Author's Note: This chapter was fun. Sorry if it gets a little confusing, I know it moves kind of fast. Hope you enjoy Mindy as much as I do. ;o) You get this now because im bored and you're lucky it was previously uploaded. I've locked myself out of my dorm and am waiting for my roommate to come back with my friend in her room. Lets hope I left my keys in my room.

Chapter Two: Guns and Wheels

As Greg made his way to the apartment building, he really wished he'd asked Grissom for the day off. He'd had to take public transportation to the scene as his car was still broken down and had gotten a few looks from people on the bus because of his vest and kit. It was only noon and he had already proven to be the favorite victim of Murphy's Law. The police briefed him and he tried hard not to tune them out before he entered the crime scene.

At the sight of the dayshift worker, Greg thought his luck might have actually changed. She was a slender but toned redhead who was squatting down taking photographs of the body. As she stood up Greg tilted his head and smiled confidently as he checked her out. She turned around and caught him red-handed.

"Are all the graveyard workers this rude?" she snapped.

Greg closed his eyes and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Greg Sand—"

"That's nice," Mindy interrupted, looking at the ceiling in disinterest. "Look, there's an empty pill bottle in the bathroom. Looks like it he choked on them instead of swallowing them, which makes me think it was a murder disguised as suicide and—are you listening to me, Batman?"

Greg blinked. "Batman?" Mindy gestured at his shirt and he looked down to see the Batman logo on it. "Ah, well I borrowed some clothes from a friend because—"

"Not interested," Mindy interrupted. "Get to the bathroom and bag the bottle, I'm almost finished up here."

"That's it?" said Greg. "You just want me to bag the bottle?"

"I can handle everything else," Mindy replied. "I, uh, don't really feel comfortable with a rude night shift worker whose not even in proper uniform contaminating my crime scene."

"Hey listen, Mindy," Greg snapped, "which, by the way, I only know is your name because Warrick told me, thanks for introducing yourself. I'm not a rookie anymore, I know what I'm doing, in fact I'm one of the only people not working the damn MGM bombing case, because Ecklie thinks I can do it, and if he trusts me to do a good job then you can too."

"Good," said Mindy. "Now that you got that out of your system, you can go bag my evidence please, or do I have to do that too?"

Greg waved a finger at her as he opened and closed his mouth, not very sure of what to say, before finally letting out a growl of frustration, turning on his heal, and heading in the direction of the bathroom. He was just muttering about all the things he'd like to do to her as he passed a window and Mindy called out to him.

"Hey Batman—" she began.

Greg spun around and was about to yell "What?" when he was interrupted mid-inhale by the shattering of glass and a sting across the back of his shoulders. He jumped forward and arched his back. "Holy—"

"Batman!" Mindy screamed, jumping to her feet. "What the hell did you do now?"

"I didn't do anything!" Greg yelled back at her before looking over his shoulder. "Something bit me."

Mindy ran over to him. "Nothing bit you, you jackass!" she said as she looked at the window. She looked at him in disbelief. "I think you've just been shot."

"Shot?!" Greg said.

"Hold still," Mindy said as he looked at his back. "It just grazed your shoulder blades, you oughtta be fine… The slug should be in the wall over there."

"Why the hell would someone shoot me?" Greg asked her as she went to examine the bullet hole.

"Don't sound too surprised, Batman, I was ready to shoot you myself," Mindy said. "Ah, here it is."

"You've known me ten minutes," Greg said. "You couldn't possibly want to—"

"You underestimate your annoyingness," Mindy replied as she took a picture of the bullet hole before fishing it out and dropping it in an evidence bag. She looked over her shoulder at him. "You know, that might have been the killer," she replied. "We should trace its trajectory. Get on that, would you Batman?"

"Quit calling me Batman!" Greg barked.

Mindy chuckled. "Quit whining and figure out where that bullet came from. I'll snag the bottle from the bathroom. You said you're capable, well prove it."

