Gregxit Stage Right
A CSI fanfic written by icarus for CD12.
"I can't think of any alternative."
"It's not necessary Greg, I know it's been a really tough time but resigning is not the answer."
"Not the answer?" Greg burst out becoming increasingly agitated by Grissom's calm, "it was bad enough the incident happened and that I killed a guy- a kid at college- I had to go through a trial, if you could call it that, involving a judge more interested in votes than justice and the victim's family refusing to believe evidence staring them in the face wanting to sue me after I wasn't thrown in jail and just when I forgive myself and start to sleep you tell me Demitrius' mother won 2.5 million off the city, making me seem like the criminal again-"
"-then you didn't actually forgive yourself Greg," replied Grissom, interrupting his outburst and giving him a chance to take a breath, "it shouldn't matter to you what a bunch of suits think, that was a political situation."
"And now it's back to a racial one" muttered Greg, pulling a poster out of his pocket and handing it to Grissom. It consisted of a large photo of Greg with the caption 'THE NEW LAURENCE POWELL.'
"I'm pretty sure the family is behind it, now they're trying to compare me to one of the officers who-"
"Dragged Rodney King out of his taxi and beat him. This'll blow over, I wouldn't worry about it"
"Because it's not happening to you!" cried Greg, "that's not really an option for me, I know it was never about race but that's not how the community will see it. They'll see a guy who had two decisions to make and who took the one which resulted in killing a black kid. Maybe I am a criminal". The last sentence was no more than a whisper, Greg having poured all pent-up emotion- the anger, the fear, the guilt- into the last two minutes of conversation. Grissom stood up from his desk, walked around and looked Greg in the eyes-
"don't even think on that Greg- before you go blaming yourself, consider the alternative."
Having just collected a hooded top that belonged to one of the suspects in the 'Fannysmackin' case, I was on my way back to the lab when I looked into an alley and saw another attack. The victim was lying on his back while roughly ten assailants, all wearing black hoods, were beating him with feet and fists. Panicking, I stopped an reached for the radio.
"Control, Control. This is CSI Sanders. I need some help"
"Control. Go with your information."
"Okay. I got an assault in progress one alley south of Casino Central Drive, cross street Shane."
"How many suspects involved?"I don't know!
"Multiple suspects. It could be the guys who've been doing it all night."
"Closest Unit has a five minute ETA. Rolling code 3. Are they armed?" I didn't think they were but I couldn't be sure. However I was sure that 5 minutes would be way too long.
"I don't know. I don't know. Ma'am, please listen. You gotta get here quicker than this."
"Copy that. We'll roll two additional units A.S.A.P. Wait for backup."
It took two minutes for backup to arrive- the longest two minutes of my life. All the time I kept thinking whether or not I should do something, but what? I wasn't armed, wasn't sure they were unarmed. I just sat out of the way until I heard the sirens. The attackers heard them too and scattered. I think the police grabbed a couple of them. One officer checked the victim's vitals and announced he was dead. He was dead because I did nothing. An innocent tourist. One of the officers came up to me.
"Hey, are you the one who called this in?"
"Yeah." That was about all I could say. "I radioed Dispatch with the details and the location and they told me to wait for backup." God that sounded pathetic, like my only excuse why I let a man die- a man later identified as Stanley Tanner from Tennesee.
"Okay, thanks." The look he gave me was the worst- not accusatory, more confused- as if he was thinking what I was thinking- "why didn't he do anything?"
Why didn't I do anything?
"You need time off Greg, Easter's coming up. Take a week off and try and forgive your own sins. I really need to get on with my paperwork, Ecklie's breathing down my neck again."
Taking himself to be dismissed, Greg walked out of the office and into the corridor where everyone was practising the very useful office skill of pretending that you weren't listening in on the conversation. Despite the crowded building, he felt alone, with his many conflicting thoughts for company; whether his course of action was the right one, whether Grissom was being cold to be kind or just cold- whether or not Easter was an apt time for some R&R. His pager provided a welcome distraction- it simply said 'Briefing Room- Catherine'.
When he got there, she was waiting with a folder which she wordlessly handed to him. He opened it and found himself looking at a serial killer.
"Remember him Greg?" asked Catherine.
"Yeah. Syd Goggle, a.k.a the Strip Strangler. What's this about?"
"I killed him, Greg" replied Catherine in her isn't-it-obvious voice, "and I meant to kill him. If I hadn't, he would've killed Grissom. I took one life to save another- I know it's not exactly the same" she blurted, anticipating Greg's interruption, "but you know if you hadn't done what you did, an innocent man would've been killed. The people who are attacking you, well they'll never know what we went through. Think about it Greg. Now get out of here" she finished with a smile. "And happy Easter."