A/N: I don't own CSI, CSI:Miami, or any other known entity comprised in this story. The story begins with the death scene in "Lost Son" (Miami 3.1), then jumps to Fannysmackin' (CSI 7.4). The story remains on that time period (Season 7). I adjust a few time things here and there, and I'll let you know when they come up. Until then, I hope you enjoy. :) Please review.
The Ghost of You- PrologueMiami, 2004
Tim Speedle and Horatio Caine entered the jewelry shop, finding Rudy waiting for them. As Horatio talked to Rudy, Speed looked around, growing uncomfortable with his surroundings as he did so. His hand immediately flinched to his gun, grabbing Horatio's attention. Horatio scanned the shop as well, and a back door opened. "Speed!" Horatio exclaimed, drawing his gun. The guy from the door shot at them, and Horatio returned fire. Speed's gun jammed, and he paused, looking at it. As he did, a bullet entered his chest, ripping into the pleural cavity and dropping him to the ground. Horatio shot the first shooter before focusing on the second as he ran away. He dropped down next to Speed, radioing for help. "You're going to be okay, Speed," he said softly to his CSI as he tried to apply pressure to his wound. "You're going to be okay." Speed tried to talk, but words wouldn't come at the moment, just blood.
"I can't feel anything," he finally choked out. Horatio wiped away the blood that came out with Speed's words, trying to keep it together for the sake of his fallen friend.
"Hang in there. Keep breathing." Speed choked on blood again, breathing becoming increasingly difficult.
"Can't…fight…" Speed's entire body convulsed before it fell still, the life sucked out of it. And just like that, he was gone.
Las Vegas, 2006… Present
Greg drives to the scene of the robbery, a liquor store, by himself. Today has been his day, with trial going so well and now, he gets to solo a crime scene. As he passes an alley, he hears shouting and strained noises coming from within. Looking over, he sees a gang of people jumping a man. He stops his car, grabbing his radio quickly. He calls in the situation, fear and panic growing in him as the victim gets pummeled. After being told to wait for backup, he sighs, watching as the attack continues. Realizing the man might not last until backup arrives, he switches the car into gear, driving into the alley with his headlights on, lights flashing, and honking his horn. The gang ignores him, and he feels fear rising still.
"Move!" he tells them, beeping his horn and wailing his siren. The group finally notices him, and most scatter, leaving behind one kid. "Get out of here!" The kid remains, still beating the victim as Greg stops, honking his horn again. Finally, he looks at Greg, his eyes glowing in the headlights. Greg doesn't move, barely breathes, wondering what this kid will do next. When he bends down for a rock, Greg still doesn't move. The kid fakes toward the victim, as if he was going to beat him further, before rushing toward Greg. In a split second moment of panic, Greg punches the gas, and the SUV lurches forward, hitting the kid and dropping him to the ground. Greg stops, remaining still.
The back window shatters, followed by the driver's side window. Hands reach inside the vehicle, dragging Greg out. The gang returns, using Greg as their new punching bag, laughing maniacally as they do. Greg struggles in an attempt to get away, but the group overpowers him, beating him senseless. One guy spits on him, and he scratches his ankle. He watches as the gang leaves, crashing into his SUV in the process. He averts his eyes to the sky, holding still and praying someone arrives soon, before he or the initial victim dies.
Greg keeps his eyes closed, laying silently in the hospital. Sleep wouldn't come, not after seeing Marla James crying over the body of her dead son. The young man Greg had hit with the car. He sighs softly, trying to push the image out of his head. "It's never going to work," a man's voice says. Greg jumps, opening his good eye to find someone he has never seen before standing in his room.
"Who the hell are you?" he asks, panicked, his heart beating out of his chest.
"Oh, relax, Sanders. I can't hurt you." The man walks over, putting his hand on top of Greg's. To Greg's horror, the hand passes right through his own.
"What the fuck?"
"You really need to chill out, man."
"Who are you?"
"More like 'who was I'. I am dead, after all."
"Would you just answer the friggen question without the mouth work?"
"Tim Speedle. I was a CSI for Miami-Dade."
"What the hell are you doing here? With me?"