"What if I wanted to get the bottle from the bathroom?" Greg asked, for the sole purpose of being contrary.

Mindy rolled her eyes. "Listen up, Batman. I'm giving you the chance to figure out who shot at you. Solve your own case. I mean, sure, it's no figuring out who dumped you in the desert kind of case, but it's better than nothing."

"I thought I said to stop calling me—what?" Greg blinked. "How'd you know about that?"

She gave him a quirky smile. "I know who you are, Greg Sanders. I've been working your case."

"Does that mean you've been to my apartment?" Greg asked.

"Yes," Mindy said simply.

"Damn…" Greg muttered, staring at the wall behind her.

"Now get on it," Mindy snapped. "Or I'll tell Ecklie you've been slacking off." And with a flip of her hair she was gone.

"She's still a bitch," Greg muttered, as he looked out the window at the building across from him.

Mindy was kind enough to give Greg a ride back to the lab after they had both finished up processing the scenes. The shot had come from an empty office in the building across the street. No one could give them a good description of the shooter, although plenty had seen him. The problem was, he wore a suit and tie, just like everyone else in the building, and the gun (Mindy guessed it to be a sniper rifle) had been hidden in his briefcase, so he looked like pretty much like the average businessman who wasn't worth a second glance.

Greg stared out the window as they drove down the street. "So do you have a last name, or are you trying to be cool like Madonna?"

"No talking," Mindy said. "If I'm going to tolerate your presence for this whole ride, I can do it better if you don't say anything."

"You're a bitch," Greg said.

"And you're a scrawny Norwegian chess freak with a penchant for Jugs," Mindy said, with a shrug. Greg stared at her, aghast. She paused before explaining. "I told you, I was at your apartment."

Greg blinked. "OK, that's creepy, never do that again."

"I won't if you shut up," she said in a sing-song voice.

"I hate you so much," Greg sneered.

"I'm glad," she replied.

She pulled up to the precinct, and not a moment too soon. Greg jumped out of the car before it came to a stop. Taking a deep breath he made his way quickly for the lab.

"You gonna get someone to check out your shoulders?" Mindy called after him.

Greg just mimicked her under his breath and didn't reply. His shoulders were stinging madly, but he would be damned if he showed her that. Walking in, he saw Warrick.

"I am never working with her again," he said sternly.

Warrick rolled his eyes. "I know she's a bit of a hardass, Greg, but she's been working straight shifts since Monday filling in for you. Cut her some slack."

"And another thing," Greg said. "Where's Nick? I need another shirt."

Warrick watched Greg storm off down the hall when Mindy entered. She looked after him, then at Warrick. "You just going to let him go like that?" she asked him.

Warrick shrugged. "Eh, he's alright," he said.

"He got shot," Mindy said.

"What?" Warrick exclaimed. "You shot him already?"

"I didn't shoot him, you numbskull," Mindy hissed. "A shooter did. It's nothing big. It grazed the top of his skin, cutting a half pipe across the back of his shoulders. Still, last I checked it totally ripped his shirt and was bleeding through it. Couldn't you see it?"

"Is that why he wants to change shirts again?" Warrick asked.

"Could be," Mindy said. "Also, I gave him a cute new nickname."

"I doubt he thinks it's so cute," Warrick said.

"Well I should run these over to trace," Mindy said, looking at the evidence. "God knows, Greg was no help bringing these in."

"Need a hand?" Warrick offered.

"What, I can't carry my own evidence now?" she snapped.

"Sorry," Warrick said. "Just trying to be polite." She snubbed her nose at him and stocked off. Warrick shrugged.

"Hey Warrick," Sara said as she rounded the corner. She was looking at her shirt which was stained with something. "If anyone's looking for me, tell them I went to take a shower. Hodges spilt some chemicals all over me. He claims it was an accident, but I have my doubts. It was a bunch of different vials so we're not too sure what they are…"

"Sure thing," said Warrick. He turned back to the file in his hand.

