A/N: I give feed back to about 90 of the stories I read and usually positive at that. I would appreciate the same courtesy that I give in return. However, you must do as you see fit... If I am unworthy then I guess I'm unworthy... I do tend to update stories faster when I get feedback. It lets me know that you are interested and care enuogh about the story to want to continue reading (Generally). If you don't leave feed back I tend to assume you don't care and then why should I care about posting the next chapter within a timely manner.

On that note I want to thank Shizmoo who has left me feedback. :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own the names or likenesses of any Character based on CBS's hit television drama, Criminal Scene Investigation.

Chapter Three: Death's Grave Mistake
For a brief moment, Greg thought he had been transported away from that horrible place. That perhaps his prayers had been answered and he was far away from the horrible war. Then, he got a closer look around his odd surroundings to find he was still standing in the grassy hills of the French countryside. It was odd though, how the place seemed void of sound and life.

By the time Greg was certain of his solitude, he managed to gaze down upon a ghost-like body, lying hunched over in the ditch. The ghostly man was riddled in wounds where shrapnel appeared to strike him. It must have been quite a blow from how many lesions the man had.

An echoed shout called from a distance and another ghostly man ran towards the wounded soldier. His hands were gentle as they felt for the slightest pulse and appeared pleased to found one. Immediately, he started dressing the wounds that covered the man's body. Greg stood there and watched as the medic wrapped bandage after bandage on the wounded soldier. Once he was finished with his exposed side, the medic slowly rolled the man over.

Greg gasped at the site of the young man. It wasn't because of the massive head wound bleeding unto the ground. No, it was the fact that the ghostly man at his feet was… Did he dare say it? Did he dare think it? It doesn't seem like there was much of a point to denying the identity of the man. It was none other than him.

The world stopped at the sight of his wounded body lying lifeless in front of him. No, it wasn't lifeless. He was just unconscious, wasn't he? They wouldn't be treating his wounds if he were dead.

With open eyes wide-open he looked around the place again to find there were several other's like him standing around looking just as lost as he felt. Were they dead? Was this death? Greg didn't think so, because there were several men working on him lifting his still-living body up on a gurney and carrying it off. That's what he wanted to believe at least.

The men in the distance started walking down the same path that took them to this horrible place. They marched and all Greg could do was watch as they walked by him one by one.

A man stood next to him for a moment watching the men walking silently past him. "Everything will be all right," a voice commented to him calmly. The man was tall, with long black hair resting against his creamy pale face. The man wore a floor-length black cloak that fit him well, and there was no need to ask who he was.

"Is this how it ends?" Greg choked out uncertain he was ready to make this journey.

"No," Death answered. "This is merely the beginning."

"It just seemed so short. Life I mean."

"Come, it's time to move on from the realm of the living and transition into the realm of the dead. It is time."

"And if I refuse?" asked Greg politely.

"The gates of death will always be waiting for you. If you are content on being connected to the life you have left behind you are free to wander the tween until such time you wish to pass through the gates of death."

Could it be true? Was Greg really dead? He didn't think he was. The ghostly medics seemed to believe he was alive or at least savable. They wouldn't try if it was hopeless. He stood there still quite confused by the whole situation. The whole thing made him feel horribly uneasy.

While, he didn't want to walk around this ghostly plain, he certainly didn't want to think he was dead. After all the medics were working on him, he was certain the guy felt a pulse.

"So what say you?" Death asked, still standing by his right-hand side.

"I'll come," Greg sighed.

Greg walked side by side with Death. With every step he took down that dirt road the more he was sure that there was some mistake. The knot inside his stomach seemed to grow. It was nearly as though he had some place to be. Somewhere to go and it wasn't the direction he was headed.

A flash of vibrant white light crossed his vision and he stopped.

"What's the matter?" asked Death growing slightly more impatient with the young man.