"I don't know. I was up there, and now I'm here. I don't ask questions. It's better off that way."
"So, you're a ghost." Greg's heart rate returns to normal.
"Something like that."
"Did I summon you or something? Is that why you're here?"
"I don't know. Did you?"
"I didn't know you when you were alive."
"Catherine and Warrick met me. That case with the little girl and the husband/wife serial."
"Right. I remember that case." Speed nods. "So, you're dead."
"Yep."
"How long have you been dead?"
"Two years, give or take a few months."
"How'd you die?"
"Gun jammed in a shoot-out. Perp shot me."
"Why'd the gun jam?"
"Dunno. Calleigh couldn't figure it out."
"Who's Calleigh?" Speed arches his eyebrows in surprise for a moment before shaking his head.
"Oh, right, you don't know her. She was a girl I worked with out there. Calleigh Duquesne, otherwise known as 'Bullet Girl'. She's amazing."
"Right." Greg shakes his head, closing his good eye. "I'm going crazy."
"No you're not."
"Then why are you here and how can I see you?"
"I don't know. I've been wandering around for a while."
"You said you came from up there," Greg reminds him.
"Ah, but you never asked up where," Speed replies cryptically. Greg sighs, rolling his eyes.
"I'm playing 20 Questions with a ghost."
"Can you stop saying shit like that, man? I don't like being reminded that I'm dead."
"Fine. Where were you wandering?"
"Northern part of the country. No one could see me, though. I wonder why you can."
"Probably the same reason you knew who I was and could read my mind."
"Nah, that's just CSI skills. I checked the door and read the look on your face." Greg snorts, shaking his head.
"A resourceful spirit. That better, or that still a reminder?" Speed shrugs, sitting on Greg's good side. Yet, Greg realizes, as Speed sat down, the bed didn't move.
"You'd think after two years of being dead, I'd be okay with it. I guess that because I've finally found someone who can see and hear me, I feel alive again."
"Do you have unfinished business? Is this going to be like that movie with Reese Witherspoon?"
"Which one?"
"The one where she's in a coma and Napoleon Dynamite is the medium kinda guy."
"I don't think it can be. I'm dead. I'm not just going to magically spring back to life."
"Then how come you're in Vegas with me?"
"Maybe you need me."
"Why would I need you?" Speed shrugs.
"Need who?" Sara asks, her voice cutting into Greg's perception quickly. Greg looks at her, then looks back where Speed is sitting.
"She can't see me," Speed says. "So, play wisely."
"No one," Greg replies. "I'm just tired."
"Nice move, Slick."
"Will you shut up?"
"Who?" Nick asks, looking concerned.
"The voices in my head," Greg cracks with a chuckle. Speed laughs along with Warrick, Sara, and Nick, enjoying Greg's lie. "How's it goin'?"
"Well, we caught the guys that did this to you," Sara tells him, smiling.
"That's good."
"And we brought you food."
"That's even better."
"Mmm… Mexican," Speed says. Greg casts a glance in his direction, something that doesn't go unnoticed by three of Vegas's finest. "Sorry, haven't had any in a while. Don't need to eat when you're dead."
"Thanks, guys," Greg says, ignoring Speed.
"Well played, man. Well played."
"How ya feelin'?" Warrick asks, dropping into a chair beside Greg's bed. Nick follows suit, and Sara sits on Greg's bed by his feet.
"Sore, but better," Greg replies. "Physically, anyway. I, uh, heard about…"
"Don't worry about it now," Sara tells him.
"You did the right thing," Nick assures him.
"Just worry about getting yourself better first," Warrick says.
"The rest'll fall into place," Sara adds. Greg nods, eating the food in silence with Sara, who also ordered food. Nick and Warrick sit with them, talking while the ghost of Tim Speedle watches. He slips out of the room, looking to the sky as he stands in the middle of the hallway.
"Is this what I've been waiting down here for?" he asks. No answer. Not that he had expected one. He had been asking the sky questions for two years, trying to figure out why he still hadn't crossed over. "Am I here to help him? Is it the other way around? What's going to happen now?" He looks back in the room as Grissom and Catherine join the rest of the team, checking on their injured comrade. "What's going to happen now?" he whispers.