Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, do you think I would be writing this? Nope.

Little Things

Greg was used to surprises. When you were a CSI you had to be. Nothing ever went as planned, you were constantly running in circles and sometimes, reality just slaps you in the face.

It was a pretty straight forwards crime scene, nothing unusual. The killer broke in through the window, probably to rob the newly bought house, but someone heard the noise. The father came down the stairs first and the killer shot him in the chest. It was a through and through, right beside the heart. His body was slumped on the stairs.

Greg followed the bloody footprints into the living room, where he imagined the next killing.

Hearing the shots, the mother had run downstairs and into the living room, where the killer was rummaging through the half-unpacked boxes. There was a struggle, knocking over lamps, and then he shot her as well. Her blood was caked on the floor, forming a red island in an ocean of white carpet.

Greg only had to walk a few feet to where the last body lay, the worst one to look at.

The son, who was about 15, had grabbed a baseball bat and slowly crept downstairs. Unfortunately, the killer had hid behind the boxes, waiting for anyone else who could interrupt him. The bullet hit Chase in the head, killing him instantly.

Greg's heart panged with sadness. This boy had his whole life ahead of him. And it had been cut short because of some stupid, panicked robber.

All the CSIs had cases that affected them. For Catherine it was kidnappings, no doubt due to Lindsay's incident a few years ago. Every time she saw ropes or tape or blindfolds, they all saw the light in her eyes fade.

For Nick it was... well actually, Greg wasn't sure anymore. It used to be the emotional ones, where the victims survived and had to deal with the aftermath. It had also been molestation cases, because of the baby sitter incident when he was a child. But lately it had become almost every case.

For Sara it was the abuse cases. Her past had made its mark, and hurt her to the point of emotional breakdowns. Greg had been one of the first people she had ever told.

Ray didn't let it show, but hostage situations really bugged him. He had also become very attached to some cases that had taken a long time to solve, like the sex trade case two years ago.

For Greg, it was children. Anything with children. It wasn't fair, having their lives taken away like that. They were innocent, they were care free. It just wasn't fair.

A hand on his back startled him. He looked over to see Sara standing there, looking at Chase's body. Her eyes were fixed on his face, her expression solemn.

"You wanna take upstairs?" She asked him, knowing his thoughts. He had told her years ago about his hatred of child murders. "Check and see if there's any fingerprints on the jewellery cases."

He nodded, but couldn't seem to break his gaze. Chase's curly, dirty-blonde hair was covered in blood, his blue eyes staring at nothing.

Sara squeezed his shoulder, and he managed to make his feet move in the other direction.

His steps were quiet as he climbed the blood spattered stairs, and turned into the master bedroom. There wasn't much there actually, seeing as though they had only moved in 2 days prior. Just an empty bed, a dresser and a few cardboard boxes.

On the dresser, he saw some jewellery cases, which were empty. He also saw a few smears, so using his print tape, he extracted them. Greg doubted they would be useful though.

The carpet squished under his feet as he walked through the room. The walls were bare, just expansive white barriers and the atmosphere was cold.

Ignoring his job, and listening to his sadness, Greg padded into the hallway. Across the banister, he could see a half open door, and behind it, a bright blue room.

It was the only other bedroom, so he knew it belonged to Chase. He gently pushed on the creaky door and the room came into full view. There were some pretty big boxes that looked like they had been partially unpacked, and a bunk bed pushed up against the wall. It actually reminded Greg of one he had slept in as a child.

There was also a set of drawers, which was almost up to the CSI's neck. On top there was a single picture frame, in which was a self taken photo. In the picture there was a group of kids, looking around Chase`s age. They were laughing on a couch, playing video games. There looked to be 5 of them at first, but Greg soon saw that there was another boy, sitting on the floor, a fair distance from the rest. He looked to be younger than the others, by quite a few years.

All those boys are going to have to find out that their friend is dead. He thought, and felt a wave of sadness wash over him.

All of a sudden, there was a rustling. It was faint, almost non-existent, but he heard it. He froze in place, barely breathing.

It had gone silent once again, so he took a risk and stepped to the left, where he had heard the noise. There was another rustling, this time louder.

Greg looked up and realized that there was a closet door in front of him. He cocked his head closer, and heard some breathing.

Shit. There`s someone in the closet. What if it was the killer? Oh my god.

Greg grabbed his gun instinctively, clicking off the safety. He pointed it at the door, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

Even though his body was numb with fear, he tried to rationalize. He needed to open that door.

Three...Two...One...Open!

He reached out and pulled the door open, letting it swing loudly outwards. He pointed his gun at the first movement his mind could register.

"Don't hurt me! Please!" A small voice shouted, and Greg's eyes focused on a young boy curled up on the floor.

"Please!" The boy cried, tears streaming down his face. Greg lowered his gun immediately.

"No, no, I'm not going to hurt you." Greg said, trying to calm him down.

He bent lower so he was at eye level and could now recognize the boy as the youngest child in the photo. He had the same blue eyes as Chase, but had tousled brown hair which was short and wavy.

"I'm a police man, I won't hurt you. The bad guys are gone." He told the little boy, who was still cowering in the corner. At Greg's last statement, he seemed to listen eagerly.

Hoping this would continue, he put away his gun and put his weight on his knees.

"You promise?" The little boy asked innocently. Honestly, it broke Greg's heart.

"Of course I do, come here." He said nicely, and opened his arms.

The little boy stumbled upwards, then ran straight into his arms. Greg hugged him tightly, wondering how much of the crime he had witnessed. The little boy sobbed on his shoulder, occasionally trying to wipe the tears from his bright blue eyes.

"Greg?" He heard Sara call from downstairs.

"I'm up here, call the paramedics!"

? what's gonna happen? :P