"Are you sure that I'm really… dead?" Greg gulped. He's never been dead before and he really hoped not to be for quite some time. "It's just that I can hear these voices calling to me, flashes of light pass over my eyes. I don't think I should be here."

Questioning the man standing beside him seemed dangerous in the present company, but Greg grew continuously certain that he was not meant to be there.

"Quite sure," answered Death.

For what seemed like days they walked the dusty paths of the ghostly plain. Each day, Greg continued to question whether he should be there or not, if he was really going to the right place. Death tried to soothe his uncertainties about the Deathly Realm and his new existence, but it did little to stifle the feelings of dread that constantly washed over him.

Along the way, other weary soldiers joined them in their long march. There was little chatter amongst the men, because nothing needed to be said.

A battle was going on in the Living Realm, Greg could see the ghostly men fighting with all their might, and another soldier joined them. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, nothing more than walking this road to the unseen destination.

The group of soldiers walked steadily until an ancient wooden door appeared out of the earth.

"It is time," Death assured young Greg.

"It is," Greg agreed. For a while now, he felt at ease. No longer was he feeling torn between two existences. No longer could he see the flashes of the white light or hear the voices calling to him.

One by one the men walked through the old door into the next plain of existence. Slowly, Greg walked through the door, as the soldiers before him. Death remained by his side as they walked through the door.

The world on the other side surprised Greg. He had expected it to be white and peaceful, but it wasn't that at all. Instead he found himself alone in the ruins of a fallen fortress standing alone. Where the others had gone, Greg did not know. He recognized the place though. He visited it as a young lad the day his father died. He had fallen deathly ill a few days before and there was nothing the doctor's could do.

That also happened to be the day that he decided that he would not rest until he found a cure for these horrible illnesses. And thus the rest of his life was devoted to the study of medicine.

"You remember this place." Death asked from behind him.

"How'd you get here?"

"I am Death, I am everywhere." He stated. "This is the place where your most pivotal moment occurred. I bring people to these moments because they find it empowering and seems to put them more at ease. I am surprised to see yours happened so young. I believe you were three. Are you ready to proceed?"

"I am." Greg answered confidently. He followed Death through the doorway he came through and found a white misty room with a golden stairway ascending the level ground.

He walked slowly behind the black-haired man. He was just about to take the stairs when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a rather irate woman marching towards them holding a scepter to the sky.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE BOY!" Shouted a lady shaking her golden scepter into the air violently.

"What do you want?" Death uttered crossly. "What reason do you have for meddling in my business, Destiny?"

"Meddling? i Who's /i meddling? I step away for one moment and the entire fabric of time and destiny has been unraveled and I think YOU know why." Destiny glared at Death with a gaze that could kill him. That was of course if he hadn't already been immortal. Meanwhile, Greg just stood there and watched the exchange between the two divinities.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now, stand out of my way as I escort this soul to the There After."

"You will do nothing of the sorts. This is the soul of Dr. Gregory Hojem Sanders, and according to my record he should still be ALIVE." She punctuated each syllable with a jab of her scepter against Death's chest.

"Dr. Gregory Hojem Sanders," he read down his list filled with names. Greg tried to gaze over to see what it said, but Death held it too close to his face for him to get any real information from it. "Gregory… Gregory… Gregory…" he muttered as he continued to read down the long scroll in his hand. "Ah, there we are, Gregory Howard Sanders." Death's eyes immediately bulged out of his face and got real wide-like.

"You're middle name's not Howard is it?" Greg shook his head no. "I…"

"You brought in the wrong soul." Destiny was obviously infuriated with death. She stood there with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her eyes were stern as she stood there waiting for Death to make his next move.

"He was… He was in the Ghostly Plain. He was standing there, his body wounded he appeared to the proper age and had a similar name." Death tried to defend his mistake.

"You know as well as I do that even those who have been knocked out of consciousness can sometimes find their way into the Ghostly Plain. Now, return this man to his body before it's too late to save the integrity of time and destiny." She turned on her heel and marched off without looking back.

