A/N: I do not own CSI, CSI:Miami, CBS, or any other known entity. This particular chapter goes along with the episode "Post Mortem", so spoiler warning for that. I think that's all. Enjoy, and please review. :)

Chapter 3

Greg sits in the coroner's inquest, listening to his heroic actions of the other night be turned into a criminal case. The longer he sits listening to it, the worse he feels, and the more that he thinks that he should be incarcerated for what he did. He sighs, taking the break during court to go to the bathroom. Speed appears behind him. "How you holdin' up, Chief?" he asks. Greg shakes his head.

"I'll be surprised if they don't rule criminal," he replies. Speed shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Tell them that!"

"I can't. I'm dead."

"Speed, seriously. I'm listening to these people tear me apart, call me a bad CSI, an even worse person, and a murderer. I didn't kill him on purpose, but no one fucking cares. I only wanted to stop him from hurting the guy. That's it. And now… they're right. I am a fucking murderer." Speed shakes his head.

"You're not a murderer."

"I killed someone."

"In self-defense. You were scared for the victim. You tried to save the victim, and Demitrius didn't get the clue. When he lunged at you, you freaked even more, and hit him. It was an accident."

"It was vehicular manslaughter." Aaron James appears in the doorway, and Greg washes his face.

"How tough you feel when you're not in your big SUV, huh?" he asks Greg. Greg doesn't respond, staring in the mirror at Aaron. "Hey, I asked you a question, killer." Greg looks at Aaron as another man walks into the room.

"Excuse me," he says, walking between them. Aaron slips out the door as the man starts washing his hands. Greg sighs deeply, and the man glances over at him. "Ignore it," he says to the stressed, young man.

"Excuse me?" Greg asks, not really hearing him. Speed watches in curiosity from the corner of the room.

"Whatever that kid said to you, ignore it. You did what you had to do."

"I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Michael Langston. I work in the courthouse." Greg nods.

"Right. I've seen you before."

"Yeah."

"Mr. Langston, I appreciate your support, but…"

"Yeah, I know. Don't let it get you down, Mr. Sanders. You're one of the finest in the city."

"Thanks." Michael walks out, and Speed shakes his head.

"That guy's a little weird, huh?" he says. Greg shrugs.

"I don't know what to think," he said honestly.

"You say anything, he could turn that against you in an instant."

"Which is why I didn't say anything."

"I know. Smart move."

"Thank you." Greg sighs, looking at Speed. "Time to go back to the slaughter."

"It's not gonna be that bad," Speed says.

"Yeah, right." Greg leaves the bathroom, going back and sitting in the courtroom. Speed follows, sitting beside Greg. "What are you doing?" he whispers after making sure there's no one around to hear him.

"I'm sitting with you. Relax, cowpoke. No one can see me, and you're about to testify. You need me here." Greg nods slowly, and Speed smiles. "Just relax, hombre." Greg sighs as court resumes. His testimony rolls around, and gets beaten and torn apart like every other testimony put forth that day. After the somewhat massacre, he sits, and the jury goes into deliberations. Speed pats Greg's knee gently. "You don't have to say anything, just listen," he says. "You did a good job. Mr. Langston was right. You are one of the finest CSIs in the city, and you did an amazing job. I can honestly tell you that if I were in your position, I would've done the same exact thing. We don't seem to have as many overzealous political people in our department in Miami, but I can honestly tell you that me, Delko, Calleigh, and H- we all woulda done the same thing you did. You saved an innocent man's life. That's the important part here. You saved a man's life.

"I know you're thinking, 'save one, kill another,'" Speed continues. "But the man you killed was a criminal. He was hanging out with the wrong crowd if he's such a great student. He should've known better. People have a tendency to glorify the dead, especially in the immediate aftermath of their passing and if they were a family member. Mom may never understand and recognize that her son really was a criminal. That's okay. It's her right to glorify her son. But you have to remember that as good of a student and a person he may have been, he was in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time. You did what was necessary to save a man's life. That's all that matters.

"Right and wrong are all relative terms. What's right for you isn't what's right for someone else. But what's wrong is beating up random people on the street just because you have absolutely nothing better to do with your time and life. It's ridiculous and asinine. Those kids were going around, beating people up, just because they couldn't find any other way to amuse themselves. Thousands of possibilities of what to do in Vegas, and they decide to be unlawful and become murderers. Demitrius James was rollin' with a crew of murderers that night, even if he wasn't participating with them. He was an accessory after the fact, at best.

"He had a rock. He was going to kill you. And honestly, if he had the chance, he would've. He was trying to kill Stanley Tanner, until you came along. You saved Stanley's life. No matter what the jury says or sees, you did nothing wrong. If you had ignored the situation, you're as responsible for Stanley's death as the mob. Failure to confront is giving silent consent, you know.