"Warrick!" Nick called out, appearing next to him by the front desk. "Have you seen Sara?"

"Shower," Warrick said, absently.

"Why?"

Warrick shrugged. "First of all, she's been working a double shift and probably hasn't had one in a few days, and second of all Hodges spilt crap all over her."

"Did she get the results from the syringe?" Nick asked.

"Dunno," Warrick said. "She seemed pretty preoccupied with the chemical spill."

"I'll go ask Hodges myself then," Nick said with a sigh, and set off in the direction of the lab.

Warrick went back to reviewing the file, one of the women who died in the MGM bombing. He just got past reading her name when Catherine came wheeling around the corner.

"Warrick," she said. "Glad I found you. Got your ballistics results on the bombs."

"I'm glad, I dropped that off hours ago," Warrick replied, a little too sharply.

"Sorry," Catherine said, hearing his frustration. "I've been kind of backed up."

"I know," Warrick said with a sigh. "We all have, I'm sorry." There was a beat. "Oh. Greg got shot."

"Greg got what?" Catherine exclaimed, looking horrified.

"Grazed the back of his shoulders," Warrick elaborated. "No big deal."

"No big deal?!" Catherine laughed. "Is no one taking his situation seriously?"

"Sure," Warrick said. "But he wasn't even really shot, technically speaking."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Whether he was really shot or not isn't the issue. Don't you think it's a little odd that he disappears for three days and when we finally find him again he gets shot at?"

"Catherine," said Warrick, "I'm so tired, everything seems 'a little odd' to me. I'm beginning to see stars floating around your head."

"You need a break," Catherine noted.

"You're probably the most observant CSI that I have ever met," he replied.

"Sara said they got the results on that syringe they found with Greg," Catherine said.

"She did?" Warrick said. "Nick was asking about that."

"Yeah," said Catherine, sounding a little concerned. "She said something about Rophynol, I don't know, she was talking really fast."

"Rophynol?" Warrick said, baffled. "The date rape drug?"

"Yeah, I don't know, Sara mentioned it in passing, and I was busy looking over your results," Catherine said.

"That dehydrates you worse than alcohol," Warrick thought aloud. "It would explain why Greg suffered heat stroke so fast."

"Hm," said Catherine. "Listen, I'm gonna go show this to Grissom, call me if you need me."

Warrick nodded and they headed out in opposite directions. Somewhere on his way to CODIS, Warrick saw Grissom talking to Wendy.

"Grissom!" Warrick called out as he passed by. "Catherine is looking for you."

Grissom nodded at Warrick in recognition and continued talking to Wendy. Outside the locker room, Warrick saw Nick again. For a second he forgot what he had to tell him, then he remembered.

"Catherine said that Sara found Rophynol in the syringe," he said.

Nick looked surprised. "Really? Well, I guess it's not that unexpected… hallucinations, memory loss, vomiting… It's a pretty easy drug to get a hold of too unfortunately. People make it in basements like ecstasy. But I thought it was taken orally?"

"Nah, there's this concoction in Europe called Darkene which mixes it with alchohol—they inject it right into the blood stream. The effects are stronger and last longer."

"Huh…" Nick nodded.

"You didn't talk to Hodges yet," Warrick deduced.

"I was going to, but then Greg made me find him another shirt. Did you know he was shot?"

"Yeah," said Warrick. "Mindy told me."

"That CSI from dayshift?" Nick asked. "I heard she was a piece of work. Wasn't she working Greg's case with you?"

"She was," Warrick answered.

"Ah, there's Hodges," Nick said, looking over Warrick's shoulder. "Catch you later."

"Bye," Warrick said as Nick jogged away. Warrick began to walk away when he heard a frustrated scream from inside the locker room. The door opened fast and Greg shut it just as quickly as something crashed against it from the other side. He was wearing a brand new shirt. He leaned against the door, his eyes wide.

