A/N: I don't own CSI, CBS, or any known entity. "Invisible City" is a song by The Wallflowers from which the bold/italicized subtitles come, and I don't own that too. The next two chapters contain the idea that Greg's soul is waiting for the body to live or die, which is a little supernatural. During that time period, he encounters a person from his past (in this chapter) and some other stuff that will be seen next chapter. Please, just go with me on this... lol. No flames for the little meeting to come, please. As always, enjoy and review. :)

Invisible City- Part One

This heart is on wheels tonight, straight through the ghettos and without lights

The fuzzy white of nothingness felt comfortable, warm, friendly. He felt no pain, wasn't really feeling much anything, in all honesty. Greg looked around, wondering where he was and what was going on. "Hello?" he asked softly. A young man appeared in front of him.

"CSI Sanders," he said softly. The face looked familiar, but he didn't know where he had seen it before.

"Who are you?" The kid chuckled softly.

"I didn't think you'd recognize me. Demitrius James. Ring a bell?" Greg's eyes went wide in fear and shock.

"Holy shit I'm dead." Demitrius laughed, shaking his head.

"Not yet, Greg. You're in waiting." Confusion took a strong hold on the CSI, and he struggled to put the puzzle pieces together.

"Why are you here? Am I going to hell?" Demitrius laughed again and shook his head.

"No. I wanted to meet the person who killed me."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Greg, you're having an out of body experience because your body is dying. I can't kill your soul. Relax, man." Greg took a deep breath, but was still cautious.

"So, why are you here?"

"Because I know you've been blaming yourself, but I want you to know that I don't blame you anymore."

"What?" Greg was more confused than he could ever remember being, but his fear had subsided a little.

"I was going to kill you for stopping us, no joke. I was pissed and wanted to kill you. You stopped me again, and I blamed you for it for a real long time. I fucking hated you for it for a while. I know you didn't mean for me to die, though. I also know you still feel bad about it to this day. What you don't know is that you're not the only person at CSI to kill someone."

"What do you mean? Who else?"

"Well, you know Catherine killed the Strip Strangler years ago, but who I was really talking about was…"

Nick and Warrick arrived at the hospital after dropping off their evidence and meeting with Ecklie. They found the rest of the team there in a waiting room. "Any word yet?" Nick asked frantically.

"Nothing," Sara whispered.

"Fuck." They collapsed into chairs- Nick between Hodges and Mandy, Warrick between Catherine and the wall. Wendy was on the other side of Hodges, and Archie had settled himself on the floor in front of them with his knees tucked tightly into his chest. Grissom was on the other side of Catherine, with Sara beside him, holding his hand tightly.

The tension in the room was unbearable. Fear, desperation, depression, denial, anger, and regret blended into an emotional soup that was drowning everyone present, choking them off from speaking, breathing, thinking. The silence was worse than the tension, and after ten minutes, Nick couldn't take it any more.

"Has anyone told Greg's parents?" he asked, amazingly calmly despite the turmoil bubbling under his skin.

"Hospital called them," Grissom replied softly. Nick nodded.

"I'm going outside for a walk."

"In this weather?" Wendy asked. The storm had kicked up harder, ominously almost, pounding the structures with a vengeance.

"I can't sit here," he replied.

"I'll go with you," Mandy said quickly, knowing that Nick shouldn't be alone right now. "Page us when you know something?" Grissom nodded his agreement, and the pair left the team in the waiting room.

"Am I supposed to die tonight?" Greg asked Demitrius. "Is it my time?"

"No," Demitrius replied calmly.

"I was just supposed to really meet you?"

"No. There's a chance you won't remember this when you come to."

"So I'll be fine?" Demitrius shrugged.

"I don't really know."

"Then why are you…"

"To calm you, G. I don't know what's going to happen. I just know you won't die."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Will I be the same?"

"By now, Greg, you've learned that everything changes, us included. You can't go through things and not change. You never notice the subtleties, but each day, we change. There's no such thing as being the same, because you're different every day. You just have some semblance of normal that seems consistent every day. This is a big change, though, but you'll adapt."

"What if I don't?"

"You will. You have no choice." Greg sighed.

"Why don't you hate me? I killed you, and you're acting like you don't care."

"I'll be honest," Demitrius started. "I hated you for a while. I know you also hated yourself a lot for that. You helped my brother out a bit, too, and that made me a little less angry. But I've had a lot of time to sit up here and think about what happened and why you did what you did. I know that I scared the fucking hell out of you that night. You're a slightly cagey person, and though you seek thrills and adventure, when it involves other people getting hurt, you get jumpy. So when I started toward you with the intent to kill you, and believe me, I meant to kill you that night, you freaked. You hit me. You didn't mean to kill me. I know you could never kill someone intentionally. I see you with your friends, your family, even with complete strangers. You're a compassionate person. You hurt bad because you killed me. Me being mad at you from the other side isn't hurting you more than you hurting yourself. You've punished yourself a lot for that in the year and a half since. You've done well enough."