"Yes, ma'am," Death nodded and proceeded to take Greg back into the 'Tween. They moved swiftly though the land of the dead until they walked back through the arched door that took them back to the Ghostly Plain. "Quickly, we haven't got a moment to spare," Death urged Greg on.

"Your body should be just here," Death pushed through a set of double metal doors to find a room filled with corpses.

Greg stood still not believing what he saw. From how Destiny spoke, Greg figured he was still alive. He had no idea that he was really dead.

"Death… I'm… dead." Greg slowly said as he pulled back the white sheet covering his lifeless body. Death stood there mortified. His eyes got real wide as panic started to take over. What had he done?

He knew that if Greg's soul got too far away from his still-living body he could die. But he didn't think he was still alive. How could he forget that even the unconscious sometimes found their way into the Ghostly Plains? They warned him on his first day on the job about how some souls enter the Ghostly Plain without dying and the dangers of removing them from their still living bodies. Oh, how could he have forgotten. What's worse, he might have done irreparable damage to the timeline.

"Oh dear," muttered Death uncertain about what to do next. "This definitely complicates matters. And believe me they're more than complicated enough without this one."

"What do you mean?" Greg asked cautiously. "How can things get more complicated? I'm dead."

"Well, that's the thing. You're not supposed to i BE /i dead. I made a mistake, I took you away from your body, and now… now the whole integrity of time is unraveling. Judging by Destiny's fury I'd say your destiny was pretty big. She normally is full of just hot air when things like this happen. This time was different. This time, she really meant business."

The mood was solemn inside the room. Greg stood there next to his dead body and observed it intensely thinking about everything that never was. His little boy, Trevor and how he'd never be there for him growing up. He wouldn't have someone to guide him through the world and teach him about the laws of Sir Isaac Newton.

Meanwhile, Death paced about the room, his head in his hands muttering something to himself. Back and forth he walked hastily deep in thought about their predicament. "I have no choice," he muttered slightly more audible than the rest of his mutterings. Greg didn't know what they meant or what they could do about the situation. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. He couldn't live and according to Destiny he couldn't die without their being severe repercussions. It was quite the conundrum.

Then, as fast as they got into this dilemma, Death had figured out the answer. "Come with me," demanded Death. With no place else to go, Greg followed silently.

They traveled a short distance to another doorway and walked through it. "Fortress," Death stated clearly and walked through the door, quickly followed by the newly deceased scientist.

When they emerged from the entryway, Greg was amazed to be standing across a moat to a massive fortress. It was a tall unyielding building, built from a dark marble-like stone. Perhaps it was granite, Greg couldn't tell. They approached the black gates of the massive fortress and the drawbridge lowered across the moat that surrounded the place.

"You will stay here until arrangements can be made. I'm certain you are tired. It has been a long day. Feel free to take any room you desire. One more thing, your physical appearance in this realm is determined by your mental image of yourself, so you might want to have fun with different appearances."

"Do you think I'm ugly?" Greg asked nearly offended.

"No, of course not," answered Death quickly. "I was merely stating a fact of this realm." Death turned on his heel and walked away leaving Greg on his own.

The fortress wasn't massive, it was gigantean. The halls seemed to go on and on forever. Every direction he looked there was another hall, another staircase, and more doors. He opened a few here and there, deciding he didn't like the rooms for one reason or another.

He decided to be picky about which room he chose, seeing how he was uncertain about how long he'd be staying at this massive place. The halls seemed to dart off in every which direction and Greg eagerly followed them looking for the perfect room. The hall twisted counter-clockwise up a narrow staircase and they seemed to go on and on and on without end until he reached the top. There he found a circular room with a bed in the middle surrounded by windows.

The room was ill-kept. The curtains around the open windows were moth-eaten. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling slowly blowing in the breeze, leafs scattered around the floor, and the bed was unmade. The place was certainly a mess. To Greg, the room was perfect.