"Do I want to know what just happened in there?" Warrick asked him.

Greg bit his lip, his eyes still the size of quarters. "Let's just say that Sara and I are even."

"Even for what?" Warrick asked.

A smile slowly crept across Greg's face. "Warrick, my day just went from incredibly crappy to actually not half bad." And with a sigh, Greg walked away, that dopey grin plastered on his face.

Shrugging, Warrick looked at his watch and decided he really needed a lunch break. He made a beeline for the door and stared up into the sunlight to dilate his pupils. He rubbed his eyes and jogged across the street towards the pizzeria. He ordered a medium with mushrooms and garlic and filled his drink at the soda fountain.

A few minutes later, he saw Greg run in and up to the counter, ordering "the usual."

"Hey," Warrick called. "Lunch break?"

Greg laughed at him as he leaned against the counter. "I thought about heading to the trace lab to check on the evidence from the bullet, but then saw Nick talking to Hodges and figured Sara would be heading that way too and right now, it's best I avoid her."

"Whatever you say," Warrick said, sitting down at a table. "I think we could all use a break. I've been reading over this file about one of the bodies recovered from the MGM Grand and I gotta tell you, it's driving me nuts."

"How so?" Greg asked, sliding into the chair across from Warrick.

"Well," Warrick said. "COD wasn't the explosion, first of all. She was pulled out from under a fallen wall, which shielded her from much of the explosion. All the burns and bruises are post-mortem. She died before it all happened."

"Body dump?" Greg asked.

"Possibly," Warrick said. "She had a stab wound in her gut, and her throat was slit. Unfortunately we can't find a murder weapon anywhere. It was probably destroyed in the explosion. So if she was murdered, all the evidence is gone."

"You don't think someone would bomb the MGM Grand and kill fifty people just to cover up one murder, do you?" Greg asked, as the server brought over their pizzas.

"I don't think so," Warrick replied. "I think the murder was unrelated to the bombing. The terrorist contacted the LVPD five minutes before the bomb exploded. LVPD got a Ziplock bag in the mail full of what they thought was cocaine turned out to be chalk."

"Like the chalk at my crime scene…" Greg replied, sounding far away.

"Exactly," said Warrick. "It was all too planned out. Whoever killed the girl just got a lucky break after the explosion."

Greg grabbed the file from Warrick and flipped through the pictures. His brow furrowed in intrigue, almost recognition. Warrick could see the gears spinning in Greg's head. Suddenly, he stood up. "I have to go," he said.

"Greg, are you OK?" Warrick asked, standing too and dropping his pizza slice. "You didn't touch your pizza. Are you sweating?"

"Uh…" Greg said, his eyes darting everywhere. He ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just, I gotta ask Sara something."

"I thought you wanted to avoid her," Warrick replied.

"Yeah," Greg said. "Maybe Nick would be better."

"What did you remember?" Warrick asked.

"I'll catch you later," Greg said, waving at Warrick as he left.

Warrick watched after him as Greg ran across the street and then all of a sudden he flew into the air as a black van drove by and struck him at top speed.

"Greg!"

Sara picked up the shoe she had thrown at Greg's retreating back and put it on. She opened her locker and looked at herself in the mirror as she toweled off her hair and shook her head. She couldn't believe Greg. It wasn't the fact that he had walked in on her that bothered her, it was the fact that he just stood there after realizing his mistake. She glared at her reflection, pretending it was Greg. The way he leered at her like that, the nerve of him! She knew he'd done it on purpose. She brushed her hair back into a ponytail and made her way outside and went to the lab where she saw Nick talking to Hodges.

"What'd I miss?" she asked.

Hodges sighed. "Nothing you didn't already know. Nick's making me repeat everything I told you."

"Well maybe he wouldn't have to if you hadn't spilled those chemicals," Sara said, casually. "But I'm sorry, Hodges, if you want, I can fill Nick in."

