Rating: T

Spoilers: Grave Danger and Season 6 in general

Disclaimers: Not mine. Don't know whose they are for sure, but they're definitely not mine.

Author's Note: Written in response to the Unbound Challenge from 17 Oct 2005, and damn if I didn't overshoot that 1000 word limit by a mile… so sorry!

A Change of Heart

by Lapsus Stili

He stared out of the window, seemingly unreachable for anyone.

Sara wandered into the break room to find both Catherine and Warrick regarding their quiet co-worker with sympathy. "Hey guys," she said cautiously, unaware of what was going on, but sensing that something was amiss.

Everyone was worried about Greg these days. His demeanor was changing, and not for the better. No one could remember the last time he laughed or joked or flirted with anyone. When responses to her greeting came from only two-thirds of the room's occupants, the brunette halted before grabbing her mug and looked pointedly at the dejected figure in the corner. "Greggo?"

Again no answer. He simply continued to lean heavily against the table, chin cupped in a hand as it cantilevered over his elbow. Once playful eyes were now dark, glossy, and distinctly haunted. Had it not been for the occasional blink, she would have thought someone had snuck a life-sized statue into the building as a joke. No one was laughing.

Warrick raised a finger from along the back of Catherine's chair, subtly catching Sara's attention as she reached for Greg's shoulder. Gently he shook his head and her hand froze just inches from its target.

At that moment Catherine stood, sweeping her purse up from the floor as she rose. "C'mon Sara, let's head over to Starbuck's and grab some decent coffee for everyone." The look in her eyes was enough for Sara. The I'll fill you in on the way was clearly communicated, and the two silently headed out.

When the women's footsteps had faded down the hall, the lanky man gracefully poured himself up out of his chair, almost challenging gravity to defy him. In an equally fluid manner he slid onto the couch, just to the left of Greg's still unwavering line of sight.

Warrick had been out on the call with Greg earlier that evening, and as such was the only one who understood the horrors that surely danced before the young rookie now. He saw them too, the awful memories that flitted through his mind, but his years of experience had hardened him somewhat. Time had toughened him up, forming a solid, if not tarnished, suit of armor to protect his soul… to guard his last few remaining strands of hope that there was still some bit of humanity in the world worth looking out for. That was the only thing that kept him in this job. Without it he would have walked away from it all years ago. "Hey man, it's ok. You wanna talk about it?"

The newest CSI had no such shields in place yet, no way to deflect the onslaught of gruesome sights that came with the territory of working in the field. Even with all of his experience working on terrible cases from the safety of his pristine lab, he had no idea how bad it really was out there. It was one thing to scrape skin fibres from a random piece of rope that the CSI's brought to him in an evidence bag. It was a whole new ballgame to be the one to discover that baby's body today, lying motionless in the crib, the rough length of cord wound so tightly around her throat that her eyes bulged sickeningly from their sockets.

His lips quivered as the scene replayed itself over and over. Every picture he snapped in that nursery burned itself into his brain, and he just knew that he would never close his eyes ever again without seeing those images. He blinked and gave a negative shake of his head.

Warrick sighed then and pulled himself up to tower over his friend. He let his hand softly pat the distraught man's shoulder before leaving. On his way out he offered, "Hang in there, buddy. It'll get better." Greg didn't acknowledge the statement.

On his way to the evidence locker, Warrick stopped off in Grissom's office and expressed his concern with Greg's behavior. Surprisingly, a look of regret passed quickly over his boss's face before his normal blank façade took up residence again. When he left the office a few minutes later, Grissom followed him out, then hung a quick left to beeline for the break room.

The sight that greeted the senior CSI was heartbreaking, and once again he briefly allowed himself to be bothered by the fact that this admission would shock those who worked with him. They all thought he had no feelings, but he did. He cared very much for all of his somewhat dysfunctional, make-shift family at work. Seeing the lone tear tracking slowly down Greg's face burned him to the core. The youngster's seemingly endless supply of high-spirited liveliness appeared to have its limits after all.

Grissom's original plan to casually check on the situation while pretending to get a beverage was immediately tossed aside. Instead, he stepped carefully in front of the other man and knelt down to bring them face-to-face. "Look at me Greg," he softly commanded.

The voice got though. His trance broken at last, Greg's gaze flickered to meet the older man's. Another tear followed the path of its predecessor, and a third was puddling dangerously on the lower lid of his other eye. "She wasn't even a year old, Griss," came out in a harsh whisper.

Everything in him wanted to reach out to his underling, hold him like a father would, tell him that it would be ok. He wanted to, really, he did, but he couldn't. All he could manage was a pained expression and a pathetic quote.

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."

Greg looked away at this, ashamed at the implication that his own misery over this injustice was more tragic than the unthinkable death this child had suffered at the hands of her own drunken mother. Quietly the young man stated, "I think I made a mistake. This isn't what I thought it would be, ya know? I… uh… I wanna transfer back to the lab…" Before Grissom could reply, he added, "I'm sorry I let you down, boss."

Hearing those words, so similar to what he had read on Nick's lips while the Texan had recorded his farewells from his plexiglass coffin not so long ago, tore at Grissom's heart. Why are they so concerned with what I think of them? Do I really make them feel like they aren't measuring up? How can they doubt how proud I am of each and every one of them?

"No Greg, you haven't disappointed me in the least. There is no shame in stepping away from this, do you understand me? You are the best lab technician I have ever worked with, and in your fieldwork I have watched you develop into a fine CSI." Taking a deep breath he grasped Greg's upper arm; it wasn't a hug, but it was a start. "My only concern right now is your well-being. I've been watching your love for life slowly drain away these past few months, and as sad as that little girl's murder is, watching you die a little every day is no less of a tragedy."

The ladies had returned, coffees in hand, and now stood just outside the door taking in the scene before them. "Really? Uh… are you sure? What'll everyone think?" they heard Greg ask. Both were touched at Gil's response, amazed at the changes they were seeing in him more and more.

"No one will think any less of you. You're a good man, and you're a good CSI. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that we would rather have you back in the lab, happy in doing what you love, than keep you in the field and watch your light burn out. We can't lose you, Greg."

The young man simply nodded and swiped at the wetness staining his face. Releasing his grip, Gil got to his feet and started for the door. "I'll have the paperwork ready for you to sign by the end of shift," he promised. "Stop by my office before you go and we'll get it sorted out."

As Grissom passed Sara and Catherine in the corridor, he smiled warmly at them. He was not at all embarrassed despite knowing that they had witnessed the exchange. As the two filed back into the break room, Sara couldn't help but smile to herself.

Maybe changes weren't so bad after all.