Immediately, he started cleaning it all up, making it all homey. He did find the closet particularly useful. Whatever he needed it appeared to be inside. Greg recalled when he could use some new curtains. He was certain the closet did not hold spare curtains, and made a mental note to ask Death where he could find some more. Then, he opened the closet door and there sat brand new curtains neatly folded.

It must have been possible by witchcraft alone that there were new curtains inside that closet. Greg saw no other way the curtains could have spontaneously appeared in the closet.

The room was cleaned up in a small amount of time, and this left Greg alone to his thoughts. For a brief second he thought about what Death said, and decided that he did have a point. He might want to consider playing around with his physical appearance.

Turning around, he was surprised to find a full length mirror at his disposal. At first he wanted to question it, but decided it would be best if he just accepted the oddities of this room and leave it at that. He gazed at himself and thought that it would be nice if he were a little bit taller. So he thought about it and before he knew it, he expanded two inches higher than he ordinarily stood. Then, he thought a blondish color would do his hair good, and made it so.

Again and again he changed his physical appearance until he was quite pleased with the person looking back at him. No longer did he look like the nerdy scientist, but someone who looked intelligent without looking as though that was all he was. It was also no coincidence, he did beef himself up a bit to.

Pleased with his appearance, he stood at the window and watched darkness descend over the Deathly Realm. It wasn't like the night he was used to. The night was darker, but the sky was colored with vibrant green, purple, blue, red, and yellow ribbons of light. Stranger yet, was that no stars could be seen through these wondrous streams of light.

He must've stood there for hours watching them pass. In the distance, there were storm clouds flashed with lightning. For a moment, Greg worried they were moving in, but they never seemed to get any closer than they already were.

"I see you've found a room," Death walked up to Greg's side. "Alas, the nightly lights of splendor. Many a man has gazed upon those wondrous lights and sat very content to watch them until all eternity was wasted by a single task. It is best that you not let yourself become entranced in their magnificence." Warned Death.

"They're beautiful, but what are they?"

"I'm not sure, they've always been here. They are magnificent aren't they?"

"Beautiful," answered Greg. "So, what's going to happen now? According to Destiny I can't die, and I can't return to my dead body."

"There's nothing we can do to bring you back to life. Perhaps there is another way. We will know ore when we know what your destiny said." Death paused briefly. "Look, you should try to get some rest. Tomorrow well see Destiny and figure out what can be done about this."

"Good night," said Greg softly to Death. He wasn't really ready to fall asleep. He just did not desire company at the present moment. A lot has happened in the last few days. He snuck away from the underground compound, went to the trenches got wounded, got carried away wrongly by Death, and on top of all that, he died.

These events were too fresh in Greg's mind to allow him any rest.

Death left him alone as he wished and Greg moved over to the soft bed. He plopped down on the soft feather mattress and gazed pointlessly at the ceiling.

Morning came abruptly, the sky lightened, but never as much as it did in the Realm of the Living. The sky was a deep, dusk blue by Greg's best guess. He pulled himself out of bed, and walked to that magical closet of is to find a whole new wardrobe of clothes for him to pick from.

This didn't seem so odd or amazing the second time around, but he still found it useful to have a closet that would give you anything you needed or wanted. He pulled on his new clothes, altered his face again, and started down the long spiral staircase down into the man fortress so he could star the long journey into the dinning room. Of course, he was aware that dead people don't need to eat, but he thought it would be a good place to be right after waking up.

Four hours of endless searching, Greg walked into the dining room to find Death drinking a cup of black coffee. The sight was odd to see Death drinking coffee, but Greg couldn't think why it should.

"Come, take a seat," Death kicked out a chair for his young guest. "Well, hurry up. We haven't got much time. With taking you to the House of Destiny, and of course, I do have my death duties to perform. Escorting souls you know. Coffee?"

Before Greg could answer, Death slid a new cup in front of him. "I'm sorry, I don't have creamer at the moment. Sugar?"