Hodges looked at her a moment and then turned back to Nick, ignoring her. "Rophynol in your syringe here, plus a partial I sent over to Mandy who can't match it, but it's not Greg's. Additionally I ran into Wendy and she said there are still significant traces of it in his blood. Not enough to affect him too much, but enough to tell us he's been drugged for a while."

"Do you think he was drugged for the full three days?" Nick asked.

"Looks like," said Hodges. "I mean, I wouldn't doubt it. With roofies, I mean… those things knock you out."

"How exactly would you know this, Hodges?" Sara inquired innocently.

He glared at her. "I don't have to drug a girl to sleep with me, if that's what you think."

"Let's focus on the task at hand, can we people?" Nick asked.

"It might have kept him under for three days," Hodges continued, "but that's not what Wendy and I were worried about. She thinks it was a lot at one time, probably a potentially lethal dose that has just tapered off until now."

"Then why is he still alive?" Nick asked.

"Couldn't say," Hodges replied. "Maybe the perp misjudged the amount. Maybe the heat from the desert helped him sweat it out. I don't really care, I just give you the facts, you make sense of it."

"So you think someone was trying to kill him," Sara said.

Hodges turned to glare at her a moment before looking at Nick again. "Well if they weren't trying to kill him, they were having one hell of a party. Whoever ditched Greg in the middle of the desert did not intend for him to be found alive."

"Holy…" Nick said. "This is more serious than we thought."

"No kidding," Sara said. "That heat stroke really could have been the death of him. If he hadn't woken up and thought to call us, he might…"

"Greg was shot today," Nick said suddenly, just now linking the two occurrences.

"Yeah, I heard that rumor going around," said Hodges.

"Not a rumor," Sara replied. She turned to Nick. "But I heard it was just a graze. We don't know the shooter was aiming at him."

"What else could he have been aiming at?" Nick returned. "Everyone else in that apartment was already dead, except for Mindy, and she was in the other room anyway."

"Then why did he miss?" Sara countered. "Snipers don't generally miss."

"I don't know," Nick said. "Sudden movement? Slip of the hand?"

"But how did he know Greg would be there?" Sara wondered.

"Let's figure that out, shall we?" Nick said.

Mindy poked her head in the lab. "Dammit, not you guys."

"Nice to see you too," Hodges said, bitterly. "Can I help you?"

"So long as it's two o'clock in the afternoon, you guys are on my turf," she snapped back. "I'm looking for Greg Sanders," she said. "I can't find the little worm anywhere, you guys know where he is?"

"You must be Mindy," Nick said stepping forward. "Yeah, in fact I just saw him a second ago leaving the locker room. I'm Nick Stokes."

"That runt's trying to wiggle out of work, isn't he?" Mindy said with a sigh, not taking Nick's proffered hand and ignoring the introduction altogether.

"He did get shot," Nick pointed out.

"That little thing?" Mindy said with a raised eyebrow. "Please, I've gotten paper cuts that have bothered me more."

People began running behind Mindy down the hall. Sara frowned.

"What's going on?" she asked to nobody in particular.

Mindy grabbed the arm of a lab tech. "Kevin, where are you going?" she asked. "This isn't a holiday, you have work to do here."

"Someone just got hit by a van!" the lab tech said. "Right outside."

A cold silence fell over them as Mindy let the lab tech go. Mindy turned and looked at Sara and Nick, whose faces were pale.

"Nah," she said. "You don't think… Batman?"

Sara pushed Mindy out of the way and ran down the hall with Nick close on her tail, leaving Mindy behind with Hodges to stare after them.

"So…" Hodges said. "Just you and me."

Mindy looked after the retreating CSIs, then back to Hodges. "She just pushed me. Did you see that?"

"Yeah," said Hodges. "That was pretty rude."

"No kidding," Mindy said, appalled.

"You want to get lunch?" Hodges asked.

Mindy shrugged. "OK."