly got to his feet, pulled on his jeans and crept out to the den beside the balcony. He saw the dark figure moving along the wall. "I see you and I'm calling the cops!" he warned a little too sure of himself. The figure snickered and some one grabbed him from behind. He tore free with ease, racing towards the open sliding glass doors and lunged outside, over the railing. Little did the two men know that there was a ledge just beneath the balcony... and Greg stood upon that ledge just below their feet. He crept along the narrow edge until he reached the fire escape latter and clanged his way noisily down. In the darkness the two men couldn't tell if it was he or some one else. They fired into the night sending a spray of bullets right at him. All missed, luckily, striking the railing and side of the brick building. Greg reached the bottom and ran for it.

The nearest building was a mall. Breaking in was easy; a simple lunge at the glass and the alarm went off as it shattered. The dark figures didn't dare follow. Greg's vision blurred as the police cars arrived. A terrible pain shot through his side –the one that received the greatest damage in the fire- and he went down. Greg gasped for breath, faltering gaze turned towards the people running at him. They where police officers. A female with short brown hair held a gun, ready to fire if he did anything stupid. But something in Greg's eyes made them turn and what they saw meant little to nothing to them. The tires of a green car squealed as it slipped in the gravel. Greg sighed and closed his eyes in dismay, shaking his head. How long before some one got seriously hurt?