"I have a closet that will get you whatever you want or need, maybe we can get some up there?"

"True," chuckled Death. "That closet is quite useful. But I'm afraid in my youth, I requested one ounce too much in creamer and it threatened to eat me alive if I requested it again."

Looking down at the steaming mug of coffee, Greg wondered if he could drink it. Do dead people eat? Can they eat? He peered at Death who seemed to be doing fine drinking his steaming mug, but Death was a divinity. Greg was nothing more than a lost soul unable to live, unable to die.

"You can eat, you don't need to in order to survive here, but it gives a sense of normalcy in a strange place and time." Death appeared to have read Greg's thoughts. "I hear the taste is diminished from the sensations from the Realm of the Living, but I assure you it is still quite good."

Death was right, the coffee was exceptionally good, and Greg drank it up in no time at all. It was all still very confusing to Greg being dead and all. He was technically dead, but as Death pointed out to him that his soul has not moved on to the next plain of existence. This was something that seemed to please Death beyond anything else.

Breakfast ended in a timely manner, and Death promptly stood from the table and headed for the door with Greg following him out the door. It was a beautiful day the sun was low on the horizon, making the sky shimmer in a purplish glow. Uncertain what time it was, Greg pulled out his pocket watch only to see the hands spinning wildly out of control. 'Odd,' he thought as he snapped it shut and continued to follow Death.

"If you are wondering what time it is," Death seemed to again read Greg's thoughts. "It is precisely eleven in the morning. Your time keeper is useless in the Realm of the Dead. What good is time in a place where time is endless?"

"But, how do you know the time of day?"

"The position of the sun of course," answered Death quickly. "As you might've noticed, the sun doesn't like to shine brightly on those who are dead. It stays low in the sky. At its highest point in the sky, the time would be noon. When the sun is at its lowest point the hour is of course midnight. The sun never changes its pattern everyday it will sit exactly in the same spot according to the time of day it is."

It was all still very confusing to Greg who was struggling to keep up with Death's brisk pace. He did slow every now and then, allowing Greg to catch up, but for the most part the pace was kept exceedingly quick.

Along the way, Death pulled souls who were wandering the Ghostly Plain and disappeared for a brief moment before returning. It was his solemn duty after all and a duty he wasn't going to neglect for no reason. It didn't take Greg much time to realize this and accept it for what it was. He was not sad for the souls who passed into this realm, only for their families who have lost their sons, brothers, fathers, and friends.

"Don't you need to escort them through the Gates of Death?" Greg asked.

"Of course they need someone to escort them through the gates. It is my duty to see to it. But, as I have already told you, time does not constrain us in the Ream of the Dead. It is merely the living who will suffer time, for time is all they have. I could be gone for several days and to them it would appear only as a brief moment has passed." Death informed.

They kept walking through the Realm of the Dead and Greg wondered if there was a better way to travel. An automobile perhaps or he would take a horse, though he wasn't too fond of them. Not that Greg objected to walking. It was that he has walked so much over the past few days that he longed to sit still only for a moment. Unable to stop, he continued pushed through those longings and continued to follow Death step by step.

Finally, they made it to their destination: The House of Destiny. It looked different from how Greg imagined it. He had imagined a shanty house of sorts filled with odd herbs and swirls of smoke, but he couldn't see any. In fact, the house wasn't even a shanty house at all, but a magnificent light brown rock house. It was massive, with rooms sticking out everywhere and windows facing any direction a person could imagine. Death walked in without even so much as looking at it. Greg couldn't stop looking at it. The place took his breath away.

Inside, there were people dressed in Pearl, Ruby, or Emerald cloaks all with their hoods drawn over their faces leaving not but their chin and mouth's visible. Each seemed to be muttering in an odd clicking language. Greg recognized them at once as Destinies. They had similar appearances to the one who prevented Greg from passing through the Gates of Death.