"You've been watching me?" Greg asked, confused.

"Every day. What can I say, I was obsessed for about six months. I got over it, over wanting to make you suffer, and realized you were just really amusing to watch. You thought you were hiding your guilt so well, but every single one of them could see it, Greg. Even socially-retarded Grissom knew you were feeling guilty as all hell. You still do, to this day. Something you should let go of. I hated you for six months before I realized that if the roles had been reversed, I would have done the exact same thing. Yeah, I still hate that I'm dead, but I'm over hating you for it. I watched you that night a year ago in your apartment. You know, that night after Grissom told you the city paid my mom? You wanted to kill yourself that night, and probably would have, if Catherine hadn't come over to see how you were doing. I knew after watching you that night exactly where you stood on what happened. I learned a lot. I couldn't hate you anymore."

"Yeah." Greg's voice was soft, barely a whisper.

"Don't worry anymore, Greg. Don't apologize for doing what you had to do. It was either going to be you or me that made it out of that alley alive. It was my time."

"Right." Greg sighed softly. "You know, I wish we could've met under better pretenses." Demitrius chuckled.

"If I had a friend like you, man, maybe we wouldn't have to have met like this." Greg nodded, and Demitrius extended his hand with a small smile. "It's okay, Greg. You can stop hating yourself." Greg shook his hand.

"You're a really smart guy."

"Gained it all post-mortem." Demitrius smiled, and Greg returned it softly. "Have a good life, man. I'll be watching." Greg nodded as they released the handshake. And as abruptly as he had appeared, Demitrius James was gone.

Nick stepped out into the parking lot, Mandy trailing him closely. The puddles in the lot were ankle-deep and growing as the rain poured down relentlessly. Within seconds of leaving the overhang of the emergency room entrance, they were soaked to the bone. Nick didn't seem to notice, and Mandy didn't really care. He stopped at a bench a good distance away, sitting down as thunder roared in defiance. Mandy sat beside him, and he glanced at her now running makeup. "You shouldn't have come with me," he told her softly.

"You shouldn't be alone right now," she replied.

"I'll be fine."

"Yeah, okay. I know how much Greg means to you. You've known him for the better part of 10 years. He's the little brother you never had."

"How in the hell would you know?"

"I'm not an idiot." Nick decided to keep his mouth shut, knowing that he'd probably only say words he didn't mean. She put her left hand on top of his right, working her fingers between his. He didn't move, didn't respond, deciding instead to stare at the pond formerly known as the staff parking lot. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"About what?" he asked quietly, pain wrenched deeply into every barely uttered word.

"This."

"You didn't hit him."

"I know."

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I know."

"Then why are you?"

"Why do people say they're sorry to mourners? Like it makes everything better, takes the pain away any?" Mandy shook her head as Nick turned to look at her. "Nothing makes it better."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know," she told him honestly as she found her rain-soaked jeans to be intriguing. He sighed softly, realizing his misguided emotions were hurting her too. He unlaced their hands, causing her to look over at him. He threw his arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against him.

"I'm sorry for being an ass right now," he told her softly. She shook her head.

"It's okay." She rested her head against the wet cotton of his shirt, listening to the steady heartbeat of the strong Texan. He hugged her closely, thankful for the company and for the current warm void from the cold rain. Despite being in the middle of Nevada, the night was frigid, making the rain feel like wet globs of ice, accumulating and sliding down their bodies.

"How are you holding this in so well?"

"It's the way I roll, Stokes. Like water off a duck's back." He looked down at her closed eyes and soft frown and knew instantly that she was lying.

"Liar."

"I try to wait, keep hope and faith," she said, sitting up to look him in the eye. "I guess it's harder for you CSIs to do that, with all the shit you see, but I'm naïve, and I get to keep that innocence. I know bad shit happens and that I analyze the prints that put away the criminals of some really horrible crimes. But I guess I still hold on to the romantic image of life- that everything comes together and miracles do occur. I have faith, hope, that Greg'll make it through this."

"I wish I had your faith, Mandy." She shrugged.

"I'm glad you don't. It hurts so much worse when you convince yourself that everything'll be okay and the opposite happens." He furrowed his brow in confusion, and as he opened his mouth to say something, her pager chimed. "I guess they know something. Let's go find them again." He nodded, closing his mouth and standing with her. She latched onto his arm gently as the pair walked out of the fury of the weather and into the sterile, comforting heat of the hospital. They wound their way through the corridors until they reached the waiting room once again.

"They're saying it's too soon to tell," Grissom told them. "They found trauma-induced swelling around his brain. It could work itself out and leave no lasting effects, or there may still be some, or it could kill him. He's lost a lot of blood, and he's had surgery to repair some internal bleeding. He has a few broken ribs, broken wrist bones and a broken ulna. If he pulls through tonight, he may have a chance." Nick sighed.

"Let's hope your faith pays out," he whispered to her.

"Yeah," she replied softly, inwardly hoping along with the rest of them that Greg would actually make it.