"You called for back up, and you went in to save Stanley's life. If Demitrius had left with the rest of the mob, you wouldn't have had to hit him. If he didn't come after you, you wouldn't have had to hit him. The only thing you could've done otherwise was back up out of the alley with Demitrius chasing you. And what good does that do? You back up and get out of there, he goes back to beating Stanley Tanner. You did the only thing you could do. If the jury doesn't see that, they're a bunch of fucking morons. And if you don't see that, I'm going to kick your fucking ass, because I can." Greg smiles, chuckling softly. "Don't you wish I could've testified here for you?" Greg nods slightly. "This is how I won a lot of cases, and even more dates." Greg didn't respond as the jury walked back in.

"I understand the jury has reached a verdict?" the judge says.

"We have, Your Honor," a female juror says. "We, the jury in this inquest, find the death of Demitrius James excusable." Greg sighs, thankful not to hear them find that the death criminal. Speed groans.

"That's fucking bullshit," he says loudly. Greg doesn't respond as the DA leans over during her own rant.

"See, 'excusable' is a lawful act with no intention to kill," she explains. "'Justifiable' means that the action was the only alternative. That's what they should have found."

"It's okay," Greg says. "I think they got it right." She shakes her head as Speed jumps in.

"No, they didn't, Greg," he says. "It's a justifiable case." Greg walks away, finding a quiet spot for the moment.

"You said yourself, I had an alternative."

"That's the only fucking thing you took out of my speech? That you had another choice? Come on, dude. You had no other choice." Greg shrugs.

"It's okay. Let's get out of here." Speed sighs, nodding.

"Fine, whatever." They leave the courthouse and make their way through the media hoopla quietly and as quickly as possible. Greg drops by CSI, poking his head into Grissom's office.

"Hey, boss, unless you need me for something, I'm gonna take off," he says quietly. Grissom nods.

"Yeah," Grissom says. "Take off that suit too." Greg nods, starting to walk out. "And Greg?" Greg turns, looking back at him. "You did a good job."

"I'm glad you think so." He leaves, sighing heavily as Speed continues to follow him. They reach the parking lot, where a man confronts them. He hands Greg some papers.

"You got served," he says, walking away. Aaron speeds his car past Greg, who sighs. Speed puts his hand on Greg's shoulder.

"This is harassment, bro," he says softly. Greg shrugs.

"This is part of Vegas," he informs the former CSI. Speed shakes his head.

"I don't think so, man. That's harassment."

"Call it whatever you want. I just want to go home."

"Yeah, okay. Let's go home." Greg chuckles.

"You make it sound like you're the one that's going to be driving us and stuff." Speed laughs.

"I probably would be if I was still alive."

"Nah. I think that if you were still alive, you wouldn't be here. You'd be in Miami with your friends."

"Probably." The pair walks to Greg's car, with Speed sliding through the door. "I can still do that, even though I can feel stuff and be felt."

"Who said I could feel you?" Greg asks, climbing in before Speed can play with the door locks repeatedly.

"You did, and you spoiled all my fun," Speed says.

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood."

"You sound like my ex-wife."

"You were married?"

"No, but I've always wanted to say that because H can." Greg shakes his head. "You should take a trip out there sometime and meet them."

"I just might. We all know I could use the vacation." Speed chuckles.

"Yeah, so could I. It's a full time job trying to keep you from killing yourself, you know?"

"Maybe that's why you're still here."

"But I still don't understand."

"Neither do I, really. I'm just throwing that out there."

"I did good in my life. Why can't I just go?"

"I don't know, dude. I can't answer that." Greg fell silent, driving, while Speed watched the roadway closely.

"I don't want to be dead," Speed says finally. Greg glances over at him quickly. "I mean, it's not bad. You don't have to worry about eating, drinking, sleeping, showering. But after a while, you even start to miss the things you hated, like balancing your checkbook and stuff. It sucks. I just wish I could go back to being alive. I would pay to get my ass kicked by some punk ass hobos, just to feel something again." Greg sighs softly.

"I wish there was something I could do," Greg says.

"I would love to just be able to talk to Horatio and Calleigh and Delko one more time." Greg nods, silent for a moment. "I worry about them. I can't watch them from my current position, and I don't know if I'll ever get out of here."

"I'm sure you will."

"You got a crystal ball?"

"You already know I'm a psychic. Why are you doubting me?" Speed chuckles.

"Good point," he says.

"I know," Greg says, yawning. Speed turned to face the front out the windshield.

"Tired?"

"Extremely. I'm glad Grissom didn't need me today."

"Yeah, that's good." They reach Greg's apartment, silently walking up the stairs. Greg opens the door, dropping his keys and taking off his suit. He drops onto the couch in his boxers, closing his eyes. He falls asleep within seconds, and Speed smiles to himself. He covers Greg up with the blanket before taking his normal spot in the corner of the room, just quietly watching the younger man sleep. He sighs softly, wondering how much longer he would have to stay there. As much as he likes hanging out with Greg, he wonders if this will be the norm for Greg while he's there, where Greg's life just spirals worse and worse and all Speed can do is try to convince the kid that living is a lot better than being dead when at this rate, he doesn't exactly believe that either.