"Typical Destinies," Death muttered. "Clicking about in that foul language of them. And to what? To call us intruders?" Death huffed. From then on, Death and Greg ignored the constant clicking destinies as they continued through the massive house. Though, every now and then Greg would see Death shudder at something one of them clicked, but he never said anything about it. All the while, Greg's eyes darted everywhere. There were so many things for him to see, and he wanted to see them all.

He was so busy looking around the place he didn't notice Death stop and plowed right into him. Death turned around and threatened to really kill him if he did it again and Greg backed off silently and focused on his feet.

Cautiously, Death knocked on the door and waited for the destiny he sought to open up.

"Ah, Death," she sounded quite pleased to see her. Death however, was less than thrilled at the possibility of another of her mood swings. "I was expecting you."

"Oh?" Death commented and walked in the room with Greg close by his side. "I'm sure you've realized by now that I was unsuccessful at returning Greg's soul to his body."

"I am aware," she stated calmly and with a certain amount of reservation. "Quite unfortunate for humanity. Quite unfortunate indeed."

She turned her eyes towards Greg and evaluated him for a moment analyzing him. "So much rests in his head and I wonder if he could fulfill his destiny through others."

"What… what do you mean?" Greg choked out. Thoughts raced through his head, as uncertainty set in. The way Destiny looked at him, seeing if he had the strength to take the next step. The whole experience was intimidating to him as he stood there being judged if he was strong enough to handle the next stage of his existence.

"We cannot kill you as you very well know. Your destiny is much too important for us to send you through the Gates of Death. Still, your destiny needs doing. That means you cannot stay here." She cleared her throat and stepped up to her seeing orb. She gazed in it thoughtfully and hummed to herself. Apparently the answer to her riddle has been answered.

"The only option that leaves us is to send you to the Realm of the Living." She stepped away from the orb. "But there are problems with this as well. Without a body you would appear a ghost to those who live. You wouldn't be able to touch anything and you would be dependant on possession in order to fulfill your destiny. That is until this very moment. In my crystal ball I see another way. A way to send you back to the Realm of the Living complete with a body and a mind of your own. It will be difficult road filled with several obstacles along the way. We will have to place strict restrictions upon you, as the living should not know what lies in the There After. I propose that we will allow you to gain corporeal form."

"You mean you will give me a body and a life again?" Greg choked out in disbelief. His eyebrow arched as he waited for her response.

"We will indeed grant you physical form and to walk freely in the Realm of the Living. But this is only possible through short periods of time. Therefore you would only be able to return to the living world only during certain times and a set duration of time that you are capable of handling. If you are in the Realm of the Living too long, your soul maybe irreparably damaged. It too will need its rest for obtaining physical form is quite draining."

"I understand," Greg nodded and accepted this limited existence.

"There are rules that you will have to abide by. No one is to know that you are dead. If they should find out for themselves, then you may of course elaborate your situation. We will have placed protection against them gaining the knowledge. Secondly, no one can know what it is like to die. You would not be able to give them an accurate answer anyways because your soul has never passed through the Gates of Death. You should know that each soul's passage is unique and it is impossible for you to enlighten them upon their own eventual journey into the after life. Thirdly, and lastly, you will not be able to claim your own scientific works. I hope you understand that dead people do not cure the living. They do not develop new technology. Do you understand and accept these conditions?"

"I do," Greg answered confidently. He understood what they were attempting to do. Furthermore, he understood their need for secrecy. No one came back from the dead and it would only cause more problems for the living world to know that there was someone walking amongst them who is indeed deceased.

"Very well, then it shall be done," Destiny lowered her golden scepter to Greg's shoulder and cast him away. It felt like his feet were being forcibly removed from the ground. The world spun around him and when he opened his eyes again he found himself in a strange place being cared for a very elderly man with crisp blue eyes.

"You do not need to fear me, Gregory Hojem Sanders. I am giving you the gift of life after death.

To Be Continued...

If you enjoied this chapter please leave me feedback.